Bad Games- The Complete Series

by Jeff Menapace

  And of course there were the stories Patrick had told her. What an accomplished soldier Domino had been, the action he saw, his prowess on and off the battlefield with his new career in security, protecting the elite of the elite. It was unparalleled. Yet what Amy would always remember was the way he spoke into her belly that night. And it was why she agreed with her husband’s decision to hire Domino to protect them. Because she knew he would—with his life.

  “Are you sure he’ll be available?” Amy asked Patrick when they stepped out into the hallway of the hotel.

  “I don’t know. He called to check in on us after what happened at Crescent Lake. He knows what’s going on.”

  “I know. It doesn’t mean he’ll be available though,” she said.

  “True. But something tells me he’d find a way for us.”

  “I hope so.”

  56

  “Mr. Patrick Lambert.” Domino Taylor’s voice boomed heavy but pleasant into Patrick’s cell.

  “How’s it going, my friend?” Patrick asked.

  “Same old, same old. I was worried you might be calling.”

  Patrick made a curious face as he took a seat outside the hotel room. “Worried?”

  “I heard about what happened. Sounds like your boy had some serious help too—three badges dead, in and out, no witnesses.”

  “How the hell did you hear about all that already?”

  “Come on, son,” he said, his deep southern drawl slipping out as it tended to do with good friends.

  Patrick nodded to himself. “Okay, my bad. I should have known.”

  “How’s Amy?”

  “Scared.”

  “I’m sure she is. Say when, my friend.”

  “Can you? I mean—you’re able?” Patrick asked.

  “Always able.”

  “I guess I should have said available.”

  “For you I am.”

  Patrick paused a moment, collected himself and said, “Thanks, man.”

  “You mention me to the Feds?”

  “Yeah—they thought it was a bad idea.”

  He chuckled. “Been there many times. We’re good at staying out of their way, lettin’ them do their thing. Usually end up parting on good terms. I remind them that they’re the hunters; we’re just there to hold down the fort. They seem to like that.”

  “Cool,” Patrick said. “So then what now?”

  “Like I said: say when, brother.”

  “When,” Patrick said. “We’re in Pittsburgh now and leaving in a few hours. Should be back in Valley Forge around eight or nine tonight I guess.”

  “We’ll be there. How’re the kids?”

  “Carrie’s been a mess since the whole incident by the lake. Not to mention a whole slew of other shit that’s happened since. I’ll tell you all about it later. Caleb seems okay, but, at this point …” Patrick felt his throat seizing up, and then an immediate wave of shame for allowing it to happen with someone like Domino on the end of the line. He quickly cleared his throat. “Sorry.”

  “Nothing to be sorry for, my friend. When this is done I’m buying Carrie an ice cream and tossing that football with Caleb, just like I promised way back when. I can’t wait to meet the little guy.”

  Patrick envisioned Domino’s scene and found himself smiling. “That would be nice,” he said. But the smile didn’t last. Current events spit a reminder into Patrick’s face. “This guy is dangerous, man. Evil. I can only imagine his friends are just as bad.”

  “They all are, Patrick. At least they think they are—until they meet me. You just hold tight, brother. Give Amy my best. I’ll see you tonight.”

  “Thanks, man.”

  Patrick snapped his phone shut. Amy appeared in the hallway a moment later.

  “Well?” she asked.

  “Says he’ll be waiting for us when we get home.”

  Amy put a hand to her chest. “Thank God.”

  Patrick looked away. A dark thought had been looming on the perimeter of his mind all morning, yet he inexplicably ignored it. Now, after the phone call to Domino was done, that thought had crept its way forward and demanded to be heard.

  “What?” Amy asked. She dragged a chair next to his and took a seat.

  Patrick lifted his head. “He’s one of my best friends.”

  “And?”

  “What if I get him killed?”

  Amy laughed. She then stood, and before heading back into the room said, “Baby, Domino would floss his teeth with someone like Arty.”

