Im Not Who I Used To Be Ch 03

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This is the third and final chapter of this tale. I hope you all like it, and with that said; please let me apologize for taking so long to finish it.

MoogPlayer

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Chapter One

ME

As soon as I put the phone receiver back into its cradle, Sarah immediately fell into my arms holding onto me like I was a life preserver that was keeping her afloat in a sea of fear while forcefully crying her eyes out.

"This is all my fault," she sobbed, "I should've never dated Dennis Worley to start with."

"I promise you that this has nothing to do with you, baby," I softly assured her, "Jimmy Don Worley wants me to face him alone. He said he's going to break me in half with his bare hands because he claims that I killed that degenerate piece-of-shit son of his. He also told me to bring him a million dollars in cash."

"What're we going to do?" she gasped, "We don't have that kind of money, Michael; at least not that I know of."

"Yes, you do," I heard my father's voice suddenly say, as he entered the room during the middle of my conversation with Sarah, "I've got you covered, son, but you have to promise me one thing."

"Anything, Dad," I told him, "Name it."

"I want you to tear Jimmy Don Worley into a thousand pieces, Michael," Dad viciously seethed, "If anybody deserves it, that motherfucker does."

My father had only ever called me by my full name when he was either angry with me, or when he was trying to make a point, and at this particular moment I knew exactly what was on his mind, and it was the same thing that was on mine...the complete and total annihilation of Jimmy Don Worley once and for all. God only knew how that animal had been terrorizing, and had blatantly murdered a couple, of the people of that area of Texas; and because he had the money, he'd gotten away with it scot-free.

"I'm not going to kill him, Dad," I quietly hissed, "I want to see him stand trial for of the atrocities that he's committed and gotten away with over the years."

"If anything," I continued, "I know that he'll either get life without the possibility of parole, or, God willing, he'll get the death penalty, which I hope he does."

"If that's what you think is best then," Dad conceded, "But I want at least one punch before you hand him over to the law...I owe him that much."

"I'll do it under one condition," I told my father, "And that is, you have to tell me why you think that you owe him."

"Alright then," Dad said, "It started back when I was a senior in high school and our football team was playing in the State Championship Game. Your mother and I had been dating for a little over a year..."

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UNIVERSITY OF HOUSTON CAMPUS

T.D.E.C.U. (FORMERLY ROBERTS) STADIUM

NOVEMBER 1949

"The State High School Football Championship game was being played on the campus of the University of Houston in what was once Robertson Stadium," Dad began, "We had just finished handing Conroe High School their ass, beating them thirty-three to seven. Your mother and I were at my pick-up truck getting ready head back home when this redneck asshole wearing a Conroe High School tee-shirt came up behind me talking shit."

"Who was it," I asked "And what did you do?"

"It was Jimmy Don Worley," Dad laughed, "I told him to kiss my ass, and that he was just sore because our high school team was a better team that that bunch of inbreeds at his school."

"That's funny, I grinned, "What did he say?"

"It's not what he said, it was what the sonofabitch did," Dad suddenly growled, "He took a swing at me, and when I ducked to avoid his punch, your mother was standing right behind me, and he ended up knocking out one of her back molars."

"Please tell me that you kicked his ass for that, Dad."

"I never got the chance," Dad explained, "The police showed up just then and made us get into our respective vehicles and go home. That's why I want you to bring that piece of shit to me before you take his ass to the police..."

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To this day I still didn't know what to make of the look I saw on my father's face that night, but in getting back to the story, the moment my father offered his help, Sarah snuggled closer to me in my arms as she sobbed "I don't care what we have to do, Michael; our daughter's lives are at stake...please get them back, please" and then she laid her head on my shoulder and continued crying like I'd never seen anyone do before, or since.

I, too, felt the burden of her grief, yet knowing that I had to hold myself together for not only the sake of my daughters, but also my wife, I would make time for my own grief after I had our girls back home, safe and sound. Better yet, I was going to make certain that Jimmy Don Worley was no longer a threat to me, my family, or the rest of humanity as far as I was concerned. I also told myself right then, that the only way to ensure that was to kill him outright, but it was going to have to look like a case of self-defense if I was going to get out of it without a prison sentence...I needed to speak with Uncle Brian before I went to meet with Jimmy Don Worley, that much was certain...

