Escape (A Ball & Chain Thriller, Book 7): Ball & Chain Thriller Series, #7

By John W. Mefford

Only one way in.

Is there no way out?

Dodging despots and death threats…

Their survival is surely in doubt.

 

Willow Ball and Cooper Chain are tied at the hip again, hoping to blend in with the masses in the city that never sleeps.

 

Can they locate Willow's father before his time is up?

 

Settling on old score wasn't on Cooper's mind — not until the man who destroyed his life shows up.

 

Will history repeat itself?

 

Dead bodies turn up like rotten fish in the East River. And while dodging threats has become a way of life for the unlikely crime-fighting duo, this time the odds are not in their favor.

 

Could this be the end of the road for Ball & Chain?

 

Filled with vivid characters that leap off the page, this Ball & Chain thriller promises more thrills, more wit, and that thread of romance that will keep your pulse popping until the very last sentence.

 

*Warning: The Ball & Chain Thrillers are full of white-knuckle suspense and sarcastic sass. Proceed with caution.

• Language: English
• Publisher: John W. Mefford
• Release date: Oct 25, 2019
• ISBN: 9798224252732

John W. Mefford

Amazon Top 50 Author, #2 bestselling author on Barnes & Noble, and a Readers' Favorite Gold Medal winner. A veteran of the corporate wars, former journalist, and true studier of human and social behavior, John W. Mefford has been writing his debut novel since he first entered the work force twenty-five years ago, although he never put words on paper until 2009. A member of International Thriller Writers, John writes novels full of intrigue, suspense, and titillating thrills. They also evoke an emotional connection to the characters.  When he’s not writing, he chases three kids around, slaves away in the yard, reads, takes in as many sports as time allows, watches all sorts of movies, and continues to make mental notes of people and societies across the land. To pick up two of John's thrillers for free, copy and past this URL into your browser: http://bit.ly/20WJzqi Connect with John on Facebook at www.facebook.com/JohnWMeffordAuthor

Book preview

1

Cooper

It had to be a ghost. There was no other explanation. No explanation that my mind could possibly comprehend.

Then again, I was hanging upside down. And not by choice. A thick rope bit into my bare ankles as I hung from a massive branch on the bank of Cape Fear River. A river I’d always associated with unbridled terror.

What little blood that remained in my lower extremities, given my losing battle with gravity, seeped out of the open ankle wounds and dropped onto my face—a very bloated face from being in this position for what felt like hours.

I’d already managed to free my hands from being tied together—sweating like a stuck pig had its advantages. After that stunning feat, I quickly pulled the bandana out from my mouth, allowing me to breathe a little easier. But I dared not scream. Not with Otis and his one-toothed buddy lurking nearby.

Swinging gently by my ankles, I wiped a mixture of blood and sweat from my eyes and reset my gaze at the figure hovering over tall grass and a dead tree on the muddy riverbank. Cast in a soft glow from an eerie full moon was a portly creature coated with some type of green slime.

Can’t be. Just can’t be, right? I muttered in a quiet rasp.

I used the heel of my palms to rub my eyes until I thought I might shove my eyeballs into my skull. When I opened my eyes, the figure had disappeared. For the moment. I’d gone through this exercise three times already, mixed in between elongated sessions of swinging my body toward the tree trunk.

Given the blood loss and mounting pressure in the melon attached to my shoulders, delusional thoughts were certainly possible. Okay, maybe probable at this stage. So, who knew if the green monster really existed?

Ready for my fourth and possibly final attempt at freeing myself, I torqued my body and then whipped it forward...once, twice—each time swinging a bit higher—and then on the third cycle, I lunged toward the trunk of the tree. My fingernails only scratched the bark...for the umpteenth time.

Fuck, fuck, fuck! I said, yammering for the umpteenth time.

Helplessly swaying back and forth, I heard the inner echo of my voice. And whether it was the voice of my sainted mother (she held the religious torch in our family) or just common sense reaching the part of my brain still functioning, I re-thought my cussing strategy. Just in case the Big Man upstairs is still giving you a chance at living, you might want to drop the F bombs, Coop.

