Authors: Casey Clipper
"Mrs. Murphy has been missing since this morning. She went to the mall with one of my men. A man that was not to be left alone with her. Someone we're watching. Someone I don't trust but didn't want to frighten my wife and didn't warn her of him." Derrick turned to look at the two men. "She has Caitlin with her."
Both men visibly sucked air.
"Will he hurt Caitlin?" Jarrett gritted out.
"I don't know," Derrick admitted.
Russ pulled out his phone and punched at the device a of couple of times. Jarrett hovered next to him. The room silent, they watched the two military men zero in on something.
"What the hell are you two doing?" Ryan barked. "Courtney and Caitlin are missing."
"Mr. Murphy," Jarrett looked up. "We didn't tell you because we were afraid of your reaction. It's quite clear you're not happy with us as Caitlin's caretakers‒"
"We did it to protect her," Russ interrupted.
"What the fuck," Sean screamed.
Fuming, Derrick didn't have time for games. "If you two don't spit it out I'm removing you from my home."
"We put GPS trackers in all of Caitlin's belongings," Jarrett said. "Her diaper bag, stroller, car seat, and carrier."
Audible, sharp inhales echoed in the room from every one of Derrick's men, including himself. He stumbled and braced himself on the island.
"You mean..."
Russ's phone beeped. "We have her."
"Jack!" Derrick screamed.
"I'm on it, Boss," Jack said from behind him.
"What possessed you two to track my daughter?" Derrick demanded.
"She's a beautiful baby girl, Mr. Murphy. There are too many sick people in this world that might try and take her," Jarrett said.
"Derrick," Sean said, grabbing his attention. "What will Courtney do if they've been taken?"
"She'll do whatever is necessary to protect Caitlin. Even at the expense of her own life." Derrick straightened upright, picked up the rot-iron stool, and launched it through the glass doors. The house grew silent. Derrick stalked away from everyone. No one had ever seen that type of reaction from him. Someone would pay for the betrayal.
***
Swallowing his pride was never one of Derrick's strongest traits. He was going to have to do that exact thing over the hiring of Jarrett and Russ.
Fifteen minutes after locating his daughter, cars loaded with weapons, an army of Derrick’s men, and Derrick himself pulled away from the Murphy home to rescue the two most important women in the organized family. They hoped Courtney didn't do anything monumentally stupid and kept herself and Caitlin safe.
Derrick refused to allow Sean, Ryan, Jarrett, and Russ to tag along. In no way he wanted them involved with the carnage that was about to occur. He respected each one of those men too much to get their hands dirty. Yet.
***
Courtney
A tray of food in hand, Trent cautiously opened the bedroom door then closed it behind him.
"I need formula for Caitlin. She drank the one bottle I had," Courtney fumed.
Perspiration dripped down his forehead. Trent wiped his brow nervously. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Murphy. I didn't know this was his plan. He asked for information about you but never said what he wanted. I would have never‒"
Sounds of wood splintering, the door banging open and smacking off the wall interrupted him. Trent spun.
A deafening gunshot echoed throughout the tiny room. Blood splattered over every surface, including Courtney. She screamed and tossed herself protectively on top of her daughter. A thud resounded brutally when Trent's lifeless body hit the hardwood floor. Screams and cries from Caitlin blasted through the house. John violently grabbed Courtney's arm and dragged her off the bed into Trent's pool of blood.
"Let me go, I have the baby in my arms," Courtney screamed, kicked, and fought, her grip securely clamped onto her daughter.
Cold steel met her temple, causing her to go still.
"Get up, Courtney, or I'll fucking kill you too and take Caitlin for myself. No one will ever find us," John said enraged.
"I wouldn't be too sure about that, Mr. Marshall," said the deadly monotone of a ferocious husband.
John turned but was hit from behind. His limp body fell to the ground unconscious.
Baby girl plastered against her, Courtney remained curled into a ball. Derrick hovered like a vicious lion. She looked up terrified, her eyes filled with relief and horror. He bent and stroked her face, like he was checking to make certain she was alive.
"I'm okay. Caitlin's okay," she said, her voice shaky.
"I'll make sure you're all right, Court," he insisted. "Let me take you both home."
Derrick
A well-fed Caitlin cooed at her father. Derrick tenderheartedly stroked his daughter's beautiful face and grinned down at her.
"She looks more like you every day," Derrick said.
"I see so much of you and Darren in her," Courtney countered, lying next to him in bed.
He smiled ruefully, then fell somber and admitted his worst nightmare, "I thought I'd I lost you."
