Bethany Sutton Chapter 12

Since it was likely Negan would return for the Independence day celebrations Beth wasn’t allowed out for that weekend. They decided to celebrate on the rooftop on the fourth but Beth would have to shop for the barbecue a few days ahead, just in case Negan decided to make an appearance. Shane had promised to keep a close eye on him, to see if he left Senoia, but his investigation could easily pull him away and Negan could leave without Shane’s knowledge.

On July second Beth, Lori, Andrea, and Michonne headed out to the grocers to get the shopping done. By two o’clock in the afternoon the temperatures had soared to ninety-four degrees. Thankfully, however, there were cotton ball clouds that occasionally offered relief from the glare of the sun.

“I feel like the sun is literally trying to cook me right now,” Andrea groused.

Lori pressed a light kiss to her lips. “Your tan is fabulous this year, Baby.”

“I’ll have lines everywhere.”

“But I love your lines,” Lori said.

“And I love you.”

“Awww,” Beth found herself saying, with genuine warmth. “You two are so cute.”

“They are, aren’t they?” Michonne agreed.

“How did you two end up together?” questioned Beth.

“We’ve known one another for years, working with Rick, but last year we sort of…” Lori looked at Andrea for the right way to continue.

“Got drunk and ended up in the sack,” Andrea finished with a nod.

Lori also nodded. “Pretty much. I realized I liked it and we ended up with the occasional tryst. Then I realized I loved her. Carl is crazy about her, too. He thinks it’s cool to have a bisexual mother.”

“He’s a very vocal liberal and a die-hard feminist,” Andrea said proudly. “I love that kid.”

“What about you and Daryl?” asked Michonne. “I heard some rather interesting noises coming from your room when I came to check on you.”

“I sent you a text,” Beth said, feeling her face redden.

“You sent 633 instead of 632,” Michonne explained.

“What’s 633?”

“Bomb threat,” Lori, Andrea, and Michonne said in unison before bursting into laughter.

“Oh, God,” Beth said, horrified and amused at the same time.

“I figured it was a mistake but I had to check,” said Michonne. “Sounded like he was dropping a bomb on you, too.”

Beth was as red as the mustang that stole Michonne’s parking spot. Michonne gave the man the finger but he only shrugged smugly and sauntered on.

“I’m tempted to hack his GPS,” Michonne groused.

“I wish you would. Make it so it’ll only read in garbled words, or keep telling him he's in Canada,” Andrea said, watching the man leave. “He’s got a nice ass, though.”

Lori rolled her eyes.

“We didn’t actually do anything,” Beth said, going back to the subject of her and Daryl.

“He made you make those sounds without doing anything with you? Wow. That man must be amazing in the sack,” Michonne said, impressed.

“I mean, we just sort of…it wasn’t traditional sex, that’s all I’ll say. She was unaware of the knowing look Andrea gave Lori. “Unlike you and Rick.”

Michonne suddenly bit her lip while Andrea laughed. “Come on, spill it!”

They climbed from the cool interior of the car and into the humid heat. Beth was happy to have some women to hang around with, even if they were assassins trained to use deadly force without hesitation.

“I heard that headboard thumping last night,” Beth said. “For fifteen solid minutes.”

“Rick, the stallion,” Lori said, somewhat wistfully. “The man has stamina and I won’t lie: I sometimes miss the dick he’s got on him.”

“You filthy whore,” Andrea said in a blasé tone. “So what made you hop in the sack with him?”

“I was a little tipsy and he kept touching me,” Michonne confessed.

Lori shouldered her. “And you kinda love him.”

Michonne shrugged. “Yeah, there’s that.”

“You two back together?” asked Beth.

“I think so.”

“Give in, Honey,” Andrea advised. “You two will always find your way back to each other. The sooner you stop fighting it, the happier you’ll both be.”

The store was packed with people shopping for the holiday. They went through the store, gathering the ingredients they’d need for the feast, though Michonne insisted they go to the butcher on Sixth Avenue for the meats. She swore by him so they bought everything except the meats at the grocers. The wait in line was long and took over twenty minutes to get through. Then they headed out in to the heat.