I tried clearing my throat and looked toward the dark sky. Hey, you know I was joking. If you didn’t, um... I’m sorry, okay?

I waited a second, wondering if lightning would strike the tree, snapping the branch from its trunk and allowing me to drop into the soft mud below. But I realized it might be too late for divine intervention. Hell, I knew it might be too late for anything to save me. Even with the gag off, my breathing was becoming more labored, my eyes felt like they might fall out of their sockets, and my head was nothing more than a balloon filled with blood—and it was ready to pop. I was beyond miserable. In fact, if I had a pen on me, I might be tempted to just end the agony and jab it into my bubble head.

Refusing to glance in the direction of where the green slime thing might reappear, I tried to muster up the strength for another go at the tree. I did the torquing thing again—but I hardly moved. Come on, Cooper, I muttered. Then I took in a sharp breath and growled, channeling every remaining ounce of energy into my second torque. This one might have been my best of the night.

There we go!

As my body swung back over the river, I started into my third and final torque. It was another home run, and I sailed toward the trunk. Extending my arms, I could feel a smile cracking my lips as I cut through the air at a speed I’d previously not attained. The enormous trunk came at me so fast I didn’t know how to react.

Not until my face smacked straight into the bark. I groaned, but somehow kept my arms extended and dug my nails into the side like grappling hooks. Blood dripped off my nose and into my mouth. But the eagle had landed!

Cooper, is that you groaning?

With my back arched into a U shape—with every passing second, it felt like vertebrae were popping like kernels of corn—I blinked sweat from my eyes and looked toward the dense brush up the small hill. Willow?

My better half started to move in my direction.

Watch out, there might be gators.

Alligators, she corrected me while trudging through the waist-high weeds.

No, gators. That’s what Otis called them. And he said they’ll eat anything that moves.

She was finally standing beneath me. She was easy to spot in her red-checkered shirt tied off at her belly and her skin-tight denim shorts—her Daisy Dukes, as it were. I’m just glad it’s you. And not the ghoulish green ghost.

She ignored me, as she should have. What are you doing up there, Cooper?

I don’t know. Uh, just hanging out. What the hell does it look like I’m doing?

She pushed her wild curly locks away from her eyes and then placed her hands on her waist with a blank stare on her pretty face.

What?

I’ll ignore your snippiness, she said, because it seems like you’ve gotten yourself into a...situation. I won’t ask how, not until we’re out of this hick town.

Good idea. Otis and his buddy are around here somewhere, so I’m not sure how much time we have.

At least a few minutes.

How do you know that?

When I saw someone swaying from this tree, I figured it was you. Hell, I’ve been looking for you for the last thirty minutes. Anyway, when I got closer, I saw two guys up there by the main path.

And how did you get around those two rednecks?

She smirked. I created a diversion.

What kind of diversion?

I didn’t have any weapons on me, so I had to appeal to what I expected to be their core desire, their life’s number one goal.

I re-gripped my hands on the tree trunk and groaned again. You’re teasing me while I’m desperately clinging to this tree. Oh, by the way, my back is about to snap like a twig.

Okay, I flashed them and then ran like a deer into the woods.

Holy crap. And they followed you?

Oh yeah. It was the ultimate carrot, she giggled.

Don’t you mean—

Zip it. No cracks about my breast size, please.

What? I love your—

Not the time for that. We need to get you down.

Really, Sherlock?

Can’t you just flip around, grab the branch, then crawl over to your rope and untie it?

You think I’m fucking Houdini or something?

I guess not. Hold on. She ran back up the hill and disappeared into the brush.

Great. I counted to ten. Then twenty. Then sixty. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could hold on. My arms and shoulders were on fire and my back.... Well, I wasn’t sure it would ever be the same. If I lived. My hands started slipping off the trunk; I went for another re-grip, digging my nails even deeper into the bark. I could hear myself groaning from the pain and my dying strength.

Holy shit, Cooper... Willow was high-stepping it back down the river bank. You sound like you’re having sex.

Funny.

