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Chapter34
Parking his truck down the street, he walked along the edge of the garage, looked in the window to see Megan's Jeep still inside and then saw one Waylon June running across the back yard from the street at the back of the house. Running wasn't really the term for it, he was simply too large to run, maybe lopping was a better word for it. At any rate, he watched from the side of the garage as Waylon used a key on the back door, opened it up, and stepped inside.
Now if he were a betting man, he'd bet that piece of shit had been hiding those stolen drugs in Megan's basement all along. Once Waylon was inside, he inched his way across the back lawn to the door Waylon had disappeared through. Stepping up to the door, he glanced in through the window and saw the basement door, directly in front of the back door, was opened and the lights were on.
Taking a chance that the door was unlocked, he quietly turned the knob and smiled when it unlatched for him. Stepping into the house, he closed the back door and inched his way along the kitchen wall, out of sight of the basement door so he'd have the element of surprise. Unholstering his gun, he flicked the safety and held it at chest height. Hearing Waylon grunt and swear in the basement was comical. The man clearly wasn't used to a hard day's work. Glancing across the kitchen, he saw the point of origin of the fire directly in front of the stove—a deeply blackened circle on the floor, and the hole almost all the way through the flooring to the basement below. It spread out from there and raced across the floor. Another blackened circle stood next to the kitchen table on the floor, and that was where the explosion must have happened. The wall between the kitchen and living room had blown apart but thank goodness it had been there. It was likely what saved Megan. It also didn't look like Bobby Ray's work. When he set fires, he lit little fires all around the house after dumping gasoline throughout to make sure everything caught. This actually looked accidental.
Hearing Waylon's heavy footsteps on the wooden stairs, he flattened his back against the wall. His heart hammered; it always did just before apprehension. Calming himself with his breathing, he inhaled and exhaled slowly twice as he listened to Waylon slowly approaching. As he reached the top step and side stepped to open the back door, Ford kicked him hard at the back of his knees, causing them both to buckle. The heavy box Waylon carried hit him in the shoulder, making him cry out, then it hit the floor and broke open. Working quickly while Waylon was still unaware, Ford reached forward and secured both of Waylon's wrists in the zip ties he always carried. Dragging him away from the door across the black floor by the feet, Waylon began swearing and sputtering.
"Fucking asshole. Let me go."
Ignoring him to survey the contents of the box he carried, he saw cans of coffee, one spilled open to reveal baggies of what was most likely cocaine amid the mess of coffee grounds strewn about.
"Well, what do we have here, Waylon? Stolen drugs, I'll bet." He trained his gun on Waylon's head.
"You don't know a fucking thing, asshole."
Ford stood and pulled his phone from his back pocket.
"I'll tell you what I do know. Marcus and Stephano would love their drugs back."
He tapped an icon on his phone, watching Waylon intently.
"Yeah."
"Can you patch me through to Stephano?"
"Ford, are you sure this is a good idea?"
"Yep. Patch me through."
It didn't go unnoticed that Waylon's eyes grew three sizes in his dirty head. His scuffled hair long ago in need of a cut and some shampoo was now blackened from falling on the floor and littered with coffee grounds.
"Please don't tell him. He'll kill me. Just let me go, and I promise I'll leave the US and never return."
Chuckling, he listened as a series of clicks sounded on his phone then he heard Stephano's voice for the first time in the ten years since Tamra moved in with him. His stomach turned at what this monster had done to her. Supplying her with just enough drugs to keep her happy but not so much that she'd kill herself.
"I have something you want."
"I'm listening."
"I want a deal first."
A chuckle sounded on the other side of the phone. "A deal? What could you possibly want from me to deal?"
"I have your drugs and your thief. You have my wife, and I'd like her to be myex-wife. You make that happen, you'll get what you want."
Silence. He didn't even know where that came from. It was against everything he'd ever known to bargain with a drug smuggler. And in truth, he'd be handing Waylon and the drugs over to the cops as soon as they got here. But he thought it was worth a shot.
"Well now, let's see, you want to give me a thief and in return, I should give you a divorce from a cokehead. It doesn't really seem fair to me, Ford."
"Okay. I'll just give it all to the cops. They should be here any moment now."
He tapped his end call button and waited. His stomach in knots, his heart pounding.
"Ford. What are you doing?"
He swung his head around to see Megan, eyes wide, skin pale, and she was looking at Waylon. Not him. Waylon. He'd just tried to make a deal with a smuggler for her, and she was concerned about her piece of shit ex-husband. What the fuck was wrong with him? He seriously had to swear off of women.