“Keep your eyes peeled,” Michonne said.

“Why?” asked Beth, alarmed now. “You don’t see Negan, do you?”

“There’s a man following us. He’s been shadowing us since we picked up the ice cream,” Andrea said.

“I saw him too.”

“Well, I didn’t,” Beth said.

“Here he comes.”

The women had their hands near their lower backs. It occurred to Beth they were all packing guns, or at least knives, and had them hidden there.

“Excuse me,” the man said, rushing up to them. He approached Michonne with a bright smile and kind of swagger that Beth usually found annoying. Now it was worrying. Michonne blocked her view of the man by standing in front of her.

“Yeah?” Michonne asked coolly. The man wasn’t deterred. Then again, he wouldn’t be if he was an assassin.

“I just wanted to ask if you’re okay. It had to hurt like a bitch when you fell from heaven.”

Andrea and Lori both groaned. Michonne eyed the man sideways as he shrugged.

“I heard that one works.”

“I’ve got a man,” Michonne said. “I’m very happy and very loyal.”

He nodded his head once then looked around her at Beth. “How about you, cutie?”

“Same,” she said.

He looked to Lori next but Andrea piped up. “She’s taken too--by me.”

“Wow…four women, my best line, and no luck.”

“Hopefully that’ll change,” Michonne said, still keeping her hand near her lower back. He nodded again and then left, heading off toward a blue SUV.

“He’ll never get laid with that approach,” said Lori. They watched as he started up his dark blue SUV and pulled out of the shopping center parking lot.

“I want to go shopping again,” said Beth. “If we can. I’ve got my check from the Flower St. Café. It should be just enough to get a really sexy pair of panties. Daryl said his favorite color is blue so I’d like to get something in that color.”

“Hoping to get lucky?” asked Michonne.

“I just want to make him smile.”

“You wanna make him smile? Don’t wear any panties at all,” Andrea advised, before snatching the keys from Michonne and climbing behind the wheel.

“Slut,” said Lori playfully, before getting into the passenger seat next to her and buckling her seat belt.

.

Agent Craig Bradwell climbed into his stifling Ford Explorer and jacked up the AC. He pulled out of the parking lot immediately, knowing that to remain behind would make the three women guarding Beth Greene suspect him. To be suspected would be a risk because he had no doubt that any one of those still unidentified women wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet between his eyes. They were packing. They were soldiers, warriors, amazons, whatever name you wanted to prescribe to a woman who would kill with deadly precision to protect their own.

Now that he was a block away, in an alley behind a row of shopping centers where filthy dumpsters stank up the soupy summer air, Craig pulled up the footage from the tiny camera he’d had attached to the pen in his shirt pocket. He then compared a still he got of Beth Greene, largely hidden behind the black woman, to Beth Greene’s driver’s license photo. Her hair was short now, and colored strawberry blonde, but she was undeniably the same woman. Those big blue eyes were a dead giveaway.

“Agent Bradwell. I need to speak with Agent Carstairs,” he said, speaking to headquarters.

“Agent Carstairs is in a meeting.”

“Pull him out of the meeting. This can’t wait.”

“Please hold.”

The footage of the vehicles that had been captured by traffic cams driving on the 520. Whoever had hacked the security feeds to erase footage of their arrival at Ft. Benning had missed a shot of a large gray truck registered to a Daryl Dixon in Springston. He and Carstairs had found the footage the hacker had missed and tracked down the owner of the truck. So far Bradwell had been hard pressed to find any evidence that the Greene girl was associated with Dixon, or that he was even involved. He hadn’t seen Dixon with Greene or her protectors. There was a good chance his truck had been stolen. The man was rich, set for life, and the four times Bradwell had seen him, Dixon had been on a bike. There was a good chance he hadn’t reported his truck stolen because he hadn’t missed it yet, since it wasn’t a primary mode of transportation for him. Then again, he may not have reported it stolen because he didn’t want to draw attention to himself if he was associated, in any way, with Beth Greene.

