On the Run - M Zeigler (philippa perry book .txt) 📗

Some of the many pictures are ones I drew back then that are truly amazing considering a ten year old drew them. I guess that’s another genetic hand down that runs in the family, everyone except my grandmother has some artistic ability. I learned my skills from my father and uncle who are by far the best people to do paint jobs on cars. We’ve never had a customer complain about our custom work, my father is the one doe’s flames of all styles, and the flames look so real that is sometimes startling. Alex does the other paintings, like dragons, everything we make up looks real!

 Other photo’s that hang here are family photos as well as pictures I took of the open road. Even as a young girl I knew that this house was my home but then again I also knew that my true home was the open road. It really hurts me to know that I may never be able to afford to live on the road, people like me just don’t get that kind of lifestyle because people around me are so controlling.  Wow, on the topic of mean and controlling people; a pang of sadness hits me when I realize I hadn’t even called my dad or the rest of my family until I needed them.

Pushing down the guilt at the top of the second flight of stairs I push open my bedroom door; I’m greeted with a few of my own boxes that were in the garage attic which is technically my sister Ferra’s room. Ferra the pale red haired sister of mine hasn’t lived here in so long her room was sort of converted back into a storage area above the garage.

Outside of the stack of six boxes to my immediate left; my room is exactly as I left it. There are many classic rock band posters adorning the walls, even the massive dragon mural that Alex and I painted on the ceiling is still there. It’s obvious this room hasn’t been tampered with since I left because the black lights that face the glow in the dark mural are coated thick with dust. Really taking in the room as a whole you will notice a nineteen eighties vibe going on, not the flashy blindingly colored eighties either. The more, locked in my room eighties hair metal theme is what is going on in here, the theme even shows on the mahogany wood floors which show a weird color because we coated the floor with glow in the dark paint. The only strange almost out of place item in this room is my stack of school books that are still sitting on the floor where I shoved them when I receive the call my mother was bringing me back home. Sitting on my side table is a forty ounce bottle of Jack Daniels, the half full glass of whiskey still sits there, that glass has been there since the vacation I took out here two years back.

I take a seat on the Beige quilt my Grandfather bought me that spreads across my bed and reach for the whiskey bottle, after unscrewing the lid I take a swig then smile as I notice the picture of my granddad on the wall across from my bed. That’s the first thing I put up in this room, his folded flag, and the picture of him.

 “I miss you old man.” I whisper to the photo mentally asking my grandfather what I’m supposed to do now that I’m home; tears fall down my cheeks when I realize that I’m truly lost. Even though I’m home I still have no idea what a twenty year old is supposed to do in Los Angeles.

 “He missed you to.”Alex’s voice causes me to nearly ricochet off the ceiling he startled me so much. Sliding my eyes just left of the picture I see Alex standing in the door way, he’s wearing his old original Pantera band T shirt, looking seriously unshaven and old with his graying hair. Right now, the way he’s standing, with that look on his face, he looks exactly like my granddad, both my dad and my uncle are the spitting image of that crazy old timer I never got to say goodbye to.

“You still hate her don’t you?” Alex asks when I don’t say a word to him; he means to ask if I still hate my mother. It’s her fault that I never got a chance to say goodbye to Grandpa Bob, I don’t think she’ll ever realize the pain I live with every day knowing that the old man never got to hear his favorite granddaughter say I love you. She’ll never understand that I feel an empty ache in my heart knowing he never had the chance to take me fishing, or teach me to ride my dirt bike that is parked in the back yard. She ran off with me when I was a few years old, I still remember my grandfather, a retired Naval officer rolling around in his wheel chair with me in his lap telling me funny stories about growing his life growing  up. I remember the sound of his leathered voice, some days his memory hurts too much to cope with, and so I drink, just like my grandfather did.

“She’ll never understand, I remember his voice, but I can’t hear him anymore, I can’t give him a hug and tell him I love him and that I miss him. I never deserved any of this.” I whisper back to Alex as the tears fall down my face like two rivers. Alex gives a heavy tired sigh as he fully enters the room taking a seat next to me; he looks up at the wall where my grandfather’s flag and picture hangs proudly on the wall. My twin revolvers hang below the flag, those were his to, he handed them down to me though, his dying words to my father were ‘Jack, you find that little girl and bring her home. I can’t protect her anymore, so teach her everything I taught you and give her my guns. She’s gonna turn out just like we did, so she’s gonna need them, and tell her gramps loves her.’

