Dirty Messy Love: Borderlands-Whitehall

By Carissa Marks

Small town Sheriff Logan Cole proposed on national TV, only to be done dirty by the cooking show goddess. What followed could only be classified as messy, so much so his friends and second in command shipped him off to Florida where he met a sassy party services rep  who turns his world inside out.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Carissa Marks
• Release date: Aug 30, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215348451

Carissa Marks

Started writing at 8, later in life I have written for newspapers, a military life style magazine, school news paper, and then hit the big time when a story was published in an anthology put out by the University of Edinburgh. I have a masters degree in creative writing multimedia(just got it)and I waited to go back to school until I was 50. Spent 20 plus yrs chasing the military, raising kids and then...you're never to old. I hope to be an inspiration to my girls, all of them.

Book preview

1

Growing up in Whitehall , you were expected to follow certain life steps. More than once, Oh they’re just being boys saved his ass, and usually his twin, Luke. They ran wild through a small town, often having a friend’s mom patch up skinned knees or something along those lines. In their early teens, they got serious about girls and the outdoors. Given the chance, they were out hunting or fishing and checking in via sat-phone. An expense Marcia Cole declared to be worth every penny. Usually, one or more of the Monroe boys tagged along. The quad, Logan and Luke, Tag Kimbrell, and Cort Monroe, ran the county. They played football together from pee-wee leagues on up to high school. College took Logan into Montana and law enforcement, Luke landed in the military and nearly died. Looking back at the day, Logan decided that was when his world began to rock. Lately, it not only rocked, it exploded.

Leaning against the porch rail, hands shaking from too much or not enough alcohol depending on who was asked. He wondered how did the last forty-eight hours change everything so drastically? Gotta remember to ask Rayna if someone cursed me. Fucking Brice, everything went sideways when he went MIA. How did things get so fucked up? Staggering back inside, he let the memories wash over him.

One long black ribbon of road offset by sweeping S curves, the other way, in the middle two trucks lay on their sides, slowly dying after a head-on collision. Fluids leaking from both across the road soaked up by mountains of kitty litter and some state issued universal absorbent. Eggs splattered across the road enticed every critter within fifteen miles, by dark the situation would be worse. Pigs squealed their dismay at being turned topsy-turvy, at least their truck landed upright. Ducks, geese, and chickens squawked loudly from holding pens hastily erected by some tourists following the trucks. Cage pieces and feathers laid strewn about like strange confetti. Cows were herded back to the V of the trailer and truck cab by a junior rodeo team stuck in traffic. Three pickup trucks blocked the opening. Vets from Juniper Springs arrived and ran triage on the animals.

Sheriff Logan Cole stood beside his car, foot resting on the frame—arm sitting on the roof, radio in hand. No damn it, six hours is not convenient. Hays, call them back, inform the company I will be billing them for every thirty minutes we have to wait, five hundred dollars a pop. Over three hours and someone goes to jail. Then call Bart, tell him what we have, and to be ready to come move these things off the road and impound the damn things.

Deputy Kimbrell rolled up in one of the new SUVs. Whoo-wee! Red sure as hell hooked us up before he bagged ass. His hand ran over the hood as if caressing a woman. They still dragging ass on clean up? Logan nodded as his hand scrubbed down his face.

We’ve been out here four stinkin ass hours now and they want another six? Hell to the no on that notion. Logan slammed his hand down on the hood as he walked around the car.

Tag Kimbrell and Logan grew up as part of the hell quads, he fully understood the frustration. They were both men who put stock in action. Any word on when the fog is supposed to clear? Tag shrugged as the radio squelched.

Yeah,

Hey Sheriff, gotta couple of fellas here from the military, they need to speak with you. ASAP.