“What’s so damned important I had to leave a meeting with Negan?” Carstairs asked.

“I’ve found Beth Greene.”

Carstairs hesitated. “You’re certain?”

“I spoke to her. She was with three women. They looked like bodyguards. I don’t know exactly where they’re keeping her but I have an idea she may be close to Dixon.”

“You know the drill. It’s time for a stakeout. As soon as you see her near that building you have the all clear to take her out. Take out anyone who tries to get in your way. If you need backup send me a list of the people you want. I’ll have them there ASAP.”

Carstairs hung up and Bradwell put the Explorer in gear. He was going to go to the Flower street address. He’d wait for days if he had to, but he had a feeling Beth Greene would turn up sooner rather than later. This would really put him in well with Negan. He may even be able to join the Saviors. Being on the inside would not only provide him with power but it would line his pockets well. Bradwell smiled and turned onto Flower street. He was about to be a very rich man.

.

Lori nearly signed her married name, Grimes, on the credit card receipt at Amants Feuilles Lingerie Shop. She’d not only helped Beth pick out something out in blue to wear for Daryl, she’d picked out something in red for herself to wear for Andrea. She caught herself about to write out Grimes and wrote out her maiden name, which she’d taken back after the divorce, and wrote Huston. Two years and she still thought of herself as Lori Grimes. Despite what she’d told Beth about not being in love with Rick, that wasn’t true. She was in love with him, and always would be, she suspected, but he would never be hers. He never had been hers, in fact. Her relationship with Andrea was helping her over it, though.

Now they stood sat in the air conditioned comfort of the new car Rick had brought in with him from the hangar where he’d left Theo’s helicopter. It was a maroon RAM 2500 with an extended cab. It, too, was bullet proof. They waited for Michonne and Andrea to return from the butchers.

“I’ll bet Andrea’s eyes will pop out of her head when she sees you in that negligee,” Beth said.

“Oh, she definitely will.”

“May I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“Daryl and I haven’t known each other long, and I keep telling myself that my feelings for him are too intense, too soon. I keep thinking that a lot of what I feel for him is tied up in my situation. Then another part of me…”

Lori nodded. “Someplace deep in your soul just knows. You love him. You always will no matter what happens.”

Beth sighed in relief. Lori got it. “Yeah. I just know that I really love Daryl. Is that what happened with you and Andrea?”

Lori shook her head. “Me and Rick. I lied to you, Beth, when I said I’m no longer in love with Rick. I am. I just know he’s not in love with me. He’s in love with Michonne.”

Beth reached out and hugged Lori, which surprised her, but the contact was comforting. “I’m so sorry. It has to be so hard for you to see him with Michonne.”

“Hey.”

It was Andrea, pecking on the passenger side window. Beth was worried Andrea would misconstrue the hug but there was a twinkle in her eye that said she wasn’t really angry.

“What’s going on here?”

“Nothing inappropriate,” Beth said. “We were talking and I’m feeling emotional and--”

“Beth, it’s okay,” Andrea said, climbing behind her into the back of the cab. “I’m not threatened by a little hug. Now, if you’d been tongue kissing I’d have a real hair up my ass about it.”

“We’ve got to get the ice cream home,” Michonne said. “The ice in this cooler is turning into a slushy mess.”

“We’ve got everything we need?” asked Lori, who smiled at Beth. They were girlfriends who had a secret now.

“Yep. Let’s roll.”

When they pulled into the parking lot Lori asked Andrea to help Beth load things upstairs. She needed a word with Michonne.

“Our pick-up artist is parked up the street,” Lori said.

Michonne went to the corner of the building and peered around the corner. She saw the truck sitting up the street, and the man himself was sitting inside. “I didn’t see that. Good catch. I’ll tell Rick.”

“I’ll deal with him. I’m going across the street. He may have already called this in. Have Rick get ready to bolt.”

Michonne nodded. “Damn. We were all set to have a nice weekend at home, too.”

“We’ll have to have it somewhere else.”

.

