Release Me (The Music Within Book 2) (25 page)

Mal
frowned. “I thought you liked ‘em little?”

“I
do, but I can appreciate a fine piece of man when I see one, and those two are
finer than frog hair.”

Mal
and Bryan laughed. Mal might be from Kentucky, but he didn’t have anything on
Andy when it came to southern sayings. “As long as you keep the frog hair outta
my pie, I’ll be happy. I’m gonna go for a drive. I’ll be back in a bit.” Mal
left the men to finish supper, knowing it’d take the pies a while to cook.
Instead of taking his work truck, he hopped in his beater and cranked it up.
Moe ran out of the house and barked, so Mal opened the door, and the dog jumped
in. Curly was content to stay in the kitchen and wait for a little crumb of
anything to hit the floor.

Even
though it was warm outside, Mal rolled the windows down and settled his bent
arm on the frame. Moe hung his head out the other side, enjoying the wind in
his face, lapping at it with his tongue. Mal turned the radio up and sang along
while he cruised around the backroads of his town. He hadn’t gone far when a
sheriff’s cruiser pulled in behind him and flashed their lights. He pulled over
to the side of the road and waited. Moe came across the truck, settling his
front paws on Mal’s lap to see what was going on. Always on the lookout.

“Howdy,
Mal. Ain’t seen you out in a while.” Mal was relieved to see it was the sheriff
himself and not one of his fucktard deputies.

“Hey,
Stan. Been workin’ from sun up ‘til sun down. How’s Becky?”

“She’s
about to pop any day now. I’ll be glad when thisun’s born. She’s had to sleep
in the recliner instead of the bed. She swears it’s a girl since she’s had
nothing but pain and sickness from the get-go. She didn’t have a lick of
trouble with Ayden.”

“Well,
I hope she and the baby do good when it finally does get here.”

“Thanks.
Listen, I want you to know I’ve got my ear on the prison. If your pa is
released, I’m gonna double up patrols around your place.”

“I’d
appreciate that, Stan. Tyler’s already left town ‘cause he got some threats.”

“Why
didn’t he come to me?” the sheriff huffed.

“That
was part of the threat. Said if he told anyone, his family would be in danger.
I got a couple of security men startin’ in the mornin’, but the more eyes, the
better.”

“Security?
You getting all uppity on us, Malcolm Wilson?”

He
knew Stan was joking, but he couldn’t keep his cheeks from turning red. “Nah,
it’s the company done hired ‘em. Guess they wanna protect what’s theirs.”

“I
can’t say I blame ‘em. Walt’s been preening all over town ‘bout how far you’ve
brought the farm from where it was.”

“Yeah,
he’s a little on the biased side, I’d say.”

“I’d
say. Your Ma’s got him wrapped around her pinky. She’s looking good these days.
Love sure does make a difference in a person.”

Mal
had to agree.

“I’ll
let you and the pup get back to wherever you were going. Take care, and if you
need anything at all, you give me a call.”

“Thanks,
Stan.”

Stan
knocked his knuckles against the door and headed back to his patrol car. Mal
never could figure out why Stan took such a shine to him. He was one of the few
men in town who stood up for Mal after they all thought he was gay. Wouldn’t
all the haters just love it if he came out of the closet? No need in worrying
about that now. Once he told Cade they were finished, he could shut the closet
door and lock it up tight.

Mal
instructed Moe to get back on his side of the truck. When the dog had his head
out the window, Mal pulled the truck back onto the road once Stan passed. He
turned up the radio and let the music overtake his mood. At least he tried to.
It seemed like every song that came on was a sappy love song, and they only
made him think about Cade that much more. When he couldn’t take it any longer,
he switched it over to the rock station. Since he rarely listened to rock, he
didn’t know many of the songs. After a heavy number finished, the announcer
came on and said, “Here’s the newest release from Divining the Dark. Their new
album drops in stores in November.”  

Mal
couldn’t get away from Cade, but knowing it was him playing the drums on this
song, Mal turned it up. He didn’t pay attention to the lyrics, or the guitar
riffs, or the bass line. He focused on the drums, the tom toms, and the
cymbals. When he got his computer and figured out how to surf the internet, he
looked up the parts of the drum kit. He wanted to be knowledgeable enough so if
Cade mentioned the parts, Mal would know what he was talking about. He also did
a search on Cade, but after he saw Cade and Tag in most of the pictures with
their arms around each other, he stopped looking.

Mal
found himself tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, feeling the beat and
trying to follow along. He was impressed with the intensity that started with
the first beat and didn’t let up until the final crash of a cymbal. If things
were different, Mal would love to sit and watch Cade in his element. Now he
understood what Cade meant when he said seeing Mal on the farm doing his thing
was a big turn on. He would get to see Cade drumming if he went to the concert.
But it wouldn’t be a private show. It would be Cade playing for the thousands
of people at the arena. Still, he knew it would be amazing.

After
DTD’s song was over, Mal turned the volume down and headed back home. His mood
wasn’t any lighter, and his mind was still a mess over what he’d decided to do,
but he was hungry, and, surprisingly, in the mood for company. He wanted to sit
with Andy and Bryan and talk about anything other than Kincade Anderson. He
wanted his heart to stop hurting so bad.