Tag was close enough to hear, his hand closed on his buddy’s shoulder. Let me know.  Logan climbed into the car, squealing the tires as he left. They had to be there because of Brice; he was the only one he knew in the service. Damn, losing him would drive Aunt Nancy over the edge. She about lost Uncle Ned last fall.  His lights flashed as he sped along, too fast for the conditions. He braked before he added to the grief. Damn you, Brice, we’re going to open our own guiding business and get paid to hunt and fish...you can’t be dead. Reality set in when he pulled in behind the government vehicle. His hat landed on his dirty blonde hair, a woman across the street came close to walking into a streetlamp, so intently staring at him, she barely missed knocking herself for a loop. He hadn’t paid any attention.

Jingling from a bell hung on the door announced his arrival. He walked right on by Alicia and the baby. Her brow rose, big surprise, just like Brice. Arrogant ass. Logan led the military men into his office and closed the door. Okay...how bad is the news? He flopped into his chair. Waiting for them to say Brice was dead, mangled, a combination.

Sheriff, did Lieutenant Fraser share the details of his mission with you?

Logan thought back, something in their demeanor instantly sounded alarm bells in his head, he said he was routing supplies or handing out basketballs or some such shit. Why? 

Lt. Fraser engaged in an intelligence operation. The military leased space on a Turkish Island, until a week ago. Rebels tracked back some information and attacked the entire populace of the place, we evacuated those we could. Lt. Fraser and his wife couldn’t board an evac flight, they gave their daughter to a woman...associated...with the Lieutenant. Right now, the Fraser’s are in the wind. Some entity posted a video showing Lt. and Mrs. Fraser commandeering a zodiac-style craft after they killed a nephew of the rebel leader. Our intel says he was linked to Isis. If they find out about the baby, she could be a target.

Logan’s brain was in hyper drive, then he landed on the words— Define associated Both men checked out their nails, the floor, anything except looking at him. Let me guess, his lover? The officer nodded and cleared his throat.

We knew of the relationship, Miss Blaylock was scheduled to leave, this just hurried her along. She’s done well with the baby, your wife should be able to take over, at that time, Miss Blaylock is not military connected, it’s up to her to get to her next destination. Logan’s fingertips rubbed a spot at his temple. Stress would kill him before anything else did.

Why me? Doesn’t his wife—that no one knew he had, have family?

He designated you. They rose, he rebuffed the offer to shake hands, with a shrug they left, nodding to Alicia as they went by. Logan stormed out of his office only to stop short at the sight of a strange woman feeding a baby. Myriads of details flooded his brain at once, not exactly an excuse for what followed.

What in the bloody hell am I supposed to do with the two of you?  Hays entered in time to catch the exchange, his brows and hairline had a meeting.

Small but not a pushover, she fired back, You can pocket your pissy attitude and find me an ATM if they have one out here in Boonieland, and then take me to find food. The last week has been spent on one form of transportation or another and none came with cuisine fit for human consumption. Fletch choked on his coffee, Hays had a sudden need to sweep empty cells.

Go replace Tag. Fletch grabbed his jacket, refilled his cup, and headed out the door. Logan grabbed the radio, changed his mind, dropped the device back on the counter, and pulled out his phone. No need for all of them to laugh.

Yo man, what’s the deal. Tag held his breath; life had just settled down. They didn’t need this. Especially Logan.

He’s alive and in the wind. Seems he became a daddy and sent the baby back with his...whatever the hell she is, so for now we’re stuck with each other and a baby. I swear if you laugh, I’m going to bust you one.

Just like Brice to get ya like that, is she pretty?

Logan glanced back at Alicia, if looks could kill, he would need an ambulance. I suppose. Fletch is on his way, you’ll have to cover for me tonight. He grabbed his cover, cramming the Stetson-styled hat on his head. Hays, you’re the duty booty. Logan reached for the door. Alicia carried the baby and the duffle with Mystic, leaving him to grab the rest.

Driving to his place gave her a chance to check out a bit more of the town, as he drove, she realized, there were no fast-food places, no crowns or arches or pig-tailed girls. He picked up on her muttering about being lied to again. Uhm, ATM—please. He pulled up in front of the market.

