Twisted Thorns & Good Old Daddy Dearest

Pulling the SUV to a stop in front of the little row of cabins, she jumped out to make her way around the vehicle. She was immediately accosted by her gorgeous co-worker, who ran down the steps of his small cabin as if he had been standing there awaiting her arrival, “Good morning, beautiful! Looks like you and I will be working together. Isn’t that delicious?” Taken aback, she said, “Delicious? Really? Does that normally work for you?” Confused, he asked, “Sure, why wouldn’t it?” She shook her head, unable to imagine anyone talking like that, especially to a stranger. He approached her to help with her luggage as she rounded the vehicle and opened the back hatch. As he reached in and grabbed the handle of a suitcase, she stopped him, not wanting to owe anyone here anything at all, “Hold it right there, mister. I can take care of this myself, thank you very much.” He let go of the handle, “Wow. I was trying to welcome my newest lab partner and lend assistance with your equipment; I know how hard it can be to get everything set up and ready to begin your work after a long drive. But no problem. As you wish. It is all yours.” He turned, that gorgeous smile replaced with a frown, these beautiful dimples now gone, and started back the way he had come. “Have fun lugging in all your equipment, beautiful.” He thought, “Damn, another Negative Nancy. Just want I was hoping would not happen.” * ‎Free Preview for Good Old Daddy Dearest: The car sped through the streets on this swelteringly humid night. The driver, a burly six-foot-seven-inch, dark-haired Italian with dark eyes, pushed the accelerator to the floor in his haste to dispose of the body that he now carried in the trunk of the long black Lincoln Continental. The speakers blasted music from his home country, and he sang along at the top of his deep-throated voice. Nothing made him happier than a decent payday, and this job was sure to pay for his son’s dental bills and maybe give his wife a few of her wishes as well. After twenty minutes of high-speed cruising, he slowed the car slightly, kicking up dirt as he turned down a dark dirt road toward the river and turned off the radio and the headlights. He followed the road as silently as possible until it ended at the river’s edge. Then he threw the car into park, pulled the lever that popped the trunk latch, and stepped out. He then walked around to the back of the car, pulled the small, lightweight, black plastic body bag from the trunk, and lifted it quickly over his head. He threw it as hard as he could into the overgrown palmettos and underbrush, turned, got back behind the car's wheel, and sped off into the night. Once again, his favorite music blasted through the overworked speakers at the highest possible volume. He told himself it was just another job, like any other, nothing more, nothing less. Yes, he had liked the girl for all these years, watching her grow up, but the boss always got what the boss wanted.