Dirty South Drug Wars (16 page)

Tanner Montgomery loved me. And as much as I hated to admit it, I was in love with him as well. Our love was tainted with the pride and hatred of bitter men and their children alike. But none of that mattered anymore. It was too late to back out. Tanner had captured my heart, and it would remain his forever.

We held each other until the night grew light with the promise of morning. Tanner left at daybreak, only after I’d begrudgingly explained I didn’t want to push our luck with him staying too long in Mayhaw. With one last sad smile, Tanner pulled out of the driveway, disappearing in the pink and purple tinged early morning light.

Tanner was not the harmful or violent person I feared him to be the night at the train station. He was strong, courageous, willing to fight for me no matter the consequences, all because he had faith we belonged together.

Funny, the faith he lacked in the heavens above proved unwavering in the way he looked at me, holding me in his arms and murmuring how he’d never let me go. A fire erupted in my veins. He made me feel precious, not like a mistake my mother made eighteen years prior. Never in my life had anyone sparked a flame within me by a simple touch. I only hoped he was a man true to his word.

I prayed he’d never let me go.

I wandered back into the house and trekked up the staircase. Once I reached the second floor, I hesitantly twisted the knob on the last room at the end of the hallway and pushed the door open.

My mother’s bedroom sat just as she’d left it. The bed was covered in a baby blue and chocolate brown comforter. The air smelled musty from lack of life. A thin layer of dust coated the antique cherry wood furniture, and I made a mental note to clean her room sometime soon. Early morning light filtered through the large window facing the drive, casting oddly shaped shadows across the floor as the sunlight streamed through the tree branches outside.

Amos’ words played on repeat in my head as I made my way across the room to the gun safe my father left behind. It was tall, made of mahogany, and was about three feet wide with a combination lock on the front. Twisting in the numbers I’d memorized so many years before, I opened the safe and ignored the vast amount of weaponry that lay inside. The object I sought was perched on the top shelf in a shiny oak box.

I opened the box while sitting on my mother’s bed and removed the heavy handgun that lay swathed in red velvet. The metal gun was cold, familiar, and comforting in my hand.

“Hey, Daddy,” I whispered.

I made sure to keep my hand away from the trigger, remembering the number one rule my father had instilled in me about gun safety: don’t put your finger on the trigger until you’re ready to fire. My father had taught me how to fire a weapon when I was eight. Rifle, pistol, shotgun—I’d fired them all. We’d spent hour upon hour deer hunting in the deep woods surrounding our house. I’d listened as he explained our heritage, the importance of providing food for our family, and protecting ourselves from those who tried to cause us harm. He had instilled the importance of our Second Amendment rights in me at a young age and was a card-toting member of the NRA. He’d carried a loaded gun with him everywhere he traveled. I hadn’t shot a gun since he died, but before that I’d been a pretty good shot. Was I still?

A time would come when I would fire a gun once again. It was a truth I felt deep within my soul.

Holding that gun, I thanked my father for the things he taught me during our short time together. My father would want nothing but happiness for me, Lucy, and our mother. Jeb Monroe was a good father and a good husband. But he wasn’t what could be considered a very good man. He was stubborn as hell and fought for what he wanted no matter the consequences. I’d always admired his bravery and strong will.

Amos’ face suddenly flashed through my mind. As I held that heavy gun in my hand, I realized one thing—I was my father’s daughter. And if push came to shove …

I’d shove.

Two weeks had passed since I’d last seen Tanner, although we continued to speak to one another secretly on the phone, or via text, on a daily basis. His number was saved under the name “Cash” in my contact list. It was a hassle sneaking around behind Josie and Lucy’s back to speak to him, but it was well worth it.

Tanner revealed a lot to me in the two weeks we were apart … and then again he didn’t. He told me Bryce worked in a feed store selling farm supplies, animal food, and other necessities. He spoke of Chance who worked in Graham’s furniture factory, biding his time until starting college in the fall. He even talked about his aunt and uncle, Melissa and Graham, and what wonderful people they were for taking him in after his father’s death and treating him like the child they never had.

But there were things Tanner skimmed over. He never spoke of what he did in his spare time. I was unsure if he held any type of job, legitimate or not. He never revealed whether his aunt and uncle were aware of our secret relationship. He never asked about my father and never spoke of his. I hung on his every word waiting on him to bring up his father’s death … or mine. But he didn’t. Day after day, I found myself growing frustrated as he brushed over the finer details of his life and ignored the one thing in our past that brought us together: our families and their mutual hatred of one another.

I slipped on my favorite yellow dress as I rushed to get ready for church on a sunny Sunday morning. I’d missed church the week before, causing my grandmother to hound me all week, so much so I’d promised to never miss another Sunday service. She’d smiled, patted my head, and threatened to beat me with a belt if I missed again. Funny, she never threatened the others that way.

As I finished getting dressed, my phone vibrated on my dresser. A happy grin crossed my face.

Sleepless without you in my arms.

Grinning like a fool, I texted him back as I slipped a pair of low heels on my feet.

I’m having trouble sleeping too. I’ll text you later … omw to church.

