Chapter 18

"Oh man, Jim's never gonna let me live this down!" Liv rose from her hiding spot. Jim Andrews was the good-natured owner of Andrews and Sons Auto Salvage. The approaching truck, his flatbed wrecker, was a vehicle Liv was all too familiar with. She and Murphy had hitched a ride on the truck twice during the past year.

Pulling the Porsche from the Drunken Engineer was something Jim would give Liv endless grief about. Though at the moment, she didn't care.

Ecstatic about the prospect of seeing a familiar face, Liv ran to the road, waving both hands in the air. The wrecker responded to her greeting by locking its brakes and skidding to an abrupt halt, perpendicular to the road. Liv was puzzled by the strange reaction until she realized the pistol was still clutched tightly in her right hand. She lowered the pistol and ran toward the truck.

The wrecker's door popped open, but instead of Jim, an unexpected ghost from the past stepped out.

"Bubba-Fish!" Liv exclaimed, momentarily forgetting about her nightmare as she rushed over to the man.

"Liv Driscol? Is that you? Are you okay? You stop showering or something? What's with the gun?" Finn Andrews eyed Liv curiously. A purple bruise was perched over her left eye. Trickles of blood caked her skin and she was covered in dust from hair to boots. Still, she was gorgeous. If he'd known when he was 18 that six years later she'd look this good, despite being dirty and banged up, he might have acted on that high school crush.

"Yeah, about that, we need to go, right now!" Liv mentally kicked herself for dropping her guard, even for a moment. But the sight of Finn on the lonely road had surprised her. She was stunned by how much he had changed since she last saw him. He was no longer the scrawny kid from high school. The Finn standing in front of her was tall, with strong chiseled facial features and was scruffy from not shaving recently. His blue eyes were full of humor and the faint outline of his muscles pressed against his tight fitting T-shirt.

"Yeah sure, but what's going on?" Finn asked worriedly.

"Come on, get in the truck and I'll tell you all about it." Liv ran for the passenger door and climbed in. She kept the pistol in her lap, at the ready.

Scratching his head, Finn climbed in the driver side and buckled up. He eyed the pistol and her slightly trembling hand. "You gonna tell me what's going on? Nice gun by the way."

In the relative safety of the big truck, Liv allowed herself to relax just a little bit. "You want the long story or the short story?"

"Let's try the short story first ... but only if it has guns in it."

"Oh yeah, lots and lots of guns. See earlier today I saw a guy shoot another guy. Then a third guy came chasing after me in an SRT-8 Grand Cherokee because I saw the shooting and then I crashed my car into the Drunken Engineer mine. Now, my turn for questions" she said mischievously. "Where'd those famous Bubba-Fish skinny arms go? You got all ripped!"

I'll give you five hundred bucks if you never call me that again." Finn sighed as he thought back to the nickname's origin. Spring break, freshmen year of high school at the Alabama Gulf coast, on a dare fueled by too much caffeine and drunken seniors, he accepted the challenge to go noodling for catfish. "Let's see if you're better than the local bubbas," his best friend egged him on. In a nearby river, cheered on by his classmates, he reached into the muck, searching for a waiting mouth. The river monster bit down on his arm. The catfish tried to spit him out, but Finn refused to let go, even as he was dragged to the bottom. Six seniors jumped in after him, barely managing to grab hold of Finn's legs and pull him to shore. He lost his pants along the way, but never let go of the 150 lb catfish. It was still a local record and earned him the annoying nickname.

"I could really use the money, but it's not worth it. I'd rather call you Bubba-Fish!" Liv grinned as she relaxed her grip on the gun. "Oh man, I'm really glad to see you. I didn't think anyone was gonna come along before I froze to death. Um, think you could give me a tow? Like I said, my car is kinda in a mineshaft."

"How 'bout I give you a tow if you stop calling me Bubba-Fish?"

"Damn, I guess I'm walking." She sighed dramatically, reaching for the door handle. She paused and flashed him a good-natured smile, "Although, I suppose I could tone it down a bit."

"I guess that'll have to work. Honestly, I'm kinda disappointed it's you. I thought a wild mountain woman was gonna have her way with me. To tell you the truth, I stopped because it's a fantasy of mine," he said with a gleam in his eye. He put the truck in gear and headed down the abandoned rail bed toward the mineshaft.

"Yeah, fuck you too Finn." Liv rolled her eyes before scanning the terrain once again. Satisfied that she was in no immediate danger, she tucked the gun under the bench seat, within easy reach, just in case. She turned then asked, "Hey, I thought you were still in Iraq. What the hell are you doing back in Eagles Landing?"

"I guess the Marines got tired of me. Three tours of duty and I was ready to go home. Pops is getting kinda old so I decided to come back and help the family out."

"Where's Jim, er, I mean your dad?"

"I got back a couple of days early. The whole family's at some car show in Missouri. Mom was so pissed that she wasn't here when I got back."

"Yeah, I'll bet. Every time I stopped by your dad's salvage yard to pick up a part she kept talking about you. Got kind of old ... Finn this, Finn that," Liv teased.

"Well, you won't have to hear about it anymore. They should be back day after tomorrow. It'll be nice to see 'em; but I have to say, it's been nice having the house to myself for a few days."

"So, what're you doing way out here? Ooof." Liv cringed as the truck bounced over a large rock. Her body ached, and each bump reminded Liv of her ordeal as the seatbelt pressed against the bruise on her chest. Her stomach was still tied in a knot, but talking to Finn was helping to relieve the stress.

"You remember Derrick, my older brother?"

"Yeah ... Derrick." Liv rolled her eyes. "Who could forget? You remember when he programmed the football scoreboard to show only Klingon?" She shook her head. "Annoying, but it definitely made the games interesting. No one really knew what the score was ... all the hardcore sports fans had to learn Klingon! They didn't figure out who did it until he graduated."

"Yeah, he spent all of the summer before college working for the school because of that," Finn laughed. "He said it was totally worth it though. Oops, sorry," Finn said as he hit a large rut, making Liv wince.

"Isn't he still at MIT?"