Lori went straight to her unit, which was located across from Beth, and prepared her rifle for duty. Then she changed her mind. The noise from the kill shot would cause way too much noise and draw too much attention. She was going to have to take a quieter, more personal approach with the threat sitting on the street, watching the apartment building.

She grabbed her Glock, attached a silencer, sheathed a beauty of a hunting knife Andrea had given her a few months ago, and then headed out the back of her building through the rear exit. She circled around behind the truck and crouched, making sure she could sneak up on him. She watched as he stared intently at the building, unaware of the threat coming up behind him. His door locks were sticking up too high for them to be locked. He was careless in that regard, and that would be good for her, bad for him.

With quick movements Lori stood, pulled the passenger door open, aimed her gun at him, and slid in. The car was clean, probably a rental, or possibly government issue. She wasn’t sure and she didn’t care.

“Hello, Darlin’,” Lori said in a friendly tone.

Bradwell paled when he saw the gun aimed at him. “Okay, look, I was interested in the lady I spoke to, the black woman, but I’m not--”

“Cut the bullshit. You’re not a stalker, you’re an agent. I’m guessing FBI. You’re after Beth.”

Bradwell swallowed. He figured there was no point in keeping up the pretense.The woman had him figured out.

“How did you find us?” Lori demanded.

“Through a truck registered to Daryl Dixon.”

“Have you called this in?”

“I’m waiting for her to get back,” he said, shaking his head. “They know she’s in this town. You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she answered honestly.

She saw the attack coming before he actually moved to strike out at her. Lori didn’t hesitate to pull the trigger. She put three slugs, quietly, into his side. To make sure he was dead, Lori drove her knife up and under his sternum, sending the knife straight into his heart. Bradwell slumped toward the steering wheel but Lori caught him and pushed him back in his seat. She texted Andrea. 777. Body disposal. She was surprised when it was Rick who showed up.

“I’ll take care of him and his car,” Rick said, coming to the passenger door. “You retrieve Daryl from the Lakeshore Country Club, now. Take them to safe house six. I’ll meet you all there in two hours.”

“Rick, before I go, I want to tell you something. I know you’re with Michonne again. We were talking about it today. I understand that. I respect it, but I want you to know…I’m still in love with you.”

Rick swallowed. He’d really hoped Lori was over him, as she’d claimed on multiple occasions. “Lori, this isn’t the time to talk about--”

She smothered his mouth with a kiss. He surprised her when he returned it in full. He clutched her to him, kissing her with as much passion as he had when they were dating and he was trying to get over Michonne. It felt good. It was like getting a fix of a drug she’d tried to give up. She was satisfied for now but it wouldn’t be long before she needed more of him.

Rick pulled away from her. His taste lingered in her mouth. There was nothing like him. As much as she loved Andrea Lori knew that neither she nor anyone else she was ever with, would ever be able to replace Rick in her heart. 

Rick kindly stroked hair away from Lori's forehead. She had an idea what he was about to tell her and it broke her heart all over again, though she hid it well. “That’s the last time that happens between us. I’m sorry, Lori. I used you in the worst way. I hurt you. I broke your heart, but I love Michonne. I’m not giving her up for anything--not even the mother of my son.”

Lori nodded and felt tears sting her eyes, hurt tug at her heart, and anger boil in her belly. “I’m sorry too. I’m sorry I ever met you. I’m sorry I gave my heart to you.”

“Lori--”

“Just being honest, Rick. I can’t help how I feel. Just like you can’t.”

She moved past Rick, leaving him to do the job of pulling Bradwell’s body into the passenger seat before getting behind the wheel to find a place to dispose of the vehicle and the body.

.

Daryl couldn’t wait for his shift at the Lakeshore Country Club to end. He wanted to get home to Beth. He wanted to hold her, kiss her, taste her. He wanted to sink into her. He wasn’t sure his resolve to wait would hold much longer. He did know one thing: he enjoying having someone waiting for him at home. Someone he loved. He had, he realized, never known what that was like. How fucked up was that, he wondered, to be forty years old and never have had a normal relationship, or been seriously in love with someone?

