The Black Widow: Another Ralph Mullen Adventure

By Perry D. DeFiore

Ralph tries to find himself after his grandfather died and left him Mullen Island. The DEA recruits him and Ralph feels he will do his thing to save many more lives than his grandfather did by stopping the drug lords. It wasn't what he expected. Although he does a good job for the DEA and builds himself a good reputation, he finds his life is in

• Language: English
• Publisher: Stratton Press
• Release date: Mar 31, 2022
• ISBN: 9781648957734

Perry D. DeFiore

The sea is like Perry's backyard, especially the Pacific. While he entertains his readers with this knowledge of marine science, he continues to accumulate more scientific knowledge about the universe. Perry lives in the Houston area of Texas, was born in Allentown, Pennsylvania, is married, and has six children and seven grandchildren. He still enjoys his fishing and golf.

Book preview

Another Ralph Mullen Adventure

Perry D. DeFiore

The Black Widow

Copyright © 2022 Perry D. DeFiore

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Stratton Press Publishing

831 N Tatnall Street Suite M #188,

Wilmington, DE 19801

www.stratton-press.com

1-888-323-7009

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in the work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

ISBN (Paperback): 978-1-64895-772-7

ISBN (Ebook): 978-1-64895-773-4

Printed in the United States of America

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter One

She hid, literally, inside the huge mountain laurel that reached up past the roof of her dad’s house and occupied a good twenty-foot area in the corner of her backyard, to the left of the house as you entered the yard through the back door. She carefully pulled at a branch to give her the tiniest opening to watch the back door.

The door opened abruptly, and a thin man of average height stepped out onto the back patio into the yellowish light provided by two wall fixtures, one on each side of the door that had bug lights installed. His right hand hugged him between the legs. His face told whoever saw him he was in pain. There was no furniture on the patio. It was just a concrete slab fifteen feet wide and extended ten feet into the yard from the house. Her free right hand subconsciously went to her mouth. He looked to his right, then slowly let his eyes scan the otherwise empty yard. When his eyes met the mountain laurel, they lingered. Brandi held her breath, her vision blurred through the tears, and she concentrated with all her inner strength not to shake the bush or make a single sound. The ogre turned and went back into the house. She heard the door slam closed.

She let go of the branch and bowed her head into her hands. She trembled violently but held back the noise of the sobs. Why her? Where the hell did he come from? How did he get into the house? Who was he? What was she to do now? Tell her dad? The police? She shook her head. Her dad would say she invited him. If she told the police, everyone in town would know. One more semester at A&M, then she would find her own place, far, far away from Texas, a place that didn’t have many people, a little town with a population of two hundred. Why did she even come home this time, anyway? Her dad had his own life now. She was in the way, an inconvenience. Her mother had died when she was fifteen, and she missed her terribly, especially now. Her father didn’t tell her anything, but she could tell he had problems. Her guess was that her father was having a troublesome affair with a local woman, probably a married dame. He looked terrible and drank too much.

Her older brother, Bill, had moved out a year ago after too many altercations with dad and was renting an apartment downtown, close to his office, that housed some twelve architects. Her brother was the electrical engineer for all of them, which made him put in some long hours. He didn’t like how they all took credit for his work, but the pay was exceptionally good. He hadn’t even come to see her—said he was too busy.

She was hurting so bad between her legs. She looked down and saw some of the blood had soaked through her shorts. She pressed her hands on her abdomen and moaned. She quickly looked up and peeked through the bush to see if he had come back out. She sighed. All was quiet. She decided to wait longer. The December evening was getting quite chilly, now which added to her discomfort.

She didn’t know how long she had waited, and was still reluctant to leave her hiding place, but finally she decided to take the chance and climbed awkwardly out of the foliage. The night air had her trembling slightly. Her back ached, and her butt ached as she wiggled herself free. Her vagina yelled back at her and made her walk like a penguin for a few steps before the stiffness and soreness dissipated enough to walk normally. She stepped softly to the kitchen window and, bringing herself up to her toes, peeked inside the kitchen window, which was above the kitchen sink. She leaned her back against the back of the house and let out a long sigh, then went to the back door. She turned the knob ever so slowly, waited a couple of seconds, then gently and as quietly as a mouse, pushed the door in. She thanked the Lord for the door not making any noise. She stepped into the house and carefully closed the door behind her and locked it, then unlocked it in case she had to make her escape once again. She stepped over to the knife drawer and pulled out the largest knife she saw, then turned and softly stepped into the dining room. Her eyes roamed the room quickly several times, then she continued on to the living room. It was unoccupied. Did he leave?

