Devil's Due

"I'm a tough-ass Irishman, remember?" I snorted. Then I raised a foot over the tub's edge and stepped out onto a towel. Aly followed me out, standing on the other towel, grabbed a third big towel, and started drying me off. Her hands moving the towel over my body felt wicked awesome!

I had to admit, I felt a lot better. The bath had relaxed my muscles quite a bit. I felt ten times better than I had before, when I first sat down in the hot, sudsy water.

"Ya know, I could get used to this," I flirted a bit. "A gorgeous woman giving me baths and massages sounds like something the doctor would order."

Alysha laughed good-naturedly, then finished drying me off. "Wipe your own feet, sweetie. I love ya, but not that much!"

"Yes, ma'am," I chortled, wiping my feet on the towel I stood on. Aly threw the towel she'd used on me, into the bathroom hamper, and grabbed another one for herself. I couldn't help watching as she dried her gorgeous body with slow, languorous movements.

I tried to feel guilty. I really did! But then that image of Sophie spitting in my face popped up for a split-second, and whatever guilt I'd been trying for, evaporated.

Yeah, I know that Sophie got bamboozled by those stupid fuck bumpkins. That didn't come anywhere close to excusing her for her actions, though! None of those toolboxes held a fuckin' gun to her head. It was still her choice to believe them over me. It was still her choice to let those sacks of ass nuggets gangbang her. It was still her choice to spit in my face. So, after all the shit was over, I decided to make my own decision, regarding our marriage. I left.

Some people say that you can't just flip a fuckin' switch and stop loving someone. I think that's partially true. Love and Hate are divided by a wicked thin line, though. Two sides of the same coin.

Let me sort shit out for ya. I didn't hate Sophie. I hate what she did. I did stop loving her, though. When I saw what she was capable of, that showed me all I needed to know. When you become scared of your spouse, you need to leave. When I got scared of Sophie, I had to get the fuck out.

I ain't one of those codependent douchebags who thinks he can't do any better, either. Yeah, I loved Sophie. Past tense. I was in love with her. Also, past tense.

I'd managed to crush my crush on Alysha, a long time ago. I knew it was fully back now, though!

"Enjoying the show, slugger?" she asked, giggling as she gave me a wink.

"Yeah, I am," I replied, with more confidence than I thought I'd had.

"Well, stop," she said as she grabbed her panties and shimmied them on. Then she grabbed her top and shimmied back into it. Then followed her shorts and sandals. All I did was stand there with my mouth open, while she got dressed. She'd stunned me with those two words.

When she saw the look on my face, she sighed.

"Rick honey, you need rest," she said gently. She took my hand and led me back to the bedroom. She sat me down on the bed and sat next to me. "I'm going to go get Charisse, and have her take a look at you. I know that you don't want any doctors involved, since your visit could tip off those assholes back in Florida. Doesn't change the fact that you have been injured pretty damn badly. She's going into her fourth year, so she knows some shit. Ok?"

"Ok by me," I managed, giving her a half-smile.

"Good, now lay yourself down, and we'll be right back."

"Yes, ma'am."

I laid myself down to wait, and my eyes slammed shut on me.

^^^^^

Alysha:

I couldn't believe what that ratchet bitch and those assholes had done to Rick! I shuddered when I thought of all he'd been through over the past few days. Beaten within an inch of his life, or what would be an inch of his life for most men! Driving across the country on adrenaline, a little food, and a ton of Mountain Fuckin' Dew! Yes, I saw what he had in his car, when Chari and I helped him with his bags.

"Chari," I called from the hallway.

"What's up, Aly?" she asked.

"Can you come check out Rick for me? He's way worse off than I thought." I explained.

"Sure, let me get my stuff," she replied. She jumped up off the couch, went to her room, and retrieved her medical bag. Then she jogged towards me, and I led her to Rick's bedroom.

"Damn!" she exclaimed. "What hit him, a Mack truck? It's a wonder he isn't dead!"

"Can you give him a check-over, though?" I asked. "Do what you can for him. He can't go to a hospital."

Chari gave me a skeptical look. "Ok, but when I'm done, you're going to tell me just what the fuck is going on."

"Ok," I said and nodded agreement.

I watched Charisse check Rick over. I wasn't surprised to find him fast asleep. The man had been through Hell over the past several days, after all! She checked his pulse, prodded his ribs a bit, and listened to his breathing with her stethoscope. She breathed on it to warm it up, before placing it on his skin, at least. Once she finished with her exam, she stood and came over to where I waited by the door, and pulled me out into the hallway.

