

CARL

HENEGAN

## Yesterday's

## Darkness

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

Copyright © 2011 by Carl Henegan

All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form of by any means, or stored in a data base or retrieval system, without prior written permission from the author.

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To all of my supporters –

You were there from the beginning and I am eternally grateful.

CHAPTER ONE 8

CHAPTER TWO 11

CHAPTER THREE 18

CHAPTER FOUR 23

CHAPTER FIVE 27

CHAPTER SIX 32

CHAPTER SEVEN 37

CHAPTER EIGHT 40

CHAPTER NINE 46

CHAPTER TEN 49

CHAPTER ELEVEN 57

CHAPTER TWELEVE 62

CHAPTER THIRTEEN 66

CHAPTER FOURTEEN 69

CHAPTER FIFTEEN 75

CHAPTER SIXTEEN 83

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN 87

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN 91

CHAPTER NINETEEN 96

CHAPTER TWENTY 100

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE 107

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO 111

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE 117

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR 123

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE 131

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX 135

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN 141

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT 147

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE 151

CHAPTER THIRTY 160

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE 163

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO 168

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE 176

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE 186

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX 192

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN 194

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT 202

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE 208

CHAPTER FORTY 214

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE 218

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO 222

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE 228

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR 232

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE 236

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX 240

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN 244

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT 248

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE 251

CHAPTER FIFTY 254

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE 259

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO 265

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE 271

CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR 276

CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE 278

CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX 281

CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN 284

CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT 288

CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE 291

CHAPTER SIXTY 294

CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE 299

CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO 307

CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE 315

CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR 322

CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE 326

CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX 334

CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN 342

CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT 345

CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE 354

CHAPTER SEVENTY 357

CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE 361

CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO 363

CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE 366

CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR 370

CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE 373

CHAPTER SEVEN-SIX 376

CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN 379

CHAPTER SEVEN-EIGHT 383

CHAPTER SEVENTY-NINE 386

CHAPTER EIGHTY 391

CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE 396

Epilogue 402

#  CHAPTER ONE

"It's gonna be one of those damn nights," Michael Andrews muttered under his breath.

Yet as much as he felt it, even he had to admit that the words were unwarranted. Unlike most who would recite the phrase as a reactionary premonition resulting from some negative event or events, for Mike the thought arrived out of thin air. He didn't have one single thing to substantiate the mumbled words; they spun out of nowhere.

From a rational perspective the night appeared to be like any other night. But that was just the surface; beneath that façade Mike sensed that something dark was brewing. He felt it but, aside from the one audible mumble, kept it to himself.

Even to him the thought edged on insanity but it was without a doubt there. As sure as the band that set up on the stage, the club lights, and the blended scent of everything from light beer to Patron counter balanced in the atmosphere, the feeling was very real. Crazy? Perhaps it was but the feeling remained bona fide.

Earlier that day Mike finished an audio book about the balance of life. The post recollection of the words in the book retuned to his thoughts. Perhaps the book touched on something because at the moment he felt anything but balanced. A hard self-imposed question trailed his initial thoughts. Had he had ever been balanced? Perhaps he fell into the category of most that, according to the book, moved through life tilting on the lie that they were actually walking upright.

The book also mentioned how anything could potentially render us unbalanced. People, occupations, insignificant others, anything, if given the power, could force us to walk along a sloped path. Some issues, rather ignored or suppressed, were erased by time fading from memory and never to resurface. Other unresolved issues remained dormant till they were ready to surface from some suppressed loosely sealed department in the back of our minds.

Just like the laws of nature, in the end it all balanced. Opposing forces instinctively evened out because sooner of later, they always do. Rivals, large and small, inevitably must face their own version of darkness.

Michael Andrews felt tormented by the words in the book. The words triggered memories that he would have much rather let fade away. The temperature around him dropped as if Pandora's box was pried opened and dark destiny lurked in the mist of his life.

Like anyone else Mike had his secrets. For years he tried to deny that Karma had a debt waiting for him but one just can't lie to the soul. He knew that his concern was not unwarranted so pessimism had nothing to do with this feeling of looming fate. The caution linked to something real, very real.

The life that he enjoyed now got him past the less the joyous times that were placed behind him. In that aspect life was, for lack of a better adjective, good. Wasn't it?

