

## James

### Glenn Gamble

Chicago, Illinois, USA

Smashwords Edition

© 2011 Glenn Gamble

www.GlennGamble.com

All rights reserved.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

_James_ © 2011 by Glenn Gamble

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from Glenn Gamble.

Discover other titles by Glenn Gamble at Smashwords.com:

Bon Appétit

Escape

On the Run

James

A Thousand Chances

1001: Car Wash

Chapter 1

"Where's it at, Jack?"

"My name's Jim, motherfucker."

Jim felt a hard slap to his face. He grimaced from the painful impact as he sat in the backseat of the goons' car with his hands tied together. "I'm not gonna ask you again before I put a bullet in you."

"You're going to do that anyway, but it just won't be out here. So why should I tell you anything when one, I don't know what you're talking about; and two, you're gonna kill me anyway."

"But we might let your woman live, if..."

"Man, I don't care what you do to her. I'll shoot the bitch for you if you give me your gun."

"You rotten piece of shit," Jessica shouted. "Fuck you, Jim."

"You did before I found out that you were a cannibal, remember?"

"Both of you shut the fuck up, NOW," the goon shouted.

"Jim, I'm going to ask you one last time; where's it at?"

"Where's what at?"

"The guns."

"Guns?" Jim asked. "I got guns, but you didn't have to taser me for them."

"Where are they?"

"If you'd untie my arms and ankles, then I could find them for you."

"Where are they?"

"Wait a minute? What's in it for me?"

"You'll live."

"How will I know that you won't kill me right now?"

"Because Steve wants to kill you."

Jim contemplated his options. He could tell them where the guns were and get killed on the spot, or he could stall and hope for an opportunity to present itself and escape alive. He calculated that he had a one-percent chance of surviving this ordeal. Having Jessica with him made it even more difficult. If it became necessary, he had no problem making her the sacrificial lamb, provided that he would escape alive. Sure he considered after all, she ran off with his best friend over a year ago—that no-good bitch.

"Where are they, Jim?"

"They're in this abandoned warehouse where I keep a lot of things that I don't want anyone to find," Jim lied.

"How do we get there?"

"Start by driving the car. I'll tell you where to turn as we're driving."

###

Carla was parked at the end of the block just as Jim instructed her to do whenever she came over to visit. This was to allow her enough time to escape if anything were to happen to him. Thank goodness she listened to Jim this time. Just as she turned onto his block, she noticed a midnight blue sedan parked in front of Jim's house. Then two men carried Jim to the backseat of the car. Jessica got in the front seat unharmed. _This isn't looking too good. They got Jimmy and Jessica. I could care less if Jessica gets killed. In fact, I wouldn't mind killing that home wrecker myself, but I can't let these guys kill Jim._

She started the engine, but she turned the key too far and her alternator made a scraping sound. "Calm down," she said to herself. "Breathe, Carla, breathe." Carla started the engine once again and drove down the street behind the goons' blue vehicle. She followed the car turn by turn from a half-block's distance, occasionally allowing a car or two to get in front of her so she wouldn't give any indication that she was following them. After a half-hour of driving, the blue car finally turned into an abandoned warehouse in a ghost-town outside of Memphis.

###

"Where's it at?"

"Untie me first," Jim demanded.

"I should just kill you right now and retrieve the guns myself."

"Good luck trying to find the motherfuckers in a 400,000 square foot facility," Jim shouted. "Use your head for once. Untie me, and I'll show you where the guns are."

"Quit fucking around and untie him," the driver demanded.

"Get out the car."

"It's kind of hard for me to open the door handle when my wrists and ankles are bound with rope."

"If it were up to me, I'd pump your body with smoking hot lead," the goon threatened.

"And then Steve would kill both of you and have you on a rotisserie skewer burning the fat off your pathetic ass as he decides whether he's going to slather barbeque sauce on your legs or eat you plain."

A thunderous punch came down onto Jim's face, "Shut the fuck up and show me where it's at."

"How can I when I'm still tied up?"

"Untie him," the driver shouted. "We don't have time for this."

"I was gonna untie him until he got slick with his mouth."

The goon started toward the knot on Jim's wrist.

"You need to untie her first," Jim said.

"I don't like what you trying to pull, dude. First you want to be untied, now you want her untied, too."

"Man, just untie the broad," the driver shouted. "She can't do anything while we're both here."

The goon reluctantly complied with the driver and untied Jim's and Jessica's legs. He still didn't untie their wrists.

"That the best you gone get, Jack."

This guy doesn't honor my request or the driver's request and he has the nerve to call me Jack? I get that he's a goon who calls everyone Jack, but I really don't like that street talk shit, or whatever they call it. I'm going to enjoy great pleasure in killing this coward motherfucker whenever I get the chance. First I must get loose from this rope, but how?

If it weren't for the circumstances Jim would admire the plush interior of the car, which included the velour seats and power door locks that were of no use to Jim. He looked at the armrest next to him anyway and noticed a razor blade that was left in the ashtray. Now he had to figure out how he would grab the blade with the menacing goon hawking over him.

"Get the fuck out the car and show me where it's at."

As the goon started toward the door, Jim grabbed blade with his right hand and quickly slid the blade between the rope and the top of his left wrist. The man opened the backdoor and pulled Jim out by the rope on his wrists. Jim could feel the sharp blade pinching and scraping against his skin, just enough to pierce it. The goon shut both his door and the back door while the driver stayed in the car.

"Let's go, Jack."

"What about Jessica?"

"She's gonna stay behind and have a conversation with my buddy."

Jim appeared emotionless, but felt an intense anger burning inside. He would have liked nothing more than to burn this talkative fuck. Nothing annoyed him more than a chatty man, not to mention that he was taking potshots at him. "She's pretty, Jack," the goon teased. "I'm sure you won't mind, since you were letting that good pussy go to waste anyway."

"The pussy ain't all that good."

"My buddy will see about that, now come on and show me where it's at."

"You got a flashlight?"

"Man, I'm starting to think that you're full of shit."

"It's dark in there," Jim said. "Look, the sooner we find my weapons, the sooner I can open the safe and get you want you want."

"Hey," the goon called to the driver, "pop the trunk."

The driver hit the trunk release button and the goon grabbed the flashlight, closed the trunk, grabbed Jim, and dragged him into the warehouse. Jim could feel more pinching as the razor blade continued to pierce into his skin as the rope tightened from the pulling and tugging from the goon.

"Aight man, where's it at?"

"I don't have it right at the entrance," Jim said. "Turn on the flashlight, and I'll guide you to it."

"You better be telling the truth, or you're a dead man."

"Just make sure you focus that flashlight so that we don't trip over any broken skids."

Jim felt another hard blow to his jaw. "You just don't know how close you are to being dead right now. This is the wrong time for you to be extra. Now listen to me, if you make any more remarks beyond leading me to the stash, you're a dead man."

Chapter 2

Jessica and the driver remained in the car, sharing an awkward silence between them. Her nervousness showed in her body language as the driver checked his rearview mirror. Now that his adrenaline had settled down since abducting Jim and Jessica, he finally got an opportunity to get a good look at her. _What a sight to behold. What's a pretty thing like this doing with a guy like Jim? She could be a supermodel on the arm of one of the celebrities. In fact she could be a celebrity herself. How did Jim get so lucky? Never mind the answer to that question. How did I get so lucky today?_

"Hey, would you like for me to turn on some music?"

"No, I'd rather be at home," Jessica said.

"Since we're not home, let me introduce myself. I'm Jacobson, and you are?"

"You know who I am."

"Easy there, sweetie, there's no need to be hostile with me."

"You kidnapped me."

"Oh, this is just business," Jacobson said. "Don't mistake doing my job for me not liking you. I think it's impossible to dislike a pretty girl like you. Hey, we might as well get better acquainted while we're here."

"I'd rather not."

Jacobson unzipped the fly on his pants. "Look sweetie, I'm not a bad guy. Just have a little conversation with me."

"I don't have conversations with creeps."

"You were just walking inside Jim's house with a creep before we arrived."

"I didn't want to."

"You weren't running either. Why didn't you run? Because Jim's got money, so being seen with that creep is okay, but not talking to me. I don't understand."

"Jim's not a creep."

"You don't think so?" Jacobson asked. "You must not have heard about how he tortured my brother."

"No, I haven't."

"Some years ago, he took my brother to a warehouse just like this one and molested him with a mini-baseball bat. He even poured salt in the wound."

"Oh my God."

"If he isn't a creep, then I don't know who is."

"But you kidnap people."

As they continued to talk, Jacobson momentarily pleasured himself. Her perfume in tandem with her beauty aroused him.

Jessica noticed a constant motion with his right arm. "Jacobson, what the hell are you doing?"

"As I said earlier, kidnapping you was business, but this is pleasure."

###

Why am I here? How did I get tied up in Jim's BS? I'm at an abandoned warehouse in the middle of nowhere. It's hot, these guys got guns, and I'm having a bad hair day. Why should I risk my life trying to rescue Jim when he may already be dead? He brought this upon himself. I told him not to go back to Chicago. No one told him to live a life of crime. Nope, these were his choices.

As Carla tried to rationalize not going in, she motioned to start her car, but decided not to. She then pulled out her compact, patted her hair— _damn I hate my hair today—_ and checked her makeup— _if I get killed, I'm going to die pretty_ —then got out her car and crept toward the warehouse as quietly as she could running behind the wild vegetation, weeds and trees that lined the abandoned warehouse. Once she made it to safe cover, she checked her purse and found the .22 caliber pistol that Jim gave her for protection. She hoped that she wouldn't need to use the tiny weapon, for she hated guns.

"I don't see how Jim lives like this," Carla said to herself. "All this running and eww, I just stepped in dookie. If Jim's not dead, I'm gonna kill him."

The sun cooked everything outside the comforts of air-conditioned homes. It was still early afternoon with the beaming sun providing nowhere to hide. Even the shade provided little relief from the heat. The humidity was suffocating, making it hard to breathe and coating Carla's skin with a thick, sticky film of sweated and oil slicked skin. The air felt more suitable for slicing than for breathing. Ahead of her parked the blue sedan. From this distance, both Jessica and Jacobson looked as if they sat motionless in the vehicle. Carla continued to creep forward, ignoring the scent of dog shit at the bottom of her sole.

Walking through the weeds and shrubbery, she felt dirty from brushing back plants that she would never touch under normal circumstances; however, this set of circumstances were anything but normal. If she walked directly to the car in the open lot, she would risk being seen and gunned down. The scenic route gave her the best option as she crept toward the entrance gate of the warehouse. She continued to walk slowly, until she felt something moving on her hip. Carla flinched, panicked and knocked the thing that was crawling on her to the ground; it made a buzzing sound. Carla looked down, it was her sister texting her. She asked if she had seen the latest episode of _Basketball Wives_.

Now aggravated, she picked up the phone and changed the setting to silent. As she placed the phone back on her belt, she heard a loud scream.

###

"I don't feel comfortable with what you're doing," Jessica said.

Jacobson smiled. "Why not?"

"Because I don't know you."

"I tried to get to know you, but you wouldn't tell me your name. Besides, a pretty thing like you smelling as good as you gets me aroused every time."

"You creep," Jessica yelled.

Jacobson laughed as he continued to stroke. He wasn't concerned with the possibility of being caught with his pants down. They were in the parking lot of an abandoned warehouse located in a ghost town. It looked as if a car hadn't traveled down the road leading to the warehouse since Reagan was president. Weeds grew as tall as trees and crabgrass tall as NBA players. If it weren't for a handful of abandoned vehicles and faded Old Milwaukee beer cans in the lot, there would be no evidence that people existed in this once bustling town. The insects, rabbits, and occasional garden snake were the only possible witnesses and they didn't talk.

"Jim is going to kill you when he gets back out here."

"Baby doll, Jim doesn't care about you. He even said that he'd shoot you himself if he allowed us to, but I don't understand your friend." Jacobson slowly stroked his dick. "Why kill when he can have all the fun he wants with someone as pretty as you?"

"Jim is different."

"Who cares?" Jacobson smiled. "Besides, I bet you have a pretty pink pussy."

It took all of Jessica's strength to hold her vomit down. She couldn't understand why this strange man sat in the driver's seat masturbating as if she weren't there. The fact that she was there aroused him even more. Everything about this man frightened her from the small talk to his dick rubbing. Then he eased out of the car and opened the backseat door allowing the heat and humidity to seep in. She was overwhelmed with fear now that she had a full frontal view of Jacobson rubbing his hard dick.

"Why don't you stop doing that," she yelled.

"Why don't you show me what's between your legs." He smiled.

"Noooo," she screamed.

Jessica frantically slid toward the door on the other side, but forgot that her arms were tied and couldn't open the door. Jacobson looked hungrily as her dress rose up her legs. He could see her blue hi-cut panties as she tried to get away. He smacked her on the ass and pulled her legs toward him. Jacobson pointed his gun at her.

"You better quit kicking, or else you'll be a dead bitch."

Jessica's body went limp. She was helpless and powerless and knew no other choice but to submit to Jacobson as he ran his hand down her leg until he got to her feet.

"Now why you have to wear some sandals with all these straps on your pretty feet? Don't you worry. I'll take care of that."

Jacobson delicately unstrapped each buckle on each sandal and placed her shoes onto the floor mat. He examined each toe on her left foot from the pinky to the big toe. He then kissed the bottom of her feet, first with soft wet kisses, then he gave her foot one big lick as he made his way back up to her toes before sliding his tongue between the crevices of each toe as he suckled each toe. He liked the taste of her feet—salty, with a hint of foot odor, but not overpowering. Jessica felt disgusted by the whole experience as tears ran down both sides of her face. Afraid to make a sound, she laid there motionless as he continued shrimping the right foot.

Chapter 3

Jim felt an intense amount of pain in the spot where he was struck. His skin felt warm as his cheek swelled, but his temper ran even hotter. He was growing tired of the goon hitting him whenever he wanted. _As soon as I get out of this rope, I'm going to kick his ass until both of my shoes are shitty. Then I'm going to kick his ass some more for making both shoes shitty. Right now, I gotta stall until I figure something out._

When the goon wasn't attacking him the heat was. The humidity and the dust in the abandoned warehouse were suffocating, and they had to navigate through broken skids, darkness, and disabled equipment. Besides the goon's flashlight, the only light source available to them peered through the broken windows. Jim felt small amongst the conveyor belts and other equipment that towered over him. He could hear mice squeak as he took inventory of this massive warehouse.

"C'mon man, where's it at?"

"Let's go straight ahead," Jim said.