Cade

The
longer Cade went without hearing from Mal, the more he realized he’d probably
lost his lover. He continued to update Mal with what was going on. What city he
was in. How the crowd reacted. How much he loved and missed him. When Bryan
asked for two backstage passes instead of one, Cade figured it was for Andy.
Mal wouldn’t send him a simple text, so why the fuck would he come to a
concert?

Now
that August 4
^th
was there, Cade worried more and more about Dwight
being released from prison. He knew Andy and Bryan, along with the two new
security men, were watching over Mal, but it still didn’t reassure him that the
psycho wouldn’t try something. Unless he had men watching the farm, Dwight
wouldn’t know there was extra security. Cade didn’t want anything more traumatic
to happen to Mal where he lived. He bore the scar of what happened ten years
ago as a daily reminder.

After
the show in Baltimore, Cade settled into his hotel room. Most nights they slept
on the bus as they rode to the next town, but they had a week’s hiatus until
the next show. He wanted so badly to call Stewart and tell him to come pick him
up in the jet, but Cade had no idea what kind of reception he would receive
from Mal. Hell, the man may have already moved on without him, and it was why he
refused to answer Cade’s daily messages. He sorely wanted to be there if and
when Dwight was released from prison, but again, he didn’t know how Mal felt.
Bryan hadn’t been any help other than to tell him Mal was fine. Cade knew what
fine meant, because he was fine. Fine was the universal word for
I’m not
okay, but I refuse to talk about it.

After
a shower, Cade stretched out on the bed, contemplating what to do in his down
time. His phone rang, and he grabbed it up, praying it was Mal.
Gerry.

“Gerry,
is everything okay?” Cade’s heart was ready to burst through his chest.

“Calm
down, Cade. Everything’s fine.” There was that word again. Cade fucking hated
that word.

“Then
why are you calling?”

“I’ve
been thinking about if Dwight gets out of prison. I have an idea.”

After
a few minutes and some deep discussion, they agreed on how to handle things
with Dwight. Once they were in agreement, Cade felt like a load had been
lifted. One of them, anyway. “Thanks, Gerry.”

“You’re
welcome. I’ll call you as soon as I know something.”

Cade
typed out a text to Mal and erased it. He typed another and erased it, too.
After the sixth try, he re-read it before he hit send:

Hey,
Cowboy. I don’t want you to worry about tomorrow. We’re taking care of this. I
miss you, and I love you. Still.

Cade
realized after he hit send how cryptic the message sounded, but it was the
truth. If Dwight was released the next day, one way or another, he wouldn’t be
bothering Mal or Suzette anymore. He called Stewart and told the pilot to be on
standby, just in case. Cade wanted to be able to get to Mal should things
somehow go south.

The
other band members were in their own rooms, unwinding however they unwound.
Carl was hanging out in a suite with the other body guards, so that left Cade
to fend for himself. It had been a long time since the urge to write lyrics hit
Cade, but he went to his suitcase and found the worn out notebook he carried
everywhere. The journal was filled with melodies he had written over the years,
but tonight, words were taking root, and he needed to get them on paper. He
spent the next hour writing and erasing until he was satisfied. He didn’t push
for the music to go with the words. It would come when it was time. He tossed
the notebook on the nightstand and turned off the lamp. His nerves were shot.
From worrying about whether he had lost Mal to the issue with Dwight, Cade was
ready to get good and drunk. Or high. Or
something.
He needed to turn
his brain off, but he wasn’t in a position to do that, so he turned on the
television and let some stupid sitcom occupy the space in his skull until sleep
finally overtook him.

Dwight
Wilson walked through the gates of the Kentucky State Penitentiary and scanned
the parking lot for his ride. His ex-cell mate promised he’d be waiting on the
outside, but all Dwight saw was a dark sedan that looked like it belonged to
the Feds. When three men stepped out of the vehicle and turned their attention
to him, the hair on his neck stood on end. One man was dressed in a suit Dwight
had no doubt cost more money than he’d ever seen in his life. The two men
flanking him were wearing black fatigues tucked into black military boots.
Their black t-shirts stretched over muscular chests. Their biceps were bigger
than his thighs. They both carried a case of sorts.

“Who
the fuck are you?” He wouldn’t let them intimidate him. Hell, he didn’t know
for sure they were there for him until the suit opened his mouth.

“Mr.
Wilson, my name is of no concern to you,” the man in the suit said.

“Where’s
Vannick? What’d you do to him?”

“Mr.
Vannick decided he wanted to go on vacation, so we’re here instead.”

“Vacation?
That motherfucker can’t afford a peanut butter sandwich, much less a goddamn
vacation.”

“Here’s
the deal, Mr. Wilson – I would like for you to also take a vacation. A
permanent one.”

Permanent?
Dwight didn’t know who this fucker was. He looked like a lawyer, but there’s no
way his faggot son could afford some hotshot. The Yoder brothers had kept an
eye on the queer for the last ten years. Gave Dwight monthly updates on what
the useless sack of shit was up to. How he was losing everything Dwight had
ever worked for. Stupid fucking worthless faggot. “What the fuck ever. I don’t
know who you are, but I got shit to do.”

