Bubba: Demented Souls, #11

By Melissa Stevens

Time heals all wounds, or does it?

Ten years after her father convinced Bubba that Sissy Metcalf was destined for bigger things than the poor boy from the wrong side of town, she calls out of the blue. She needs help and didn't know who else to call.

Determined to get herself out of a bad situation, Sissy broke up with the man her father picked out. When his response was to leave her bloody and broke on the floor, she knew she had to do something drastic. The only person she knows willing to stand up to her daddy is Bubba. But she hasn't heard from him since he left for the military.

But has it been too long? What if he's moved on and forgotten the first girl who loved him?

With her safety and possibly her life, on the line, Sissy makes the call she's wanted to make for years. But does time really heal all wounds?

• Language: English
• Publisher: TNT Publications
• Release date: Oct 4, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223513841

Melissa Stevens

Melissa was born and raised in Arizona, she’s spent her entire life living across the southern half of the state. She’s found that, along with her husband and three children, she prefers the small towns and rural life to feeling packed into a city. She started reading at a very young age, and her love for series started early, as the first real books she remembers reading is the Boxcar Children series by Gertrude Chandler Warner. Through the years she’s found that there’s little she won’t read, and her tastes vary from westerns, to romance, to sci-fi / fantasy and Horror.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Bubba hefted his last bag into the back of his pick-up and double checked the straps he’d used to tie down his bike. He’d left Laredo two days before and was taking his time on his way back to Tucson. He wanted to see a little bit of the country between here and there before he went home and back to work at the mechanic shop. But he was ready to be home. He was tired of the string of hole in the wall apartments. He missed his bed and the people he’d left behind.

He made one last check of the room he’d spent last night in, then got in the truck to make the last stretch back to Tucson. He’d reached El Paso and was looking forward to finishing the last five hours of this drive, when his phone rang.

Hello?

Cole? Is that you?

The voice on the line was the last one he’d expected to hear.

Celia, is that you? He hadn’t heard from her in at least ten years and hadn’t thought he would ever hear from her again.

I’m sorry. I didn’t know who else to call. I need help. The feminine voice coming over the line carried so many memories with it, Bubba had to find a place to pull off the highway.

It’s me. What’s going on?

I don’t know what to do. I need to get out of here, but I can’t do it on my own. They’ll catch me and stop me. I’ll never be able to get away.

‘Where are you?" Bubba didn’t stop to think about what he was about to do. The panic and stress in Celia’s voice had him ready to do whatever he had to do to help her.

I’m at home, kind of, in Mobile.

Are you safe?

I—I think so. For now, at least.

Can you stay safe for twenty-four hours?

I think so.

Don’t think. If you can’t be sure you’ll be safe for the next twenty-four hours until I can get there, get out. Get as much cash as you can now, then ditch your cell, car, and credit cards. Find a hole in the wall motel where no one would look for you and lock yourself inside. Once you get as much cash as you can, do not use your cards, not even for the motel. Especially not for the motel. If you have enough cash get a cheap burner and text me where you’re staying. If not, ask to borrow someone’s phone and send it. Then hunker down and wait. I’ll be there as soon as I can. I’m in south Texas right now and it’s going to take me at least twelve hours to get to you.

When they’d finished on the phone, he sent a quick text message to his contact in Tucson, then used his phone to find the fastest route to Mobile. In less than ten minutes he was on I-10 racing to the girl he hadn’t seen in more than ten years. The girl he’d left behind so long ago, that until this moment he hadn’t realized still held a big chunk of his heart.

CHAPTER 2

Sissy hung up the phone and deleted the call from the log out of habit. If Troy saw it, he would demand to know who she’d called. She couldn’t lie to him, or he would know. Somehow, he always knew more than she wanted him to. He demanded to know more than she thought he should, especially for someone she’d only been seeing for six months.

How had he managed to take over her life and terrify her in such a short amount of time? She knew the answer before her brain even finished forming the question.