  But what about Arty’s new friends? he wanted to call after her. The ones the Feds say must be highly trained? Nobody knows jack shit about them.

  Patrick was certain he wanted Domino’s help, certain that if anyone could protect his family, it was him. He was thinking of Domino, the decorated soldier. Domino, the elite security specialist. Domino, the human rhino who broke records and bones on the football field, only to make every college scout collectively weep when he chose the Marine Corps instead of college ball.

  Patrick never stopped and thought about Domino the friend.

  Yes, Domino was good, and yes, Domino had seen the absolute worst and triumphed. But every man has his day. Every man eventually meets his match. What if he had just set his dear friend up for a showdown with some deadly enigma who might actually be his equal … and then some?

  • • •

  John Brooks stood before the bathroom mirror in a beaten-down motel room in West Virginia. Monica and Arty had gone to pick up lunch. John stared hard at his reflection, his jaw clenched, his black eyes nearly vibrating with a focused rage that he would soon unleash. He ripped off his shirt, his awesome musculature swelling in the mirror with each anxious breath he took. He took a hand and traced it along his torso, fingering each scar: bullet holes, slashes, stabs—each one a reminder of just how hard he was to kill, and of course, what he did to the sorry sons of bitches who tried.

  He grinned the devil’s grin. Bring it, motherfuckers.

  57

  New York City

  Domino Taylor sat at the head of the table. His two best men, Christopher Allan and Dan Briggs, sat opposite one another in the middle. Domino had laid out the situation’s objective for them. Told them to have their ready-bags packed the moment they concluded the briefing here at the office in preparation for an immediate trip to Pennsylvania.

  “We putting everything else on hold?” Briggs asked.

  Domino nodded once. “As of now, our services aren’t available to anyone—indefinitely.”

  “You guys were that tight huh?” Allan asked.

  “Yes,” Domino said. “The moment we get there, they’re royalty. Clear?”

  Both men nodded.

  Briggs thrummed his fingers on the table. “Feds know we’re coming?”

  “Yeah,” Domino said. “But it’s all good. They weren’t happy about it, but Patrick insisted.”

  Allan said, “Your boy’s smart.”

  All three men smirked at each other. Domino’s smirk dropped first as he said, “My boy’s been through hell and back. His wife and kids too. His kids.”

  Briggs said, “That’s fucked up.”

  “Yeah it is,” Domino said. “And when we meet these motherfuckers face to face, there will be a momentary lapse in judgment.”

  Allan smirked. “I like those.”

  “We gonna draw straws to see who gets to make that lapse?” Briggs asked.

  Domino said, “If it plays out the way I want? My boy Patrick can get first dibs.”

  Briggs blurted: “Seconds.”

  Allan said, “Ah shit.”

  Domino smiled and shook his head. “Ya’ll some sick motherfuckers.”

  58

  West Virginia

  Monica and Arty came through the motel door with arms full of takeout. John was lying on the bed watching television, his shirt still off.

  “Ew—put a shirt on, muscle man,” Monica said.

  “What’d you get?” John asked.

&n
bsp; “Closest place was a deli,” Monica said.

  Arty headed towards the motel mirror and took in his reflection. A man with dirty blonde hair and a mustache stared back. “Can I take this stuff off now? I look like a porn star.”

  John laughed.

  “Sure,” Monica said. “But if you insist on going out again, be prepared to put it back on.”

  “You try being locked up for months,” Arty said, peeling off the wig and then the mustache. “That little trip to the deli was like fucking Disneyland.”

  Monica started taking the sandwiches out of the paper bags. “I’m glad you enjoyed it—because from now on you’re staying hidden.”

  “What?”

  John got off the bed and took one of the sandwiches from his daughter. “She’s right—there’s a lotta people looking for you, son. Won’t be long before your face is wallpapering the entire east coast.” John unwrapped the sandwich without checking to see what it was and took a monster bite. His mouth full, he added, “You gotta be a ghost until we get our shit situated.”

  Arty said, “Okay—I’ll be a ghost. I’ll be the ghost of a ghost—as long as it ends up getting me what I want.”