"He probably has some bruised ribs, some contusions, and a shit ton of other bruises," she said quietly. "Nothing broken that I can tell, though. Your friend is one tough son of a bitch."

"He was born and raised in South Boston," I said, gazing at Rick as he slept. "He had to grow up tough, or he wouldn't have grown up at all."

Chari got a thoughtful look on her face. Then her eyes widened. "Wait, is that the Rick Donnelly? The one who played Shortstop for the Gators? I saw the scar on his left knee. Is it really him?"

"I didn't know you watched College Baseball," I laughed. "Yeah, that's him, alright."

"Wow," Chari whispered, shaking her head. "I might have to try cock again, for him!"

"Don't even think about it, girl!" I warned her. "He's still married, and with the shit his wife did to him, he ain't ready for any kind of relationship, right now."

"Oh, please!" Chari rolled her eyes and smirked. "I saw the way you looked at him, and how you're still looking at him. I get it, girl. You two got some history. Trust me on something, Aly. I saw the way he looks at you, too. I remember being with guys, and even helped one through a nasty breakup. The best thing for him is you! I think that big cock of his would be the best thing for you, too. But if you don't want him, I mean really don't want him, I'll take that big cock of his for a joyride. Who knows? He might reconvert me!"

God dammit! I knew she was right! I started to think she wasn't fully on the Girl Team, though.

"Ok, let's say you're right," I said, not quite ready to admit it. "What happens if I turn out to be just a rebound fuck? What then?"

"If that happens, and judging by how he looks at you, that's a big if, you deal with it," she explained. "I'm willing to bet that you won't be just a rebound fuck for him, though.

"Now," she continued, before I could get a word in edgewise. "You owe me a very thorough explanation, about what happened to your man in there."

"Ok, let's go out to the living room," I said, and we walked out there together. I picked up the remote and turned the TV off. Then we sat on the couch, facing each other. I took a deep breath, and relayed what Rick had told me.

As I told her what had happened, Charisse's mouth fell open in shock. I could relate! At first, I thought she would call me and Rick liars, but when I finished, she just shook her head.

"That's too strange to be a lie," she said, still trying to wrap her head around it. "It has to be true, because nobody would make up a story like that!"

"I've known Rick since we were teenagers, back in Boston," I said, giving her some background. "He's a lot of things, but 'liar' isn't on that list."

"I believe you, and him," Chari raised her hands in surrender. "Wow! That's kind of fucked up, though! I mean, what the fuck, was that ratchet skank thinking?!"

"I know, right?" I agreed. "That ho gave up one of the best, most loyal men I've ever known, on the word of some stupid fuck redneck assholes! All because they had some pics of us hugging before I caught my flight, the other day!"

Chari nodded, then smiled. "I hear you, sister. Think of it this way, though. Her loss is your gain!"

"You're right," I nodded in agreement. Then I gave Chari my best grin. "As soon as he's recovered, I'm gonna rock his world!"

^^^^^

Dwight:

Goddammit, why couldn't that Goddamn Yankee just die?! Why did he have to run? Now I have to find him, or my Daddy will have my ass in a sling! Rick Donnelly is a loose end, and Sheriff Tim Bagwell hates loose ends! Fuck! Not even Sophie's sweet cunt and ass are worth this! Oh, and that damn bitch and her whore mother skipped town, too! Goddammit!

Gerry and Brad are dead, and I'm up shit creek! How the fuck do I find a guy who doesn't want to be found? Don't even tell me how far out of my jurisdiction, he is! I know he's long fuckin' gone! Shit, he's probably up in Canada or down in Mexico, by now!

Nah, I ain't stupid enough to think he really went back to Boston. In spite of his phone call to gloat after killing my buddies, I knew it was a ruse. He wanted me to go up there and start asking questions, which would most likely get me killed. I had to hand it to him. I woulda done the same thing in his shoes.

That don't change the fact that he was still a loose end, though! I gotta find his Damn Yankee ass, or it'll be my ass on the chopping block!

I could try to find Sophie and her slut mother! I bet they would know how to contact him! No, I had to throw that plan out, too. No way, no how, would he ever contact them! Not after what me, and the boys had done to him, Sophie included!

Shit, that was funny watching her spit in that asshole's face! I grinned for a second, before I remembered what happened after that. I knew that if I didn't find him, I was done. How, though? How the fuck do I find a needle in a haystack of haystacks?! He could be anywhere in the world, by now. Goddammit!