I have a knife. She held up something that shined off the moon’s glow. I’m going to toss it up to you. She lowered her arm and was about to hurl it upward.

Hold on! You might gouge me in the gut with that thing. Where did you get that knife?

Found it in the shed behind the convenience store. I’m going to toss it up, handle first. You can let go of the tree, catch the knife, then lean up and cut the rope on the branch. Bing, bang, boom.

Bing, bang... What the fuck?

Hush, we don’t have much time.

Before I could argue the point to try another plan, she’d tossed the knife in my direction. I had no choice but to let go of the tree—the relief from my back being twisted like a pretzel was immediate—and the handle of the knife hit my palm as if some magical force had guided it.

Good catch.

Thanks. I was now swinging under the same branch, blood draining into my face while wondering if this was a smart idea.

Tick, tock. Let’s get moving, Cooper.

Trying to muster some energy here.

You need some ab work after we get through this?

Do you know what it feels like to have your balls being stuffed into the back of your throat?

In case you didn’t notice, my body’s not equipped for those things. She put a hand to her mouth. Was she giggling? But that sounds like a joke our buddy Benjamin would make.

The joke being her last name was Ball. And since my last name was Chain, Ben was a pro at throwing out quips that would make fun of our names. As the saying goes, When they go low, Ben goes lower.

Ben Dover, you mean, I said, coughing out a laugh of my own.

I think you’re losing it.

She might be right. But I knew I had to focus if I had a chance of pulling off this great final feat of strength and dexterity. Yes, I was channeling Captain America and every other superhero I could think of. I gave myself a countdown. Three, two—

If you don’t get a move on, Otis and his buddy may keep us hostage here at Cape Fear.

Just what I need. More nightmares.

She giggled. You had nightmares from that movie?

And you didn’t? Do you remember Robert DeNiro? That guy was the ultimate villain. He just wouldn’t die.

Tick, tock.

Urrrrg, I growled, then hurled myself up and chopped the knife against the branch, cutting the rope in two. Instant gratification washed over me. But for less than a second. I’d forgotten about the gravity part. I dropped straight to the ground, landing on my back in a heap of mud.

You’ve been stabbed! Willow ran to my side, dropping to her knees.

Huh? I pulled my head up and saw the handle of the knife wedged in the mud between my arm and torso, making it look like I was stabbed. I pulled out the knife and smiled.

She just shook her head. You’re bleeding.

I face-planted into the tree.

And you look like you’re missing a few teeth. She wiped a finger across my teeth, then kissed me.

For a brief moment, all my aches and pains vanished.

Where is that hoochie mama?

That was Otis.

Time to make like a hockey stick, I said, holding out an arm so Willow could pull me out of the mud.

What does that mean?

Need to get the puck out of here.

We raced through the brush, heading for our car, the Death Machine.

2

Willow

I spotted the white bill of a baseball cap through the trees and quickly grabbed the first part of Cooper closest to my hand—his mane of dirty-blond hair—and tugged him down to the ground.

Ah! he cried out too loudly.

Cringing, I put a finger to my mouth and pointed through the thicket of trees. He hushed, and we both froze.

Hear that, Otis? The guy with the white cap emerged from the side of the dirt path and tapped his buddy on the shoulder.

Yes, dumb shit, I heard that. But I don’t see a thing.

Moving to within ten feet of where Cooper and I huddled behind a thick cluster of smaller trees, the two rednecks were staring down toward the riverbank, ninety degrees to our right. I’d let go of Cooper’s golden mane and now had a hand on his sweaty back. I still didn’t know how he’d gotten himself into this mess—he had a history of attracting maggots—but I knew he’d suffered mightily. And that tore at my heart. If we could somehow elude Otis and his pal, then we might have a chance of putting this small North Carolina town behind us for good and getting back to the business of finding my father.

You don’t think it’s...? White Cap glanced up at his friend.

What? Otis replied.

You know...the ghost of Cape Fear?

Otis shook his head, then pulled a canister of chewing tobacco from his back pocket, popped his thumb off the top three times—maybe some type of nervous tic—and then grabbed a pinch and stuck it between his gums. You believe that crock of shit?

