by A. Anders
“At least meet her,” Jack urged. “Give her a chance.”
Sam couldn’t tell if he was about to agree because Jack had made a persuasive argument or because he really wanted to fuck Jack. Sam was beginning to second-guess his judgment. That wasn’t good.
“I’ll meet her,” Sam agreed.
Jack beamed. “I thought you would, so I brought her along with me. She’s in the car.”
Jack pulled out his phone and dialed. “Come on in, Sweetheart.”
Sam watched Jack already regretting his decision. This wasn’t the way to stay out of jail. Realizing that, Sam decided to give her the most cursory of glances and then to let Jack down gently.
Sam looked up towards the door as it opened. Light flooded in. From it emerged a woman. She was brown-skinned, sturdy and she walked with attitude. She was also beautiful but that wasn’t the most interesting thing about her. The most interesting thing was that Sam had fucked her before. More than that, he had dated her and it hadn’t ended well.
The woman approached the table and looked at Sam as if she had never seen him before.
“Maria, this Sam, the guy I told you about,” Jack said standing and introducing the two.”
Sam gave a moment for her to recognize him. When she didn’t, he decided that he wasn’t going to dredge up the past.
“Nice to meet you,” Sam said looking her in the eyes.
Jack pointed at the chair next to him and both he and Maria sat.
Sam stared at Maria wondering how long it would take her to recognize him. He wasn’t sure how he should proceed considering she was going to get a memory flash at any moment.
“So, you drive?” Sam asked keeping things simple.
“I drive,” Maria said curtly.
“Whatcha got?”
“Crash and grabs and getaways,” she offered.
“Two, three?”
“Six.”
“Six?”
Sam stared at Maria. Either she had been busy during the five years since he had seen her or she was exaggerating.
“You know the driver gets a five-one share, right?” Sam asked her.
“I get a full quarter,” Maria corrected calmly.
“Well, you could get whatever you want. But I’m telling you that the drivers on my jobs get a five-one share.”
“Then maybe I’m not a driver on one of your jobs.”
“Maybe not,” Sam agreed.
Jack jumped in. “Come on now. No need for that. I think we all know who’s dick is bigger. No need to whip it out on the table.”
Sam looked at Jack wondering what he was talking about.
Jack turned to Sam. “Sam, for our next job we need to work with people we can trust. I can tell you for certain that we can trust her. I can also tell you that she can drive. Five-one share, quarter share, what’s the real difference here?”
Sam stared at Jack before turning to Maria. She really didn’t seem to recognize him. Maybe he didn’t leave as much of an impression as he thought. But the question still remained, what would happen once she remembered him? Would it blow up in his face?
“I might be able to do a quarter share, but I’m not agreeing to anything just yet. Let’s see how this goes first. If you prove that you can go along with the plan, then you’re in. If not, we find another driver. Agreed?”
“I could agree to that,” Maria said.
Jack smiled. “Was that so hard? If it wasn’t for me I’m not sure what either of you would do. Babe, do you want a drink?”
“Yeah, give me a beer,” Maria said turning to Jack.
“Coming up.”
Jack got up and headed to the bar. Maria watched him leave and then when he was out of earshot turned to Sam.
“Don’t think I don’t remember you, ‘cause I do,” she said fighting her snare.
“Do you? I was wondering.” Sam lifted his glass and casually took a swig of beer.
“I do. And I also know that you fucked Anthony.”
Sam spit up. “You know I did what?”
“You fucked my cousin Anthony.”
“Maria, I don’t know who the fuck you think I am, but I can tell you that I didn’t fuck your cousin. I never even met your family. I couldn’t even tell you who the fuck Anthony is.”
Maria quickly pulled out her phone and swiped through a few pictures. Finding one and showing it to Sam, he froze.
He remembered the guy in the photo. It was only the second guy Sam had ever been with. It had happened days before Maria had called him up and broke it off without explanation. Suddenly everything was starting to make sense.
When Jack returned to the table with drinks, Maria put away her phone. Noticing the shocked look on Sam’s face, Jack stared at the two.
“What’s going on? What did I miss?”
“Sam and I just figured out that we knew someone in common,” Maria said never taking her eyes off of Sam.
“Really? Who’s that?” Jack asked feeling the tension.
“My cousin Tony.”
“You know her cousin?” Jack asked Sam. “From where?”
Sam looked at Jack. Turning towards Maria, Sam understood what she was offering. She wouldn’t say anything to Jack as long as he didn’t force her hand.
“From Miami,” Sam said.
“What, did you do a job with him?”
“Sort of.”
“Did it work out?” Jack asked.