#  CHAPTER TWO

Owning and operating a bar had its set of challenges and Mike's business was no different. The Memphis bar sat in a prime location in the northern suburb of Dallas, Texas known as Addison. The location far exceeded what he ever imagined acquiring for his first establishment. He could not have wished for a more ideal situation so the challenges of keeping the bar afloat never bothered Mike.

The ever-compounding daily issues were indeed in place but this was lifelong dream. He placed the problems in the proper perspective knowing that the small issues were all part of paradise. The bar's location nestled among a row of shops in one of the busiest and most ideal areas of the city. While the surrounding shops capitalized on the steady flow of day traffic, Mike's bar dominated the night.

Each day of the week the bar slash club geared up for the night's activity. The bar crammed with its usual capacity of regulars as well as a constant flow of new comers consistently night after liquor soaked night. They marched past businesses that typically closed in the evenings to take part in a late evening till 2 a.m. period of carefree entertaining.

The Memphis Bar delivered time after time with new pictures posted daily on social websites with random party shots. Below the photos were captions written to virtually rub the night of fun into the social networking faces of anyone who did or didn't care. The word's written contained the same transparent insinuated intention of saying, you shoulda been here.

The parts of the night actually remembered by the attendants would be repeated the next day by the office water cooler. As for the parts of the night that were forgotten, they became Memphis folklore and fell in the realm of sensationalized legend.

One of Mike's favorite perk dwelled in the ability to pass out free drinks as well as appetizers on a regular basis. He never took owning the bar for granted and loved to show his appreciation to all who visited his bar. Seven days a week the bar overflowed with patrons trying to unwind and fill otherwise uneventful nights with discounted cocktails. The Memphis Bar filled that void without fail.

The majority of the bar's patron were the after work crowd. Peppered in the mixture of the regular customers a variety of tight t-shirted steroid junkies and need to be seen females wearing just enough to negate the need for imagination filled the gaps. As the evening progressed distinguishing one from the other proved to become more difficult.

Michael stood among them just like he had done every night of the week. As the bar's owner as well as bouncer, he rarely took a night off. Tonight he felt the unexplainable need to be a little more vigilant so he maintained an even closer and constant presence.

While his observation remained at a high level, he didn't notice anything that raised an eyebrow. Regardless, the slight tingling sensation persistently raced across his skin as a persistent reminder to not relax. The bothersome impression needled at him just enough to make him stand a little taller and watch everyone just a little closer. Slowly but increasingly, even less comfortable perceptions developed.

This odd tingling surfaced but was nothing new. At certain points in his life he actually ignored the sensations. Experience coupled with some close calls taught him to not question the arcane feelings that appeared out of nowhere and instead of second guessing his six packed feelings, he embraced them.

His bar managed to survive while others faded away and he attributed his longevity to going with is instincts. Michael, like the bar itself became staple in the Addison. One could without fail find him driving west on Beltline road at 9:00 am sharp in route his bar then by 10:00 am the bar opened for business. An hour later the lunch crowd flowed inside.

Everyone at the Memphis Bar preformed their prospective jobs so efficiently that Mike was constantly in awe. His bar operated like a particle free clock and with a low employee turnover the staff needed very little help from him. By the time that the 11 am the lunch crowd filtered in the staff was ready every year, everyday, seven day a week.

The day to day operations routinely took care of themselves but there were the occasional exceptions. Michael took advantage of the slower day crowd by remaining in his office and completing paperwork.

When the late evening arrived he merged from his office, blended into the crowd, and took his place on a randomly selected perch. By 7:29 p.m. Michael stood somewhere within the bar watching, monitoring, and observing.

Three female customers whispered among one another as they stood at the far end of the bar. They pointed and giggled like adolescents as they looked in his direction. Stay over there, please stay over there, he thought. He silently repeated mental plea with little hope that they would not find their way over to him.

One of the girls walked over to the bartender then pointed in Mike's direction. So much for wishes. He could almost hear the conversation. Oh not that's not just the bouncer but also the owner? She ran to spread the news to her two wing – girls whispering franticly as if she had just discovered the meaning of life.

All three women adjusted their mini skirts and applied another layer lipstick before making their way over to him. This wasn't the first time Mike wanted to turn invisible, wasn't the tenth either but just the downside of paradise. As unnatural as it was for him, he had to conjure up the social requirements needed to run a bar.