You haven’t seen the green ghost?

Cooper nudged me and whispered, I saw the same thing. It might be real.

I put a finger to my lips. Now wasn’t the time to play make-believe.

Can’t believe in something I haven’t seen, Otis said.

I seen it. Twice.

Were you drunk?

I had a little nip. But I won’t forget it ’til the day I die.

That might be today if we find out that hippie escaped from his tree hangin’. You’re the one who tied those damn knots.

But aren’t you the one who chased after the girl who flashed us? I’m thinking she might have tried to lure us away from him. I’m pretty sure I saw her in the parking lot before all this.

Otis smacked his buddy on the back of the head. That would have been nice to know earlier when she gave us a look at her knockers. Come on, let’s hurry up down to the river and see if our prize hog is still paying the price for being such a cocky bigmouth.

We heard footfalls as the pair ran off, and I saw the white cap disappear into the darkness.

I’m a prize hog?

We might only have a few seconds to make it to the car, I said, darting out of my stance.

Cooper caught up, and we raced up the winding path until we reached the open grassy area behind the convenience store. A spotlight from the store lit up the space like it was the launching pad for a rocket.

Hold on. Cooper heaved in air while grimacing and putting a hand at the base of his back. From our fun experience dealing with the previous rednecks—

In Alabama, I continued for him.

There could be someone in a tree, drooling, just waiting for us to run across this field so they can shoot us.

But Otis and his buddy ran toward the river, so I think we need to run to the car and get the hell out of Dodge.

I took two steps, but Cooper grabbed the back pocket of my shorts.

Did I tell you that you look yummy in those shorts?

A hundred times since we tore out of Alabama. Now’s not the time, Cooper.

He touched the bridge of his nose and winced. Okay, so I’m thinking we should tiptoe around the edge of the trees until we reach the street, then walk back down the street to the front of the—

The bullet whistled so close to my ear I spun a three-sixty and started to fall.

Shit! Cooper yelled, then grabbed my wrist before I hit the ground. We were in a full-on sprint in two seconds. I think the shot came from behind us, he said, glancing over his shoulder.

Otis and his buddy. We shouldn’t have stopped.

I know that now.

Five more steps, and another shot pierced the air—it whizzed right over my shoulder.  We fired off a frantic string of cuss words.

Start to zigzag, Cooper yelled.

I didn’t dispute the strategy. I just did as he said. We made it to the graveled edge of the back parking lot, and I thought I heard another ping. Hard to tell since the rumble of a diesel truck was mixed in the sound montage. And we didn’t slow down to discuss it.

It wasn’t difficult to spot our car, a rebuilt Le Mans, courtesy of some friends we’d made in Alabama. Orange and red fire flames were painted along the side panel, and a skull and crossbones adorned the hood. I opened the car door and got into the passenger’s seat, just in time to see Cooper flying through the open driver’s-side window feet first. He actually pulled it off without popping his chin on the frame.

He grabbed at his back.

You’re too old for that.

He winked and then started the car and revved the engine. You like that? Just like Bo and Luke Duke.

Says the guy covered in mud, blood, and sweat. I smacked the dash. Let’s go!

He floored it, and we fishtailed out of the lot, kicking up a plume of dust and pebbles. We made it! he yelled with a big smile on his face. Next stop, New York City, baby!

Thank God. You’ll have plenty of time to tell me how that mouth of yours got us in trouble. Again.

3

Cooper

Every few seconds, Willow would look over her shoulder to glance out the back window of the Death Machine.

I think I just went from zero to sixty in five seconds. This sucker can haul ass, I said.

What if Otis has a hot rod that can do it in four seconds? She arched an eyebrow.

Doubtful. Buzz created an absolute rocket.

You’re getting awfully excited about what’s under the hood.

I like what’s under your—

She goosed me, and the car lurched to one side as I laughed. Hey now, we need to be careful with the Death Machine. This is our only ticket to New York City.