Both men walked in the dark warehouse for ten minutes through a maze of conveyor belts, inoperable forklifts, skids and broken equipment carts. This gave Jim time to slowly cut the rope while the goon was slowly getting more frustrated from bumping into equipment and not making any progress. The man wanted to shoot Jim just so he could get out of the dusty warehouse, but he couldn't exact his revenge just yet. The goon needed the weapons and other valuables he could make off with; otherwise, Jim's murder would be in vain.

"Man, we been walkin' 'round this warehouse forever," the goon shouted. He pointed the gun to the side of Jim's head. "I think you jerkin' me around. If you jerkin' me, you're gonna die, Jack."

Jim felt indifferent about the death threat. He figured that the goon needed him alive long enough to get the weapons. This bought him valuable time as he slid the razorblade in his left pants pocket between the flaps of his wallet. Jim did this with his left hand while gripping the rope with his right hand making it look as if his wrists were still tied. The dull end of the blade protruded from the wallet, but he decided this would work for the moment.

"Dude, put the gun away, we're almost were we need to be," Jim reasoned. "You get the guns and whatever else you find in there, and Jessica and I come out with our lives. We'll even find our way home from the middle of nowhere."

"You don't remember me, do you?"

"No, I don't."

"Oh, yes you do," the goon shouted. "Years ago we were in a warehouse just like this one. You had a mini-bat and some table salt. That's when you told me that whenever I'm fucking with your money, I'm fucking myself. Remember that?"

Jim didn't recognized Jeff for he had gotten a lot bigger since their last encounter. He was Barry Bonds bigger than before. Jeff was the only person he tortured in a warehouse. He vowed to himself that he would never do anything like that again, for he was guilt-ridden for several months. Growing up in a middle class family, Jim never envisioned committing such a horrendous crime, but he was an up and coming hustler who had no reputation beyond his possessing a big bankroll, which he earned from gambling, illegal table games and shylocking. He didn't have the reputation for being a ruthless kingpin, and Jeff figured that he could get away with flashing the money that he stole from Jim without impunity. In the neighborhood that Jim operated in, it was more common to kill someone for such a deed, but Jim knew that murder carries no statute of limitations and he had no desire to run from or try to beat a murder case. He had to instill fear into the hearts of the 2-bit, half-assed criminals by making an example out of Jeff, which in turn instilled fear into the hearts of the everyday neighbors. So Jim decided to torture Jeff and let him be a living, breathing example of what happens when you fuck with Jim. Now he was facing his sins.

"Yeah motherfucker, I remember what you did to me. Now I'm going to make you my bitch while my partner takes your bitch's pussy."

"Poetic justice." Jim sighed.

"Shut the fuck up." Jeff swung the butt of his gun toward Jim, but Jim sidestepped him and punched Jeff with a hard left to his ribs. This knocked the wind out of Jeff momentarily.

"Did you think I was going to let a coward bitch like you kill me?" Jim asked as he landed another hard left to his ribs and a right to his jaw. Jeff's gun dropped as Jim continued to throw a flurry of punches to his face, backing him toward a conveyor belt. Finally, Jeff ducked a punch and slipped one to Jim's cheek.

He landed another blow to Jim's kidney. "You're a dead motherfucker, Jim. I've always been nice with my hands."

Jeff connected on another punch to Jim's face. Growing angry and desperate, Jim charged Jeff, but he instinctively side stepped him.

"You didn't think I'd fall for that trick again, did you?"

"You're dumb enough to keep going to jail for the same shit, so I thought I'd give it a try."

This made Jeff angry as he lunged a punch toward Jim and missed. "You're dead, Jim."

Jim socked a punch to Jeff's jaw. "I feel very much alive, just as I did when I put your ass in the hospital last time."

###

Jacobson could have sucked Jessica's toes for breakfast, lunch and dinner, for he had a foot fetish that would make Rex Ryan blush. Jessica's toes were no exception. He especially liked the taste and aroma of her feet, but he wanted to explore further. Jacobson slid Jessica's big toe out of his mouth as he left a trail of wet kisses going down the arch of her foot straight to her ankle before slowly making his way up her legs. Jessica continued to cry silently with hopes that her attacker would hurry up and get it over with. She felt afraid, ashamed, intimidated, naked, powerless and vulnerable. Then she heard two gunshots from inside the warehouse.

The good laughed.

And she snapped.

Once she felt his lips touch her thighs, her fear and shame turned into anger. Her hands were still bound, and she could only move her legs—she used them. She raised her right leg and kicked down hard on his back screaming, "Get off me." Jessica did the same with her left leg, but this only angered Jacobson. He moved his head back, and out of the vehicle, then violently pulled her toward him, with her legs hanging out the car door. Jacobson lunged into the car over her body, placing his knees onto the backseat to gain leverage.

Jacobson slapped her repeatedly, "Bitch, you gonna give me this pussy right now." He snatched her panties off her body and threw the ripped underwear onto the ground. The only thing that separated Jacobson from Jessica was the humid, sticky air between his hard dick and her dry pussy. Jessica tried kicking until Jacobson caught both of her legs and bent them back. He looked down, grabbed his dick with his guide hand and –felt a hard knee to the crack of his ass. He body jerked upward and he hit his head on the ceiling. Carla jammed her knee into his ass again. Now Jessica was able to get her legs freed and she started kicking him.

Jacobson slapped Jessica again, but couldn't gain the leverage to do much damage as Carla continued to knee him square in the ass. She continued kicking him until she heard two gunshots—Carla hesitated. Before she knew it, Carla felt a hard punch to her face. Jacobson grabbed her by the neck and repeatedly slapped her. This went on for a minute. Carla knew that she was going to be beaten to her death until his grip loosened from her neck. She gasped for air and Jacobson bent over in pain. Jessica kicked him square in the crouch from behind.

Carla pushed Jacobson to the ground, and Jessica kicked him a few times before realizing that she only had sandals on her feet with unbuckled straps. She jammed her big toe and hopped around in pain. He saw Carla's left foot cocking back to kick him and he immediately grabbed her right ankle and pulled her down to the ground as she started to kick. _Fuck getting pussy, I'm gonna kill both of these bitches._ Jacobson darted back to the car, grabbed his gun, started toward Jessica, and knocked her to the ground. Before he could finish her, Carla charged toward him. Jacobson sidestepped her, grabbed her and threw her to the ground. Then he turned towards Jessica and aimed the gun to her head. She closed her eyes to avoid seeing her life flashing before her eyes. Jessica heard one gunshot then silence. Everything went dark—until she opened her eyes.

Chapter 4

"Jessica," Jim said, standing over her. "Are you okay?"

"Jim," she shouted. "Am, I alive?"

"Of course you are. Now be patient with me as I cut this rope off you. I only have a single-edged razor blade."

"What's that sliminess on me?"

"You need a change of clothes. You got blood and brains fragments on you."

Jim looked toward Jessica and noticed that part of her dress was torn at the hem and that she had no panties on. "Oh my God, did he..."

"No, Carla came just in time to stop him."

Jim fired two unnecessary bullets into Jacobson's dead body anyway. Jessica picked at one of Jacobson's brain fragments and ate it when no one was looking.

"Wait, did you hear that, Jessica?"

"You just shot Jacobson."

"Not that..."

"I just heard it again." Jim now pointed the gun toward where he heard the sound. He almost fired another bullet until he recognized the woman lying on the ground "Oh my God, Carly, are you okay?"

"Yeah, just a few bumps and bruises. I see that your bitch over there still can't keep her panties on."

Jim briefly laughed. "I don't think this instance was Jessica's fault."

"You said that last year, too, remember?"

"Hey, don't talk about me like I'm not here," Jessica shouted.

"Carla, go in your trunk and give her your change of clothes. Jessica, take off your clothes."

She winked and smiled coyly. "Just because you saved my life doesn't entitle you to get freaky with me."

Jim pointed his gun toward her. "Shut the fuck up and get out of that dress right now."

Jessica couldn't understand why his temper was so quick. Nonetheless, she was not happy about it. She slipped out of her dress and slammed it to the ground.

"Pick it up," Jim demanded.

"You told me to take it off, and I did."

"Pick up the fucking dress." Jim scowled.

"Jim, I'm not your fucking dog."

"No, Jim," Carla shouted.

Ignoring Carla, Jim fired three shots at Jessica, intentionally missing. Jessica screamed hysterically and ran toward a thick patch of tall crab grass. Jim fired another shot, hitting a thick blade of crab grass four inches above her head. Paralyzed by fear, Jessica stopped in her tracks.

Jim aimed his gun toward Jessica's chest. "Now you listen to me. I never tolerated disrespect from you when we were together, and I damn sure won't since you ran off to be with Carla's husband."

"Ex-husband," Carla shouted.

Jim shot her a look that could have turned anyone to stone. Carla took the hint and remained silent. Jim turned back to Jessica.

"If you ever disrespect me like that again, I will put you out of your misery and not think twice about it. This is your last chance." Jim pointed to the dress.

Jessica, wearing nothing but a bra, walked to the dress and picked it up.

"Carla, you got any hairspray."

"Yeah."

"Bring it to me."

Carla reached in her purse and produced a can of hairspray and handed it to Jim. He sprayed the dress with a liberal coat of hairspray. He then pulled out a lighter and lit the dress. Both Jessica and Jim snatched their hands back as the dress engulfed in flames. Jim lightly sprayed into the burning dress to ignite the flame even more. A few minutes later, her dress was fully cremated.

Jessica accepted the change of clothes—a pair of relaxed fitting jeans and a pink t-shirt—and got dressed. Carla walked over to her car and drove to the front entrance of the warehouse while Jim hit the trunk release button on the kidnappers' car, grabbed four bottles of lighter fluid, left two bottles in the trunk, emptied three bottles in the interior of the car, threw the remaining bottle in the car wiped away his fingerprints, and set the car on fire. Jessica and Jim ran to Carla's car and they sped off. Jim began dismantling the gun as the three of them shared an awkward silence, then Carla's phone buzzed.

"What the fuck is that?" Jim shouted.

"It's just my sister texting," Carla assured. "She said that Chris Brown's outfit is cute on him."

"How old is your sister, Carla?"

"She's 33."

"That bitch needs to get a life."

"Don't call my sister a bitch," Carla said. "You don't know her."

"I know the bitch is too old to be giving a fuck about what Chris Brown is wearing," Jim said. "Tell the bitch to get a job."

"She's an entertainment blogger."

"Perhaps she should sell drugs."

"Just so you know, I'm proud of my sister. She's an inspiration to me."

"She's on the same level as a thief. Neither of them has made any useful contribution to society."

"Neither do you, Jim," Jessica interrupted. "You killed six people in the past three days."

"I did it to keep you ungrateful bitches alive."

Carla pulled over in a church parking lot and got out the car. She walked to the backseat, knocked on the back window. "Jim, get the fuck out my car."

"What?"

"Jim, you got five seconds to get out."

"Carly, now is not the time..."

"Don't call me Carly."

Carla rolled her eyes and clenched her fist. "Jim, I risked my life for you, I've been living in hot ass Memphis for over a year because of you, and the only thing I get in return is a volatile maniac cussing at me. You and your bitch need to get the fuck out now."

Jessica hopped out of the car and walked fast around the car. She confronted Carla as they were face to face. They were close enough to kiss.

"Who you calling a bitch?"

"You, bitch."

Adrenaline flowed through Carla's veins as she assumed a boiling point that she hadn't reached in years. Gone was the pretentious behavior that she exhibited toward Jim when she and Steve were still together. Anger filled her body as she saw red and burned hot. This didn't move Jessica.

"Look Carla, you're going to respect me..."

Carla punched Jessica hard in the eye. Jessica never had a chance. Carla grabbed Jessica by the neck and continued to punch her with her right hand. Her momentum pinned Jessica to the backseat door. Jessica was helpless.

"This is for stealing my husband, you treacherous slut."

Jim couldn't believe how fast things turned for the worst. He had never seen Carla so angry. She was beating the daylight out of Jessica, and the look in Carla's eyes indicated that she wasn't going to stop until she had beaten the life out of her. A year of pent-up hurt and anger has finally manifested onto Jessica's face. Jim was horrified; Jessica's body appeared to go limp against the car, unable to fight back.

He scooted to the other side of the car and got out the car as fast as possible. He ran around the car to break up the fight. "Carla, let her go."

Carla heard Jim approaching. Upon hearing his voice, she hesitated. Normally, she'd automatically comply, but Jim was not going to steal her opportunity to impart justice upon the culprit of her failed marriage. Just as Jim approached to break up the fight, Carla cleaned his clock. Stunned by the hard punch to his face, he stumbled.

"Jim, stay the fuck back. Jessica and I have unfinished business between us."

Jessica saw an opportunity. She swung wildly and her forearm hit Carla on the side of her head. Carla countered with a punch, but Jessica slipped out of the way despite her left eye being almost swollen shut. Carla's hand hit the side of her car. Jessica gave her a hard knee to her ribs as Carla grimaced in pain. Now she started hitting her in the back of the head and on her back, but Carla still in a crouched position charged forward and wrapped her arms around Jessica's legs and took her down to the ground.

Carla now had the advantage, and was determined to finish what she started. She punched Jessica in the face twice before she had the wherewithal to cover her face with her forearms. Carla, punched her in the ribs, and pulled one of her arms just far enough to the side to leave an opening where she could strike her. She drew her arm back and it never came down. Jim threw her off Jessica and pointed her .22 caliber gun at her.

"Carla, don't make me have to do this." Jim said. "Believe me, it's not worth it."

"She didn't take your husband from you, Jim."

"But she stole my heart," Jim reflected. "Ripped it right out of my heart that time you and I snuck in her basement feasting on Chuck's bloody thigh. Don't you remember?"

"How could I ever forget," Carla said, crying. "You may have gotten used to danger and death, but that was the most horrifying experience of my life. How could you and Steve do that to that man?"

"Steve made me do it," Jessica said, moaning.

"You ran off with him to be forced to eat a human being for the very first time?" Jim asked. "That doesn't make sense to me."

"That wasn't our first time," Jessica said. "My first time was three years ago."

"What happened three years ago?"

"He threw a barbeque at his house, you were there."

"The only barbeque Steve had at his house was when I met you." Jim recollected. "Oh, my fucking goodness, go ahead."

"I went inside to grab a can of Pepsi, but when I pulled the lid off the cooler, I saw a human head in ice. I was scared to death. I didn't come back out for a half-hour. That's when Steve came in looking for me because I was supposed to bring him a beer."

"How come he didn't get Carla to grab one for him?"

"Because she was in everyone's face, pretending to be someone she wasn't."

"That's not true at all," Carla shouted. "I kept the guest entertained."

"Yes, it is true," Jim interrupted. "You've come a long way since then, but you used to put on airs."

"My boss and my colleagues were there."

"None of those bitches liked you."

"How do you know, Mr. Money?"