The bolder red head tapped him on his broad shoulder. "Hellooo, um you own this bar?" The other two giggled.

"Yeah I guess you can say that," Michael said. "But between us, it's still more fun to be doing shots then calling them," he lied before motioning to her friends. "I'll tell you ladies what, go over to Ruben there and tell him I said the next round is on me."

"Really? Wow thank you! So you want anything from me, or us?" All three girls smiled flirtatiously at Mike.

"Oh I doubt if I could handle you girls," he smiled while turning toward the bar. "Ruben! Ruben!" Michael circled his finger over the girls' heads. Ruben returned an enthusiastic thumbs up.

"Ruben will fix you girls up. Have fun out there ok?"

They squeezed Michael's arm then shared wide eyed glance between them. The red head – and apparent spokesperson for the trio - made a statement for the group. "We sure will and the offer still stands."

Michael smiled wondering if grin appeared to them as forced as it felt. He nodded in his pretend effort to show genuine interest in the same liquor induced offers that came to him at least once a night. He hoped by now that he would have gotten comfortable with the social side of business ownership but although no one seemed to notice, he hadn't.

He wore his signature fitted black shirt not only for comfort but to remain camouflaged. The dark colors worked perfectly it hide the armpit sweat but did little to shield him from the less then desired propositions.

Fashion in general had never been his strong suit so the black t-shirt suited him well. As he stood the moisture under his arms reminded him that the propositions like the socializing still made him nervous. He worked through it by setting aside time to greet the regulars and exchange small chat with anyone who approached as a way of confronting his anxieties.

In conversations with visitors, unless recognized, he tended to omit the fact that he owned the bar. He thought that the omission gave him a true perspective of how the customers felt about his place. That approach only worked for the new customers, as for the regulars, everyone knew Big Mike.

His frequent trips to the gym were obvious even for the casual onlooker. At six foot two inches tall, he tipped the scales at two-hundred and thirty-four pounds. After a recent physical, his doctor joked that Michael had less body fat then the average race horse.

Even with an above average physic, Mike still managed to blend in with the crowd. He lurked within the shadows of his establishment allowing his instincts to guide him. His instincts lingered as one of the few things he trusted but even doubted that at times.

Over time blending into the bar atmosphere came natural. The secret training that he received from his time in service instinctively emerged enabling him to maintain an outside surveillance.

Only so much could be seen and no matter how observant, he only had two eyes. Mike caught a lot of things that he had to address but catching everything was challenging if not impossible. This evening proved to be no different.

"Say man," the voice started behind him. "Where can a brother get a drink in this dump?"

#  CHAPTER THREE

The sudden sound of the voice behind Mike took him by surprise at first. When he realized who was behind him, laughed before even turning around. "Oh hell, looked whose slumming it in Dallas today?" He spun and gave his buddy Eric Dunbar a hug. "Hell dude, I thought you were in Cost Rica or something."

"Not anymore, had to cut the trip was cut short had something else come up," he grinned. "On my way to the airport now so decided to swing by your dump, mooch a few free drinks off of you, then sleep it off on the plane."

"Is that right?" Mike said folding his arms across his chest.

"Why not? You should be paying me to stop by to class up this place a bit. What's up, black man can't get VIP in here?" Eric laughed.

Mike tossed a playful punch at Eric. "You just praying to get laid out, man you are a nut. Ruben is right over there, you know the tab is always open for you."

Eric's large physic dwarfed compared to his much larger personality. A smile remained on his face at all times and in the years that they knew one another, Mike had never been around Eric without having constant laughter. Eric traveled often but the Memphis bar was his first stop when he was in town and last stop before he left.

"Man it's good seeing you Big Mike. I'm gonna grab that drink and get out of here before I miss my flight. Then I'm..." He eyes Mike close. "You ok man?"

"Yeah I'm good, why you ask that?"

Eric hunched his shoulders. "I don't know. You just look a lil spaced." He slapped Mike on his shoulder. "Got a maid pregnant or something? Got to stop sleeping with help man."

Mike laughed. "Man get the hell out of here with that."

"Ok, you'll learn. I read an article the other day about the dangers of sleeping with the help. I fixed that though," Eric said.

"Alright, I'll bite, how did you fix it Eric?"

"Hell, I stop reading stuff like that. Damn sure not gonna stop sleeping with the help that for sure!"

