Page 55 of Chubs

Nodding my head, I pull out my tablet and start researching again. Les takes a seat nearby, pulls out his laptop, and does the same. Several hours later, Les jerks up straight, then shoves his laptop in front of my face.

“Look at these two photos. Same guy in both, right? He’s aged, but it’s him. I’m sure,” Les states.

Looking at both, I nod slowly. That’s one of the fuckers that snatched up a confused and scared teenager many years ago. No doubt about it.

“That’s a newspaper article, only a few months old, about him running for city council. It mentions his district, so that gives us an idea of what part of the city he’s living in. Hang on,” Les says while continuing to read. “It also says where his offices are. We’ve found one of them.”

My heart gives a slow thump, then speeds up in excitement. We just might be able to pull this off, and if so, I can return to my woman. She may not accept me back, but at least I’d be able to try. Just to see Lucy’s beautiful face again would mean everything to me.

“Let’s go check it out,” I say.

We spend several days observing the former FBI agent, now turned politician, live his normal life. We know where he works, lives, buys his favorite coffee, and the gym he works out at. We also know where his mistress lives and what nights he visits her. By carefully observing him, we know he’s right-handed and carries a handgun at all times in a shoulder holster. We know his wife’s schedule and where their son attends an ivy league college. Something that most FBI agents could never afford, the same being with the home they bought. I’m angry knowing that he afforded those things by hanging people like me out to dry. He took payoffs to live beyond his means, and those payoffs cost others their lives. Of course, he’s become a politician. He’s got the mindset for it and the backing because crime families love having politicians in their pockets.

“We’ll move on him tomorrow night when he goes to visit his side piece,” Les says with disgust.

“It’s fortunate for us that she lives where she does. He’s not using his FBI training to his advantage by not putting her up in a more secure apartment. Tonight, let’s take a stroll around her neighborhood to double-check for cameras, but I haven’t spotted any yet. We’ll grab him when he leaves, so she doesn’t get concerned when he doesn’t show up,” I add.

Having helped at the club’s security business a few times has paid off. I know what to look for and how to disable most every type of security camera there is, thanks to Rex’s thorough training program. I just wished more of his computer skills had rubbed off on me too. I can get by with what I know, but Rex would be invaluable right now.

I have a moment of harsh regret knowing what my disappearance would have done to Rex. The man is like a dog with a bone when he’s working on something, and I can only imagine how many hours of sleep he’s missed trying to find me. I hope someday to be able to apologize and gain his forgiveness, but for now, I need to focus so I live long enough to get the opportunity.

“Aria called earlier when you were showering. Said they were one day out from their destination. Also said to tell you thanks for the route you ordered them to take. She said she and Mom have now seen most of the U.S., and she said it sarcastically. You’re going to pay for sending them to the four corners of the country,” Les warns with a grin.

“I’m gaining debts to be repaid left and right, but it’ll be worth it to know they’re safe,” I reply, knowing I have a lot of people to beg forgiveness from.

Les and I are standing deep in the shadows of the alley that runs behind the apartment building. Bob Morrow’s still inside but should be leaving soon. When he does, he must pass me within five feet to get to his car. Lucky for us, his girlfriend’s apartment is at the front of the building, and the only other one is currently vacant. Les is closer to the car and will be the distraction I need to get the jump on Morrow. Hearing a door shut, I tense then tug on my gloves while Les does the same.

When the man we’re hunting comes into view, Les steps from the shadows, hoodie concealing his features. Morrow’s head snaps up as he gauges if Les is a threat or not. With his full attention on Les, I step behind him and put him in a chokehold. Some of the former agent’s training comes back to mind because he instantly starts fighting with precision.

He twists in my arms a little and then hammers me in the ribs, but I keep him from being able to reach his gun. Trying to stay in a safe position, I move with his body, but his blows are not gentle. Using my foot, I trip him and swing us around so he lands on his frontside with me clinging to his back. Tightening my chokehold, his body thrashes before I feel a sharp pain in my thigh.

