Drop Dead Sexy(73)

“What about Randy?” I questioned behind my gag.

Ronald left Catcher’s side to come stand before me. He cocked his brows before snatching away my gag. “And just what is it you wanted to know?” He ran his fingers across my face, causing me to shudder in revulsion. He licked his lips. “You sure are a pretty thing, aren’t you?”

“I asked about Randy.”

A sour look came over Ronald’s expression. “Oh yes, how could I forget about Randy Dickinson? The man who ruined my life.”

“It was your choice to take a non-FDA approved male-enhancement drug,” I countered.

Ronald’s nostrils flared in anger. “You shut your damn mouth!” he snarled. He raised his hand to hit me, but then he lowered it. He began pacing in front of me. “Do you have any idea what it is like to lose your penis? To have the one part of you that makes you a man violently taken away from you.”

When he paused for me to reply, I quickly said, “Um, no. I don’t.” I knew better than to argue that as a woman, I didn’t have a penis, so I just couldn’t relate to having my manhood taken. He was already so mentally unhinged I didn’t want to do anything else to set him off.

“I was just looking for a good time—something to make sex interesting again. When it came to f*cking, I’d done just about everything there was out there. Except for doing a dude. I needed something to take me to the next level. Then I hear about this guy who made a drug that could make sex out of this world.”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “Randy was a pharmacist, for f*ck’s sake. He worked with drugs every day. Why shouldn’t I have trusted him? How was I to know he was working with some backwoods hoodoo psycho to make some of his drugs?”

He exhaled a trail of foul-smelling smoke in my face. “He had to pay for what he did to me. It didn’t take me too long to find him. But I took my time about killing him—I had to get the logistics just right. Through my drug connections, I was able to bribe someone in the security company that handled Randy’s account to deactivate his security system. Fucker was fast asleep in dreamland. Of course, I made sure to wake him up, so I knew the last thing he saw was my face.”

“You sure aren’t worried about running your mouth off to us, are you?” Catcher asked.

Ronald sneered at him. “What does it matter if I confess to you two? You’re going to be dead in ten minutes.”

His words sent an icy chill down my spine, and I shuddered. Glancing over my shoulder at Catcher, I desperately hoped he had some kind of plan to get us out of this mess. But the ashen expression on his face caused my hope to shrivel.

The Redneck Twins appeared in the doorway. “You ready, boss?” John Deere asked.

“Yeah. I am. Go ahead and untie them.” Ronald tossed his cigar onto the floor and stomped out the embers. Then he glanced at Catcher and me. “You two are going to take a little walk into the woods with my associates.” He flashed us a maniacal smile. “It’s nothing personal. I just can’t have you on my ass anymore, Agent Mains.” He took a step toward me. “And as for you, well, I’m sorry, but you know too much to keep you around.” After motioning for the twins, he started for the door. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going back to the shithole that witch calls a house to wait on her to come home.”

With a flick of his wrist in farewell, he headed out the door. John Deere got busy untying my ankles. He then yanked me up off the floor before he untied my hands. After having my legs tied, they were wobbly, and I stumbled several times on the way to the door.

As I started out of Olive’s shack, I fought the tears threatening to overrun my eyes. I couldn’t believe it had really come to this—being murdered in the backwoods by a member of the Dixie Mafia who had once had his penis blown off. My worst fear of dying unmarried had come to fruition. After years of judging people’s lives as I wrote their obituaries, I couldn’t help judging my own.

Olivia Sullivan, 30, Beloved daughter and sister. Co-owner and proprietor of Sullivan’s Funeral Home. Coroner for Taylorsville County. Spinster.

Because I was the county coroner, I would get a decent write-up in the local newspaper. I hoped Allen would remember where I had left the instructions for my funeral. Being dead would suck, but it would suck even worse with my mother making all the decisions. Or worse, if Pease was doing it.

Peering over my shoulder, I threw a final glance at Catcher. Although I might be dying unmarried, I had at least found love in the eleventh hour. It would have been nice to have a future with him. To fill the house he had built with our children. To grow old and gray together. I couldn’t hold in my emotions any longer, and I began to quietly weep.

When we started into the woods, a low growl echoed around us. I whirled around just as a white ball of fur came hurtling at us. At first, I thought it might be a mountain lion or a coyote. But then my heart surged when I realized it was Motown.

He lunged at John Deere, knocking him to the ground. As Motown started using John Deere as a chew toy, Catcher swung into action. He started throwing punches at Creepy Voice.

John Deere writhed on the ground as Motown snarled and snapped like a mad dog. I’d never seen him act like that. When Catcher got Creepy Voice down on the ground, I yelled his name. As soon as he glanced up, I tossed the shotgun that John Deere had abandoned over to him.