Authors: Sharon Sala
“We never used the word marry before.”
His heart sank. “Sorry, I just—”
“No, you misunderstand,” she said quickly. “After all the crap my dad has put you through, I was afraid you’d write me off as too much trouble.”
He laughed. “Oh, you’ll always be trouble, but not too much for me.”
And just like that, her fear that he would leave her was gone. She grinned.
“I’ll make you pay for that.”
He grinned. “And I’ll hold you to it, but not today. I need to leave. The interview is on the other side of town and I don’t want to be late.”
“Will you call me later and let me know how it went?”
“Absolutely,” he said.
A few minutes later, he was back in his vehicle and heading across town. It felt good to be making plans for a real future. The Black Garter burning down had forced him out of a comfort zone to nowhere. For the first time in his life, he was thinking long-term, and part of it had to do with his mom and sister. If he ever got out of his apartment into a real house, he firmly believed Delle and Linny would leave Anson and stay with him on a permanent basis.
****
Sam had been potting bamboo plants for so many years that he could do it without thinking. Now that Chance had quit, it was strange working alone. Anson had always issued orders and they’d done the work, but lately Anson was as off-center as Sam felt, and as the days passed, he was forced to admit that something else was happening to his father—something he’d never seen before.
Anson spent days in the family library digging through old books on voodoo and spells. If he wasn’t screaming at Linny for being underfoot or ordering Delle around like a slave, he was talking to himself. He was a man living on the edge of insanity and they didn’t know why. Even stranger, he began making everyone else take the first bites of the food Delle made as if he believed she was trying to poison him. For the first time in his life, Anson Poe looked old and didn’t seem to mind he wasn’t pretty anymore. No one knew why, but they all felt it was only a matter of time before he reached a crisis.
****
Chance had the first legal job of his life working as a parts man at an auto supply. It was somewhat boring, but the fact he didn’t have to look over his shoulder for the cops every day was a plus. When he talked to his brothers, he refused to discuss anything that had to do with Anson. He’d only called his mother once since he quit, and when Anson caught her talking to him, Anson ripped the phone out of her hands and started screaming at him for running out on them like a coward. Chance disconnected and hadn’t called back. He didn’t know how to fix what was wrong with his family, and was too sick at heart to even try.
****
Linny was a ghost in the house, slipping from room to room like a little mouse, staying in the shadows, never making noise, never looking up. Her theory was that if she couldn’t see Daddy, he couldn’t see her.
Rabbit had become her talisman. The secret phone inside the stuffed toy was her connection to Sir Brendan, her most brave and faithful knight. At night, she slipped the cord to the phone charger into the rabbit and plugged it in, then tucked Rabbit beneath her arm. Each morning, she hid the cord so as not to give away the phone’s existence and kept Rabbit within arm’s reach everywhere she went.
She knew something bad was wrong with Daddy and Mama. Mama cried when she thought no one was looking, and Daddy threw things and screamed. She said prayers each night for God to protect them, but was afraid to talk too loud. All she could do was hope He was listening.
****
Anson couldn’t sleep. Everywhere he looked, things burst into flames, and then he’d look again and the fire would be gone. In a moment of desperation, he went into New Orleans and knocked on Mama Lou’s door for help. As soon as she saw who was there, she shut it in his face.
Anson went wild. First he cursed her, then remembered why he’d come and begged her to let him in, offering her large amounts of money for her help, but nothing happened. She was the one person he knew who might be able to remove a curse, unaware she was the one who had created it.
He went home in a rage that carried well over into the evening, and then just before bedtime, his cell phone rang. He answered without looking at Caller ID then frowned when he recognized Wes Riordan’s voice.
“Hey, Anson, it’s me. I’m checking in to see if you’ve located any new product.”
Anson thought about the million dollars’ worth of pot that had gone up in smoke, then rattled the ice cubes in his whiskey and took a quick drink before answering.
“Not yet. The law’s tightening down around here on growers, and I was the only one paying for protection.”