Mike laughed till he was almost in tears. "Man you need help! Get the hell out of here," he said welcoming the comic relief.

Eric moved on to the bar then ordered two shots of crown from Ruben. Another bouncer pulled Mike away to discuss the work shift. When Mike looked back Eric finished the seconded shot of crown then slipped out of the bar.

Mike needed that laugh but even more needed it to last longer. Even with the light conversations, the comic relief from Eric, and typical calm environment, the feeling that something was amidst would not go away.

Everything looked fine on the surface. Yeah but so what? The odd tingling remained locked in place. It continued to remain along with the vibrating music, cigarette smoke, and loud conversations. The music drowned out the conversations, and he moved away from the smoke, but did nothing could alleviate the tingling.

Ironically the jovial crowd seemed calmer then usual that night. Generally on much rowdier evenings, Mike would still vanish back into his office to get ahead on some office work. This night, for reasons that he could not understand, he would not leave his post.

As senseless as it seemed, he remained watchful. Like a mother bird over her newly hatched babies, Mike stood on high alert surveying everything and everyone around him. His head swiveled in distinct measured angles mechanically locking in on zero, one hundred and eighty, then ninety degree angles. After the sequence completed, he followed it with an identical repetition.

He felt tensed. The same feeling overcame him since the night he became reinstated into the special forces. No one ever knew about the job he did then and no one ever would. Just like that night when he was chosen for a special mission, he reacted to any odd sound by jerking his head in that particular direction. If he decided that there was no cause for alarm, the robotic like process would resume, zero, ninety, and one hundred and eighty degrees.

Time dragged along with nothing visibly out of sync. He entertained the idea that he may have to face a hard fact. His instincts could possibly have been just an unwarranted illusion. Hour after hour passed and the end result revealed the same, nothing. No over excited disorderly individuals, no wild private parties, not even the random occasional troublemaker invaded the club. Even the customary arrival of college aged frat boys groping women as they passed were missing on a normal night but still too normal.

His sixth sense never failed him before. So am I due for it to be off now? But that was not taken seriously. Men that he served with and especially under knew of his innate ability to feel impending peril and was the very reason that he was recruited to perform special missions.

As a weekend warrior Mike's skill's remained sharp. Although the weekends away became more and more inconvenient, he thrived on the rush of the special assignments. He worked with a small covert group that were specially selected to do what others only saw in the movies, so rather they admitted it or not, they all thrived on the rush.

The bar remained peaceful but for Mike it was merely a façade. He felt in his soul that he was about to get an even bigger rush as if the scales of darkness were slowly tilting in his direction.

#  CHAPTER FOUR

The very day Mike purchased the Memphis bar he knew that he would have to remain working as the head bouncer. Who could take care of security better then him? Working security lacked the rush he received for the secret military operations but he still loved it.

He eyed the rear of his nightclub peering through the gray smoke that reflected the multi colored club lights against the back wall. On the opposite side of the wall, Mike's office sat with a desk piled with uncompleted paperwork. The idea of disappearing to the work space became a tempting but impractical thought.

Conventional thinking surfaced but fell short of overcoming dark emotions. He displaced the temptation to work in his office but wondered if he would regret it.

The regret for his decision to remain working security never surfaced. An off balanced facet griped the night even tighter then it had before. It disturbed the air like the smoke from the countless number of lit cigarettes. The smoke rose in anomalous angles like a barley audible off beat inserted within a perfectly composed piece but the crowd seemed oblivious.

The crowd roared with the familiar sounds of festive delight. For them, for that night and that moment, life remained a joyous, in sync, and worry free occasion. For Mike, a dark curtain continued to shield the unknown.

He pulled his cell phone out to check for messages. There were none. The red battery symbol indicated that less then 10% electronic life remained. Dammit! Forgot to charge the phone.

Just below the battery indicator displayed a time of 10:22 p.m. The crowd, consistently at this time of the night, reached its maximum capacity. With that other the music also shifted away from the DJ to the live band. Sound Check - the night's scheduled entertainment - stood on stage checking their instruments.

Much like the daily variation in bands, each night had its own vibe, and each crowd its own personality. The entire crowd's persona altered as soon as music changed to the live set.

Without fail, by the time the band hit the stage the crowd transformed to an all time festive high. The combination of the live band music with the extended period spent downing cocktails peaked between the 10:30 and 11:30 time frame.