"Because I fucked a few of them," Jim responded. "Secrets are revealed during pillow talk."

"You were cheating on me?" Jessica asked.

"What difference does it make? You ended up running off with my best friend. Besides, you didn't have sex with me for almost a year."

"You two courted that long?" Carla asked.

"Yeah, we did."

"I didn't run off, you did, Jim."

"You two were eating a human, plus Steve tried to kill me," Jim said. "Anyway, finish the fucking story."

"So he came in the house calling for me. After I didn't respond, he went in the kitchen and saw me staring at this man's head. Steve told me that that although we've been friends since we were 16 years old, he'd have to kill me now that I'd seen the head."

"That had to be surreal," Jim said.

"So he grabbed me and forced me into the pantry. He put a knife to my cheek. That's when I begged him to spare my life. Steve told me that the only way he could spare my life is if I were to eat some of the man's brain. I remember puking at the thought, but once I tasted it, I couldn't get enough. That's when Steve started killing off your enemies, and we would eat them whenever an opportunity presented itself."

Jim became nauseous. "What does a brain taste like?"

"I don't know," Jessica answered. "There's nothing like the taste of a human brain.

"And this is the woman that Steve left me for?"

"At least he didn't eat you," Jim said.

"Yes he did," Carla remarked.

"With you, he chose to have a furburger, but you could have been a hamburger."

Carla laughed heartily; Jessica didn't find Jim's remark very funny, but she wasn't angry with him. Jim, on the other hand, was weary and allowed himself to get lost in the moment. He looked toward the car. _Oh shit, the murder weapon's still in there._

"Ladies, we gotta move."

Jim walked Jessica to Carla's vehicle. Her face was swollen and bloody. It looked as if she had gone 10 rounds with George Foreman. Carla walked over to Jim after Jessica handed him the dismantled pieces of the gun. Jim shut the door and returned her 22 caliber handgun and started walking.

"Jim, where ya going?"

"Home."

"Why don't you ride in the car with me?"

"I didn't know I could," Jim said. "You kicked me out your car, remember?"

"Jim, look at me."

He turned around and faced her. "Why you pointing a gun at me?"

Carla walked to him and got close to his ear with the gun pointed to his rib cage. "Jim, I don't care what I told you earlier. If you leave me in the car with Mrs. Jeffrey Dahmer, I'm going to kill you and her."

Jim laughed. "Then I have no other choice than to get in, right?"

"Come with me, Jim."

"My place it is."

Chapter 5

"Ladies, stay in the car. I'm going to see why my front door is open. If you hear anything..."

"No, I'm going in with you," Carla said.

"So am I," Jessica said.

"Carla, give me your gun."

They took slow steps toward the front door, Carla and Jessica both following Jim's lead.

"Carly, let me see your compact."

Jim opened the compact and used the mirror to see through the doorway. Frank and Steve sat in the living room watching ESPN. He wondered why Frank came to his house with Steve, but had a feeling that Steve wasn't there to kill him. Jim took no chances.

He took slow steps through the doorway and pointed the gun toward Steve. "Don't fucking move!"

Steve cooperated, "Jim, put the gun away. I'm here to do business."

"Frank, are you here to empty out my refrigerator before you kill me?"

Looking towards his barbeque container, Frank was still anxious to eat his third full slab of ribs despite the firearm that was pointed at him. "No Jim, why are you so paranoid?" Frank asked.

"The same reason you ate all my Twinkies."

Frank stuffed two Twinkies in his mouth simultaneously. "I didn't eat all your Twinkies. Can you put the gun down so we can talk?"

"No, I can talk while holding my gun. Now why are you here?"

"I told you, Jim," Frank said. "We gotta do something about Bones, but I wanted talk to you first."

"What the fuck is Steve doing over here?"

"I heard that you got my guns."

"You heard fucking wrong."

"I don't think so, Jim." Steve said. "I got my info from a reliable source."

"Your information is bullshit. I've been out of Chicago for a year and you're still listening to weak motherfuckers who think they know what's going on with Jim Money. They didn't know that I was alive until I got tangled in some bullshit, so why would your source be able to give you anything good."

"I'm telling you what I was told," Steve said.

"Get your head out your ass, Steve."

"Jim, I need those guns back."

"Why are you so sure that I have your guns?"

"I told you, I have a reliable source."

Jim pointed the gun toward Frank.

"Jim, I didn't give him any information like that. I told him that you don't have any guns, but someone convinced him that you did."

"Who?"

Steve didn't respond. Jim shot through his champagne glass which shattered on spot.

"Jim," Steve said, "I told you, I didn't come here to kill you."

Jim had guessed right. Had Steve been there to kill Jim, he would have shot him before he walked through the doorway. There's no way he could have snuck in on the most pathetic Marine, let alone an ex-Marine who served as a MPO while enlisted.

"So why are you here, Steve?"

"I need your help," he whined.

"Okay, continue."

"I took a loan from Don Carson."

"Are you fucking nuts," Jim blurted. "Of all people to borrow from, you chose Don Carson? How much did you borrow?"

"You don't wanna know."

"Fuck that, why did you take out a loan?"

"Because I tapped out when I loaned out most of my money to these deadbeats. It got to the point where I couldn't pay my men to collect the debt."

"You haven't learned shit from me."

"Man, I was trying to get money just like you did."

"I never got money overextending myself and living on the borrow," Jim shouted. "You fucking amaze me, Steve. You were there from day one when I was coming up as these other guys fell simply because they were tapped out, but you ain't learned shit from that. Anyway, why are you at my house?"

"I need the guns, Jim."

Jim walked in a slow pace through his living room. "Steve, you don't need guns. You need another 8-lives with Don Carson coming after you."

"Where the fuck are the guns?"

Steve felt a hard slap to his face. "Motherfucker, you're going to show me some got damn respect in my house. Now, I told you I don't have any guns."

"Then where are they? I know you had my home games robbed."

"Motherfucker, you don't know shit. If this wasn't my house, I would kill you right now, but I spent too much money on the hardwood flooring and my living room set to ruin it with your blood. Even if I robbed those gambling spots, I was only getting what's mine since you ain't pay no tax for operating in my shacks."

"That was the only money I had coming in."

Carla peeked through the doorway. "Jim, is it okay to come in?"

"I thought I told y'all to stay outside."

"But you were gone for a really long time."

"Come on in, it's just your worthless husband and Frank."

"Steve?" Carla said.

Both women walked in. Steve said nothing until Jessica walked in, her face bruised and swollen. "Jessica, what happened to you?"

Carla flew into a rage, slapping her estranged husband. "Steve, you can't say anything to me, but as soon as this homewrecker walks in with a bruise you're concerned? I'm your wife dammit." She continued to punch Steve until Frank and Jim pulled her off him.

"You and Jessica go to the damn kitchen," Jim instructed.

"This man tried to kill us in Chicago, or have you forgotten? And remember what happened today?"

"Carla, what the fuck have I told you about talking back to me? Get in the fucking kitchen."

Frank walked with both women to the kitchen. Jim overheard Frank apologizing to Carla for getting barbeque sauce on her. He told her that she caught him when he was on his third slab of ribs. _What a fat fuck._ Carla accepted his apology. Then Frank walked back to the living room with two -2-liter sodas in his hands—strawberry and orange flavored.

"Jim, you're all out of soda."

"No shit, Frank."

"I'd thought I'd give you a heads up."

Frank gulped down half the strawberry soda as Jim stared at him in utter amazement. _This man would make a food-eating competition unfair. Kobayashi has nothing on this fat fuck._

"Steve, one last time," Jim demanded. "What do you need from me?"

"I need a favor."

"You go from trying to kill me, to needing a favor from me. This is truly poetic justice."

"Those TGI Friday's frozen dinners were tasty, especially the ones with the buffalo wings," Frank said. "You're all out of those, too."

"Damn Frank, I'm not going to have any food left because of you."

"You still have plenty of carrots."

Chapter 6

"Jim, you're my last hope. If I don't repay Don, he's going to kill me."

"He's going to kill you anyway, fool. You don't need money or guns, you need an army. Then you need to settle an arrangement with the Cobras. That's whose shipment you stole. They're looking to behead the person behind that robbery, but the leader is more willing to compromise. Don on the other hand is ruthless. You can pay him back with interest and he'll still kill you just for you to serve as an example to anyone who dares to cross him."

"You had no problems with him."

"He knew that I was one of the few people who could make life hard for him. Besides, he was afraid of the south side, but now the south side is free game since you told everyone within an earshot that I was dead, you dumb fuck. Your envy and jealousy ultimately destroyed you and the dynasty that we built."

"Jim, he's got men at my house waiting for me to come home."

"That doesn't affect me one way or another."

"You and Carla skipped town and abandoned us. Everyone was running wild, people got killed until I took over. That's why I owe Don. Because of you."

"No, you owed him because of you. You could have allowed for things to play out naturally then take over, but you were so anxious to show Chicago that you had big balls stored in Hefty bags. I told you then that you couldn't do what I do, and it shows now. You're fucking pathetic."

"What do I do from here?"

"That's for you to decide."

"Jim, what would you do?"

"I don't know, because I wouldn't be in this predicament. Frank, what was the point of bringing this fuck to my house?"

"I didn't. He walked in after I got here. That's when he said that we should squash our differences and work together so that our business can survive."

"I don't think that's true. He just hired two men to kill me and Jessica earlier this afternoon."

"I didn't hire anyone to kill you, Jim."

"Steve, one of the guys that kidnapped me and Jessica said that you hired them."

"Whoever they were are some motherfucking liars," Steve said. "I don't have the money to hire two hit men to drive all the way down to Memphis to kill you. You know the kill fee on that kind of job."

Jim's wheels began to churn. _If Steve is as broke as he says he is, then he couldn't pay those guys to drive down here, put them up in a hotel room, comp a rental, and case out the house._ He put the .22 caliber gun away.

"Jim, we should kill Don and take over his operation."

"I don't want to get involved in that. He went to high school with the mayor, plus he's got the city council and the governor in his pocket. I don't fuck around with the syndicate. Besides, you destroyed my structure out here."

"Just get your crew from down here to come to Chicago."

"I have no operations based down here."

"Then how are you making enough money to install hardwood floors and big screen televisions?"

"I make an honest living down here as a biotech sales rep."

"You got a square job?"

"Yep."

"They sure pay you a lot of money to live this good."

"I work 15 hour days sometimes to exceed my quota."

"I still think you're hustling."

Jim walked over to the window to adjust the blinds with his back facing Steve. "No, I'm an everyday American worker now. I have no desire for the fast life anymore." Frank almost choked on the other 2-liter soda.

"Jim, snap out of your square life fantasy," Steve shouted. "Whoever tried to kill you today had to be close to you to know that you were in Memphis."

"How did you know that I was down here, Steve?"

"Bones told me that you were living down here."

"Why?"

"I don't know, but he told me that you and Frank conspired to rob my gambling spots. Actually, they were your spots, but you still robbed me."

"And you took my girl from me?"

"She was my girl before she was yours. I introduced you to her at our barbeque. You just had to make her your woman, but she was my woman, Jim."

"You were married, Steve, and yeah, I knew that you were knocking her on the side when you and Carla were still together, but fuck that personal bullshit, let's talk business.

"My thoughts exactly."

"Steve, go back home and pretend that everything's normal until we put together a plan."

"I can't go back home. I drove by my house yesterday and saw Don's men positioned on the street."

"Wait a minute, Bones told you where I was?" Jim thought aloud. "Frank, remember when you guys switched plans?"

"Yeah."

"Whose idea was it?"

"Bones'."

"Here's the deal, fellas."

Both men leaned in and listened closely.

"Don isn't the only one who wants you killed, Steve. Bones set you up by stealing the crates of guns from you. He figures that if Don doesn't kill you first, the Cobras will once they find out that you were involved in the heist. Don kills you, then it would be assumed that Frank would take over the south side.

"Now Bones is your right hand man, and waits for the right time to set you up and get you killed. Now he's running the south side after the two biggest kingpins on the south side get murdered, neither one by Bones."

"That's a slick bastard," Frank said.

"As well thought out as this was, Bones fucked up. The pedophile raped Frances and it almost turned out brilliant because he had you believing that it was Steve. At this point Steve has two people who want him dead, possibly three if the Cobras knew anything, but they don't know shit. This almost worked until Frank figured out that Bones raped his daughter."

"Yeah, the fucker comes to the cafeteria talking about offing Steve to consolidate the south side," Frank added. "At the time I still thought that Steve raped my daughter, so I was for killing Steve. I told him that since those were still your territories that we have to cut you in on the action. Bones said to me that he had something for Jim. He called you a pussy. Then my daughter comes to the table, sees Bones and almost had a nervous breakdown. He got up and ran out the cafeteria."

"Then Bones met me in the elevator," Steve said. "He wanted to make a deal with me to kill you and he would kill Frank when the time was right. Afterwards we could control the south side. I told him that I didn't know where you were. That's when he dropped the dime and told me that you were somewhere in Memphis. I told him that I'd get back to him, but most likely I wasn't going to move because I was tapped out with no wheels.

"He let me borrow his car to pick up a few things from home on good faith. I drove by my house and saw Don's men there. I got desperate and drove down to Memphis to seek your help. That's when I saw Frank at the rib joint."

"Wait a minute," Jim said. "Bones talked to you about you offing me, and him offing Frank? So the two goons that kidnapped me and Jessica. They weren't Cobras, and they weren't your people. Are either of you familiar with Jeff since the time we..."

"Yeah, him and Jacobson put in work for Bones on occasion," Steve replied.

"It makes sense now. Jeff and Jacobson came down here to murder me because of what I did to him. He said that you wanted me brought back alive so that you could kill me. They said this to get my cooperation and lead them to the guns before executing me and Jessica. Jacobson's incentive was the street value the guns, Jeff's was revenge. Bones got desperate and hired them to come down at the last minute."

Jim paced through the living room, running his hands through his hair. Then he saw Carla in the kitchen brooding with Jessica on the other side of the table checking her Facebook notifications. She got ten messages from the 'I Love Pointless Gossip' group.

"Gentlemen, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to run to the kitchen for a few minutes."

Frank belched from having downed a 2-liter Strawberry soda and half an orange soda in the same sitting. "You should keep more soda in the house, Jim."

Jim shot a blank stare in Frank's direction before walking toward the kitchen. Carla saw Jim approaching and turned her head in the opposite direction. Jessica was preoccupied with her Facebook app. "OMG... Usher's babies are so cute... awww."

"Jessica, stay down here until I get back." Jim grabbed Carla's arm. "Come with me."

"Get your damn hands off me."

"I will when you hear what I have to say. Come with me."