Then it hit me, and I smiled. I didn't know how to find the asshole, but I knew who could find him for me! I pulled out my phone, and called my cousin in the Atlanta FBI field office.

"What the fuck do you want, Dwight?" Brett asked, when he picked up.

"Hey, don't be like that, man," I said. "I need a favor. Just listen, before you say no. If you do this, we're square."

That caught his attention. He owed me, or more accurately my Daddy, for making an indiscretion of his, disappear.

"We're square?" he asked, more like a statement, though. "As in no more favors after this? Do I have Uncle Tim's word on that?"

"You got my word on that, Brett," I promised. "If Daddy says anything, I'll square it with him."

"Not good enough," he snapped back, making me grit my teeth. "Get Uncle Tim to call me. If he says we're square after this favor, I'll do it. Until then, go fuck yourself!" Before I could say shit back, the asshole hung up on me!

Shit! Just because I kind of got him into that jam when we were in high school, he automatically thinks I have it in for him! It was just a Goddamn joke! So what if the girl ended up in a coma! How was I supposed to know she'd have an allergic reaction to the roofie?!

That was the main reason Daddy wanted Rick Donnelly taken care of. If he figured out that Gerry was up in Gainesville selling our home grown roofies to the frat boys, he could bring down some shit on our heads. Fuck! Now I had to convince Daddy to let Brett off the hook if he did us this favor!

I cursed all the way to the station, and went straight into Daddy's office without knocking.

"Well?" he said, not even flinching.

"I called Brett," I said. "He says if you let him off the hook, he'll do us a favor. I didn't tell him what it was, but I want him to use his FBI cred to track down Donnelly for us."

"Hmm," he replied, narrowing his eyes. I waited until he spoke, hoping like Hell he'd go for it. "Fine. Do it."

"That's the thing, Daddy," I continued, swallowing hard. "You gotta be the one to call him. He won't believe it from me."

"Sheeeit!" Daddy swore. "Fine!"

He picked up his phone and dialed Brett's cell. He had to visibly calm down, before he spoke to his nephew. "Brett. Do what Dwight wants, and we're square. You got my word on that. Mmhmm. Ok. He'll call you in a minute. Bye."

Then he glared a hole through my forehead. "I just gave up a valuable resource, thanks to you and your idiot friends. He'd better come through, or it's your ass, son!"

"He'll come through, Daddy," I assured him, silently praying that the asshole would come through.

"He'd better. Now, get the fuck outta my office!" he snarled.

I stepped outside and called Brett.

"Ok, asshole. What do ya want?" he asked. He'd do it, even if he didn't like it. Family's family.

"I need you to see if you can track down a guy named Richard Donnelly. He's driving a black and silver 1969 Camaro Z28," I informed him, adding the asshole's license plate number and Social Security Number.

"What did he do?" Brett asked. At least I knew exactly how to answer that question.

"He killed Brad and Gerry in cold blood," I snarled. "He's a Yankee from Boston. I don't think he'd go back there, though. He probably knows that's the first place we'd look. We need to keep this on the DL, though."

Brett laughed. "So, you don't want anyone to know that two of your finest got whacked by a Damn Yankee? Oh, the fucking irony! What did you do? Roofie his wife and rape her in front of him?"

Shit, was he close! No need for a roofie, though. Those pics that Gerry got had done the trick, just fine. I knew better than to deny it to Brett Harland, though. He was the only one of my relatives from Mom's side that I knew. He was also biased enough to think that if I denied it, I must be lying.

"None of your business," I said, letting him know that subject was closed. "I need it done as soon as possible, though. Once you locate him, call me. I'll take it from there."

"Fine," he gave in, swallowing his pride. "I hope I have something for you soon, but it might take a while. If you call me, before I call you, it might take even longer. Got it?" An asshole to the end. Shit, I wished I could feed that self-righteous prick to Big Roscoe!

"Got it," I replied, swallowing my own pride, for a minute.

"Good. Bye, now," he finished, hanging up on me.

All I knew was, that bastard had better come through!

^^^^^

Rick:

Holy fuck! I felt better than I had in days! Most of the soreness and stiffness was gone! I opened my eyes to an unfamiliar bedroom, wondering where I was. Then I threw the sheet off of my naked body and sat up quickly. I started to panic, but forced myself to calm down. Looking around, the memories came back in a rush.