She’d let him. Why? Because her father liked Troy and had encouraged her to spend time with him. Sissy had spent her entire life giving into what her father wanted, what he’d demanded so seeing Troy had been just another progression in the habit. Then he’d started slapping her around. He’d always apologized afterward and seemed sorry. Swore he’d never do it again. She’d believed him. More than once, she was embarrassed to admit, even to herself.

It wasn’t until Becky Lynn, a girl from her grade in school, had been killed by her husband that Sissy had woken up to the situation she’d put herself into. She’d decided right then, reading the newspaper article about Becky Lynn that she wasn’t going to be the next one in the paper for the same reason. Last night when Troy had come over, Sissy had broken things off with him, or at least she’d tried.

He'd started with screaming at her, telling her he hadn’t wasted so much time cozying up to such a cold fish for nothing. When she’d insisted it was over and told him to get out of her house, he’d gotten violent. He’d slapped her, then used his fists, until she curled in a ball in the corner trying to protect herself. Even that hadn’t stopped him from hitting and kicking at her.

At one point, he’d grabbed her by the hair and dragged her down the hall, heading for the bedroom. He was spitting mad and telling her he’d show her exactly what she was for. She’d been so terrified of what he was getting ready to do, and nauseous from the pain of what he’d already done. Her head rang, the world started to go black and the last thing she remembered was vomiting in the hall outside her bedroom door.

She’d woken up this morning lying on the cold tile of that same floor, still surrounded by her own sick, but Troy was nowhere around. Her entire body throbbed and moving had made her cry, but she’d crawled into the bedroom, then made it to her feet before making it into the attached bathroom.

Sissy had almost screamed when she caught sight of herself in the mirror, then she’d sat down and cried. It took her a little while to draw herself together and figure out what she needed to do. She needed to get away, but she’d need help for that. The only person she could think of who she trusted and knew would be willing to stand up to Daddy, was Cole. But she hadn’t spoken to Cole in years. Not since that last blow up between him and Daddy, then Cole had left town a couple days later. She had no idea how to get a hold of him. But she knew one person who might. She’d taken a shower, dressed and went to see the one person Cole might have kept in touch with, Corey Maxwell.

Sissy pulled her Jaguar up in front of the service station where Corey worked, got out, and went to the open garage door to look for Corey. She spotted him sitting in the office, a telephone to his ear and headed that way. When she reached the doorway, he held up a finger in her direction, indicating he’d seen her but was busy. She nodded and waited quietly while he finished his conversation, which seemed to be talking to a customer about the repair on their car.

I’m sorry about that, ma’am. Can I help you? he asked once he’d hung up the phone.

I’m not sure. She hesitated now that he sat in front of her. She kept her face turned away despite the oversized glasses she used to hide the black eye she hadn’t been able to completely hide with make-up or the cut on her cheek.

Tell me what’s wrong with your car and I’ll do my best to steer you in the right direction.

It’s not my car. She turned to look directly at him and slid the oversized sunglasses off her face, half hoping he wouldn’t recognize her but knowing he had to, or he might not give her what she needed.

I— The word died in his throat as his eyes went wide. Corey blinked once. Holy shit! I’m sorry. Pardon my language. Sissy, is that you? Sissy Metcalf? What happened to you? He stood and approached her. He reached out as of to pull her into his arms but looked down at his grease smeared hands and stopped.

Sissy nodded. It’s me. I need your help.

What can I do? Who do I need to kill over this?

That’s sweet, but nobody. It would only make things harder for you here. What I need is a way out, and I only know one person who can do that. But I haven’t talked to him since he left.

Understanding dawned on Corey’s face. Did your father do this to you?

Sissy shook her head again. Do you have Cole’s number?

A half smile quirked one side of Corey’s mouth. I forgot you always called him that. He turned and went back to the desk. I don’t know if the number I have still works. I don’t talk to him often, and he doesn’t always answer right away. He took a cell phone from the desk and swiped across the screen a few times, then bent and wrote the number on a sticky note.

Here. If you’re serious about getting away, don’t call from your phone. I can help you hide out if you’d like but you’ve got to be serious about staying gone. I have to live here when it’s over so getting you out can’t be traced to me.

Thanks. Sissy’s hand shook as she reached out to get the number.

"I recommend a burner phone, but don’t use one