Carla rose from the table and followed Jim to the basement. To her surprise, his basement was plusher than his living room. Jim grabbed a chilled bottle of red wine from his miniature refrigerator, poured two glasses and gave one to Carla They sat down on a velour couch.

Jim looked deep into Carla's eyes. "I need you to give me the benefit of the doubt."

"You disrespected me."

"Keep your voice down," Jim whispered.

"Sometimes you make me feel special, and sometimes. I don't know, Jim... Ten minutes ago, you made me feel worthless right in front of my husband."

"I had no other choice."

"Yes, you did. You always have a choice and you chose to strip away my dignity."

"No, I chose to... Carla, listen to me. Will you? Please?"

Carla had some choice words for Jim, but disregarded them upon hearing the sincerity in his voice matching the seriousness in his eyes. "I'm listening."

"I'm in a business that has its own unique protocol. Whenever you're talking, whatever you're doing other guys are always sizing you up. What do you think those two men up there are doing to me?"

"And you had to show them how hard you are, right?"

"No, that's not the case. Now listen to me very closely. This will save your life in one way or another.

"I didn't talk to you that way because I wanted to earn cool points with my buddies. Those two are hardened criminals. I have to pretend that I have everything under control, even when I don't. Otherwise, they'll move in on us and kill us. If they see me allowing a woman to sass me without checking her, they're going to sense weakness, then kill me and take your pussy."

Carla shuddered in response to Jim's words.

Jim held Carla's hand. "Listen to me Carly, I have never met a woman like you. You're everything that a strong woman should personify. I wish like hell I could marry someone who's half the woman you are. I need you to know and remember that this is how I regard you. This is how I feel about you. I –"

Her eyes dampened as she hung on every word. "Go on, Jim, finish your thought."

Jim paused for a moment. "Carla, you have to be experiencing a ton of emotions seeing your husband in the front room discussing business with me. I know it's awkward, and I don't expect you to understand the things that I do at times."

"This man tried to kill us last year."

Jessica snuck through the basement door and got close enough to hear every word they said. Jim heard her, but disregarded the creaking in the stairs and the sound of her breathing.

Jim looked to the side and looked in her face. "And you still wanted him to acknowledge you as his wife." Carla broke down in tears.

He hugged Carla. "Shhh... Everything's going to be okay, Carly. He doesn't deserve a woman of your pedigree."

As tears filled her eyes, Jessica witnessed what she threw away to eat human carcasses with Steve.

Jim grabbed Carla by the shoulder blades. "Listen to me, Carla. I need you to remember how I feel about you no matter the situation. I need you to trust me every step of the way, even if my actions are questionable and beyond comprehension, I need you to go with the flow. You can always yell at me later."

Carla laughed. "Me yelling at Jim Money, no way."

"You're the one who hit me in the jaw, you domestic batterer." They both laughed.

"In order for it to be domestic battery, we would have to be together, wouldn't we?"

"Jim," Jessica called.

"What is it?"

"Can I have something to drink?"

"Check the fridge."

Jessica had snuck back to the kitchen in time to pretend that she had been up there the entire time. Jim knew better, but didn't mind her eavesdropping on their conversation.

"There's nothing in the fridge."

"What do you want to drink?"

"Do you have fruit punch?"

"Come down here, Jessica."

Jessica walked down the stairs, looked toward Jim as he had already set out an ice cold bottle of fruit punch and a glass for her to enjoy.

"Jessica, I want you go with Steve back to Chicago."

"I don't wanna go to Chicago. I want to stay here with you."

"You could have stayed with me in Chicago and you chose not to."

"I was stupid, Jim. I'm so sorry for hurting you like that. I should have never run off with Steve."

"Don't be sorry. You allowed an opportunity for someone better to enter my life."

"I know you're not talking about that snooty bitch Carla."

Jim motioned toward Carla. "I got this. Does it really matter who I'm referring to?"

"Jim, I still love you."

"Jessica, you'll always have a piece of my heart, but you betrayed me."

"No, I never betrayed you, Jim. I have a problem, but how do I get my problem treated without being charged as an accessory to Steve's murders."

"That's a conversation you must have with God."

"Fuck you, Jim, you can kiss my ass."

"Keep talking shit, and you'll meet God before you have a chance to strike a conversation with Him." Jim walked toward Jessica. "Go back to Chicago with Steve, he needs you."

She walked upstairs past the kitchen, found the bathroom, locked the door and wept uncontrollably.

Jim looked toward Carla. "Will you promise to always trust in me and my actions?

"Always."

Jim and Carla walked in the front room, with Jessica now sitting next to Steve.

"Frank, you're going to get even with Bones. Just make sure that you don't blow the lid off the thing by revealing that you know about his double-cross. When the time is right, you can do as you please with him, but for the time being, he still works for me. Steve and Jessica will be responsible for cleanup. Steve, you're going to repay Don with his own money."

"How are we going to do this, Jim?" Steve asked.

"Here's the plan."

Back in Chicago

Chapter 7

"Everything is set in motion."

Don Carson chased down an oyster with a shot of bourbon. "Good job, Bones, you and I are going to do a lot of business together."

"Thanks to Jim."

"We got lucky a year ago."

"Yep."

"A man as sharp as Jim—he abandoned his business overnight. That still puzzles me."

Bones held his bourbon in the air. "His loss is our gain. Here's a toast to new business."

The men brought their glasses together until they tapped, then downed their bourbon. They dined in Chicago's best steakhouse which also had a reputation for excellent seafood and posh dining. Bones devoured his pan-seared steak, and Don enjoyed his oysters and lobster tails against a backdrop of elegant décor and classical music playing in the background.

"So how long before we're up and running?" Don asked.

"Not long at all. Give it about two months tops. Just enough time for things to cool down with Steve, but soon enough to discourage anyone from moving in."

Don chased an oyster with another shot of bourbon. "I saw what happened after Jim left. You ever find out what happened to him?"

"Yeah, he was hiding out down south just like the coward that he is."

"No, Jim's smart. He's not down there just to hide."

"Well, that doesn't matter. Some friends of mine paid him a visit yesterday just for good measure."

"So Jim's..."

"Yep, now our biggest concern is laundry."

"My lawyers will take care of that," Don said. "You just run the show while I make sure no one competes."

###

"Jim, they've already taken over."

"Didn't you just tell me that you couldn't go back to your house just a month ago?"

"I still can't, but I sent someone to check it out."

"Okay."

"Bones has Frank running the games, and it looks like Don Carson is providing protection," Steve said. "Frank is a traitor. What are we going to do about it?"

"Steve, who the fuck are you?"

"What?"

"You're talkin' on the phones like you got a phone card from India," Jim shouted. "I don't wanna hear you talking on no fucking phone."

Steve became nervous. "I'm trying to keep you in the loop, that's all."

"You can do that, but not on the phones," Jim warned. "Shit, I'm gonna scrap this."

"No Jim, we got everything in place just like you said. I just need to your okay to go."

"It's too soon."

"If not now, then when?"

"I'll let you know."

Click

Jim played back the phone conversation for Carla.

"I can't believe I married this man."

"That makes two of us."

"He's looking to set you up."

Jim trusted Carla's sixth sense. "Do you believe that we were once best friends?"

"I remember, but it seems like such a distant memory."

"It hasn't been three weeks and he's already cut a deal with Bones," Jim contemplated. "The fucker thinks everyone's stupid except for him. He's a typical Marine."

"You know if he gets to you, that's the end of me, Jim."

"Carly, you're going to live until you're 300 years old regardless of what happens to me."

"What about you, Jim? You're smart, why don't you get out?"

"I've been trying for the past year."

Carla completed his thought. "But..."

"I gotta get things right before I get out for good."

"Oh, let me guess," Carla shouted. "The next big score?"

"No."

"Steve and Frank approached you because of money. I'm sure that you go through spells when you get tapped out, too, right?"

"No, that's not the case at all. Let me explain. Frank didn't come here asking for a financial help. His situation is personal, for which I feel partly responsible. He came here with different motives. His money is good, he did the right things and he listens to me. This is why he has things that Steve knows nothing about. And his payments helped remodel this house."

"So if he's doing so well, why is Frank coming to you for help?"

"The same reason I come to you for help. Its allows him to separate his emotions from his decision once I analyze the situation and give him a run down on what could happen on whatever decision he makes. To make a long story short, I convince him to make the best decision that his situation affords."

"Then why is he in business with Bones?"

"For the same reason he was in business with Steve."

"Okay, you were about to tell me about Steve."

"The difference with Steve is that he's desperate for money. He's got Don Carson breathing down his back, legal fees, and his ruined operation. I really was his lifeline. He'll sell anyone for his own personal gain, and to get even with me."

"I remember when he used to tell me that he could run your operation better than you if he had your power. Now I see that he was jealous of you."

"He always has been, but I used him and Jessica as an excuse to flee Chicago. I didn't have to run. I could have hired someone from Dallas to kill Steve and Jessica, but I really wanted out."

"Is that why you like it so much down here?"

"I love it, but I don't feel at home down here. I envision Tennessee to be a second home, but I wanna move."

"Why?

Because it gets too fucking hot down here. I want to move to Las Vegas."

Carla looked at him with a hint of confusion. "It gets up to 128 degrees in Vegas."

"It's a dry heat."

"It's still hot enough to make owning a stove optional."

"I like Vegas, plus my mom and dad stay there. They wish I would move out there with them."

"Well Jim, they are getting older."

"So am I."

They shared an awkward silence. "I like Vegas," Carla said.

"Me too, I miss visiting my mom and dad."

"Why did you stop?"

"My mom is a police officer, and my dad is a retired firefighter. In other words, they don't approve of how I earn a living."

"Earn a living doing something else."

"Only if it were that easy."

"Jim, it is that easy," Carla pled. "You're halfway there with that job at the biotech firm."

"I may want out, but the street determines who gets out and who gets put out, not me."

Carla inched closer to Jim. "We didn't survive all the craziness this past year for nothing. If anyone can get out alive, it's you."

Jim stood up and slowly walked to the bedroom door as if he wanted to exit. He stopped and turned toward Carla. "Okay, why did you come with me to Memphis?"

"You told me to."

"But you could have gone elsewhere once we made it down here safely." He said as he inched toward her.

"As much as I disliked you, you provided me with a link to home."

Jim sat on the bed, reached for Carla's hand and held it. "No matter the reason, I appreciate you staying down here with me. I'm not the most personable fella you've met."

"But you are the biggest asshole I've met." She smiled.

Jim hit her with a pillow. "Stay in your place woman," he said in a deep, exaggerated voice.

Carla crouched down between her legs, holding her left eye.

"Carly?"

No response.

"Carly, are you okay? Did I hit you in the eye?

No response.

Jim grabbed her, hugging her and comforting her. "Oh my God, Carla, I'm so sorry."

Carla uncurled her body and started tickling Jim. He fell down to the bed, wiggling and laughing uncontrollably. "Carla, stop it... ha ha ha... please... stop."

She continued tickling him, enjoying the spectacle of Jim squirming. Jim corralled her by the waist and rolled her over to the other side of the bed. Now he got on top of her and returned the favor.

"Jim, this is so unfair... ha ha ha."

"How do you like me now?"

"I got you where I want you, Jim." She tickled his rib cage, laughing at each jerk of his body.

After a while, Jim grabbed both of Carla's wrists and pinned them to the bed.

She smiled. "Game over huh?"

"I guess so."

Carla let out an awkward laugh as they looked into each other's eyes. "Now what?"

Jim smiled. "I don't know."

Carla saw Jim flash a smile, but saw more in his eyes. This was the first time she could see beyond his exterior. His eyes had a child-like innocence to them. They were inviting, yet she wasn't sure if what she saw matched what was real. She never could tell with Jim. Capricious by nature he was, and she did not want to guess wrong, so they remained in their respective positions for a few moments. No one said a word, both of them not sure what to do next.

"I'd never thought I'd say this to you, Jim."

"What?"

"You are really bashful." She giggled. "Jim Money, the womanizing, gambling kingpin of the south side is really a shy, bashful man. And he's ticklish too, ha ha ha haaah."

Jim smiled to hide his embarrassment, but his cherry red face revealed it. "Shut up, Carla."

"Jimmy is bashful," Carla sung. "Jimmy is bashful."

Jim tickled her again for a brief moment. She yelled and giggled like a schoolgirl. "Jim stop."

They both shared a laugh, then silence. He grabbed Carla's wrists and pinned them down in the same position as before, but this time he didn't restrain her, and she didn't resist. His hands interlocked with hers. Their eyes met again before they kissed.

Chapter 8

Six weeks of surveillance finally paid off. Jim and Frank finally knew enough components of Don's business to hurt him. They knew where Don stored his product, who collected money from the prostitutes, and who shook down regional dope distributors. Steve was purposely separated from the planning phases as Jim ordered him and Bones to be on call at any moment. This lasted the entire six weeks.

Frank and Carla's uncle Pete worked in tandem to go to one of the distribution warehouses that Don used as a front for his illegal rackets. This was also where he liked to hold his stolen goods until they were ready to be moved. Frank and Pete's job was to pull the trailers from the dock using phony pull-spot work orders where they would pull the trailers and spot them an empty replacement. The trailers that held the valuables would be pulled to an undisclosed location where Frank and Pete's men would break in the trailers and steal everything they could get their hands on. The plan was to get in and get out of Don's Bridgeport warehouse without a hitch, but Jim gave them the go ahead to shoot everyone that belonged to Don's organization, but to leave the civilian workers unharmed. Frank and Pete served as the drivers of two tractor trailers. Their foot soldiers were the driver helpers. Jim contracted a hacker to break into Don's inventory and create phony pull spot orders.

Pete and Frank presented their respective pull spot orders to the dock supervisor. They got the paperwork signed off and they pulled the trailers they wanted. Two more tractor trailers backed into the dock with two riding in the cab of each cab and two inside of each trailer. Frank's men held the security officers hostage and forced them to erase the surveillance tapes and to pull the fire alarm. All the employees evacuated, except for the managers who were also involved in Don's criminal business. The two tractor trailer drivers uncoupled the empty trailers, and coupled the next remaining trailers. A wise guy manager yelled to one of the drivers that the building had been evacuated and that he needed to go to the safe zone. When the driver didn't comply like a regular driver would, he realized that this was a heist. He yelled over the loudspeaker that they had company before catching several bullets in his torso. A couple dozen of Don's men drew their weapons to take out the driver, but the two trailers opened and they unloaded a flurry of bullets. Thirty seconds of gunfire followed by an eerie silence. Each of Don's men lay in his own pool of blood. None of Don's men survived. The gunmen ran on foot to vehicles awaiting them past the guard shack. They escaped, while the other two drivers drove through the yard with the remaining two trailers of merchandise and out the lot onto the highway, leaving several half empty trailers, shell casings, bullet holes, and bodies strewn everywhere.