“Mixed bag,” Sam said looking at Maria.
“Well, there you go. You trusted Tony, you can trust Maria,” Jack offered conciliatorily.
“Maybe. We’ll see. Listen I gotta go. Why don’t you try to get a hold of Lamar again. See if he wants in as the heavy.”
“If he doesn’t, do I call Louie?”
“Don’t bring Louie into this.”
“But if Lamar isn’t into it and I can’t find anyone else…?”
Sam paused considering it. “Do what you need to do,” Sam said.
Sam then gave Maria a final look and then headed out. It was great seeing Jack, but he didn’t like the direction things were turning.
Chapter 3
Tom sat in the back of van dressed in full gear. Standing in front of six of his men, he held up a photo.
“The suspect’s name is Louie Zamora. He’s suspected of two counts of attempted murder and is to be considered armed and dangerous. Do not hesitate to defend yourself but we want him taken alive. Any questions?”
Tom looked around. No one responded.
“Good. We’re gonna do this just like the last time.”
Tom picked up his walkie talkie and held down the button. “The mission is a go. Move out.”
After he said it, the van rocked. They were moving and the thrill of it made Tom shake. It was either adrenaline or nerves, Tom could never tell which.
“Seven seconds,” a voice said over the walkie.
Tom looked at Bill who held up his hand counting down. Five, four, three, two, one.
Although Tom was the closest to the door, his men poured out first. Entering the darkness in a tight formation, the men moved quickly towards the front door. It was a modest one-story house in a working-class neighborhood. Approaching the front door, the men with rifles made way for the man with the battering ram.
Everyone looked back at Bill. Holding up his hand, he again counted down. Two, one.
Swinging it back, the man with the ram stepped forward throwing the blunt force instrument into the door. The wood exploded into splinters and ripped off of its hinges.
“FBI! On the ground,” Bill shouted.
The men rushed in rifles drawn. Moving as fast as they could each man secured an area. Pointing his handgun, Tom scanned the living room then the kitchen. There was no one there.
Spreading down the hallway, the men opened doors. The rooms were all empty. Tom thought the operation was going to be a bust until he spotted a closet door. Opening it, all he heard was a ‘bang’. What he felt, though, was the equivalent of being punched in
the chest by a heavyweight boxer. Tom stumbled back knowing he had been shot.
“FBI! Put down the gun!” Bill shouted.
As Tom fell onto the wall, the rest of his men grabbed the man. In seconds they had him disarmed and laying on the ground.
Tom winced trying to catch his breath. At that moment he couldn’t think of anything, but when his mind cleared, he considered what might have happened if he wasn’t wearing his bulletproof vest.
“Tom, you alright?” Bill asked kneeling in front of his partner.
He couldn’t speak, but he nodded confirming that he was.
“Cuff him and take him out,” Bill ordered the men.
“No,” Tom countered. “Put him in a room. Cuff him down.”
The men lifted their suspect up and dragged him into the master bedroom. Although still in immense pain, Tom knew he needed to get up on his own. Rolling onto his knees he held onto the wall for support. One of Tom’s men came over to help him.
“I got it,” Tom said waving him off.
Instinctually, Tom knew that this was how he was going to gain the loyalty of his new agents. He had to get up, point himself in the right direction and then do the things that he needed to do.
“Where is he?” Tom asked dazed from the agony.
“He’s in the bedroom,” an agent said pointing.
Locking his eyes on the target, Tom turned around and headed towards it. Turning the corner into the room he saw the man from the photo with his hands cuffed behind his back and his ankle cuffed to the leg of the dresser. Knowing he wasn’t going anywhere, Louie sat slumped.
Tom looked at him deciding what to do with him.
“Tom?”
An agent behind Tom handed him his gun. He had dropped it after he was shot. Tom took it and considered using it. The thought passed.
“Everyone out,” Tom said still struggling to remain on his feet.
Four of the men filed out. Bill remained.
“In case you need backup,” Bill told him.
Tom was in too much pain to argue. Instead, he approached the handcuffed man. Louie looked at him with fear in his eyes.
“Tell me where I can find Sam Bitter,” Tom ordered.
“I don’t know any Sam Bitter,” Louie declared.
Tom looked down at his gun exhausted. Tucking it into its holster, he dragged himself directly in front of his suspect and took aim. Louie’s head whipped back as Tom’s fist connected with his jaw.
“Tell me where I can find Sam Bitter.”
“I’m telling you, I don’t know any Sam Bitter.”
Tom took a deep breath knowing that this was going to hurt him as much as it would Louie. Straighten out his aching chest, he then struck his suspect again and again. Each blow rippled shots of pain through Tom. By the end, both men were ready to collapse.