She cast her eyes up the stairs. Okay, you son of a bitch. If you are up there, I am going to shove this knife into you a hundred times, up to the hilt. Her thoughts of bravery didn’t seem to work well. She climbed the carpeted stairs very slowly, her knife at the ready, but her hand betrayed her and trembled. Her eyes were glued to the top of the stairs as she moved one step at a time, waiting a couple of seconds at each step and listening intently, then another step, then another, until she finally arrived at the top. Thank God the stairs are carpeted. Her bedroom was to the right. She saw the knife was still shaking in her hand and grabbed it with the other hand to steady the knife, like the police held their gun in the movies. The doors to the other two bedrooms were open. She listened carefully. She turned right and peeked into her room through an open door. She waited and listened. She entered very slowly, knife still at the ready. Her eyes spotted her phone on the nightstand. She glanced at the blood on the bedsheet and trembled at the recent memory, and her eyes watered once again. She cautiously stepped over and picked her phone up and put it in her pocket. She checked the bathroom and the closet, then went to the other rooms.

Convinced she was now alone, she went downstairs, locked the front and back doors, and sat on the couch, debating whether to call 911. She took a couple of deep breaths and exhaled forcefully. She shook her head. She went back upstairs and pulled her sheets off the bed. Then she pulled out a fresh set of sheets out of the linen closet in the hallway and made her bed. She took the soiled sheets down to the garage and threw them into the large garbage container. Tomorrow was garbage day. She emptied the kitchen garbage on top of the sheets. She didn’t feel safe enough to stay there. He could come back at any time! She gathered her purse and other personal belongings and threw everything in the trunk of her old black Nissan Sentra, a hand-me-down from her brother that had already passed a hundred thousand miles on the odometer. A flash of memory came back—she had to pay the car insurance.

She opened the garage door and scanned the darkness before she nervously wheeled out the garbage container and almost ran back to the car. She backed out of the two-car garage (at least her father always kept the garage neat and tidy so two cars could fit) and drove off without having any idea of where she was going to go. Her dad was at a party, and that meant he would not get home till daylight, which, when she looked at the clock in the car, was only a couple of hours away. She would text him later, telling him she went back to school. He would be happy to get rid of her.

She stopped at a gas station and parked in front of the convenience store. She needed to see a doctor. How would she do that without anyone knowing? She only knew one person she could trust to help her. She called him, hoping he would answer.

Hello? Jeffrey said sleepily.

Jeff? Thank God you answered. Sorry to wake you.

Brandi? Is that you?

Yes. I-I need your help.

What is it? Can’t it wait until tomorrow? Jeff looked at the white numbers on the clock on the bed stand. It’s four o’clock. It is tomorrow.

I need a place to crash—and a doctor.

Jeff suddenly awakened and sat upright in his bed. Are you hurt? Where are you?

Yes and no. I don’t want to talk about it on the phone. Can I come over?

Wow. Must be serious. Sure. Come over. I’ll put some fresh coffee on.

Thanks. Be there in twenty.

Jeffrey Garza and Brandi Carter were lifelong friends. His parents originated from Monterrey, Mexico, but Jeff was born in San Antonio, Texas. He was only five foot seven and was slightly built. He had thick curly black hair and black eyes, with olive-toned skin.

Jeff opened the door before Brandi had a chance to knock and ushered her in, closing and locking the door immediately after she was safely inside.

Wow, you look a mess. Come into the kitchen and let me take a look. Tell me what happened, he said with serious concern. He prepared a coffee the way he knew she liked it—two teaspoons of sugar and half-and-half (which he replaced with 2 percent milk). He took his black.

And you still look Italian. She smiled. I don’t know where to begin.

Try the beginning. I don’t have to be in class till four in the afternoon today.

Brandi took a deep breath and sighed, nodding her head, and eased herself gingerly into a chair at the kitchen table. I was home alone, working on my laptop at the kitchen table on my thesis. All of a sudden, this guy grabbed me, pulled me out of my chair, and literally threw me on the table. It all happened so fast. He was big, well, bigger than I am, anyway. He held me down on the table with one arm and forced himself between my legs. She began to cry.

Jeff rushed over to her and put his arm around her, pulling his chair to her side.

It’s okay. I get the picture. He glanced between her legs at the bloodstains on her clothes. Do you know him?

Brandi shook her head. Never saw him before in my life.

How did he get in?

"I don’t know! I never heard him come in. He just suddenly appeared out of nowhere! I got away from him somehow before he was finished with me and