There was a long silence afterward that left Anson in fear his ass was about to get dumped, but he was wrong.
“Well, anytime you have something else to sell, will you let me know?” Riordan said.
There was a noise out in the hall that made Anson jump, and when he got a glimpse of Linny darting past the doorway, he frowned.
“What was that you said?” he asked.
“I said, anytime you have something else to sell, let me know.”
And just like that, he remembered Riordan mentioning what a kid Linny’s age would bring on the open market. The moment he let himself consider the notion, he realized he’d rather have the money than her. It would be what he needed to get back on top, and at the same time get Belinda out of his hair. But he’d have to figure out a way to make it happen so no one would suspect.
“Yes, I’ll definitely let you know,” Anson said, and then put down the phone and walked out into the hall, but Linny was gone again. The little bitch was like a firefly, here one moment, gone the next.
Delle came out of the library carrying a dust mop and a can of furniture polish. She saw Anson too late to turn back and moved the dust mop from her left hand to her right in a subconscious need for self-defense.
To her surprise, Anson made no move to grab at her breasts as he usually did or pull her into a room and take her standing up without care for who might see. Grateful for small favors, she put her head down and kept on walking, unaware of what was going through his head.
****
Four days later
The sun was barely above the horizon when Anson locked himself in the library and then opened the wall safe to count the cash. There was a difference between the money on hand and the money in the bank. The one in the bank was for their legal business, the one on hand had been from the marijuana, and it was dwindling at a scary rate. They had another shipment of potted bamboo nearly ready to go, but it would never bring in what he wanted.
A couple of days earlier, Sam had come up with the idea of delivering the bamboo themselves to flower wholesalers, rather than wait for buyers to come get it. Even though they would be renting a truck to deliver, they would be the ones going to market. No more short sales to others.
Anson had been hesitant to put out the money for a rental, but had to admit it was a good idea. His daddy always said you had to spend money to make money, and he was still toying with the idea of making a deal with Riordan.
Before the fire, he had coldly planned to kill Delle to get back at Brendan and conceal her body in the attic in the crawl space. He knew she regretted coming back, and it would have been a kick to know she would never leave Wisteria Hill, not even in death.
But after spending time out here on his own, he’d come to realize he liked his food hot and ready and a hot and ready woman in his bed. So, killing her was out because it would impact his comfort. The bigger revenge would be getting rid of the kid, a loss that would affect all of them, and get him back on his feet at the same time. He would make a deal with Riordan, and when Sam left to deliver the bamboo, he’d snatch the kid and make the sale off-site. When Belinda didn’t show up for supper, he’d make sure they believed she’d become a victim to the dangers in the swamp. It was a beautiful plan—just like the night he’d set up Grayson March’s guards to self-destruct. He loved it when a good plan came together, and it was time to make this one happen.
He scanned the contacts in his cell phone and when he came to Wes’s name, hit call. Riordan answered on the second ring.
“I figured you’d be calling me,” Wes said.
Anson frowned. “Why?”
Wes chuckled. “Because we have a good working relationship I assume you don’t want to lose. Did you find some new stuff?”
“Something better.”
Wes quickly countered. “Like what?”
“You said you were in the market for prime females of a certain age,” Anson said, and when he heard a slight gasp, he knew he had Riordan’s attention. “Well? Are you or aren’t you?”
“Who are we talking about?” Wes asked.
“Mine.”
There was another moment of silence and then a hesitant question. “You’re offering your own kid up for sale?”
Anson was immediately defensive. “This is no different than what my ancestors did. They fucked their slaves and sold their by-blows. The kid is a commodity. Are you interested or not?”
“Hell yes, I’m interested. I’ll give you seventy-five—”
“No. You’ll give me a hundred thousand, which is the amount you mentioned the first time it came out of your mouth.”
“Done. When can I expect delivery?”
“Two days. I’ll let you know where later.”
“I’ll be waiting for the call,” Riordan said.