Sometimes you have to take the slip to the register, Harvey can be a pain in the ass- just yell at him. She snatched her wallet from her bag and bolted. If there was one thing Alicia despised it was the ATM. No matter how much she had in the bank, she always felt like the boxy beast machine would spring to life and reject her transaction and swirling red lights would pop out or something. Instead, she took her five twenty-dollar bills and grabbed a basket. Someone at the base gave her two canisters of formula and a couple boxes of diapers, so all she needed was food for her. An onion, garlic, basil, parsley, mushrooms, tomatoes, a pound of ground beef, a package of chicken breasts, a pound of butter, a container of Parmesan, some chips, a gallon of milk, a two litter of soda, lunch meat, bread, spaghetti and a box of frosted flakes, a few small cans of sauce, then a small bag of cat litter and a couple small cans of kitty food.

Harvey was nosy, peeking over the rims of his round, tortoise shell framed glasses, he began to ring up her items, You don’t look familiar.

Neither do you, you rang those twice-fix it. Harvey went red in the face but did correct the mistake.

Are you visiting?

No, I am attempting to buy some damn food. Are you always so nosy? Harvey gave her the total and then stood there looking on in disbelief when she gave him a lesson in counting back change. Someone behind her in line snickered. Alicia grabbed her bags and headed out, muttering under her breath. It was just as well Harvey hadn’t heard her, what she suggested was not quite physically possible. Exactly what she needed, a nosy old fart, a cop who thought he was god’s gift, and her ex-boyfriend’s kid, perfect day. Just ducky. 

Logan pulled up in front of a wood frame house with a wide front porch. Its light gray paint highlighted the deep green of the front door and trim. His home was quite pleasant, surprising Alicia a bit. Whether due to his upbringing or because he was a total ass earlier, the sheriff hauled in everything except for Mystic’s bag and the baby.

During the six weeks before Brice showed up, they worked hard at not annoying the other. Ali went nosing through news sites. She paced with Skeeter on her heels for close to an hour before the dog began to slow down. Logan gave in and walked to the doorway. Okay, what got you wound tight?

She flipped the computer around, side by side shots of Olivia and a woman in an abaya. Ali didn’t say a thing, she let him draw his own conclusions. He strode back into his office and came back out with a lockbox. He dropped the key on top, Find one you can handle. Grabbing his phone, Logan called the office. His deputies passed by every few minutes until the state police added to the patrol. In the morning, the military cadre came back. They ran facial recognition; the woman was indeed Olivia.

Several days later they picked up the pair on cameras just south of the Canadian-New York border. They took her down quietly outside of town. The word passed was she died getting out of the middle east.

Brice took his daughter to his mother’s home and accepted a discharge from the military. Ali was left on her own. For whatever reason, Logan blamed her for everything. He made it his mission to find ways to harass her, be a pain in her backside, malign her, until one night she let him know she had enough.

She picked up a couple of shifts at the bar. He sat on the corner stool picking at her until the boss told her to go home and cut him off. He followed her out, giving her crap. Aww, gotta find someplace else to whore around?

Ali spun and smacked him across the face with enough force to split his lip as she shrieked at him. Every name of the women he had bedded in the last three months, including the ones who were not single. Who is the whore, dick boy? She crammed her knee into his groin with enough force to drop him to the sidewalk before she kicked him like a football as she shrieked, Leave me to hell alone you hypocritical man whore. She did enough damage that he spent the next week with an ice pack on his junk and not wearing anything that touched the area. He couldn’t move one leg for two weeks and walking hurt for a couple more.

Not long after, he yelled at her, Why the hell are you even still here? Once again, she was left in tears as he stormed off yelling about women using tears to get sympathy.

I should have run away and joined a real circus right then.

He remembered being back at work, his mood still needed a vacation after Ali nearly did him in. Snippy, surly, smart ass-ery at its finest. With a deep sigh, he pulled to the side of the road. Why me? The legs hadn’t moved. One lifted and there seemed to be some jostling about. He inhaled deeply, exhaled slowly, and hit the button on his radio. HQ. Car one seven niner, four thirty-five on the Pike by Benson Road.