Realizing I’ve been stabbed, I shift positions, trying to protect my leg from more wounds. Les drops down next to us and gets a grip on the wrist that has the weapon. The fight doesn’t leave Morrow, though, and he battles with everything he has. He’s a large, fit man, but there are two of us. Eventually, Les stands long enough to stomp on the hand, forcing Morrow to drop the knife. Kicking it away from us, Les quickly gags our prisoner before he thinks to call for help.

Pulling the handcuffs from my waistband, I get them on Morrow. Then we lift him to his feet. I pull his handgun out of his holster and slide it into my waistband. It may end up being used in a crime, and it’ll tie back to him, not us. Les locates Morrow’s dropped keys and phone. Then we shove him to his car. Opening the trunk, Morrow is forced inside. Les hands me the keys, then jogs away to retrieve our car, then follows me as I drive away in Morrow’s. The whole fight only lasted a few minutes, even though it seemed like a much longer time, and I realized that not one of us said a single word.

Heading straight for the warehouse that contains some of Morrow’s old friends, Les stays close behind. We obey every traffic law and still arrive at our destination in only twenty minutes. Until we arrived, I didn’t think about the blood running down my leg and soaking my jeans. Now that we have and the adrenaline has retreated, the pain sets in.

Climbing from the car, I take a careful step but stop when a shooting pain goes up the length of my thigh. I take a few deep breaths and try again, this time pushing through it.

Les approaches, looks down at my leg, then asks, “How bad?”

“Nothing fatal but hurts like a bitch. Stabbed me in the thigh muscle but only got me once. Let’s get this done. Then you can sew me up.”

After another brief battle, we get Morrow searched more thoroughly and locked up, tethered to a wall in sight of his co-workers. We toss a few bottles of water next to him and walk out of the building. Locking the padlock on the door, we walk to the two cars. Les, once again, follows me as I find a spot to ditch Morrow’s car. I clean it free of my prints and all blood or evidence just to be safe before getting out. Leaving it in a high crime area, keys on the seat, I know it’ll be in someone else’s hands within the hour.

Returning to our latest hotel room, I pull a first aid kit from my gear and hand it to Les. Removing my jeans, I wash the blood off my leg, then take a seat on the bed. Les pulls a chair up, looks at my wound, then opens the first aid kit. Pulling out a small bottle of antiseptic, he cleans the wound thoroughly. He grabs the bag of supplies he bought on the way here and removes the small sewing kit and fishing line.

Using gauze bandages, I keep pressure on the wound while Les prepares the needle. When he’s ready, I remove the bandages and lean back on my hands. Sucking in a harsh breath between my teeth, I force my mind away from the pain and bring Lucy’s image up. I concentrate on some of my favorite times with her and refuse to acknowledge how painful being sewn up is.

I focus on remembering Lucy dressed in a beautiful ball gown of deep emerald, introducing me as her fiancé, and how proud I was of that. I think back to her talking about ideas to help Luke and the rest of us to learn sign language and how much effort she’s put into making that happen. I remember her anger over the reasons that women need a place like New Horizons and how she’s determined to help them. Her excitement when Bailey gave us a gift, a drawing she’d done of us together, and how perfect she’d captured our shared love. Lucy’s love and respect for her family and how they’ve accepted me into their fold, no questions asked. Lucy’s desire to get a pet, have kids with me, and build our own home.

“Done. It’s not the prettiest, but it should hold,” Les states as he stands to throw away the needle.

“It’ll work,” I mumble while covering the wound with a large bandage.

“Do you think he’ll figure out who you are?” Les questions as he returns to his chair.

“Our hoods and face masks kept him from seeing our faces clearly, so no, I don’t. Not yet, anyway. We’re going to have to question him tomorrow because I want to know where his partner is and then make a plan to bring him to the warehouse too. In the meantime, I think he’s going to assume that someone has figured out his involvement with the family, and that’s why he’s sitting with so many of them.”

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