“I’m
the man who holds your future in his hands, Mr. Wilson. I want you to leave
Kentucky and never come back.” The lawyer-looking man nodded at the big guy
flanking his right side. He opened the briefcase, holding it up for Dwight to
see the contents. From this distance, he had no idea how much money was in the
case, but it looked like a lot.

“That
case full of money, too?” he asked, pointing to the other metal box.

“That
is an incentive of a different kind,” the suit told him. The big fucker on the
left cracked the case open just wide enough for Dwight to see a broken down
rifle. By the glint in the big man’s eyes, he was a sniper, and this gun was
probably his personal favorite.

“Are
you threatening me?” Dwight puffed up his chest. They were outside a goddamn
federal prison, and this motherfucker was threatening him in the open.

“Absolutely.
You have two options, Mr. Wilson. You can take the money and disappear for
good. You will sign a legally binding contract stating you understand the terms
of accepting the money, and should you ever step foot in the state of Kentucky
again, or should you hire someone to finish what you started ten years ago,
this contract will be null and void, and a different type of contract will be
drawn up.”

“What’s
the other option?” Dwight was ballsy enough to ask. He had survived ten years
in the pen, after all.

Mr.
Big Shot pointed to the case holding the rifle. “Is revenge worth losing your
life? Because rest assured, Mr. Wilson, should you attempt to come near either
Malcolm or Suzette, you won’t live to see another day.”

“Why
do you care so much about a faggot and his worthless mother?” he snarled.

The
fucker holding the rifle case growled and took a step toward Dwight. The man in
the suit grabbed his arm. “You will also do well to know that both of these men
are gay. You say one more homophobic word, and I will not stop either one of
them from throwing you in the trunk and taking you wherever they want to do
whatever they want to you.”

Dwight
swallowed hard. He learned over the years what a big queer was capable of. His
ass clenched at the memory.

“I
can’t leave the state. I have to meet regularly with my parole officer.”

“That
has been taken care of. If you sign this agreement, the parole officer in the
town you settle in will contact Mr. Conrad. He and the parole board are
agreeable to these terms. The first parole meeting you miss, the contract is
null and void.”

“Yeah,
whatever. Just give me my fucking money,” Dwight grumbled. He wasn’t ready to
die, and if there was enough cash in the briefcase, he wouldn’t mind starting
over somewhere without the stench of his queer son floating in the same town as
him.

Mr.
Big Shot removed a set of papers from the inside pocket of his expensive coat.
“Read this over carefully. I’d hate for you to fuck up and Thor get to practice
his skills.”

Thor.
What the fuck kinda name was that? A queer name, that’s what. He snatched the
papers out of the man’s hand and glanced over them. He figured if he kept his
nose clean and stayed away, he’d be safe. He held out his hand, and a fancy pen
was placed on his palm. He signed his name on the line and shoved both paper
and pen back to the suit.

“Thank
you. The divorce papers will be filed immediately.”

“Divorce?”
Dwight didn’t want to be married to the bitch, but nobody had said anything
about a fucking divorce.

“Yes,
page three, paragraph five. Your signature on this document is your consent to
give Suzette a non-contested divorce. Now, you have one week to decide where
you are going to live. Thor will transport you to your destination. Once there,
you will meet with the local parole officer. Thor will inform you as to whom
that is. Once you have found a place to live, Thor will relay that information
to me. I will set up the utilities in our company name since you have no
credit. The money in that case will be enough to purchase a small house and
live modestly for many years to come. I do suggest you find some type of job to
supplement your income. There are plenty of places who hire felons for minimum
wage. Once the money runs out, it’s out. You get no more. Should you ever
decide to move, you will need to contact your parole officer who will contact
me. Any questions?”

Just
fucking great. He was going to be stuck in a car with a big motherfucking homo
for who knew how long. He had no idea where he wanted to live, but he was ready
to hit the road and get away from the one holding the papers. The other two
might be as big as gorillas, but the one in the suit was the scary one. “Nope,
no questions.”

“Good.
Hold out your hands. You will wear handcuffs until you get to your final
destination. Mr. Wilson, I don’t need to tell you that Thor doesn’t like you.
Not even a little. I suggest you behave.”

He
glanced at his babysitter who was glaring at him. He had no doubt the fucker
would rather shoot him than let him live. Dwight held his hands out in front of
him, and the suit slapped on a set of metal cuffs. Thor escorted him to the
sedan and held open the back door. His belongings, as well as the money and
rifle, were placed in the trunk. He couldn’t hear what the men were saying, but
the other big guy escorted Mr. Big Shot to a fancy SUV. Thor got in the
driver’s seat, and his steely eyes peered at Dwight in the rearview mirror.
“Any idea where you want to live?” He had a deep voice for a queer.

“Florida.”
Dwight had never been to the beach, so he figured it’d be a good place to check
out. Thor put the car in drive, and the other car pulled in behind them. He
watched Kentucky roll by.
Good riddance, you fucking fag.