  Monica lit a cigarette and inhaled deep. “My dear brother …” She exhaled with a smile. “You’re going to get it all. And then some.”

  59

  Valley Forge, Pennsylvania

  Tension you could cut with a knife, Patrick thought when Domino and his team first introduced themselves to the federal agents who escorted the Lambert family back to their home.

  “I assure you,” Domino began after the awkward formalities, “we are only here to stand guard. You’re running the show, you’re doing the investigation.”

  The agents on duty seemed pleased with Domino’s respectful manner and walked past him into the Lamberts’ home to get their bearings.

  Patrick leaned in and whispered, “That must’ve been tough to say.”

  Whispering back, Domino said, “Nah—better to have a potential ally than an immediate enemy. Besides, when all is said and done, they’ll know who their daddy is.”

  Both Patrick and Amy laughed. One of the agents turned his head and they immediately stopped laughing and dropped their heads.

  “Ya’ll are like kids in a classroom,” Domino eventually whispered with a sly smile.

  Amy leapt forward and hugged him. Domino appeared a little shocked at first. He looked at Patrick, who just smiled and shrugged. Domino then returned Amy’s embrace. “It’s alright, sweetheart,” he whispered in his deep southern drawl. “It’s gonna be alright.”

  Amy pulled away. She had a tear in her eye and she wiped it away before saying, “I know. I know it will.”

  Domino smiled. He then turned to Patrick and punched him lightly in the gut. “You looking pretty solid, champ.”

  Patrick flinched from the blow and said, “Yeah, well when people don’t punch me in my knife wound, I’m good.”

  Domino made an oh shit! face. “Oh! I’m sorry, my friend!”

  Patrick started laughing. “I’m just playin, man.” He gave his stomach a few firm slaps. “Better than new.”

  Domino chuckled and shook his head before turning to Briggs and Allan behind him. “Would you look at this clown?” he said, motioning back to Patrick. “Been here ten minutes and already he’s playin. Some things just do not change.”

  Patrick patted Domino’s shoulder, then looked past him towards Briggs and Allan. “Apparently etiquette was omitted on Mr. Taylor’s security curriculum. I suppose it’ll be up to me to do introductions.” Patrick gave Domino a quick smirk before extending his hand to Briggs. “I’m Patrick Lambert, and this is my wife, Amy.”

  Domino chuckled and shook his head again as formal introductions took place. Patrick was the tallest of them all at six-three, but he was not the widest. Domino took that honor, looking as if he was assembled by a group of engineers trying to develop the ultimate African-American superhero.

  Christopher Allan was the polar opposite of his boss. He was pale and very thin. But every now and then, Patrick thought, a man comes along with a certain look in his eye. The look of—quite simply—a man you didn’t want to fuck with. All the bench presses in the world couldn’t give you Christopher Allan’s gaze. Patrick had a good five inches and maybe seventy pounds on the man, but one quick glance into Christopher Allan’s eyes was enough to let Patrick know that he’d be a ghost scratching his head as to what just happened if he was ever stupid enough to mess with the guy.

  Dan Briggs? A combination of all of the above. Five-ten, one-eighty, negative-point-negative percent body fat, and a veteran’s thousand-yard stare that Patrick felt was menacingly accentuated by his shaved-bald head. Perhaps it reminded him of Jim Fannelli? No. Hell no. To even compare someone on Domino’s team to a sick bastard like Jim Fannelli was flat-out disrespectful.

  Domino dipped his torso to one side, his eyes aimed at Amy knees, a playful smile on the corner of his mouth. “And who’s that I see hiding behind Mommy’s legs?”

  Caleb poked his head out from behind Amy’s legs for a split second before snapping back out of sight like a timid pet.

  Domino dropped to one knee. He spoke in a nurturing tone that could have added nanny to his already astounding resume. “Come on out, little man. I won’t bite.”

  Caleb poked his head out again. Amy reached down and stroked his fuzzy brown hair. “It’s okay, sweetie,” she said.