###

As instructed, Bones sat on a park bench at Garfield Park waiting for a black Cadillac sedan to pick him up at noon. Not a second ticked pass 5:00 pm when a black Cadillac pulled in front of Bones. Next to him stood James who had grown four inches taller in the past year and a half. Jim, who sat in the backseat, instructed the limousine driver to open the rear passenger door on the right side. Another man sat in the front passenger seat. Jim's driver let down the automatic back window.

Bones started to draw his weapon, but James had already brandished his weapon. "I don't think you wanna do that, B."

"You double crossed me," Bones said.

"Naw, man you know what it is," James said. "Give me your gun and get in the fucking car."

###

They rode to an undisclosed warehouse, with James still holding a gun to Bones' head, Jim on the opposite side. Now parked behind the warehouse, Jim ordered everyone to stay in the car. He and Bones got out. Jim instructed the men to give James a ride home, for he needed Bones to stay and supervise the warehouse. Both Jim and Bones walked to the loading dock, where Steve, Frank and Pete supervised the unloading of the trailers. Once they were on the dock, the overhead dock doors automatically lowered behind them.

"How long are you gonna keep that gun on me?"

"For as long as it takes for you to tell me why you were going to shoot me."

"Man, you crept up on me and I saw two other men in the car," Bones explained. "I thought y'all were gonna do a drive by."

"Next time you do some shit like that, I'll have Frank to kill you and Steve to eat the flesh off your bones." Jim laughed.

Bones returned a nervous laugh.

"Jim, we got four truckloads," Steve yelled.

The two men walked to the trailer where Steve stood. "What we got?"

"They got brown, green, white and pills too," Steve whispered with excitement. "Jim, this is a dope dealer's dream."

"Okay, we'll figure out what to do with that later," Jim said. "What else we got?"

"We got two trailers full of guns."

"Pete gets both trailers."

"Jim, they only took—"

"I said Pete gets two trailers."

"But I—"

"Steve, I don't care what side deal you made with whom. Pete better see these two trailers here tomorrow."

"I think we'll take 'em tonight," Pete said.

"Listen to me Pete. You need to get two semi-trucks with 40-foot trailers down here tomorrow morning. It's too risky to pull these trailers tonight."

Bones listened attentively, eager to get the information that he knew back to Don once he figured a way out of this warehouse alive. He envisioned what his empire would look like once Steve, Frank and Jim were out of the picture. Jim had other plans.

"I need you to remit payment for one-fourth the amount that you actually owe Don, and a body."

"What body?" Steve asked.

"Watch out, Jim," Pete shouted.

Before Jim could react, Bones delivered a hard elbow to his ribs and threw loose dirt in Steve's eyes before Frank approached. He decided that it would be smarter to outrun Frank's fat ass than to face him. Bones ran out the warehouse toward a dark road. Steve, struggling to regain his composure, gave chase on foot.

Jim lay on the ground clutching his ribs. "Pete, get the trailers out tonight."

"You need help, Jim?"

"What the fuck do you think?"

Pete helped Jim into the feeder truck, coupled his trailer and pulled off. A Cobra gang member coupled the second trailer and took off behind Jim and Pete. Frank and another gang member pulled the other two trailers. He took off in the direction Bones and Steve ran.

###

Bones ran into a dark forest preserve, and Steve followed from a distance of 20 feet. Only a handful of cars in the parking lot –they were harmless. In some vehicles perverted men masturbated to porn displayed on their portable DVD players. One man in the lot stroked off to child porn. In other vehicles, teens were having sex in the backseat of their parents' sedans. As he ran past those cars, Bones thought to himself that this would be a great place to hang out once he was out of harm's way. Plenty of potential prey, he thought. First, he would have to escape Steve's wrath. Bones continued to run across the grassy field until he no longer heard footsteps.

He found a ditch hidden beneath a dense patch of trees; he hid there cursing himself for handing over his gun to James earlier. Bones crouched in a fetal position as he listened for the sounds of footsteps. Instead, he heard the sounds of frogs, owls, and garden snakes. The uneasy calm unnerved him. Bones was usually a calm, resourceful man, but never had he faced such a dangerous situation. Most of the harm that he'd inflicted had been under carefully planned, covert setups. He was always the wolf in sheep's clothing as he assassinated his opponents unexpectedly. In reality, he had the heart of a mustard seed and now he was crossed into the uncharted territory of being the one who was being hunted under the dark autumn sky.

Bones heard a sound; he flinched as some leaves rattled. The sound got closer and closer to the ditch. His life depended upon him making the right decision. Would he hide and hope that Steve didn't find him, and risk being caught in a defenseless fetal position? Would he run aimlessly in an unfamiliar area? Sure he knew that he was in a forest preserve between Schaumburg and Buffalo Grove, Illinois, but how far was the other side of the forest preserve? What did it lead to? It didn't matter, he heard that sound again. This time a quick rattle of the leaves echoed as he sat in that ditch defenseless. He decided to attack as the sound approached. Then, he felt something grab his left leg. Bones jumped straight up and used his right leg to kick in that direction. It was a rabbit, which escaped unscathed while his heart beat as if it could leap out of his chest.

He was alone. No Don to protect him, and no Jim; just him, the woods, earth dwelling critters and his fears. Bones stayed in the ditch for a half hour. His heart rate had slowed down, the adrenaline had come and gone. Now it was time to get out of the woods. Only uncouth animals could survive out there he thought, but he planned a late-evening return to find a teen girl to fuck. Walking toward the parking lot, he envisioned the possibility of victimizing one of those comely teens. He loved jamming his extra medium dick into preteen and teen girls against their will. The more they fought, the more joy he felt in molesting them. His fantasy was interrupted by a hard tackled to the ground.

Bones felt three crushing blows to his face.

"You dumb fuck, you threw dust in my eyes."

"But—"

"I see I can't trust you."

"You were going to kill me."

"No fuck head, I was going to kill Jim, remember?"

"That's not how it looked in the warehouse," Bones explained. "This gangbanger kid took my gun from me when Jim arrived and you all surrounded me."

"I should have known that you were nothing but a damn coward."

"We had no plan in place," Bones shouted. "Jim just called me and told me to meet him at the park."

"He does that to everyone, that's why you gotta think on your toes when it comes to Jim," Steve shouted. "I couldn't kill him in that warehouse because he had a bunch of guys with him that I'd never seen before."

"Jim always keeps an ace in the hole. He thinks that no one can get to him, but we can get to him."

"Bones, you're gonna have to cool out for a while."

"You need to keep a lower profile than me. Of all people, you all pulled a heist on Don Carson. He's got the mayor in his pocket. You know he's the one who really got the power."

"All of that means nothing to Jim whenever someone crosses him. You're on the top of his shit list right now."

"You listen to me, if you and I walk out of here with our deal still intact then we can get Jim out of our hair for good. See that heist he pulled. Jim will never get away with killing a bunch of made men. I'm going to give his ass up, where he lives, everything."

"Knowing Jim, that place no longer exists."

"My men were able to find his Memphis residence before," Bones said. "We can find him again."

"Yeah, and the men who found him are fertilizing Tennessee's soil."

"What are you saying, Steve?"

"You better damn sure know what you're doing when it comes to Jim."

"Once we get Jim out the picture, everything will be gravy, you'll see."

"What about Don?"

"Jim told you to send him a body, right?"

Steve looked toward the parking lot; his blood boiled with anger. One car remained: the child porn guy. "Yeah?"

Bones having now recovered his placidity said, "What are we waiting for?"

"I gotta call Jessica."

"For what?"

"To let her know that I'm bringing home dinner."

"We can't make any stops."

"I know."

"Then—"

"Don't ask." A sinister look surfaced.

"Let's get to it."

Chapter 9

Don stayed awake all night trying to get in touch with his underboss and caporegimes also known as his captains. He instructed his consigliore to arrange an emergency meeting at Abbey's Pub to determine who was involved in the heist and what to do about the snitches and the ones who actually pulled the heist. His consigliore called hourly to inform Don that he wasn't able to get in touch after sending someone to call and visit their homes. After six hours had passed, Don's worst fears came to fruition. All the mob captains were murdered courtesy of the 59th Street gang that James belonged to. This was worse than the heist. His captains were responsible for generating money through running drug, gambling, and prostitution rackets. The heist only shut down his warehouse, but murdering the captains would cripple his business as he envisioned foot soldiers killing each other to take the five vacant spots.

He assumed that Jim was behind the massacre, but he wasn't sure because Jim never had the muscle to pull off that kind of job. Not to mention that Jim was never known to be a gangster of any sort. In fact, Jim had a reputation for avoiding violence, but Don knew that he was capable of pulling off such a sophisticated crime provided that he had the resources. He was still unsure because Jim hadn't done business in Chicago for over a year and he seemed to have no interest in his own business.

Don respected Jim for delivering the south side vote the mayor needed during a tightly-contested election. He simply convinced the neighborhood drug dealers and gang leaders in each south side neighborhood that it was in their best interest to initiate a voter registration drive and to carpool the elderly to the polls. In exchange for his services, Jim brokered a deal where he received a large sum of money and an agreement where he wouldn't cannibalize his gambling racket for as long as his business remained south of Bridgeport. Occasionally, Jim would pay Don a commission to collect unpaid debts, and use his connections with the mayor to have the police department do surprise drug busts on the gangs who leaned on him to pay for protection. Don knew that he was smart. He saw Jim as a capable underboss, but he wasn't Irish and the captains and soldiers would resent him for not making his bones in Don's family.

Jim wouldn't have taken his offer anyway. He detested prostitution and dope, despite having baited and switched many dope dealers himself, but he saw that as more of a con than actual drug dealing. He would get someone to rob the biggest neighborhood distributors one at a time, usually a dealer from another side of town. Most of these dealers bought drugs in large quantities on consignment. Usually a day after the robbery, Jim, Steve and Frank would break into the dealer's house, strip him down naked, tie him up, and say that someone ordered them to kill him. Steve would fire up a blow torch for added effect. He'd tell the dealer that he could either carry out the hit and collect the kill fee, or he could pay for protection on a weekly basis and live. Every dealer chose the latter, and all of the dealers revealed that they owed money to their supplier. He took care of those favors out of his cut from the robbery. The dealer who committed the robberies made a lot of money (free drugs to sell, all profit) and Jim made even more money providing false protection. The ones who stopped paying got raided. He paid a third party to snitch the dealer out.

Jim never needed Don, for he made plenty of money on dogs, ponies, sports, cards, craps, roulette and shylocking. Jim, however, did not have the same muscle as Don because his organization was smaller than Don's. His ability to think his way out of potential turf wars enabled him to do more with less which is what Don respected from afar. After contemplating the possibilities, Don took a three-hour nap before being awakened by two of his own men.

"Don, you should take a look at this package."

"Then what the hell am I paying you two for?"

"It has a note in there."

Don snatched the note and read aloud, "I have remitted payment for our previous loan. This makes us even. Regards, SSS." He looked at the package. It was a trunk with a suitcase on top and the mutilated body of the pervert on the bottom, hacked to pieces. The suitcase contained only one-fourth of the money owed. This unnerved Don, but now he knew that the package came from SSS –South Side Steve. It was now time for his underboss to figure out who his new captains would be.

Jim Returns to Memphis

Chapter 10

Carla flipped through the channels, and then stopped at CNN. The leading story caught her attention. Twenty-four killed in a massacre at a warehouse in Chicago. Don Carson gave his statement and so did the mayor of Chicago. Jim walked in the door shortly after.

"Jim, tell me you weren't involved in this."

"Carla, turn the TV off."

"How could you?"

"Carla, don't ask me about my business."

"You cold-hearted bastard, how could you?"

"I told you not to ask about my business."

"We have a child on the way and you're out here killing people."

"Carla, do you think I want to do this?" Jim shouted. "I had no fucking choice."

"Sure you did, Jim. You could have not gone to Chicago. You could have told those guys thanks, but no thanks. You could have just stayed here with me. Now your life's in danger. Don't you understand that?"

"More than you know, but I do what I have to do."

"I don't understand you."

"I don't expect you to, dear."

"You are a very smart guy. You can be anything you want to be and you chose to kill people."

"That's enough," Jim shouted. "I don't want to hear another word from you. I told you before that I'm going to do things that you won't like to serve a bigger purpose. I told you I needed you to trust me."

"I do trust you."

Jim shot a cold stare into Carla's eyes. "Don't insult my intelligence. If you don't want to be with me, that's fine, leave. I don't want you to, but I understand if you choose to do so."

"I don't want to leave you, Jim. I want you to see our child grow up. I want you to be at the graduation. Jim, I need you to be a father and raise your son into a real man."

Jim's heart softened. "It's only been a few weeks. How do you know it's a boy?"

She embraced Jim. "I just know."

He hugged her, tears silently streamed down his face. "I love you, Carla."

"I love you, too, Jim."

"You scared me Carla."

"Why?"

"Because I thought you were going to leave me."

"No Jim, I need you. I get so scared for you every time you go to Chicago. It's safer in Afghanistan than it is there."

"It sure seems that way."

"I just can't understand how I can scare you, but Don Carson doesn't."

"Because I'll walk to Don Carson, hand him my weapon and let him kill me right on the spot if you were to ever walk away from me."

"Jim, you're really a softie."

"So is your booty."

She giggled. "You like me even if I'm preggy?"

They kissed. "Yes, even if you are preggy."

"And here I thought I would have to go nine months without."

Jim guided her hand down where he wanted it. "Does this feel like I can wait nine months?"

"Jim, you mannish boy!"

###

Carla laid her head on Jim's chest as he stroked her long, thick hair. She was beautiful, and he pinched himself to make sure that he was really this lucky. Carla kissed his chest and smiled to herself. She knew that Jim wasn't perfect, but none of that matter. For the first time she felt like she had her man all to herself.

"Jim, I want to lie like this until we get old."

"Okay, we must promise that we will never start smoking cigarettes."

"You know what I'm talking about, Jim," Carla whispered. "They're going to come after you."

"No they won't," Jim said. "But Steve is going to get killed."

"How can you be so sure?"

"He's desperate for money, so I loaned him some money to get the games back running. I gave up my control of the south side to him."

"I can't believe you would do such a thing."

"I thought you wanted me out."

"I do, but I don't believe that you laid down to him."

"Steve is still facing an appeal for assaulting that child molester. If his conviction isn't overturned, he'll be in the penitentiary for 10 years."

"What do you think is going to happen?"

"He'll probably get a reduced sentence."

"Then what?"

"He's probably going to get killed before then."

"I don't know why I feel scared for him. He tried to kill us."

"Because you loved him once—"

"But I love you, Jim."