The phone vibrated immediately in my hands, and I nearly dropped it with what I read.

Need 2 see you soon. It’s been two weeks. If I don’t see u tonight I’m kidnapping u. Don’t think I’m joking. I’m not.

The thought of Tanner kidnapping me sent a thrill shooting from my chest to my toes.

Dare u 2 kidnap me.

He immediately returned my text.

Challenge accepted.

With a grin, I turned the ringer off and skipped downstairs. Lucy bailed on me, feigning a headache. She’d returned home earlier that morning with droopy, red, dilated eyes and unruly hair. Her clothing reeked of weed and Uncle Matt’s homemade moonshine. I left her lying face down, snoring on the couch.

The rest of my Sunday morning was spent sitting on a wooden pew beside a deceitfully angelic-looking Josie. She wore a modest baby blue blouse with shiny, white pearl buttons trailing down the front and a plain tan skirt that ended just below her knees. Her silky blonde hair fell around a sweet face, which held only light makeup.

The only sign of the real Josie Monroe was the way she shot Andy, the preacher’s son, a sexy smirk as his father stood at the pulpit preaching, ironically enough, about youthful immorality. Andy’s slightly tanned face burned red at each saucy smirk, and he dipped his head before looking at her yet again. I’d already hit Josie with my Bible six different times as I sat by her side glowering at her. Josie’s crudeness at work or school was tolerable, but I didn’t play her games in the house of the Lord.

Nana sat several rows ahead of us and would occasionally glance over her shoulder and scowl when Josie snorted in laughter. Josie’s parents sat at Nana’s side, but they pretended they didn’t hear their daughter’s snickers throughout the service.

The Mad Hatters were all twisted sideways in their seats, staring down their noses at Josie and me. They were the elderly ladies who sat near the front of the sanctuary with their fancy box-hats perched on their short curly hair and crooked lipstick on their wrinkled faces. Josie had dubbed them the Mad Hatters because she despised them. I hung my head in shame under their watchful glare.

When the embarrassment became too much, I excused myself from the pew. I stepped on Josie’s toes with my heel as I slipped past her, smiling to myself as she grunted.

I used the restroom and got a drink from the fountain in the lobby. After taking a few deep breaths, I slipped into the empty children’s classroom.

The room hadn’t changed much since the day Tanner and I first met. The same table and metal chairs remained in the middle. Bookshelves filled with children’s Bible stories lined the room. An ancient chalkboard hung from the wall. I smiled as I read the sloppily written names of some of the youngsters in church scrawled across the board in their childlike handwriting.

I pulled a chair from the table and sat down, removing my cell phone from my dress pocket. Josie’s crude interruption was the perfect opportunity to check my phone. Tanner had texted me during the service, asking what my plans were for the rest of the day.

After church I’m eating dinner with my family at my grandmother’s. After putting up with my crazy family I’ll probably be sneaking from Lucy’s stash before the end of the night.

Twirling a strand of hair around one finger, I wondered about Tanner’s role in his family. Did he dabble in drugs like his relatives did? If he didn’t, would he judge me for my accidental admission? What would I do if I found out Tanner was involved with his family’s drug business? It wasn’t long before the phone vibrated in my clammy hand.

I need u tonight.

I huffed in mutual relief and frustration that he’d ignored my stash comment. There was so much I didn’t know about him that I longed to know. My finger hovered over the phone as I sent him one last text.

I’ll call u later. Going back into church. I’ll see u tonight ;)

As the service ended, Judge Greer walked around passing the collection plate. He was a balding, portly man in his late fifties, and quite possibly the most crooked criminal in our small town. He and Amos took turns picking up the collection plates full of hard-earned money at the end of each pew.

After the service, Amos, the preacher, Judge Greer, and Lawson Toms, one of three lawyers in the county, stood at the end of the brick building smoking cigarettes. Amos caught my gaze and smiled brightly while gesturing for me to join them. I walked down the sidewalk, my very core full of dread. Since my reunion with Tanner and Amos’ show of shooting his Bluetick Coonhound, I’d come to despise being within a mile of Amos.

“Ruby Red, aren’t you turning into a beautiful young woman.” Lawson took one last puff of his cigarette and flicked the butt onto the parking lot slag.

“Thank you, Mr. Toms.”

“Yes, Rue is beautiful, but she’s got brains too.” Amos sauntered up next to me and placed his hand on my shoulder. “She’s smart as a whip, I tell ya. There’s a rumor going around that Levi Bridges’ got his eye on her. They’d make a fine young couple, don’t you think, Greer?”

My body stiffened beneath Amos’ arm. The memory of Levi at the train station crept into my mind, and I swallowed the lump that formed in my throat.

“They sure would make a fine couple,” Judge Greer drawled, flashing his yellowing teeth. “A fine couple indeed.”

“He’s a little old for me, don’t you think?” The memory of Levi ebbed away, replaced with one of Tanner’s face.

“You’re turning nineteen in a few months.” Amos squeezed my shoulder. “Levi just turned twenty-three. Yup, I have a feeling Levi will be calling on you pretty soon, Rue. Do your favorite uncle a favor and give the poor boy a chance. His daddy sure has been a good friend over the years.”