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THE NEXT DAY

"As a deputy district attorney I'm advising you to let the authorities handle this," Uncle Brian pointedly told me after I'd apprised him of the situation at hand. Then he looked around the room as if he were about to divulge Top Secret information and quietly said, "But as a member of your family, especially where my grandnieces are concerned, I want you to beat the living shit outta J.D. Worley and then hand him over to me...and that's only after your father has spoken with him first. Do you understand what I'm trying to tell you, Mike?"

"Yes sir," I replied, "I understand you very loudly as well as very clearly, Uncle Brian, but Worley made it very plain to me to leave the police out of this, or else my daughter's lives will mean nothing to this fucking animal; plus, I need to tell you something and I don't want you to think badly of me."

"Let me guess," he knowingly, yet very seriously replied, "It's going be all you can do to keep from killing that worthless piece of shit; am I right?"

"Yes, you are," I quietly told him, "We're talking about my daughter's lives, Uncle Brian, and I can't..."

"You have no need whatsoever to explain yourself to me," he quietly interrupted me, "But if you do end up killing him then you'd better make damn certain that you did it in self-defense.... or at the very least make it look that way..."

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My "quiet talk" with my uncle told me everything I needed to know when it came to how I was going to deal with not only the situation, but also Jimmy Don Worley. At this point, his days on this earth had now become numbered; down to the very last minute when he would take his very last breath.

"Nobody messes with my family," I quietly told myself, gritting my teeth, "Especially when it comes to my wife and my baby girls. Your ass now belongs to me, Jimmy Don Worley, you stupid, redneck, mother¬fucker..."

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LATER THAT NIGHT

Sarah and I had gone to bed, yet sleep would not come for either of us as we both laid there with our eyes wide open.

"I'm scared, Michael," Sarah began to cry, "Really scared."

"I know you are, baby," I softly told her, "I am, too, but I promise you that nothing is going to happen to our girls."

"How do you know that?" she sniffled, "And how can you be so sure, and what're you gonna do?"

"Have I ever let you down before?" I quietly asked her, watching as she shook her head from side-to-side, "And as far as what I'm going to do is concerned...if I don't tell you then you can honestly say that you don't know anything if you're asked about it."

"Oh, my God," she said, leaning across me and turning on the bedside lamp so that she could look into my eyes, confirming what she already knew, "You're going to kill him; aren't you?"

"Did you not hear what I just told you sweetheart?" I quietly asked her, "If I don't tell you then you can..."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," she hastily interrupted me, "I want you to break that evil sonofabitch's neck, and then I want him cut up into a thousand tiny pieces and feed him to the fucking fish. Just make sure that our daughters go unharmed, okay baby...please?"

I couldn't believe what I'd just heard come out of my wife's mouth, yet I understood her completely; hence the reason I softly told her. "I think you know what I'm going to do to him, Sarah..."

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Sarah had finally managed to fall asleep sometime during the night, which meant that I was up with the rising sun and sitting out on the back deck when my cousin, Mark, appeared beside me carrying a small rosewood box, with small half-stalks of bamboo trim around its edges.

"How're you holding up?" he somberly asked me, taking a seat in the chair across the patio table from me.

"As well as can be expected, I guess," I quietly replied, "What's in the box?"

"A couple of insurance policies," he softly, yet malevolent replied, opening the box to reveal two antique Japanese Shinto knives, both bearing black braid around the handles, with eight inch blades made of eastern forged steel which had been honed to razor sharp edges.

I also recognized and saw that both knives had been made in the traditional, medieval Japanese way, the steel itself having been folded seven times before being quenched, and then reheated and folded seven more times before being fashioned into the ancient weapons once used during a time long since passed.

"Both of these knives were forged during the thirteenth century," Mark told me, "They once belonged to a Shogun who was not only a powerful warlord, but also whose family passed these down and gave them to me on my fifteenth birthday, not too long after I earned my black belt."

"Holy shit, Mark," I gasped, "Why're you just now telling me about this?"