"I know you do, but you and Steve will always share a bond despite not wanting to have anything to do with him anymore."

"So how do you think he's going to be killed?"

"I don't know how, but I know why."

"Tell me."

"I can't."

Business in Chicago

Chapter 11

"Don, I have some important information for you."

"Bones, I can't talk right now. Why don't you meet me at my diner where I normally sit?"

"What time?"

"Meet me in an hour."

###

"I'm here to see, Don."

Bones absorbed a hard punch to his stomach as two men grabbed him by his arms and carried him to Don's table. The workers closed the blinds, flipped the sign on the door to CLOSED, and pulled down the shade. Not a ray of sunshine was left in the restaurant.

"Don, tell these guys I'm a friend of yours."

"No friend of mine murders my men in cold blood."

"What are you talking about?"

"You pulled the heist," Don shouted. "All my captains are dead. Their money? Gone. My warehouse men, dead. My shipment, gone. You were double crossing me the entire time, weren't you? You son of a bitch."

"No, it was Jim," Bones ratted. "Jim set everything up."

Frank's voice boomed from the adjacent hallway leading to the bathroom, "Don, I told you this fucking prick was going to lie about it. This fuck blames it on Jim of all people. That's classic, blaming a coward who's been out of town for almost two years."

"Frank you were involved, too. You unloaded the trucks."

"This, my friends, is what a bitch sounds like when she's on her deathbed."

"Why are you lying on me?" Bones asked, hyperventilating "Frank, you know that you Jim and Steve were the ones who pulled that heist."

Frank delivered a hard punch to Bones' face. "Shut the up, you fucking child molester." Steve revealed himself; he walked in from the kitchen with a fork and a knife.

Bones turned silent.

"Yes Bones, I know you were the one who raped my daughter, you fucking pervert," Frank said. "The reason I haven't killed you is because you've been hiding from me, you little fuck."

"So you like to fuck little girls in your spare time, eh?" Don asked.

Tears rolled down Bones' eyes, "No."

Don circled around Bones and gave him a cold stare. "Then why did you molest Frank's daughter?"

"I didn't—"

"Don't fucking lie to me Bones," Don shouted, spitting in his face. "I have a daughter. Do you know how angry it makes me that scum like you is still breathing?"

"Sit him down and handcuff him," Don instructed.

Don approached Bones and got close enough to his face for their noses to almost touch. "Bones, one thing I can't stand is a child molester. To be in the presence of one makes me sick to my stomach, and for you to double cross me and think I wouldn't find out is gross and insulting. If it were up to me, I'd kill you myself, but I'm a father and I promised Frank that I'd let him deal with you himself."

"But since I'm a nice guy," Frank said, "I'm going to let Don in on the action."

"Uncuff him, and hold his left hand on the table," Don said.

"So you lied to me all this time?" Steve asked. "Stole the shipment that I had as a gift to Don, raped Frank's daughter, and now you're pinning your heist on me. I should have known something was up when you told me that you were going to own the South Side. I remember when you told me that you thought that Don was way past his prime and that you were going to steal Bridgeport from him. That's what you told me in that elevator at that hospital, the same day you tried to make a deal with Frank to get rid of me."

Bones let out a loud scream as Steve jammed the knife through Bones' hand, nailing it to the table. Don revealed a hunting knife. "You know what they do to people who steal and double-cross in other countries? I'll give you a clue."

Don sliced his left finger off. Bones screamed in agony and the blood gushed from the spot where his finger used to be. Don did the same with the middle finger, then the ring finger, the pinky, and finally his thumb. Despite the bloody mess, Don took great pleasure in amputating all the fingers on his left hand. He repeated the same process on his right hand. Frank unwrapped a 9-inch dildo from its box and jammed it in Bones' mouth. He finished him off with a mallet, knocking the dildo further into his mouth until Bones choked on it. Frank broke his eye-socket for overkill and walked away. Steve prepared to take dinner home to Jessica.

"Frank," Don called out.

He turned around.

"Keep in touch."

Four Years Later

Chapter 12

James pointed a gun at Jim's head. Carla lay next to Jim, afraid for her life. "I need you to tell me the truth, and I need you to do it now."

"Put the gun down," Jim said, "and I'll tell you whatever you need to know."

"No, I'm gonna keep it where it's at."

"Please put the gun down," Carla begged.

"This a conversation between me and Jim."

"Carla, it's okay. It's just a misunderstanding."

The morning sun shined through the bedroom window pane, shining directly on James' face. Jim could visually see his life flashing before his eyes, only that it was the beaming sun that was more fitting for a Saturday morning of waffles, turkey sausage links and orange juice. Instead, the possibility of death stared him in the face; both James's teary eyes and the barrel of Jim's glock.

"Did you kill my brother that night?"

"What night?"

"Don't lie to me. Did you kill my brother?"

"No."

"Then why do you have his watch in your jewelry chest."

Carla cut in, "Because we found him dead in Jessica's house."

"Carla, what the fuck you—"

"Jim, he's got a gun to your head and he deserves to know what happened," Carla shouted.

James lowered the gun to his side and started crying.

Jim carefully tossed the covers to the side and sat straight up in the bed with his feet now flat on the ground facing James. "Hey, I'm sorry, but I didn't know how to tell you."

"I deserved to know, Jim," James said.

"And you need to keep your ass out of the penitentiary. Don't you see what happened to Steve? He went to jail for some dumb shit that he should have avoided."

"The only good that came from that is that I was able to divorce him while he was doing time. This enabled us to get married," Carla interjected.

"Who killed my brother?"

Jim stood up to face him. "James, don't—"

"Jim, I love you like my father, but I'm only gonna ask you one more time. Who killed Chuck?"

"Steve."

"What?"

Tears streamed down Jim's face as he recalled what happened. "He killed him and ate the flesh off his body."

James cried as he processed what Jim told him. "I'm gonna go to Chicago and I'm gonna kill that motherfucker tonight."

"That's not the answer, James."

"It's the only answer," he shouted.

Jim caught James off-guard and kicked the hand that held the weapon. James dropped the gun as Jim's foot jammed his hand. He hopped around as the pain throbbed in his foot. James pushed him into the wall and charged forward. Jim fell to his knees, grabbed James' legs and wrestled him to the ground.

"You unappreciative fuck, as much as I've done for you. I should kill you right now." They fought for a few more moments before Carla stood over them with the glock.

"Boys, it's time to shake hands and make up."

"He just pulled a fucking gun on me," Jim said. "I've been taking care of this motherfucker for the past four years and he pulls a fucking gun on me."

"You only did it out of guilt."

"That's not true and you know it," he shouted.

"I know that was my reason, Jim, and deep down inside, it was your reason, too."

Tears rolled down Jim's eyes.

"Is it true? Is this why you assumed guardianship and moved me all the way down to Arizona?"

"That was one reason. Another reason is that if you had kept running with that 59th Street Gang, you would either be dead or in jail."

"I would have rather stayed."

"You're full of shit. You know you like high school and college down here a lot better."

"Yeah, but none of that replaces Chuck."

"Chuck was going to be killed sooner or later."

"I remember when you told me that. I didn't know that it would actually happen."

The three of them shared an awkward silence.

What do we do from here?" Jim asked.

"I want to kill that motherfucker."

"We can't."

"But I can."

"Haven't you learned anything from me?"

"Yeah Jim, your MO is to always avoid violence. That's how Steve took your other bitch away from you."

Jim punched him, and then straddled him. "Don't you refer to her or any other woman as a bitch in my presence."

"Jim," Carla shouted.

"Carla, he needs to hear this."

"You don't need to beat him to say what you have to say."

He turned back to James. "As I was saying, Steve didn't take her from me. There's no such thing as taking a human being away from someone else. That's something you'll better understand as you get older."

"Jim, I'm going to kill him."

"I understand, but don't do so in my name. I'm not involved in that kind of business anymore," he shouted.

"You're a fucking coward."

"And you're going to be a dead motherfucker if you don't get your mind right."

Carla anxiously tried to break the tension with some sense of normalcy. "Guys, let's have breakfast first."

"No, I don't want this fucking thug in the presence of my children."

"Jim, stop it."

He looked at his wife. "I guess he isn't the only thing that I should have left in Chicago."

Chapter 13

The entire family made an attempt to enjoy breakfast in the dining area overlooking the community swimming pool. Every member of their household sat at the dining room table awaiting breakfast, with Carla being the exception. She cooked and prepared the meals in the adjacent kitchen, her favorite room in the house. Unlike the house that she shared with her ex-husband Steve, this kitchen was equipped with hardwood floors, granite countertops, a stainless steel refrigerator and matching stove. She beamed with prided every time she cooked in her state of the art kitchen.

The family appeared as if they were having their routine breakfast. Their son Jim Jr. requested turkey bacon, turkey sausage, toast and grits as he patterned his favorite meal after his father's. Their one-year-old daughter Jaime had half a waffle, two strawberries and whipped cream. James only wanted a sandwich, and Jim wanted his usual breakfast with a piece of mind. This meal would be anything but normal.

Carla prepared the children's meals first; a departure from her usual routine where she would always prepare Jim's food first. He noticed, but chose not to object. Then James got his sandwich, and Jim finally got his meal: burnt toast, cold instant oatmeal, and a tube of yogurt.

Before he could raise an objection, James got up to get some orange juice. James' phone vibrated. Jim took the phone and read the text message. It was from Jessica. He slid the phone in his blue jeans pocket. James came back to the table as everyone started to eat breakfast. Carla prepared a wonderful breakfast for everyone –except Jim of course—but the meal was overshadowed by an awkward silence. The tension reached its boiling point ten minutes later.

Jim held the cell phone in his hand. "Why is Jessica texting you?"

"Gimmie, my motherfucking phone."

Jim delivered a hard slap to James face. "Motherfucker, you ain't running shit in my house. Carla and I are the only motherfuckers who get to cuss in this motherfucker. Now why is Jessica contacting you? How did she get your cell phone number?"

"Jim," Carla shouted as the young children began crying.

James looked down at the floor then launched a sucker punch. Jim dodged and landed a right cross to his face followed by a left hook. He then unleashed a flurry of punches on James for which his target had no answer for. James tried to overpower Jim by charging into him, but Jim sidestepped, then grabbed James and used his momentum against him and threw him against the refrigerator. Jim unleashed more punches before Carla pushed Jim off James. Seeing an opportunity, James pushed Carla out of his way before throwing a wild punch toward Jim's face. His punch connected, with the hard tile floor. James yelled in pain.

"Stop it," she shouted. "Junior and Jaime are crying because of you."

"Whose side are you actually on?

"How dare you ask that question?"

"I think it's a fair question," Jim said. "All morning you've been riding my ass like a bull at the rodeo."

"I refuse to have this conversation in front of the kids."

Jim picked up the bowl of cold oatmeal and heaved it. "Then I refuse to eat this shit that you call breakfast." Chunks of oatmeal smeared against the cherry wood cabinets.

"I'm done with your unappreciative ass."

"Then do what you gotta do."

James was still on the floor favoring his hand. He said, "I think I gotta go to the hospital. I can't move my hand."

"Quit crying like a little bitch and get the fuck up," Jim shouted.

"Jim, stop it," Carla shouted.

"Fuck you and him."

"Jim, we don't have time for you to be such an asshole," she shouted. "He's really hurt. We gotta take him to the hospital."

"You take him to the hospital. I'm done with both of you."

"Jim, you're the one who vouched for him to stay with us. If anyone should drive it should be you."

"Fine, I'll drive." Jim kicked James's leg. "Get the fuck up."

"I'll help James. Jim, you get the kids in the car."

"Why are you going?"

Carla looked toward James and his swelling hand. "Do you really need to ask?"

"Never mind."

Chapter 14

Jim parked the SUV in front of the emergency room entrance to let everyone out before finding a place to park. Instead of getting the children out of the car, Carla suggested that he wait at the entrance until she got James checked in with the nurse. Two minutes later, she came out the hospital and walked to Jim's driver side door. "Can I trust you not to kill the boy?"

"Sure you can."

"I'm asking because I don't think the kids should be in the waiting room with all those sick people."

"Okay."

"Jim, I'm going to leave you here with James and trust that you won't hurt him more than you have already. Can I trust you?"

"Isn't marriage based on trust?"

"What are we going to do with James?"

"I don't know." Jim pondered. "I just thought that bringing him here in a new environment would change his perspective on life, but he is who he is."

"Jim, I admire you for wanting to take on that responsibility, but not everyone can be saved."

"Yeah, I see."

Jim stepped out of the vehicle, hugged and kissed his wife. "I love you, Carla."

"I love you, too." Carla closed the door and drove away.

Jim continued to look at the SUV as it drove down a narrow strip of road and out of the parking lot. He grabbed his temple with his thumb and middle finger and brought them together to rub his eyes in the process. Jim took a deep breath and went inside the emergency room where he saw a calmer James in contrast to the version he saw earlier that morning. He reached in his pocket; he still had James' phone. His thumb navigated the menu as he reread Jessica's text message. James looked toward him, but did not appear to be interested in another battle. Jim felt talkative.

"Hey, what the nurse say?"

"Someone will be out to look at my hand."

"I've heard that before."

"I hope this don't cost me my season." James said, referring to his safety spot on the University of Arizona Wildcats football team. "We already began our spring scrimmages."

"You'll be fine, you're out there hitting people, not throwing the ball."

"I play both quarterback and safety, remember?"

"Yeah, I do, but you're really a safety."

"No, I'm a dual threat."

"Let's see what the NFL scouts say in two years."

"I'm gonna tell you what they gonna say." James paused. "James Dixon is the best quarterback in the country. I'm going #1 overall in the NFL draft."

"Not if you're doing stupid shit like this."

"Coach is going to kill me. He probably gonna sit me 2nd string behind that big lanky motherfucker from Nebraska."

"Joe Cornhusker?"

"Yeah, that's him."

"Dude was a stud in high school, I saw him play a few times on the feature ESPN high school games."

"You saw him in person, too, remember?"

"Oh yeah, that's the only time ESPN had ever been to Cactus High."

"I threw for 700 yards that game."

"But he won the game."

"Jim, why you always so hard on me? You never give me any props for nothing I do."

He saw the moisture forming in his eyes. This altered his response. "You right, you had a hell of a game, too."

"It's not about the game," James said. "It's everything. No matter how hard I try, my best is never good enough to you."

Jim softened his voice. "You're right. I am hard on you because I know you can do a hell of a lot better than how you're acting. But I've always been proud of you."

Tears streamed down his cheeks. "Really?"

"Yes."

