AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Got it. At least Martha will be with me, so if she shows up, she’ll be in violation of the restraining order. However, she seems to be fixated on Aiden and Penny more than anyone else. It’s Patricia that I’m most concerned with. She’s going to be looking for any dirt she can find on me, and if she digs deep enough, she’ll discover it.”
Jerry runs a hand through his hair. “Savannah, if you tell us what you think she’ll find, then we can get ahead of it and spin it in your favor.”
“It’s not me that’s the problem. It’s my mother. It’s what she’s done and if anyone finds out the truth of things, I’ll be guilty by association. I’ll be the apple that didn’t fall far from the tree,” I tell him.
He sighs. “Is there anything we can do to help?”
I grab his hand and hold it. “Just be there for me if things go south. If my dirty laundry gets aired, so be it. It’s part of who I am, and I accept that now. If others can’t, that’s their issue, not mine. I’m not Savannah Jones, the beauty queen. I’m Savannah Jones, a prior FBI agent and now Shining Knight protector. I’m strong, capable, and worthy!”
“You’re the whole shebang!” Jessie shouts from the other room.
Martha walks in and winks, slinging her purse over her shoulder, “Are you ready to go, Anna?”
“Yep.”
Ten minutes later, we’re pulling into the local Piggly Wiggly. “I haven’t been to a Piggly Wiggly in years. I didn’t know they were still around.”
Martha grabs a cart and starts pushing her way down the aisle. “There are still a few scattered about, but they’re becoming more obsolete with every passing year.”
“That’s a shame. It’s just so fun to say ‘Piggly Wiggly,’” I giggle.
Martha pulls out a list, and we add the items to the cart. She’s picking out vine-ripened tomatoes when she requests that I grab a package of chicken breasts from the meat section in order to speed things up.
The moment I leave the produce department, the hairs on my arms rise, and chills ripple through my body. I look around me, but the only people I see are a woman pushing a child down the cereal aisle and an elderly gentleman trying to read the label on a canned good. Cautiously, I continue to the meat section and scan the area one more time. I whisper into my communication device, “Jerry, can you hear me?”
“Loud and clear. What’s happening?”
“I can’t be certain, but I think I’m being watched. Do you have video?” I ask him.
“Confirmed. I have an uplink. Stay vigilant, Savannah.”
As a precaution, I turn the ring on my finger clockwise, charging the taser hidden inside. I scan the different packages of chicken, hoping that having my back turned will draw out the threat. It works like a charm.
I feel the presence of two people behind me, and I stiffen in response. As I turn around slowly, the same two men from the hockey game are leering at me. “Oh, do you need to get to the chicken? It’s on special for $2.99 a pound. It’s a pretty good deal in today’s economy. Here, let me get out of your way.”
“You’re not going anywhere, Ms. Jones. We need you to pass on a message to your fiancé,” Goon One says.
“I think you have me mistaken for someone else. It’s Ms. Blackwood.”
Goon Two hands me a tabloid that he most likely picked up from one of the registers at the front of the store. I take it from him and see my picture splashed across the front page. This time, the picture is a side-by-side of the one from the hockey game and the one from when I was 18 and crowned Miss Georgia. Underneath is a caption, “The King of Hockey is Engaged to the Long Lost Queen of Georgia.”
“Guys, you can’t believe everything you read in the paper,” I hedge.
“Ms. Jones, we don’t care about your engagement. We don’t care if you’re the nanny or the prom queen. We don’t care about anything other than your ability to pass on a message from us,” Goon One tells me.
“And who exactly is ‘us?’” If they believe I’m nothing more than a peon, they might divulge some information.
Goon Two narrows his eyes, “Nice try. Tell Aiden Shaw that if he doesn’t comply with our demands, then he’ll have to pay the price.”
“And what are those demands? What’s the price?” I ask.
Neither answers my question. “Aiden knows what we want. All you need to do is give Aiden the message, or our next encounter will be far less pleasant.” Goon One demands.
Goon Two gives me a two-finger salute, “Good day, Ms. Jones.”
The two men leave at the same time Martha’s voice rings out, “Anna, what’s taking so long? I was getting worried.”
I talk into my communication device on my way to meet Martha as she comes down the aisle toward me. “Jerry, tell me you got all of that?”