"Because," he quietly replied, "I was instructed not to tell anyone about these unless a time of great need arose. Besides, if this situation that we're in isn't a case of great need, then I don't know what is."

"What do mean by, we? You're not a part of this," I quickly let him know; "It's my ass that Jimmy Don Worley wants dead, not yours."

"Bullshit," he spat, "You're my family, Michael, and when you're hurting, that means that I'm hurting right along with you. Don't you remember the conversation we had in Malibu not too long ago right before you and Sarah finally got together?"

Then it dawned on me exactly what Mark was talking about, which let me know that I was, in no uncertain terms, going to be able to dissuade and/or discourage him from helping me with what, or more accurately, who, I was about to deal with.

"I'm sorry, Mark," I replied, and then stood up and walked around the patio table and pulled him into my arms to hug my cousin, "I forgot who I was talking to for a moment, so, please forgive me for not thinking on those terms."

"Glad to have you back, you hard headed asshole," he laughed, returning the hug.

"Now then," Mark said, after we'd both sat back down, "You know that Jimmy Don Worley is a chickenshit son-of-a-bitch, and regardless of what he said about the two of you facing each other one on one; he's going to have someone hiding somewhere close by to take you out when you finish kicking his worthless ass."

"You're probably right," I conceded, "What do you think I should do about it?"

"That's where I come in," he boyishly grinned, "And this is what we're gonna do..."

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"Jesus Christ, Mark," I cringed, after hearing his plan, "What're trying to do, get yourself killed?"

"Not at all," he knowingly grinned, "You forget that Jimmy Don Worley doesn't know who I am, nor does he know who any of my friends are."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked him, "And how is it going to help me get my girls back home safe and alive?"

"You just worry about taking out Worley," he secretively grinned, "And leave everything else to me..."

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THE NEXT DAY

With the assistance of my Dad, one million dollars was placed into a steel attaché case, which I would be carrying with me to the place where I was supposed to meet Jimmy Don Worley later that evening. Little did I know what was going to happen and/or who else was going to be in place to take action once I arrived? The hours seemed to crawl by before the time arrived that I had to leave, and then I suddenly heard Sarah calling my name.

"I love you, Michael Taylor," she softly cried into my chest, her arms wrapped tightly around me as we stood at my truck, "Promise me that you'll come home safe with our girls, please?"

"You have nothing to fear, my love," I gently replied, holding her closely against me, "I'll be home with Karlie and Kerrie before you know it..."

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NINETY MINUTES LATER

I stood on the Northern shore of Lake Conroe where Worley had instructed me to meet him. I had the attaché case containing the money in my right hand, when I saw a black limousine with dark tinted windows suddenly approaching me in the distance.

I stood stoically mute as it pulled up next to where I was parked, and then its engines shut off. A moment later, the back door of the limo opened and Jimmy Don Worley got out and walked around to where I stood.

"I see you came alone like I told you," he evilly sneered, "At least you were that smart. Do you have the money I told you to bring?"

"You're not getting shit," I growled, "At least not until I see my girls."

"Fair enough," he said, and less than a second later I saw Karlie and Kerrie getting out of the limousine with some asshole standing behind them holding a gun in each hand, each one pointing at the girl's heads.

"Are you two okay?" I asked them, "You're not hurt, are you?"

"We're okay, Daddy," Kerrie sniffled, "We're just real scared,"

"I told you I wouldn't hurt them," Worley barked, "Now show me the money, asshole."

I've got your money right here," I said, holding up the attaché case. Let my daughters go and I'll hand it over."

"Do as he says, Nick," Worley instructed his henchman, and then the girls came running toward me, "You've got your daughters back; now give me the fucking money."

I handed Worley the attaché case and said, "It's all there; count it if you want to," and then I put my girls into my truck and quietly told them, "Climb into the floor of the truck, and no matter what you hear, I want you to stay down until I tell you otherwise, okay?"

"Yes, Daddy," they both simultaneously whispered, and then scampered into my truck and did as they were instructed.

After I closed the truck door, I walked back around to face Worley and told him, "You've got your money, and now I'm going to take my girls home."

"We're not finished yet, motherfucker," he growled, "There's still the matter of you killing my oldest soon."