"Jim, I ain't mean to come at you like I—"

"Yes you did," he interrupted. "Otherwise you wouldn't have done it, but I forgive you."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

James paused for a few moments in disbelief. He had always thought that Jim was hard on him because he was an asshole, but that wasn't the case at all. He realized that Jim wanted him to strive to be the best man he could be. Before he met Jim, he had experienced a lifetime of neglectful parents and immature brothers. For the first time, he felt loved. He now understood why he tried so hard to win Jim's approval.

Jim handed James' phone back to him.

He received the phone with his good hand and examined the gadget before looking toward Jim.

"I got something to tell you," James said. Jim's facial expression invited him to continue. "Remember that nonconference road game we had at the University of Illinois back in September?"

"Yeah, I remember."

"I went to Chicago after the game. That's when I got that 1-game suspension for missing the team flight."

"I remember that, but you told me that you were boozing and goofing off with the redshirt freshmen."

"I lied," James said. "I went to Chicago and visited my old neighborhood. I stopped by George's Chicken and ordered me a 7-wing with mild sauce. After I placed the order, I looked up and saw these dudes trying Jessica. She told them no, but they kept trying her. I recognized one of the cats from the 59th Street gang, the other two were new crash dummies, so I stepped outside and said what's up."

"Okay, go on."

"The dude that I went to school with recognized me, but ignored me like I was a goofy. I was gonna let it slide, but they kept coming at Jessica all disrespectful. I figured that her dude was in jail because they were gutter with it. I asked them to ease up on her because she was a lady, but they told me to stay outta nation business. I told them that ain't nation business, but they told to me stay out of it. I was going to until one of them got bold and smacked her on the ass. After that, she knocked the shit outta the guy I grew up with."

"Damn," Jim said. "What happened next?"

"So one dude grabbed her and stood her up and the guy who got slapped started slapping her up and ripped her shirt and bra off while the other guy started toward his car, but had to run past me to get to it."

"I grabbed the dude and threw him headfirst into the George's chicken shack window. The other guy told me that I violated nation law by attacking dude and he ran up on me reaching. I kicked that hand and proceeded to kick his ass for a minute until the dude who was holding Jessica came after me and took a potshot at me. Now I'm struggling with these two dudes until I hear three gunshots. I just knew that I was dead until the two dudes that I was fighting with fell to the ground. Jessica shot all three of them in the head and got me the fuck outta there."

"And you ain't say anything to me about this?"

"I ain't want you to be all in my case. Besides, I took care of it."

"And this is why she told you that I knew what happened to Chuck."

James wiped his forehead with his good hand. "Part of it," he said. "She needs help."

"That's why she sent that last text?"

"Yeah, she told me that she wants out of her relationship with Steve and that she needs my help. I told her that I couldn't help her. She told me that if I ain't gonna help, that she was gonna report me to the NCAA because she bought me a plane ticket to fly back."

"Fucking opportunist, taking advantage of you."

"That ain't all. She also told me that Steve had gone to war with some mob guy over his territory. He got Steve put in jail for some case, but his team kept the war going with the mob guy."

"How? If Steve's in jail, they don't have any money to go to war."

"I don't know."

"Unless... Whatever the case, we gotta move again."

"What? I can't leave the University of Arizona."

"You can if you wanna stay alive."

"Jim, you don't think..."

"Yes, the syndicate knows where he can find us," he said. "I gotta go. Call me when they treat that hand."

Chapter 15

Jim called for a taxi and ordered for the driver to take him to his residence. Offended by Jim's arrogance and rudeness, the cab driver almost declined his request until Jim had gotten in the backseat and dropped two $100 dollar bills on the front seat.

"455 Deal Lane?" the driver asked.

"Yes, please."

En route to his destination, Jim's mind raced. _How can this guy be so stupid? He carries on a text relationship with this woman for six months knowing that people want to kill me. What a dumb fuck? No, I'm a dumb fuck for moving him down here with my family. Nonetheless, how could Steve continue the war –from jail of all places? Did he get out? Where did he get the money to..?_

Jim selected the phone number he wanted to dial from his address book. His call was picked up on the first ring.

"I didn't expect to hear you, it's been a while."

"Cut the chit chat and put down the donut."

Frank didn't bother to swallow his dessert first before speaking. "It's actually German Chocolate cake."

"I don't give a fuck about what you're eating, why are you bankrolling Steve?"

"I had to."

"Bullshit."

"Jim, we've been friends since college. With all due respect, you've known me long enough where you should be able to trust my judgment."

"Why didn't you tell me anything, Frank?"

"I didn't think I needed to. You've been in the desert for the past three years, you rarely check-in, and now that shit hit the fan, you wanna know what's going on."

"You're damn right I wanna know what's going on."

"If you'd bring your ass to Chicago more, you'd see that I had no other choice."

"There's always a choice."

"Look Jim, Don Carson was breathing down my neck. He already killed the heads of a few families. He's more powerful than ever."

"What does that have to do with Steve?"

"Steve followed me home and to the suburban gambling spot. It was either help him keep his, I mean your south side territory or risk Steve teaming with Don Carson and taking everything we've worked for out here."

"You are smarter than I give you credit for. Listen..."

"No, you listen," Frank shouted. "We need to kill..."

"Don't talk like that on these phones." Jim shouted. "We'll touch base once I touch down."

Jim hung up the phone and called Carla, no answer. He called several more times, still no answer. Shortly after his last call, Jim instructed the cab driver to circle the block, he did. He looked at his building and saw their SUVs parked in their reserve spot next to their other vehicle. Once the driver got back around the block, Jim instructed the cab driver to park in front of the SUV and to stay there until he crawled back in the car. He gave the driver three more $100 dollar bills and opened the back door. Jim crouched low and ran to the driver's side door, opened it, reached under the seat and grabbed two fully loaded glocks in their twin holster then crouched low and ran back to the cab.

"Drive to the end of the block and turn the corner."

"You're not going to..."

"Not at all. Just do as I say and keep your mouth shut when you drop me off. I'll tell you when."

The driver did as he was told and dropped Jim off about a half block after he turned the corner.

Chapter 16

Jim wore his twin holster underneath his sport coat and walked toward the block behind his house. He felt a sense of urgency as he swallowed the tense feeling of possible danger in the pit of his stomach. His forehead sweated, his legs felt as if they wobbled as he shook in his boots. The last time he felt this way, junior year of college.

He kissed his then-girlfriend Karen as she boarded a Greyhound bus headed for St. Louis so that she could catch a flight back home for their three-week long semester break. She flew to Los Angeles to be with her family for the holidays, and he took the train back to Chicago. He had kissed her hundreds of times before that day, but none lingered like the kiss they shared that day. Two weeks later, she was killed at a New Year's Eve gathering with friends. Her best friend's abusive boyfriend killed everyone in that apartment, including himself. Karen was only 19, and her friends were around the same age. She was on the women's cross country team and had just won the conference championship. She also qualified for the NCAA championship and placed 2nd.

Karen had a strong future ahead of her as a mechanical engineering major who excelled in her studies. He met her in cross country practice. Shortly afterwards, he fell in love with her and so did his parents. They met her at one of Jim's track meets in Carbondale, IL. Karen's parents were also there, and they too were fond of Jim. Her mother cried as she gave him the news of her death and asked him to be a pallbearer; he flew to LA the next day and stayed with her family for a week and kept in touch afterwards. He thought about the last kiss that he shared with Karen. Jim had no idea that it would be their last kiss.

Tears streamed down his eyes as he got closer to his building. He took the stairs to his penthouse suite. Upon his arrival, he saw that the door was open. He brandished one of his glocks. Jim held the weapon in a proper shooting stance, ready to exchange gunfire. He checked the bedrooms, bathrooms, kitchen, family room and the living room, no one. With exception of the front door being open, there were no signs of forced entry. Just a DVD on the coffee table. He slid it in the DVD player; Steve's face appeared.

"Jim, if you're watching this video it means that I was successful with my short-term plans. Yes, it's me. I got my wife and your children –just coming to reclaim what's mine and in the process lay down some ground rules. As you may have seen on the news, I've escaped the correctional facility where I've been housed for the past year. Does that ring a bell, Jim? Probably not. I want to believe that you didn't put any money in my commissary because you didn't know I was in jail and that you forgot, but my wife didn't forget.

"She divorced me while I was doing my bit and then you married her, but that's okay I forgive you. I'm sure you must be wondering, if Steve forgives me, why does he have my wife and kids? That's because I need money, Jim! I need your last six months' take in cash so I can skip town. Yes Jim, I know what you're thinking. That's a lot of money, but look at it this way. You'll get your family back in exchange for some money that you'll make back in no time.

"Do we have a deal, Jim? If so, meet me in Chicago in the next 24 hours. Call George's Chicken on 73rd & Halsted. We'll go over what needs to be done next. If I don't hear from you by 1pm central time tomorrow morning, I'm going to eat your youngest child first, then twelve hours after that, I will eat your first born then Carla. Think about that, Jim. Looking forward to your call."

Jim reached for his cellular phone. "Frank, it's Jim. It's time to reclaim the south side. I'll be on the first flight to Chicago."

"What about—"

"Frank, don't talk, just meet me at Flanigan's –and bring a few things."

Chapter 17

"James, I'm going to be in Chicago for a few days. Take the Wildcat express to your coach's house. Tell him you need to stay there for a few days. If he has any questions, tell him to call me."

Jim sent the text message from Sky Harbor International Airport. James called repeatedly, but he ignored the phone calls until he got tired of the phone vibrating. He answered the phone.

"Jim, I gotta come out there with you."

"James, I'll take care of it. Just take care of things here in Arizona. I'll be back in no time."

"Look, I saw the DVD. It's my fault that this happened. I shouldn't have been so stupid. Jim, you gotta let me fix it."

"James, I love you as if you were my own son. I'm telling you this for your own good. You got a bright career ahead of you as a NFL football player if you would just get your head on straight and practice. You don't need to get involved. Please, stay out of it and let me handle this my way."

James' voice cracked as he began to cry. "Jim, if anything happens to them or you--"

"Don't do that to yourself. I'm getting them out alive even if I have to die in the process."

"Jim, give me ten minutes," he shouted.

"James, if this is our last phone conversation I just want you to know that I'm proud of you and that I love you. Look after my wife and children. I have some petty cash in my closet until Carla can settle everything with my insurance policies and everything."

"Jim!"

He hung up the phone and booked the first flight departing to Midway Airport. The flight gave Jim a chance to think the situation through en route to his arrival. He thought some more once he landed in Chicago and took a cab to Flanigan's. In the rearview mirror, another cab followed closely. He zeroed in on it, but didn't see anyone riding in the backseat. Jim reached for his firearm, but it was in Arizona. This was one disadvantage in flying to Chicago—he was unarmed. He called Frank to confirm that he could make it to Flanigan's within 20 minutes. A half hour later, Jim arrived with the cab still following him.

"Pull over in front of Flanigan's."

The cab driver did as instructed, but the other cab drove past them and turned at the end of the block; this unnerved Jim.

"Okay sir, the fare due is on the meter," the cab driver said.

"Wait five minutes."

"Sir, I got other customer."

"I said wait five got damn minutes," Jim shouted. "Keep the meter running."

Jim handed the cab driver two $100 dollar bills. "Put that in your pocket. In five minutes, I'll pay the fare due, but don't ask any questions and don't speak to anyone asking about me."

He looked down the street where the trailing cab turned, but no one emerged. Jim waited the five minutes out, paid his fare and slid out of the back door and into Flanigan's. Behind him was a large glass window overlooking the street. He turned around and looked through it, but no one was approaching. He walked through the sports bar looking for Frank and glancing back at the window. He finally spotted him sitting at a corner booth in the back of the restaurant looking at a baseball game with a party platter of 50 wings, a bowl of mashed potatoes and a 2 liter Pepsi sitting in front of him. Sadly, he already ate fifteen of those wings. Jim approached his table.

"Who's leading?"

"Ah, the fucking White Sox are getting murdered by Kansas City."

"Again."

"You'd think those fucks would beat the pants off the Royals like the rest of the American League. I mean they're in fucking last place every year."

"Who you got action on?"

"The Royals."

"Then why are you upset?"

Frank grabbed two wings, one in each hand, and ate them at the same time, alternating hands in-between bites. "Because I'm a die-hard Sox fan. I'd like to see the Sox kick their ass for a season series at least once in my lifetime."

Jim reached for one of Frank's wings and ate. "Did anyone come through the door behind me?"

"No one since you came in."

"There was a cab that was following mine. When I pulled over in front of the restaurant, the other cab turned down the end of the block. He probably got out where I couldn't see him."

"Jim, you're paranoid."

"No, my wife and children got kidnapped out of our home so forgive me if I'm a little paranoid," he shouted.

"Oh my God, Jim. What do you need for me to do?"

"Did you bring those things I requested?"

"In the seat next to you."

Jim looked toward his left and saw what he was looking for. Two glocks in twin holsters. He slid off his sport coat and into the twin holsters, then he put his sport coat on under it and polished off seven more wings and poured some Pepsi into his glass..

"Jim, had I known you were this hungry, I would have ordered 50 more wings."

"I haven't eaten all day."

"Do you know who did it?"

"Steve."

"That fuck."

"He's going to be a dead fuck when I get to him."

"That's a bold move to kidnap your wife and children."

"He also demanded ransom."

"How much?"

"Six months' take on the games."

"He's gotta be out of his mind."

"No, he was out of his mind for fucking with my family, but this ain't some random shit. How much does he know about the games in the burbs?"

"Nothing."

"How does he know that I'm still alive?"

"You don't give the fucker enough credit for having some intelligence."

"Why don't you put his cock in your mouth and stroke his shaft while you're at it?"

"What are you suggesting?" Frank shouted.

"I don't know, tell me how much he knows."

"He knows nothing except your tendencies."

Jim held a wing to his mouth. "I don't follow."

"He knows that you aren't going to get out without an income. He also knows that you bought a penthouse suite somewhere in the desert."

"How?"

"I don't know."

"The only person who knew of my whereabouts would be you, Frank."

"What about that Cobra guy?"

"Pete knows, but he won't talk. Besides, I've been putting money on his books ever since he caught that bullshit case."

"What did he go to jail for?"

"They planted a gun and a few grams of coke on him."

"Damn."

"He's still doing what he has to do on the inside. I guess the only thing I can think of is someone intercepting one of Jessica's text messages or someone followed James down to Arizona."

"The kid's got a pretty high profile, anyone could have followed him. And you should see his Twitter account. The kid loves to tweet."

"Damn it, there's no privacy anymore."

"Look, he may not have even intended to give your whereabouts up, but they could have tracked your location on Twitter. Not to mention that his information is in U of A's college directory."

"Fuck a Twitter," Jim said. "What the fuck is a tweet anyway?"

"A message sent that's under 140 characters."

"A hundred-forty characters? What's the fucking point?"