Right. But just know you can’t fool me. You’re a writer, not a gearhead. She put a hand to the side of my face. Don’t think you have a fever. Maybe you hit your head on a rock when you fell from the tree.

She was a nurse by trade, so I was used to it, but I didn’t pay it much attention, especially since she was joking. I kept my eyes focused on the dark bends of State Road 1511 in the middle of North Carolina. We’d been mostly driving at night since we raced out of Alabama in the Death Machine, a car that couldn’t be traced to anyone.

Buzz was a cool guy. Willow turned and faced straight ahead. Can’t say that about a lot of the people we met in the Deep South.

We made a few friends in Alabama. Turned out that Buzz was a former Major League pitcher who’d dropped off the radar years ago to get away from all the pressure. He loved to rebuild old cars. Our paths crossed because he was working for Big Al Jefferson. He, along with his twin sons, Ronnie and Donnie, and a scorned deputy sheriff named JP, had been our only allies in a world of crooked rednecks who’d tried to kill Willow and me. So, let’s talk about our game plan for finding your father in a city of eight million people.

Not yet. We’ve got hours to talk about that. Did you not notice that we almost got killed back there?

I winced, then rubbed the base of my back.

Don’t play the wounded soldier game with me.

That was harsh.

A bullet whizzed by my ear. How harsh is that?

Good point, I said dejectedly. Look, I didn’t mean to get us into trouble. I’ve had enough of that to last a lifetime.

Ten lifetimes. She flicked her fingers at me. So...?

Okay, well, it kind of went like this. When I went up to the counter to pay, I was making small talk with the store manager or owner or whatever he was.:

The man with the white beard.

I tapped the steering wheel. You saw him?

She waved a hand, essentially dismissing my question. "So, it was your mouth that got us in trouble. I knew it. What did you say?"

I kind of said something about a framed picture on the wall next to his register.

Kind of said what?

I shrugged and sunk a little lower in my seat. "I said the guy in the picture looked like Robert DeNiro in Cape Fear."

Why are you so obsessed with that movie? We even changed our route just so you could check out the Cape Fear River. But how did you end up hanging from a tree?

Well, the person in that picture was the store owner’s son. That’s Otis.

She let out a long ohhh and then shook her head.

You see, it was all very innocent.

Otis and his buddy just dragged you out of the store?

Actually, they grabbed me coming out of the bathroom, then took me out the back door. I guess the dad told Otis what I’d said. Apparently, Otis has this issue of being compared to Max Cady—he’s the creepy DeNiro character from the movie. I really think the guy needs counseling. Actually, he might need a frontal lobotomy. I tapped the side of my head. Seriously crazy guy.

She puffed out a breath, then put her hand on my leg. Just glad you’re safe.

I winked at her. I’ve got nine lives.

But you’ve used about thirteen.

Ooh, don’t use an unlucky number. You never know what will happen.

She giggled, then scooted over next to me—the bench front seat was a nice feature. She rested her head on my shoulder, and we drove in silence for a few miles. Damn, I cared about this woman—more than I’d realized until recently. I wanted to tell her how I felt about her. But it had to be the right time, for her and for me. Right now, even amidst the comfort of us being alone and at least temporarily safe, I sensed that her anxiety was on the rise.

She was worried about her father, Raymond. A man who’d abandoned his family three decades ago and then showed up at a pre-wedding party days before her big day. While the marriage never took place—she realized her flame was a dud—Raymond turned up the dial on the evasive sweet-talking, hoping he could quickly reconnect with his eldest daughter. They’d been close to a reconciliation when he disappeared again. It had something to do with an FBI/DEA investigation called Operation Stingray. And he, apparently, was Stingray.

What did it all mean? Was it good or bad? Was Raymond in danger? Or was he the danger?

And then came the carrot Willow couldn’t resist. An FBI agent showed up at our place in North Dallas, saying she had info about Raymond and that she and Willow had to leave—pronto. No phone, no packing, just head out. Willow couldn’t say no. She left me a quick goodbye note, left her phone and her clothes, and took off.

My heart was shattered.