The bar became a little louder and the crowd a turned little wilder officially transforming from a bar into a nightclub. Mike referred to this point of the night as the point of no return because from that time on, the night belonged to Michelob.

Mike's focal point lingered on the horseshoe shaped dance floor that stretched around the front of the stage. It remained packed, overflowing with carefree spirits dancing to temptation's tempo. If anything moved to an out of control level, Mike could set his watch for this very time period and in this area. With the maximum number of people to watch and faster flowing cocktails, the dance floor always remained the central collective for mayhem.

Mike watched as people bumped into one another squeezing on an off of the small dance floor. The extended time frame that remained between the liquor fueled hours preceding closing time created a danger zone. Too much time for too much to occur.

By the end of the first playing session, Sound Check had the crowd in the palm of their hands. This task was simple because the crowd needed to be entertained and any entertained would have stimulated intoxicated clubbers. Without fail, the area around the stage became to place to see but most of all be seen.

Within a short span, no room remained to enter or even leave the dance floor. When one or two would manage to squeeze away, the opened slots were instantly filled. The live music entranced the crowd like a moth to light.

To the crowd's delight, the tunes blasted through the six foot high speakers controlling the dancers' movement while filling every section of the club's interior.

As far as Mike was concerned, no music played in the bar. The only resonance in his ear contained the ever extending existence of concentrated silence. The military training and the years spent working as the bar's bouncer conditioned him with the ability to block out any unnecessary sounds. Only odd noises relating to unwanted chaos emerged from the silence allowing the separation of the senses to enhance his vision.

"Crash!!!!" The sudden loud disturbance thundered through the club rising above the band's deafening music. Everyone in the immediate area scattered, stumbling away, wildly moving away from the odd clamor. Mike's body reacted instantly.

I knew it! His legs steered in the direction of the commotion. He flew though the crowd slicing between patrons making an unyielding direct path toward the source of the noise. His heart raced with the excitement of pure adrenalin running across his spine. As he pushed his body faster he slowed his thought process. He mentally prepared himself for the awaiting unknown.

#  CHAPTER FIVE

The thunderous disturbance created multiple reactions throughout the crowd. Some stood motionless while others dashed in any direction away from the area. Only a flash of time existed between the sound of disturbance and getting to the source. Before many even noticed, Mike covered the distance and leaped across the bar standing among the onlookers.

Ruben - the head bartender - screamed across the curious clubbers. "Somebody get Big Mike!!!"

Already there, Mike pried his way between the last two onlookers. He pulled his body into the center of the crowd looking down along with the rest. Everyone's eyes drew to the core of the semi circle. As soon as Mike saw the sight before him he released the deep breath he held inside.

His Italian smile formed as he placed his hands on his waist. He rolled his eyes before pinching the top of his nose to stifle a laugh. Unbelievable.

A scattered mess piled in the far corner. Large and small display bottles scattered among the thin broken glass. In the center of the mess sat a red faced employee of his named Kelly Hurst.

"Kelly, Kelly, Kelly my dear friend."

She would not look up as she sat on the floor with the serving tray still in her loose grip. Kelly cupped her face inside of her small hands. Her body sprawled out on the floor, surrounded by broken Bacardi bottles samples, a bent display board, and spilled liquor.

"A few drinks too many I'm guessing?"

Kelly did not answer at first. After a contemplated minute, with her head still down, she mumbled a response. "Was coming back with the um, the stupid, thingy. But, I mean the stupid tray with drinks then, God!! Then I um, tripped on the stupid display because-"

Her usual pale completion glowed in a deep crimson. The red tint appeared brightly even through chaotically tossed blonde hair. Her sharp even features frowned, turning inward with frustration over her dark round eyes. Mike tried to conceal his partially smiling face.

"Kelly what am I going to do with you. You ok?" Mike lifted her up failing miserable at his half attempt to obscure his amusement.

"Oh famous...real famous! Go ahead Mike! Do your thing!" Kelly glowered.

"Go ahead what?" Mike smiled even broader.

"Oh, come on Mike!!"

Kelly got to her feet and playfully punched Mike on his chest. Her scarlet cheeks glowed through the club's dark interior. Mike relented unable hold it in any longer releasing a burst of laughter so wholehearted that it caused chain reaction. Everyone around joined in on the laughter. Everyone that is, except for Kelly.