"Come on, Jim, step into 2011 and quit acting like an old man. Hell, you're not even old."

"I just don't see how he could be so stupid with his tweet ass."

"He's a kid, all of his teammates tweet. Hell, his head coach has a Twitter account. I follow it."

"You got a fucking Twitter account."

"Yes Jim, you should create an account and follow me at BigEatin773."

"I'm not following no fucking Twitter and I'm not twittin' shit."

"It's tweet, Jim, tweet."

"Twit, tweet who gives a fuck? I got a MySpace account and that's enough."

"MySpace? Get out of 2005, and get you a twitter account. For fuck's sake, Jim, you don't even have a Facebook account."

"Look man, here's what I got. A crazy man who just broke out of prison who broke into my home and kidnapped my wife and kids and left a DVD threatening to eat my children if I don't cave into his demands."

"I seriously doubt that he would eat your children."

"Why?"

"Because he doesn't harm children, remember?"

"Damn it, you're right. The whole thing is a setup."

"Huh?"

"Think about it. He broke out of prison. Ain't nobody escaping in this modern age unless they have help on the inside."

"And no one on the inside is going to risk their job letting a motherfucker run."

"Unless that guy on the inside has the political connections to hush it up."

"Who could those corrections officers be connected to?"

"Either the governor or the mayor. Don Carson's in on this shit."

"Why?"

"There's a lot of money on the south side. Don has always wanted to take over my games, but I was always able to keep him at bay by not going to war with him. Now these two have teamed up to knock me out the picture because they figured out my strategy."

"Wait a minute Jim," Frank said. "I thought you didn't want anything to do with the south side. Isn't that why you took me off that territory?"

"Yes, but the real reason is that I didn't want you to get killed."

"What's changed now?"

"Don never recovered from that thing that happened years ago, and he's been paying out the nose to go to war with Steve who I thought would run out of money before it was all said and done, but somehow, he's been able to hang in for a few years.

"That's because I wanted them to spend each other out of power going to war, then I would come in and take over. It worked beautifully until he got sent to prison. His money ran out, Don's money was going toward the war. It only made sense for him to tell Don about that thing sometime back and that they could not only kill me, but to clean me out of my money and take over my territory too, all while sparing himself."

"Now what?"

"I'm getting my wife and children back tomorrow."

"You don't know where they are."

"But he does, and he'll lead me to them."

The Next Day

Chapter 18

Jim and Frank sat in a large black sedan parked a few blocks away from George's Chicken. "Steve is a former marine. He's going to manhandle you."

"I told you I'm acting alone," Jim said. "Do you have the trail car in place?"

"Yes."

"Did he see Steve walk inside George's Chicken?"

"Yes."

"I hope I'm right."

"Jim, we can turn around and rethink this at any time. Look, I'll pay his ransom demands if you decide to change your mind," Frank said.

"I'm not changing my mind."

"Jim, he'll fucking kill you."

He looked directly into Frank's eyes. "Let me ask you something. You know what it's like to be a father. To endure someone hurting your family." Frank's eyes watered. He thought about Frances.

"I know you know, and for the first time in my life, I know how you felt when –no I won't revisit that. My point Frank is that you and I both know that there's no room for rethinking. There is no turning back."

He looked at his hands, palms facing him as he responded. "It still doesn't change the past, Jim. I saw the look in that slimeball's eyes before he took his last breath. I smelled the fear as blood oozed from his amputated limbs. I could taste the sweet flavor of vengeance the moment he knew that his death was imminent, but when it was all over I still couldn't change what happened to Frances. I wish I was there to stop what happened to my baby, but Jim, you could die and Steve can have his way with your family."

"But if me getting killed spares my family from death, then that's the price I'm willing to pay. You understand that just as much as I do."

"Then it's my job to keep you alive."

Jim dialed Steve's phone number and spoke through an earpiece that doubled as stereo ear buds.

"You're cutting it pretty close. I guess you don't have much regard for your family."

"Cut the chit chat, where's my wife and children?"

"They're safe, now where's my money?"

"I got your money, now I want my wife and children safely returned to me, and you'll get your money."

"Jim, you don't make demands with me," Steve shouted. "Now you meet me at 63rd & Dorchester in 15 minutes. Carla and your children will be there, just make sure that the money is there also, or they die."

"In fifteen minutes you better have my wife and children there, and I'll give you your money."

"You better have it, or else your children won't live to see kindergarten."

Click

Jim played back the recorded phone conversation.

"We better hurry up and get there. We only got 15 minutes," Frank said.

"Hold tight."

"What do you mean hold tight, you heard the man?"

"Chill."

"But Jim—"

"Frank, don't say another fucking word," Jim said. "Call the trailer, and ask if he saw Steve leave out of George's. Put it on speaker."

He called as instructed. "Hey, did Steve leave out yet?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Hey, can you hear me?" Jim asked.

"Yes."

"Do you have a partner in the back of the restaurant?"

"Of course."

"Put him on 3-way."

The 1st trailer did as instructed. "Hey, did Steve leave out the back?"

"No."

"Okay, don't move until one of you sees Steve. Stay on the line until you see something."

"Copy that," 1st trailer said.

"That's a copy," 2nd trailer said.

Jim put his finger over his mouth to indicate that he wanted Frank to mute the phone; he did. "Just as I suspected."

"What do you mean?"

"He's not going to 63rd & Dorchester."

"Maybe they missed him, Jim."

"You think your guys would miss Steve leaving the restaurant? I highly doubt it."

"People make mistakes, Jim, we need to go to 63rd & Dorchester."

Jim unholstered his gun and drew it on Frank. "Look, you fat fuck, you're going to tell me why you want me to go to 63rd & Dorchester so badly. I know you're not dumb enough to drive me to my death, are you?"

"Put the gun down," he panicked. "I just want you to get your wife and children back."

"No, I think you know that this is a setup and you're part of it."

"That's bullshit, Jim. I'm the only person who's been loyal to you all these years, but you're getting more and more paranoid. Put the gun down, Jim, please."

"Give me your gun first."

"What?"

"Frank, you have five seconds to give me your gun."

He saw the look in Jim's face. Despite not being a natural born killer, he knew that Jim was serious. He handed him the gun. Jim looked at Frank then looked at his trigger finger; it was on the handle. Jim grabbed it by the barrel before looking into his sweaty face. He got the answer he needed. "Man, take the fucking gun back."

He took the gun and put it back in the holster. "Geez Jim, can you trust anyone?"

Jim shot back a blank stare for a few moments until one of the guys requested Frank.

"Yeah, go ahead," Frank said."

"Steve is leaving out the front entrance."

"Follow him," He said. "Do not let him out your sight."

"Copy that."

Jim started to un-holster his gun until he reached for it using his right hand. He looked at his right hand already holding his gun, then he looked towards Frank, to see if he had noticed. He regained his composure and focused on the road ahead.

"He's going southbound towards 74th Street," the trailer said. "Now he's making a left hand turn."

"Let me know if he makes any turns anywhere."

"That's a copy."

Frank and Jim drove down 69th Street hoping to come across Steve. The man trailing his vehicle updated Frank turn by turn. The last turns were a right at 74th & Eggleston and a left onto 75th Street. Steve drove into the east side of Chicago passing Jeffery Boulevard. Several blocks later, he made a right onto Essex Street and parallel parked in the middle of the block. The 1st trail car called the second car and instructed him to go down 76th Street and make a right onto Essex, he did. The 2nd car parked at the end of the block giving him a good view of the 7600 and 7700 blocks. Frank and Jim took South Chicago to 75th Street, and traveled east. They arrived shortly after Steve and the two trailers, and drove past Essex. They parked one block east on 75th Street.

Steve got out of the vehicle and walked north to 73rd Street. No one was positioned north of 75th Street. In hindsight, they would have positioned one car at 76th Street and one on 74th Street. Instead, Frank called his point of contact and instructed him to get someone over to 74th Street so they could see what house Steve would walk into. The second trail car drove north to 74th Street and then made a left onto Essex Street and parked. Frank and Jim drove to 73rd & Essex and found a parking space in the middle of the block. The initial trail car stayed at 75th & Essex and the driver got out of the vehicle and walked across the street to follow Steve.

Frank looked at Steve through his binoculars and he walked down the street. The 1st driver walked down the street until Steve entered a large red house near the corner of 74th and Essex. Jim took Frank's phone and sent a text message instructing him to enter through the alley and find the large red house that was two houses from the street corner. The driver parked on 74th & Essex was instructed to drive his car onto 73rd & Essex and park in Frank and Jim's spot to ride with them. He did as instructed and got in the car with Frank and Jim.

"You sure about this, Jim?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

"Make sure you kill that motherfucker."

"Frank, make sure that you keep the car running and the doors open," Jim instructed. "If anyone comes to your car that isn't me, the two drivers or my wife and children –shoot 'em."

Jim and the driver got out of the car and went to Steve's front door. The driver picked the lock and Jim pointed his gun toward the door. Jim and his accomplice walked through the living room at a slow pace, their weapons drawn. The other accomplice already picked his lock and walked through the backdoor and upstairs. They heard a single gunshot.

"I don't know if that was ours or his, but that didn't sound right."

"We don't have time to find out. Let's go downstairs and see if they're in the basement," Jim instructed.

"Copy that."

The two men had gone through the kitchen and found the door to the stairway leading to the unfinished basement. Jim's accomplice took a chair from the kitchen and opened the door; both men entered, and shut the door. Then he wedged the chair between the doorknob and the door. They ran downstairs to the echoes of Steve banging on the door. Jim stumbled over the last step and fell face first onto a warm body. It screamed in pain. He gathered himself then looked down at the body. It was Carla crying as she sat hunched over her two small children; they were alive.

"Jim, get us out of here."

"I'm trying," he said as he cut the rope.

"Try faster, dammit."

"Hey man, shoot at the fucking door," Jim yelled.

Jim received no response.

"He's been shot," Jessica yelled. She sat in a fetal position with her hands tied.

"You all go, go, go," Jim yelled. "Frank's waiting outside with his car running."

Carla carried both children out the basement door. Jim didn't remember opening it, and couldn't see how his wife opened the door, but she was out the door. He rushed over to Jessica and tried to untie her before she received a fatal shot to the heart.

"No, Jessica NO," Jim cried. Steve fired another shot, intentionally missing Jim.

"Ya know, Jim that was pretty clever of you to follow me all the way here. You found your wife, your children, so what, I'll get them again, and this time I will send them to heaven."

Jim started toward his gun, but thought better given that his gun was in a holster. He regretted laying his un-holstered gun on the ground to untie his wife and children. Steve taunted, "Is this what you're looking for hotshot?"

"Do what you got to do. I accomplished what I set out to do."

Steve put both guns on the ground. "Jim, I'm going to kill you, that's inevitable, but shooting you would be too far too easy."

"How you wanna do this?"

"In your ass, Jim."

"What?"

"I want to fuck, and I want your last sexual encounter to end with cum in your ass."

"I see that prison has really fucked you."

He approached. "No Jim, I always wanted to fuck you in your pretty ass," Steve said. "Now I'm going to get what I've always wanted."

Jim swung for his ribs, but Steve jump backwards and gave Jim a hard shot to his jaw, and another one to his ribcage, then he delivered more blows to his face before he pushed him against the concrete wall. Jim tried to fight, but he had no strength. Steve had knocked the wind out of him. He turned Jim around and reached for his belt buckle. Jim saw sunlight out of the corner of his eyes, but didn't remember any open windows.

Lord, is this what the path to heaven looks like, or am I going straight to hell?

Jim saw his life flashing before his eyes, then he heard a loud thud as Steve's grip around his waist loosened. He turned around and saw James standing over Steve holding a thick wood plank.

"Turn on your back, motherfucker," he shouted.

James kicked him in the ribs until he turned on his back. He hit Steve with the wood plank. Steve groaned in pain with each blow to his body.

"You killed my brother, now you want to kill the only family I got. It ain't gonna happen, Jack."

"James, chill with that fucking 2x4," Jim said.

"Naw Jim, he killed my brother, he kidnapped my family, and he was gonna kill you. This motherfucker gotta die."

"Listen to me, James," Jim pled. "This man is in bad shape right now. He ain't gonna fight you back, but take it from me, revenge is not worth it."

"What the fuck you mean it's not worth it?"

"Think about it, if you kill him now it would be justified, but then that's the end of the chapter. I think you'd let him off too easy killing him."

"What you expect me to do?"

"I expect you to give him the privilege of letting him suffer in prison for the rest of his life for killing those two men. Let this sit on his mind for the rest of his life."

James cried for a moment as he realized the gravity of the situation.

"What's it gonna be, James?"

"I'ma go home with you, that is if I'm welcomed back."

"James, you're always welcomed to come home."

He hugged Jim; this was the first time he ever felt loved and like he belonged in a family.

"Give me the 2x4." Jim reached for the wood plank and took it out of his hand, then swung hard on Steve's left knee.

"We agreed that we wouldn't kill him, right?"

"That's right," Jim answered.

"Then why you hit him like that?"

"So he won't run after us."

Jim picked up his glock, which was never fired and left Steve's Beretta on the ground. James remained in a state of shock as he looked at Jim.

"C'mon man, let's get the fuck out of here."

###

Discover other titles by Glenn Gamble at Smashwords.com:

Bon Appétit

Escape

On the Run

James

A Thousand Chances

1001: Car Wash

This book was edited by Shon Bacon. You can reach Shon at sdb6812@hotmail.com

### Author's Afterword

James was even very difficult for me to write. The words flowed and it looked like I was going to have the book written in two weeks just as I had planned. After I wrote chapter 10, the book started getting difficult to write. I had started preparing for my blog tour, I was requesting extra tour dates, I reformatted all of my previous books per Smashwords standards, and I still had to balance that with my work life. Next thing I knew, I had gotten off-track and I kept procrastinating.

As a result, I didn't get this book finished until after the blog tour began, but nonetheless it was fun writing this book. I think this is the best book that I've written to date, and that's a trend that I'd like to continue. It is always my goal to make sure that my next book is better than the last one I've written, and so far I've accomplished that with each book release.

Acknowledgements

I'd like to thank my mom for being my mom. I'd also like to thank my high school English teachers Mr. Beatty (Luther South), Ms. Neill (Lindblom Tech), and Mr. Majeski (Lindblom Tech) for being crazy enough to assign me to write speeches, journals, and short stories, and for being even crazier for allowing me to read them before a classroom.

I'd also like to give a special thanks to everyone who purchased this book.

Contact the Author

Website:

www.GlennGamble.com

Glenn Gamble Facebook Group:

 http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=156987984365009

Twitter:

www.twitter.com/glenngamble

Email:

glenngamblebooks@gmail.com