  Caleb stepped out from behind his mother’s legs. Domino extended his hand. “My name’s Domino. Your Mommy and Daddy are two of my best friends in the whole world. You think you and I can be friends too?”

  Caleb stared at Domino’s hand. It was roughly the size of Caleb’s head, and Caleb seemed to have no trouble processing that fact. He stayed frozen.

  What Domino did next reminded Patrick of the amazing people on television who seemed to charm and handle the deadliest of snakes without so much as a hiss. Domino simply reached out, took Caleb’s hand into his, shook it softly, and then Patrick watched as Caleb succumbed to one of the warmest smiles he’d seen his son produce in quite some time.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Caleb,” Domino said. Still on one knee, Domino pointed over his shoulder. “Those are my friends, Christopher and Dan.”

  Briggs and Allan both smiled and waved. Caleb waved back.

  Carrie had disappeared upstairs the moment everyone entered the house, despite Amy’s objection. One of the agents assured Amy she would follow her, and so Carrie was absent during the initial get-to-know-yas. Now, she had inched her way down the stairs and was perched on the fourth step, watching from a distance, but not so far that she would go unnoticed. Especially since Caleb had been introduced ahead of her, God forbid.

  “And who’s that pretty girl I see over there on the stairs?” Domino said, now smiling in Carrie’s direction.

  “Come on down, honey. Say hello,” Amy said.

  Carrie shook her head and stayed put. She held a stuffed animal, a dog, in her hands, and she seemed content on using the toy as a pacifier in her uncertain state, consistently rubbing its ears, tugging its tail.

  “Who you got there?” Domino asked. “Does it have a name?”

  “It’s not real,” Carrie said. “My real dog died.”

  Amy dropped her head; Patrick rubbed her back.

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Domino said. “I had a dog once too.”

  Carrie flopped her bottom onto the third step. “Did he die?” she asked.

  Domino nodded. “Yes, he did.”

  “What was his name?”

  “Major. What was the name of yours?”

  Carrie hit the second step. “Oscar.”

  “Like Oscar from Sesame Street?”

  Carrie’s face lit up. “Yes! I called him that because he was all smelly and dirty like Oscar the Grouch when we found him.”

  Domino’s heavy laughter filled the room.

  Carrie skipped the first step altogether, h
it the landing, and walked right up to Domino. “Oscar and Major are probably playing together at Rainbow Bridge,” she said.

  Domino glanced at both Amy and Patrick who returned a we’ll tell you later look.

  “I bet they are,” Domino said, “I bet they are.” He held out a hand. “I’m Domino. Do you remember me? I met you when you were very young.”

  “Domino like the pizza?” Carrie asked, taking his hand and ignoring his question.

  Domino smiled. “Just like the pizza.”

  “I like Pizza Hut better.” Carrie pulled her stuffed animal to her chest and headed off towards the den without another word.

  Patrick rolled his eyes and shook his head.

  Amy said, “Yup—that’s our daughter.”

  Domino started laughing again.

  60

  West Virginia

  One Month Later

  Monica Kemp zipped up her bag. It had been a month since Arty had escaped custody. Eyes would still be there, but they wouldn’t be everywhere. Monica and John felt enough time had gone by to start gathering more intel—patterns, routine, gifted opportunities.

  “Got everything?” John asked.

  “Almost.” Monica walked across the hotel room towards the dresser and checked her Canon and its 600 mm-f/4 lens. She lifted the camera towards father and brother and said, “Could get a close-up of Saturn with this baby.”

  “Do I even want to know how much it cost?” John asked.

  “Not if you want to feel good about yourself.”

  “Funny girl.”

  “You sure you shouldn’t be going with her?” Arty said to John.

  “She’s better at the whole surveillance thing than I am. Don’t have the patience for it. Besides—I gotta organize the new van. If all goes well today, it’d be nice to have it sooner than later.”

  Arty glanced at Monica, then back to John. “What if ‘sooner’ does happen? What if she needs help?”