She followed up with another punch to his chest, and then covered her face. Mike could see her smiling beneath her hands.

"Grow up!" she said. A resentful grin crept across her face.

As Kelly stood she twisted her body from one side to the other dusting herself off. Every man in the crowd stopped laughing and stared with gapped opened jaws. The mini shirt and unbutton blouse pulled all the attention away from her unfortunate mishap.

"Holy hell," Mike began. "Over three months working here and still can't carry a tray without dropping it huh?"

"Keep pushing it Mike," Kelly shot back no longer amused.

"Where did that come from? What happened to the perky little waitress I hired to run my VIP section huh?"

"She died."

Mike laughed. "Let me give you a lil advise there rookie. I know you like the free drink perks but, the trick is to let the customer get tipsy."

"No kidding? Well if I recall, you also told me to always accept it when customers offer to by me drinks."

She begins to do her impression of Mike that, in his opinion, always sounded more like Sylvester Stallone then anything remotely close to him. "Yo, Kelly if they offer don't turn tem down, let tem buy you what eva, no what I mean?"

"Is that supposed to be me?" Mike replied with his deep monotone voice. He wondered if the distain he had for getting impersonated showed on his face. He hoped it did. "Well what eva but I don't think that your lil 120 pound frame can handle more then two or three. Just take it easy."

Kelly twisted her head up at Mike. Her eyes narrowed and cheeks flared. "I'm not out there doing this for me Michael! Hell, if I'm not doing a good job get someone else to do it."

Mike took a step back caught off guard by a side of Kelly that he had never seen. Everyone knew that the VIP sales had sky rocketed every since she began working the area. Customers often came to him and admitted that they came in just to see her and bask in her infections naturally high spirits.

He didn't need the customers to tell him about Kelly, he saw the numbers. Every time she worked the area the numbers were good, very good. Kelly's abilities naturally progressed and her innate tendency to place others before herself made her ideal for waitressing. Night after night the number of VIP customers increased and Kelly kept everyone's glass filled; they in return did the same for her tip jar.

"This is not the time Kelly," Mike said as he glanced over at the nearby customers. He lowered his voice before speaking again. "Just chill on the blonde bombshell routine and let the VIP customers get loaded, not you."

Her response was not as quiet. "Routine? What the hell!? I was working my tail off till I slipped on the gigantic display that you had to put right in the already too small isle. And for the record Michael, I wasn't loaded." She pressed her skirt down and defiantly pulled the hair out of her face.

Mike's emotions changed from irritation to concern. Wait a second. A sudden realization hit Mike with a hard impact. The preoccupation with the front entrance, the bar area, and the dance floor caused him to overlook one key section.

All night he concentrated on the three key areas not realizing that he practically ignored a forth section. Among everything watched one part of the club was inadvertently omitted. Not even once during the entire night did he take his usual walk through Kelly's VIP section.

The tingling across his spine rose to another level.

#  CHAPTER SIX

The VIP area sat along the south wall of the bar sectioned off with velvet ropes. The elevated platform allowed an ideal view of the stage. Mike snapped his head toward the area staring at the now obstructed section of the bar but could not see inside the area.

The crowd not only blocked the crowded dance floor from the floor level, but also the view of the VIP section. Dense cigarette and stage smoke added to the difficult task of seeing past the crowd. He felt his pulse quicken. How could I have missed that section?

Other times Mike would have beat him self up for omitting the area. This time no desire surfaced to second guess his actions. Besides there had never been a need for concern when it came to the VIP area and for all he knew it may not be a need now.

Kelly voiced more of her frustrations. Her squeaky high pitched protest blended in with the deafening noise inside of the club. She went on and on ranting about the display, her wet clothes, and wanting to work in a different area. Her protest faded lower and lower as Mike remained focused on her designated area.

"The hell with this Mike!" Kelly continued. "I don't give a damn how big this guy's tips are. And his damn entourage kept staring at me creeping me out. I'm done."

Big Tips? Entourage?

Like a stereo's volume knob being slowly turned to the left, all of the surrounding sounds gradually decreased to complete silence. From that point Mike blocked out everything that came from Kelly's mouth. His mind and senses locked on one thing and one area.

The tingling sensation he first felt was at an all time high. His entire world muted as it fully embraced the earlier overwhelming intuition. Mike became immobile as his body faced the exclusive section of the club. He needed to see who sat in the area but from his vantage point, it was impossible.