He was about to scrub down his table when he saw a Hispanic man in his early thirties came to the entrance of his parlor. The guy set off warning bells in Daryl at once. He had the coldest look in his eyes that Daryl had ever seen in another human being. His eyes were so devoid of feeling that he looked like a dead man propped up on his feet, filling the entrance.

“Daryl Dixon?” the man asked.

He kept his right arm behind his back and he made no move to enter the parlor. Daryl plastered a smile on his face and decided that if he was wrong about the man he would apologize. If he was right, no apology would be necessary. He grabbed a towel and made a show of wiping his hands as he took a few casual steps toward him.

“That’s right. Are you here for a massage?”

The man’s face remained cold, completely devoid of emotion, as he began to bring his right arm from behind his back. Daryl threw the towel into the guys face and grabbed the bottle of sanitizer, which was really nothing more than a bottle of bleach water, and lunged for the newcomer. The man fired blindly while Daryl dodged to the right, barely avoiding being shot. The gunfire sounded loud and angry, and Daryl heard several people scream in confusion and fear.

Daryl sprayed the man straight in the face with the bleach water, making him scream. He snatched the gun from the man’s hand and landed a solid punch to his jaw, knocking him back. The man fell, clawing at his eyes, screaming in pain, while Daryl got a good grip on the gun.

“Martinez!”

“In here!” Martinez shouted.

Daryl lifted the gun and fired three rounds, center of mass, into the other man’s chest, sending him to the ground where he lay gasping for breath. He realized the guy was wearing a vest and would survive.

“What the hell?”

Tom, the security guard, was a giant of a man. He stood at six feet eight inches and weighed three hundred pounds, most of that muscle, though he’d gone a tiny bit soft around the middle.

“Get his gun!” Daryl shouted.

Tom acted at once. He was a former football player but he was swift and light on his feet despite his size. He kicked the gun out of the other man’s reach, rolled him over, and put a knee in the man’s back while twisting his arms up behind him. He grabbed his radio but Daryl halted him.

“Don’t call the cops. Trust me. Just call the other guards. Bring cuffs.”

Tom squinted in confusion but nodded and did as Daryl asked, calling for other guards instead of having someone call for the cops.

Daryl knelt beside Martinez and put the cold steel of the man’s own gun under his chin. Martinez’s eyes were red and watering from the bleach. He likely couldn’t see a damn thing, which was fine with Daryl.

“Who the fuck are you? Why’d you try to kill me?”

“Kiss my ass, Hillbilly,” Martinez spat.

The temptation to blow the man's head off was strong, since he was obviously a threat not just to him, but to Beth. The only explanation for the attack was that somehow he’d been connected with Beth. He knew that Negan’s reach was deep, and that Martinez would only escape to cause more damage if he was allowed to live. However, if he did kill a man while he was down, and in full view of the security staff and clients of the country club, he would be labeled as a murderer and have to go on the run for God only knew how long. He didn’t want to end up in the Georgia State prison with his brother. Two Dixon boys, murderers, wasn’t what Daryl wanted his family to be known for. They were, after all, already known as drunken, no good scum.

Daryl pistol whipped Martinez into unconsciousness and stood up to find Lori and Michonne approaching.

“Where’s Beth?” he demanded.

“With us. We’ve got to go,” Lori said. “Now.”

Daryl slipped Martinez’ gun into the back waistband of his jeans and followed Michonne and Andrea out to the parking lot. In the distance he could hear police sirens. It would seem some of the members of the club had taken it upon themselves to report the shooting.

“Come on,” said Michonne. “We can’t be here when the cops arrive.”

Daryl saw his crossbow and bolts in the bed of the truck, along with his computer, before he climbed into the back to sit beside Andrea. Beth was on the other side. He leaned across Andrea to kiss Beth.

“You can kiss me too, good-lookin’,” Andrea joked.

He surprised her by giving her a quick peck on the cheek. “Thanks for keeping my woman safe.”

Beth felt herself flush at being referred to by Daryl as his woman. She felt like she was his, and he was hers. She just hoped they didn’t all die at Negan’s hand before they could enjoy a life together. 

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