“I’m sure Rue will give him a chance”—Judge Greer grinned—“considering you’re her favorite uncle and all. If it wasn’t for this man right here, you wouldn’t have that pretty little lake house you’re living in.”

Amos released my shoulder, crossed his arms over his chest, and gave the judge a hard glare. Judge Greer grinned wider while I stood, confounded, between the two men. Toms and the preacher man watched the three of us with rapt attention.

“What do you mean by that?” I shot the judge a frown.

“Your mother couldn’t come up with the land taxes at the beginning of the year.” He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his front pocket and lit one. “That lake house sits on a good bit of property. The land taxes on property like that are ridiculous. When I saw your mother’s name in the classified section for unpaid taxes, I called Amos. There’s no way in hell I could sleep at night knowing Jeb Monroe’s house and land would be put up for auction because his widowed wife couldn’t come up with the money.”

My uncle paid our property taxes … and I knew nothing about it. Amos did that for Lucy and me. He certainly didn’t do it for my absentee, traitorous mother. A mixture of emotions swelled deep within me as I thought of the things my uncle had done for Lucy and me throughout the years.

At the beginning of the summer, my father’s ancient lawn mower gave out, forcing me to use the old, cheap push mower I found in his woodshed. I’d spent two days push-mowing the thick, snake-filled grass surrounding the banks of our lake. When Amos found out from Josie, he’d gone out and bought me the best riding lawn mower on the market.

Then there was the time Lucy stole my Jeep and got pulled over for speeding. Amos had used his friendship with Buck to keep the ticket off her record, saving me from paying an increased rate on my car insurance because of my sister’s foolishness.

I also remembered Amos’ admission about killing Tanner’s father … and then there was poor old Toby.

Does the good in a person outweigh the bad?

The memory of my father lying cold and motionless in a casket answered my own internal question. No. Amos had selfishly ended someone’s life, leaving Tanner fatherless. My heart wrenched at the thought. I knew all too well how it felt to lose a parent. Amos also allowed that same boy, and everyone else in town, to believe my father was the man who had ended Tanner Sr.’s life.

I thanked my uncle for paying the property taxes and swore I’d save enough money to pay him back. Amos flat-out refused to take any money from me. He threw his arm around my shoulders again and gave a quick squeeze.

I skirted around the issue of Levi taking me on a date. There was no way in hell I’d ever go out with him.

The men began talking boisterously about their weekly poker game. They looked ridiculous standing in front of the church smoking their cigarettes and chatting about gambling while the preacher looked on with a neutral face.

As church had ended, my grandmother told me that Josie, Lucy, and I would spend the rest of the day picking vegetables in her garden. The boys would be working on the tractor that’d thrown a blade sometime earlier that week, and Nana would be busy cooking for our family.

After pulling up at the house, I shook Lucy, who still lay face-down on the couch. She moaned and complained but peeled herself off the couch to take a shower. She met me downstairs, and we were dressed much alike with our thin, plaid shirts, cut-off jean shorts, and scuffed cowboy boots. I grabbed a bottle of sunscreen, twisted my hair up in a sloppy bun, and the two of us left the house.

Nana’s house was surrounded by gently sloping pastures lined with tall, swooping trees. There were a couple of shade trees scattered about the pasture that were once a resting place for horses and cows who suffered as the Mississippi sun beat down on their backs. Small ponds remained near the trees where the farm animals once cooled their parched mouths.

Lucy and I clutched the metal handles of two yellow five-gallon buckets. We laughed at Josie who held a bucket in one hand and a gallon of sweet tea in the other. Josie frowned at us from behind her aviator glasses.

“Y’all laugh at me now,” she said with a huff, “but in about thirty minutes you’ll be begging for a sip of tea.”

Josie was right, of course. My grandpa’s old beige cowboy hat perched on my head did little to provide relief from the heat. Within thirty minutes, the three of us were taking turns sipping tea straight from the edge of the cheap, plastic pitcher.

Green and brown stains from vegetables and dirt smeared across my hands and packed under my fingernails as I toiled in the garden beside my sister and cousin. The sun hung suspended above us in a cloudless blue sky. Rays of heat beat down on our backs and arms as we got lost in the monotony of pulling peas from the vines. The air smelled of earth, sweat, and sunscreen. My skin beaded with moisture as the sweltering heat increased. The outdoor thermometer, hanging near my grandmother’s back door, had told me it was ninety-eight degrees when we first headed to the garden.

Thankfully, the sun dwindled lower in the sky as the day lagged on. We spotted the boys near the barn finishing up with the tractor as we trudged back to the house. They were just as dirty, if not more so, than the three of us. Brodie and Peyton were coated in a fine layer of red dirt, and my uncles were dusting off their britches as they washed their arms off with Nana’s water hose. They waved at us before we disappeared into the house.

After dinner, I dropped the plates in the sink and scrubbed away. Exhaustion swept over me. The tiredness from toiling in the garden paired with a secretive relationship over the last several weeks had completely worn me out.