"I didn't kill him;" I told Worley in no uncertain terms, "That piece of shit was beating up on a defenseless woman. I simply whipped his chicken-shit ass for him. He was still alive when I left him bleeding on the ground."

"You son-of-a-bitch," Worley barked, making a move toward me, "I'm gonna break you in half with my bare hands," as he lunged toward me.

All at once three things happened. I temporarily neutralized Worley's ass with a hard front kick right between the eyes as he was flying through the air towards me; watching him fall to ground out cold while hearing the sound of gunfire coming from somewhere on the other side of me. Suddenly an explosion pierced the air, filling it with a cloud of smoke so thick that I could barely see my hand in front of my face.

During the middle of all the gunfire, mayhem, and commotion happening around us, J.D. Worley began to awaken, but not before I was quickly able to place a tight and unyielding hold on him from behind. And then after withdrawing one the Shinto knives which my cousin, Mark, had given me, I held it firmly to Worley's throat and hissed, "If you so much as bat an eyelash, I'm going to cut your throat from ear-to-ear. Do you understand me, you stupid, redneck piece of shit?"

He silently nodded his head while we rose to stand up, with me keeping a tight hold on him so as not to let him escape...

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Once we were standing, I took the butt of the knife's handle and placed a very hard blow to Worley's head at the base of his skull, right in the center of his cerebral cortex, which quickly rendered him unconscious again, this time guaranteeing that he would be out cold for at least the next forty-five minutes or so. And once I was certain that he was down for the count, I used his own belt to restrain him in order to go look for his henchman, the one he called Nick...

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All at once I heard Kerrie's voice say, "Let go of me; you asshole," just as I came around the other side of my truck, dreading what I saw taking place between my truck and the limo. And those who've come to know me best can only imagine the anger that immediately rose up within me when I saw Nick holding Kerrie from behind with a gun to her head.

"Take it easy," I calmly told him, "You don't have to do this, buddy. She's just a little girl."

"Fuck you," he spat, "She and I are gonna take a ride in this limo, and when I'm far enough away I'll let her go. Otherwise, I'll kill the both of you right here and now, dickhead. What's it gonna be?"

I looked at Kerrie and was about to speak until I saw her suddenly smile and wink at me; and then before anyone knew what was happening, she quickly grabbed the hand that Nick was holding the gun with and bit down on it as hard as she could, making him not only scream at the top of his lungs, which also caused him to drop the gun. And then before Nick could react, Kerrie quickly turned around and kicked him squarely in the balls so hard that it not only made him drop his roll to the back of his head, but also fall to his knees where she gave him a fast, hard spinning back-kick to the face, stunning him long enough for me to step in and finish the job, and then take him down once and for all.

"Way to go, baby girl," I squealed, hugging her tightly to me, "Daddy's so proud of you. Let's get you and your sister the hell outta here, okay?"

But before she reply, I suddenly heard a familiar male voice shouting, "YO, MICHAEL," making me turn my head to my left and smile at the sight approaching me from about seventy yards away...

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Imagine my shock, a pleasant one, but still a shock nonetheless when I saw four more men approaching me with their hands restrained behind them, with Dad, Uncle Jack, and Mark walking behind them holding their own assault rifles at their backs.

"What the hell is this?" I laughed, "And what're the three of you even doing here?"

"Horseshit," Dad chuckled, "When're you gonna learn that we take care of our own, boy?" as I heard sirens in the distance that were drawing ever closer...

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The sirens turned out to be a group of U.S. Marshalls, accompanied by the F.B.I., whom, the moment they arrived, wasted no time whatsoever taking Jimmy Don Worley and his associates into custody. Two of the U.S. Marshall's immediately, and in no uncertain terms, proceeded to not only place Worley and his henchmen under arrest, but when it came time to restrain them, used steel shackles on both their wrists and ankles and then bound them all together on a single, larger steel chain.

A few minutes later, a paddy wagon which bore the shield and logo of the now newly staffed and law abiding Montgomery County Sherriff's Office pulled up. The U.S. Marshalls were just getting ready to place Worley and his men into the van when Dad said, "Wait a minute fellas, there's something that needs to be done before you put Worley and the rest of these chickenshit assholes into that wagon."