"I knew you would find me," she whispered. "You promised."
With his free hand, he palmed her cheek. "I will always find you."
"Promise me you'll never have to look again."
"I promise," Derrick assured her.
"Then I can live with this." She waved her hand in the air at nothing in particular. "All part of the package."
"No, it's not," he argued. "Never again, as long as I live, will anyone ever take you from me." If the mob world thought he was dangerous before, they’d seen nothing yet.
David Shalen
The Sunday paper was scattered across David's coffee table. He'd finally sat down to relax after attending church and brunch with his parents. But before he picked up the sports section, he tried to call John, who never answered. It was the same everyday since his partner had been fired. David tried to reach out to his former good friend, though he suspected the man may have mentally broke down. John's obsession with Courtney Murphy was something that deeply concerned him and was convinced the man needed help.
The front doorbell rang.
David looked up from his paper and glanced at the wall clock. He wasn't expecting company.
The doorbell rang again.
Setting aside his paper, he answered the door to find a young man, late teens, holding a large brown box.
"Mr. Shalen?" the young man asked.
"Yes."
"Delivery for you." The box was shoved into his body before he could react.
Before David protested, the kid hastily turned on his heels and rushed to a waiting car parked on the street. As soon as the kid's body hopped inside, the car sped away. When the shock of the bazaar delivery wore off, he instantly grew wary of what he held. What had he been thinking taking the box? How had he managed to be taken off guard?
He dashed towards the rear of his home, scampered onto his back porch, and tossed the package in the center of the picnic table. He rushed inside and grabbed his cell from the living room.
Inexplicably he decided to go back to the package. It was a gorgeous, warm day as he paced and debated on what to do with the box. He leaned his head in close but didn't hear a sound, though that didn't mean shit. He straightened and stared at the plain brown shipping box. No return address label. Hell, no label.
Shit.
Not good.
He pulled out his trusty utility knife and sliced through the packing tape. As soon as the top popped open, a horrid stench hit him. Instinctively he recoiled, covered his nose and tried to hold down his food. That smell was all too familiar.
Death.
Now he
had
to finish opening the box to find out what the hell was inside.
Pulling his shirt over his nose, he lifted the outside flaps. His hands shook violently. He didn't deal with the kind of work that dealt with situations that required field skills. That was why John had been fired and why he was placed on probation for months. They worked the field without permission and fucked it up. Royally. He didn't do the down and dirty work like opening up randomly questionable boxes.
Slowly, he opened the inside flaps of the box. Lying on top of whatever was inside was thick, cream paper with a note in large block writing that read:
AN EYE FOR AN EYE
.
With uncontrollably shaking hands, David lifted the note. John Marshall's decapitated head with his left eye missing and mouth formed in a perfect O stared up at him.
David spun and projectile vomited his breakfast. He flew back away from the box.
What the fuck!
There was no doubt in his mind whose handiwork that belonged to.
Message received Derrick Murphy.
After fifteen minutes of more vomiting, David did what he had to. He called the local police, who would ultimately do nothing about John Marshall's appendage. Derrick Murphy owned the local police, judges, and even a couple of his fellow agents. It would be swept under the rug.
Courtney
Courtney stepped into the living room and Derrick turned away from his discussion with Jack and Carl. His mouth dropped open.
"You're gorgeous," he breathed.
She wore a floor-length, black designer dress with spaghetti straps and a scoop neck top that revealed her post motherhood cleavage. A slit up the left leg exposed her toned thigh. The back of the dress sloped down to her tailbone, leaving her entire back exposed. She pulled her hair up loosely and had her makeup professional done. She had busted her butt to lose her baby fat for the evening's event and mostly succeeded. Though her figure had changed with giving birth, she donned a new luscious hourglass. At least that's what the women at the designer gown shop said.
She wiggled uneasy. "I don't feel good about myself, Derrick. I don't like it. I feel too exposed and too open."
He took two long, hard strides and towered over her. He cupped her face so she'd look him in the eyes. "Darling, you look ravishing, trust me. I would never allow you to go out in public if something didn't look right on you. I know how you feel self-conscious about yourself."
A small, shy smile broke across her face. He was right. Her husband understood her well enough that she preferred honesty.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"I have something for you, my love," Derrick said. He picked a black box off the coffee table, handed it to her with a kiss. "I think this will match your dress perfectly tonight."
She opened the large, black velvet box to find two bracelets made of a single row of chocolate diamonds, flanked on either side with a single row of white diamonds.