Anson hung up, then sat for a moment, savoring the silence before getting up to pour himself a stiff shot of whiskey. He’d had booze for breakfast plenty of times and this was a moment of celebration. Within days, his cash flow problem would be over. He tossed back the whiskey like it was medicine, savoring the burn as it rolled down his throat.
His stride was long and sure as he headed for the door, until a loud, sudden drumbeat stopped him mid-step, followed by the warning rattles of the snakes he feared. He broke out into a cold sweat, and when his heart began to beat in a rapid rhythm with the rattle, he bolted from the room.
****
Sam drove in with the rental truck before daylight and began loading up the pots of bamboo. It was the first time he’d taken a lead in the business and it made him feel good. If these were picked up at market as he hoped they would be and the money was good, it would be the beginning of a new facet of the bamboo trade. He was already loading the truck when Anson showed up in the packing shed.
“Everything all set?” Anson asked.
Sam nodded. “Yes. I have a contact at the flower market and should be unloaded and back before noon. If there are any delays, I’ll call.”
“Good, good, so, I’ll talk to you later,” Anson said, and walked out.
Sam thought nothing of the abruptness of the visit. Anson never wanted anything to do with the dirty work. As soon as he was loaded, he drove out without bothering to stop at the house. It was early and he would check on them later when he got back.
Anson was standing at the window, watching Sam drive away. He could hear footsteps on the floor above him, which meant Delle and Linny were up. He also knew that as soon as his daughter ate, she would be out of the house like a rocket and headed to the swamp. That’s when he would make his move and no one would be the wiser.
He left his dirty coffee cup on the counter so Delle would know he’d finished breakfast, then got in his truck and took off toward the burned pot fields. But instead of taking a left turn at the packing shed, he pulled his pickup up inside it and parked. He was safely out of sight of the house, but only feet from the path Linny took to go play. The moment he got out, he called Riordan.
Riordan answered quickly. “It’s me. Is this still on?”
Anson frowned. “You know me better than that. I’m calling to make sure you’re where you said you’d be.”
“I’m here and waiting.”
“You don’t get anything until I get my money,” Anson said.
“Don’t threaten me, Poe.” There was a long moment of silence, and then Riordan heard Anson make what sounded like a growl. He shivered in spite of himself. He worked with lots of bad people, but there was something about Anson Poe that gave him the creeps. “Fine. Whatever,” Riordan muttered.
“I’ll call when I’m on the way,” Anson said.
As soon as he hung up, he looked around the corner of the shed to see if Linny was on the way, but she was nowhere in sight. He got a rag and the bottle of chloroform he bought yesterday from beneath the seat of his truck, and then took a stance at one of two very dusty windows so he could see the house and settled down to wait.
****
Delle entered the kitchen with a tentative step then saw the dirty cup on the counter. When she looked out the window and saw that Anson’s pickup was nowhere in sight, her relief grew. He’d either gone off to work or was in town fooling around. Either way suited her just fine.
In a better frame of mind, she began making scrambled eggs. The room was cool and the floor beneath her feet was smooth. There were so many things that had been made beautiful, but she couldn’t appreciate them properly for wishing the man responsible would do them all a favor and drop dead.
A few minutes later, she heard Linny coming down the stairs.
“Linny! Breakfast is ready. Come eat!”
Linny poked her head around the doorway with Rabbit clutched in one hand. “Where’s Daddy?”
“Already gone to work,” Delle said. “Sit down while your eggs are still warm.”
Happy that the Evil Overlord was nowhere in sight, Linny moved to the table with a bounce in her step. She laid Rabbit on the table and dug into her food with gusto.
Delle eyed her daughter, taking note of the haphazard ponytail and the old T-shirt and shorts she was wearing and then decided it didn’t matter. She was a little surprised that Linny had begun to carry the stuffed toy around as she had when she was a toddler, then decided it had to do with how she was dealing with the trauma of her life. She felt guilty enough without telling Linny she should leave the toy behind, but thought it prudent to give her some rules for the day.