The road trip, lack of sleep, not much food, and too much Mountain Dew. Put that together with the beating I'd gotten on the worst night of my life, and I felt lucky to be alive. Then I remembered what happened in the bath, with Aly giving me the most erotic massage I've ever had.

Then my bladder started shouting at me to drain the main vein. I got out of bed, still a little stiff, and made my way into the bathroom, my boner leading the way. Once I relieved myself and flushed, I sighed in relief. Then I made my way back into the bedroom, and saw a note in Aly's handwriting, on the night table. I picked it up and read it:

Rick,

We put all your clothes in the dresser for you, and the duffel bag full of cash under the bed. Your toothbrush, toothpaste, mouthwash, and other things are in your bathroom by the sink. Hope you start feeling better soon, sweetie! Love ya!

Love, Aly! <3

I smiled wryly as I finished reading it. The little heart at the end was a nice touch. I've said it before, and I'm pretty sure I'll say it for the rest of my life. God Bless Alysha, always! I took a chance and stretched out, before opening the dresser drawers. Still some soreness, and a touch of stiffness remained. I opened the top drawer and grabbed a pair of boxers. I stepped into them and pulled them up, then walked back into the bathroom.

Looking in the mirror, I winced as I saw what remained of my bruises. It's a good thing I'd kept in shape, after Baseball and physical therapy.

Then I looked at my left hand, as if seeing it for the first time. I still wore my wedding ring. Just looking at it made me nauseous, though. I pried it off and tossed it in the bathroom trash. Then I splashed my face with cold water, and looked myself in the eyes.

"This is the first fuckin' day of the rest of your life, Rick Donnelly." Then I smiled and nodded to myself.

I threw on a t-shirt, jeans, socks and shoes, and gathered my wallet and keys into the pockets. Then I went looking for the kitchen and food. I hadn't heard anyone out there yet, so I figured they might be asleep, or out someplace. Then I looked at my watch and blinked twice when I saw the day and date. I'd been out cold for over 24 hours! Aly had let me sleep for a full day and some change. I let out a relieved laughing sigh, realizing for the first time, just how bad a shape I'd been in.

I didn't see anyone when I made it to the kitchen. Hell, I didn't even know the full layout of the ranch style house, yet. I looked around and spotted another note on the counter. It was from Aly, same as the other one. She said that she had to go shopping, but to help myself to anything in the refrigerator.

I shrugged and went to the fridge, where I found two six-packs of Guinness! Fuckin' yes! I grabbed a bottle and opened the cap, taking a healthy swig. Nectar of the gods, it is! It made me feel even better, since I knew she'd bought it for me. Alysha prefers wine or scotch, but she knows how much I love my Irish Stout.

However, knowing that Beer by itself isn't a meal, even though it should be its own food group, I went looking for some real food.

I found some ham and cheese, and saw a breadbox on the counter. Searching through the cupboards, I found some plates, too. I grabbed one, got four pieces of bread out of the box, and some ketchup out of the fridge. I popped the bread into the toaster, and when it popped up, squirted some ketchup on each slice. Added the ham and cheese to the sandwiches, popped them in the microwave for 45 seconds, and I had some real food!

I ate as I went over some things in my head. Yesterday was Saturday, so today was Sunday. I'd have to hit the bank tomorrow, to deposit my money. After washing my plate off, I decided to turn on the TV and see if there was anything on the News about me, yet.

Nothing popped up, so I turned the TV off, went back to the bedroom and grabbed my laptop. I found another note on my laptop with the code for Aly's Wi-Fi. That brought a smile to my face. Then I Googled my name and discovered that I wasn't listed anywhere in the recent news stories. That was good, at least! I wasn't a wanted man. Not officially, at any rate.

I took another swig of beer as I frowned, going over everything I knew about Dwight, his asshat father, and his butt buddies. They pretty much ran the whole town. They stopped short of extortion and protection rackets, of course. Those would just make people pick up and move out. I knew that most of their revenue from fines came from ticketing out-of-towners, too.

The more I thought about it, the less likely it seemed that Dwight would come after me. Sure, I'd fed his stupid fuck bacon butt buddies to Big Roscoe. He'd still have to be way more intelligent than he was, to track me down. He'd also have to be fuckin' galactically stupid to actually try something, if he managed to track me down. Then again, knowing the average mentality in that hick burg, I'd be fuckin' stupid to overestimate Dwight's intelligence.