“Okay. Okay. He hangs out in a bar in Gainesville. It’s where we met to plan jobs. But I swear that all I know. That and his name was the only thing he ever told us.”
“What’s the bar’s name?” Tom pushed.
Louie gave it to him. Tom was about to leave the room and collapse when Louie muttered under his breath.
“Fag!”
Tom stopped. “What did you say?”
Louie didn’t reply.
“What did you say?”
With a sudden burst of energy, Tom flew across the room fist first. Pounding their suspect mercilessly, Bill ran over and dragged Tom off of him.
“Get the suspect into the van,” Bill ordered as he pushed Tom passed the men in the hall. “And someone, call a medic for Tom.”
Bill walked Tom to the couch and then helped him down.
“I can’t sit here. It could have evidence,” Tom told Bill.
“It’s a couch. The only evidence it’ll have is evidence that you don’t want to be sitting on it,” Bill joked. “But you’ve been shot. A medic needs to come look at you.”
Bill took off Tom’s helmet and unsnapped his thick jacket. Underneath was a Kevlar vest with a bullet lodged in front of his heart. Bill smiled.
“You know, I didn’t know what to make of you when we first met. But man, you’re an animal.”
Both men chuckled. Laughing hurt almost as much as throwing the punch, but Tom couldn’t help it. He had gotten what he had come for, a lead on Sam Bitter.
The moment Tom had seen Sam’s name on the bank robbery report, he knew he was going to move heaven and earth to put Sam where he belonged. It was going to be long now. Despite being shot in the chest, Tom couldn’t be happier.
Chapter 4
Sam walked into the Gainesville bar and looked around. Jack and Maria weren’t there yet. Sam looked up at the clock. He wasn’t early. It was like Jack to be late.
Instead of finding a table Sam decided to sit at the bar.
“Nick, right?” Sam said to the tattooed bartender.
The bartender looked at him suspiciously and nodded.
“Give me a beer.”
Sam looked around scanning the place. There was never anyone attractive there but that wasn’t why he always came back. He was based outside of Orlando. Gainsville was a city that was less than two hours from where he lived. That meant that it wouldn’t take him too long to get there to meet with his crew, and that no one could easily trace him back home.
The only downside was that he had to get a motel room while he was there. That expense could really eat into his profits if the scores weren’t large enough. And lately, the scores weren’t.
The bartender put a beer in front of Sam. Feeling like talking, he took the beer and engaged Nick in conversation.
“Anyone come here looking for me?”
Sam knew that Jack and Maria would have just taken a seat and waited if they had arrived before him, but the question was an ice breaker. The bartender stared at him, looked down and then seemed to be searching his mind. Sam didn’t think that it was a very difficult question.
“There was somebody,” the bartender said moving directly in front of Sam and lowering his voice.
“Who was it?” Sam asked confused by the bartender’s response.
“Someone who said that they were from the FBI.”
A cold chill rippled down Sam’s spine. ‘Was he joking?’ Sam wondered. If he wasn’t, why would the FBI be asking about him here?
“What did you tell them?” Sam asked starting to panic.
“I said you weren’t here.”
“What did they say?”
“It was one guy and he said that I was to call him if you showed up.”
Sam’s heart pounded. “Did you?”
“Call him? No. I figured I’d stay out of it.”
Sam looked around the bar again. This time he was scanning for anyone who seemed out of place. No one did.
“When was this?” Sam asked suddenly feeling very hot.
“Yesterday.”
Sam’s chest felt heavy. His mind spiraled trying to figure out what to do. He needed to get out of there.
“How were you supposed to get a hold of him if you saw me?”
The bartender walked to the cash register, picked up a card then placed it in front of Sam. Sam read it. It said ‘FBI, Special Agent in Charge, Agent Thomas Sweet.’
The blood drained from Sam’s face. He knew that name. He had grown up with a Tom Sweet. Meeting Tom Sweet as a kid had changed the direction of his life.
“You know him?” the bartender asked. “He talked like you two were friends.”
Sam’s chest heaved. He felt light-headed. Sam was sure that he was going to pass out. Tom was a ghost from his past and for him to show up here, rattled Sam to his core.
“Hey, I think that’s him there.”
Sam could barely breathe as he turned around. A man had just walked in. As the closing door blocked the sun, he came out of silhouette.
Getting only a glimpse, Sam whipped back around. He hadn’t seen Tom in fifteen years, but he would have recognized him anywhere. Was this a friendl
y visit or an arrest? Sam didn’t know, but everything in him told him to get out of there immediately.