He passed away seconds after saying those words to my father, I should have been there holding his hand and telling him it was okay and I’d see him again someday.

“Bonnie, your right; you never deserved what your mother put you through. But like Grandpa Bob used to say, there’s no sense in crying over spilled beer. He knows you miss him, he knows you love him and still remember him. If he were here now, he’d tell you to suck it up, call your friends and go out with them, tear up the town like all of us did at your age.” Alex encourages as he reaches over to take the whiskey from me, he knows if he doesn’t escort ol’ Jack Daniels out of my room I will sit up here and drink myself into oblivion.

Deciding that Alex is right I square my shoulders, wipe away the tears and put my poker face on, I force down the pain and take to my feet heading towards the door. There is no way I’m going out with friends tonight; I’ve had an emotional day as it is. All I want right now is to go visit my grandfather’s grave, get dinner then come back home and go to bed. On my way out the door I snag the car keys off the key hook it’s an old car muffler with little hooks welded to it, don’t ask it was jacks idea.

Outside the house I waste no time climbing into my car, starting the engine, and speeding off like a bat out of hell. Driving back down the road I look around for the cop who was after me earlier but he’s nowhere to be found.

 However, something shadier is right up on my bumper; if it weren’t for the opposing armored metal I’d be giving this shady looking black SUV a break tester. At the stop light I take close look back and see that the driver is familiar face, and not one of those familiar faces that you are happy about seeing.

The driver in this SUV is none other than one of my grandfather’s and my father’s worst enemies, Andrew Hannover, the guy is a henchmen for my fifth cousin Devon who is a whole entire world of trouble. Devon has a foot in everything from loan sharking, drug smuggling, human trafficking, illegal gun sales, and illegal car sales. Giving you some back history on my father and I; when I was living with him for four years he started training me. Like putting me through military training without the enlistment, he taught me to drive fast and defensively, I was taught every fighting style known to man, and then some. My own father helped me to hone my outlaw skills; I didn’t understand why until the day of my sixteenth birthday when he explained that I had one job in my life.

My job was to find Devon and take him down, my grandfather tried to stop Devin Senior in his lifetime, then my dad tried to stop Devon the second. Even though my father had been through the Navy and he still failed to capture Devon. Both my father and grandfather failed epically at stopping the evil Devon Morgan, so now, it’s up to me to catch and kill my own cousin, or at least turn him over to the police.

To my surprise, Andrew isn’t even watching me; the bald man behind me with a busted head doesn’t even notice I’m here. He is in fact watching the road ahead of me, the look in his eyes tells me he’s about to kill someone per Devon’s order or at the very least capture one of Devon’s marks. So whoever the mark is they are nearby, following Andrew’s gaze I see a massive tour bus up ahead.

Seeing who’s face is on that bus sends a gut wrenching child through my body, the hair raises on the back of my neck and I snarl at Andrew when anger surges through me burning to the core.

“No, anything but that.” I whisper with anger. The logo on the bus is a familiar one who just suddenly became very popular From Hell to Heaven, Barrette Green. The light turns green and Andrew’s SUV speeds around me trying to catch up with the tour bus that is now turning into an empty parking lot where a privately owned grocery mart used to be.

“No you don’t, Andrew.” I snarl as I peel out from the stop light like I did earlier, thankfully, by the grace of some higher power I have no traffic between me and where Andrew’s SUV has just turned in the lot after the tour bus.

It doesn’t take more than a few seconds for me to reach the parking lot following in after the first two vehicles which by this point are already parked in the far right corner of the. In that direction I see that Barrette’s road crew have all left the famed star so they can run into the fast food restaurant across the side street from empty food mart. They merely used the abandoned lot to park the bus in since it’s to massive to park in Glenda’s Italian food parking lot.

My heart races as I see Barrette light a cigarette entirely unaware of the black SUV quickly approaching his location.

Barrette looks up when I drift around a barricade in the parking lot, he is so focused on my insane driving he doesn’t notice the SUV approaching at least not until the last possible moment. By the time Barrette sees the car Andrew is already out the driver’s door and heading towards Barrette.

With a furious roar my