Roger One seven nine. Tag laughed as he regaled Cort and Logan with how Everett stared at the radio, then said Since the boss quit getting laid on a daily basis, he has gotten to be way more by the books. We’re about to take up a collection and bribe one of his regulars.

Logan’s door swung open, Be my luck...some psycho wanting to off a cop because it’s a fucking Tuesday. He dropped his hat on his thick dirty blonde hair as he stood. At least moving didn’t hurt anymore. Strolling toward the legs, he discovered old habits die hard. Nice ass. County Sheriff...do you need help?

From under the hood, her agitation came out loud and clear, No, I need longer damn arms or a freaking step ladder to reach this bitch.

His mouth moved in a dozen directions as he tried to not laugh. What are you trying to reach? He leaned over the quarter panel to see miles of fresh duct tape wrapped around a hose.

I can reach the top one but not the bottom one. He reached out and waited for her to drop the roll in his waiting hand. In a few moves, he had the lower hose taped up. Before he could say she wouldn’t be traveling far with the roadside repair, she asked.

Is there a reputable garage in town? Such pretty hazel eyes, odd, I normally find them boring. Logan dragged his train of thought back on track.

Bart, he sort of laid claim to the only game in town, but he’s honest. He stared back down the length of the RV. I can lead you in. Her smile was genuine and made him a little less cynical. For all of a minute. Then his brain kicked in, beware—woman at large.

That would be wonderful. Thank you.

Logan led the way into town and over to Bart Thomson’s garage. He still had six hook-ups from a few years before. Wildfires in the area burned for months; RVs were brought in for the firefighters to take a break. Bart took one glance at the hose and shook his head.

Ma’am, I’m sorry to say...you are a hostage of Whitehall for at least three days and probably closer to five. He held the bill of a greasy ball cap with half of a truck logo still legible as he scratched his head. Only dealer who carries this odd ball length is Elroy down in Carver City and he’s at a funeral in Alabama. Logan watched her face. Her lips pursed; the heel of her hand sat at her temple as she contemplated what her options were.

I don’t have a choice. What’s the cost for hooking up to the facilities? Brooke wasn’t sure what crazy number she’d hear. However, big bear-like Bart harbored a dirty little secret. He loved cooking shows. Especially hers.

Well, Logan stood ready to intervene, Add sewer, electric, water. I think a double batch of chocolate caramel brownies, no coconut or nuts and we’re in business. Her head tipped one way, Logan’s the other.

Red flags should have waved all over the state. But Cole’s were a stubborn lot. He dove headfirst into a wild and crazy relationship. The story was told and retold so many times, that everyone knew the happenings by heart.

Okay Brooke, you’re on in three, two, A green light lit up the darkened area. She was out coffee cup in hand and waving as she headed to the pair of red dots on the floor.

Good morning! She got a raucous response. I took the show on the road this season, as you know. More applause. This has been so much fun; I love helping people succeed. So, we thought it would be fun to check in with some of the folks we met this season. And then we’re answering questions from other diner owners, and we’ll close out with a couple of easy recipes. Applause and whistles from the audience set up the segment. Brooke traded one-liners with an old diner owner in Colorado, he announced his son had quit the corporate world to come work with him. An owner in North Dakota shared the news that she was expanding her operation which got cheers from everyone. Aww, we’re having trouble with the feed from Wyoming where this started. So, let’s take some questions from the audience.

Lonnie headed for the audience, a woman in the front row was first up. Is there anything you wouldn’t put in an egg roll?

Yeah, mussels, I can’t eat them. She made a face, shaking her head no.

What is your late-night go-to?

Bourbon. Laughter erupted, Totally depends; if I’m in a sweet mood, brownies with a salted caramel sauce, strawberries, whipped cream, and a drizzle of chocolate sauce. Oohs and ahhs