I eventually found her in the backwoods of Alabama, running for her life. I had some help, of course—a badass woman named Lucia, the unforgettable Jefferson family, and a few other good folks in that area of the Deep South.

There was some bad juju going down with this Operation Stingray, and Willow and I appeared to be a target of a crime syndicate who thought we knew too much. What that might be, we had no idea. But we knew the only people we could really trust were each other.

A few miles after crossing the Virginia border, I spotted a blue and yellow sign that would make Willow happy. Walmart alert, I said, turning into the enormous parking lot.

She wiped her eyes and yawned. Can’t wait to buy some real clothes and get out of these Daisy Dukes that the Jefferson brothers gave me.

Well, we’ve got the cash for anything you want.

Willow opened the glove box, pulled out a thick envelope, and ran her fingertips across the wad of cash Big Al had given us. When combined with the amount given to us by Lucia—who apparently worked in some capacity for the DEA—we had a little under thirteen grand at our disposal.

Thirteen, I said, staring at the cash.

Now you’re the one who’s going to jinx us.

I’m not. It’s just another number. One that everyone associates as unlucky.

And you still jinxed us.

Moving at a slow speed through the parking lot, I was just about to turn into a parking space when Willow tapped my arm.

Cop alert, she said, pointing a finger straight ahead to the next row of cars.

Crap.

We can’t take the chance that he hasn’t been alerted.

But there’s a McDonald’s in the Walmart. I paused. Okay, that was my stomach doing the whining.

See if you can get out of the lot without him seeing you.

Trying. I kept moving down our row, my head rotating back to see if the police car was still in the row next to us.

A horn sounded. My heart thumped my chest as I slammed the brake into the floorboard. I’d stopped just inches from hitting another car—going the wrong way down the parking aisle.

What the fuck? They’re going the wrong way.

The guy in the truck was giving me the finger and mouthing off.

Don’t engage him, Cooper.

I backed up, then steered our car to the right, slowly moving around the truck. He was still giving me the finger while barking at me out his window. With no sleep and my stomach growling, my patience was on the thin side. Very discreetly, I put my hand out the window—making sure to keep it low enough where Willow couldn’t see it. My middle finger was pointed downward. The man started ranting even louder, his face beet red. I laughed, then said, I’m sorry, you didn’t hear that? Let me turn it up for you. And then I rotated my hand upward so he could see the full glory of me giving him the middle finger.

The guy went berserk and jumped out of his truck.

Did you just do what I think you did? Willow said, leaning over me, her voice filled with anger.

Of course not, I said, now wishing I hadn’t denied it. Okay, I did it. But he started it.

Are you younger than your fourteen-year-old daughter?

Is that a trick question?

Cop is driving in this direction. You better think of something quickly.

I punched it, laying rubber. The guy who’d gotten out of his truck stumbled backward, falling against the side of it.

I laughed.

Watch out! Willow hollered while slapping the dash.

I dodged two pedestrians and zipped out the side exit of the Walmart before you could say, "Would you like fries with that?"

After reaching ninety on my speedometer and then cutting through two backroads, we were safe once again. It’s all good now, I said, extending my arms while wearing a shit-eating grin.

Willow slumped in her seat. Just get us to New York City.

As you wish, my lady.

4

Willow

Driving at night had its advantages, and at least one of them wasn’t connected to evading local, state, or federal law enforcement.

Wow, I muttered. My sights were cast on the eye candy known as the Manhattan skyline. We were stuck in traffic, trickling across the George Washington Bridge at just before midnight.

Cooper squeezed my hand for a second. You like?

Double wow. The sprinkling of endless lights was mesmerizing.

I guess that’s a yes.

Yes, yes, yes!

I could hear Cooper chuckling, and I knew why. Without turning to look at him, I patted his leg. Gutter alert.

There’s something about that phrase that sticks in my mind. Hmm. It could have been a dream. It was the middle of the night, and we were sleeping on a blanket on a grassy field in the middle of Dela-no-where.

He was waiting for me to grab the baton and run with it, fueling his lustful mind. I acted like I didn’t hear him and then started counting to myself, wondering if he’d last until I made it