Epilogue

Deputy James Flanigan of the U.S. Marshals parked in front of the old and worn double-wide trailer. A beat-up Ford Bronco II sat parked alongside the oil saturated driveway. Flanigan glanced at his passenger. Ronald, “Dude, call me Ronnie,” Thomas, sat there with a confused expression.

Ronnie said, “Why are we here? I thought I was going into the witness protection program?”

Flanigan sighed; why did he always get the dumb ones. “Mr. Thomas, you’re going to need your clothes, and maybe you want to take your belongings?”

“Dude, I’m getting a new identity. Doesn’t that include new clothes and stuff?”

“Mr. Thomas, I don’t know what you’ve seen on TV, but this is a government program. Yes, you get a new identity, and we’ve set you up with an apartment, and a job.

Eyes gleaming, Ronnie asked, “What kind of job?”

“The job is commensurate with your abilities, and it will support you. You can refuse these things and return to your former life.”

The only thing the deputy said that meant anything was that the job was commensurate with my abilities. Ronnie sat back and thought about the possibilities. For the first time throughout this horrible situation, he felt hopeful. He knew how capable he could be.

Plus, the government owed him. They knew he put it all on the line when he took the stand. He’d been so damn scared he’d almost pissed himself. If not for the two Marshals flanking him, he’d have run. When they called his name, he took the stand. After a few minutes, he’d dared a glimpse at Mr. Hanslein. Klaus’s dad had stared right through him. Ronnie knew Old Man Hanslein wanted him dead. But he’d answered the DA’s questions, and stood firm when Hanslein’s lawyer cross-examined him.

The government got the conviction they wanted, and now they owed him big!

As Ronnie dozed off, he dreamed of an undefined, high paying job he knew himself to be qualified for.

“Wake up, Mr. Thomas, we’re here.”

“Huh, what?” Ronnie peered out of the window. They were on a crowded residential street in a city. Two and three-story houses lined each side of the roadway. A few of the houses had driveways leading to some behind the house parking. “Is this where I’m going to live?” Then he noticed the Pennsylvania license plates on the parked cars. “Wait, we’re still in fucking Pennsylvania? We didn’t even leave the fucking state?”

“This is Chambersburg, Pennsylvania, Mr. Thomas. It is the perfect town for you. If you keep a low profile no one from your old life will find you here. Grab your things, and I’ll escort you inside and give you your briefing.”

Numb, Ronnie grabbed his bags and followed the Deputy inside.

Sometime in the distant past, the house’s owners divided the second floor into two odd shaped apartments. Ronnie’s apartment, 2A, was in the front along the street. It consisted of a single room with a kitchenette and a bathroom. As Ronnie stared out of the dirty windows, a Japanese subcompact zoomed past, incomprehensible rap music blaring from its open windows.

“Dude, this place is a dump.”

“It’s clean, there aren’t any bugs, and it’s what you can afford?”

“What do you mean, what I can afford? What kind of job do I have?”

Deputy Flanigan glanced down at his watch. “You have an appointment to meet your new employer tomorrow morning. Keep in mind that you’ll need to actually do the job. This isn’t a free ride.”

His dream of the perfect job faded away. In its place grew an overwhelming sense of despair. “What’s the job?”

“Dishwasher at the Italian restaurant on the square. It’ll pay enough for you to make ends meet. The pizza shop owner said he’d even train you to as a chef if you work out.”

“Ah, come on! You guys owe me. I put my ass on the line for you.”

“Mr. Thomas, if you want out of the program, I’ll take you as far as Harrisburg. You’ll have to provide your own transportation from there.”

“You bastard,” Kristen groaned into the pillow. She had been so close, and Andy, the bastard, kept her there. So close, Kristen thought. Andy’s mouth trailed kisses upwards across her ass. His fingers, those wonderfully strong and scratchy fingers kept up their torments. Maybe if she distracted him, he’d accidentally push her over the edge. She said, “I’m not going to convert, Andy.”

“I never asked you to convert.” Kiss ... lick ... nibble.

“Then how are we going to make this work?” She felt warm as the upward spiral towards climax began anew.

“I’ve asked my family to buy me out” Rub ... squeeze... “After they do, I’ll move here and start a business.”

“I guess that’s when you’ll ... aahhh ... expect me to marry you.” Andy’s fingers and teeth left her gasping. The warmth built. If he kept this up, they’d need fresh sheets.

Work roughened hands stroked her bare back and buttocks. His other hand teased her sensitive bits. The not-quite pain made Kristen shiver.

Andy said, “I’ve never asked you to marry me. I know you love me, but we don’t need to marry.”

Those rough, scratchy fingers trailed across her buttocks and down the back of her legs. She couldn’t help writhing from the sensation. She groaned. “But what if I want to?”