The crowd around the stage now seemed thicker almost impenetrable. For him silence now swept the room but his inner thoughts filled his head with overbearing voices. The air thickened making it more difficult to breath. The collective crowd moved in sluggish motions congregating in front of the stage. They formed an even wider barrier between him and his target area.

Mike watched with a tensed stare as the crowd slowly altered their chance arrangement. One by one the group changed in uncertain patterns allowing a deeper visual penetration to the other side. After a period of time they adjusted just for him to catch an image.

Three large men sat flanked around to the center table. Like massive statues they stiffly posed with their arms folded in front of their barrel chests over their bulging guts. Mike instinctively leaned his body forward to see more.

Their stiff presence clued Mike to their possible identity. Body guards. The center gorilla stood then made his way over to the only person that was still out of Mike's view. The gigantic man leaned over and whispered into the ear of the last seated person.

The multi-colored lights shot from the stage but not enough to fully illuminate the section. Instead of a detailed view, the area flashed random pictures of indistinctive red, green, and blue outlines. Only shadows emerged from the sight.

The seated person displayed a formidable silhouette within the darkness. The multi-colored lights and substantial artificial stage smoke mixed into the real smoke that drifted from the cigarette held in the silhouette's hand.

His arm lifted to light the cigarette in his mouth then lowered to rest on the table. The released smoke from his mouth spread into the dark air floating like miniature dark clouds, then disappearing within obscurity.

Mike's eyes blinked frequently adjusting to the darkness. The sight transformed into more then just mere outlines and shadowed figures. Facial details emerged converting the uncertain images into a clearer more vivid picture. Along with the developing clarity arrived a deeper sentiment apprehension.

Like a nightmare the figure materialized into a face that Mike knew all too well. The image carved out an era in Mike's life that could not be forgotten and represented a less then noble period of his life. The memory had been placed aside and mentally filed away in less then ambitious hopes that it would eventually vanish.

Mike felt his world transform while the room grew smaller. Walls closed in, bending in odd formations. The vision reversed his mind's hidden compartments stepping back in time through a portal to the past. The flesh bodied presentation of a nightmare and the most dangerous and feared man in the country sat inside of his bar.

The fact that this man appeared anywhere in public haunted his sense of rationale but there was an added concern. Trepidation lifted from the darkest moment of Mike's past forcing him to face the verity that what is buried is not always dead. The history between himself and the man seated remained a bad one...a very bad one.

Martin Garcia's shadow forced memories that Mike never wanted to face. The man not only had dark ties to Mike, but even darker connections to a world outside of civil society. His role in the Mexican mafia exceeded mere participation; he was what the mafia was built around. Now he sat directly across the bar with his eyes locked on Mike.

Garcia sat perfectly still with a stoned face expression and beaded eyes that never blinked even once. Finally the only thing he moved was his hand and with it he used his thumb and index finger to mimic a gun. He aimed the index finger directly at Mike and lowered the thumb.

Mike's normally sharp senses instantly faltered in tossed disarray. The club's constantly cool interior temperature failed to reach Mike as his body perspired heavily. The vision of Garcia blurred as if Mike's brain tried to erase reality.

He swallowed hard to present some semblance of moisture in his throat. The silence erases as the club noise filled his head to create a migraine that stubbornly remained in place. Worst of all, was the anomalous sensation that his soul was now darkly shadowed.

#  CHAPTER SEVEN

A faint feeling overcame Mike. His mind struggled with veracity as it fought the impossibility of the presence of Garcia. Mike's entire existence projected into a black hole of consciousness. He physically shook his body hard trying to snap out of the sudden onset of shock.

Thoughts, visual distractions, and the sounds throughout the club all occurred simultaneously. Is this possible? A couple of the kitchen workers rushed over to clean up the spill from the advertising bottle display. Distance voices called out to Mike with indistinguishable requests or questions. His senses collided then dispersed in confusion.

Club issues called for his attention but were unconsciously if not deliberately ignored. Once again the crowd circling the stage fused together to totally obstruct the view to Garcia.

A strong level of constant disturbance swirled in his head. Surrounding sounds faded or exploded in unbalanced levels. Glasses clinked together like shattering windows and light laughter trumpeted like multiple amplified horns across the room. Voices right next to him seemed so low that he could hardly hear the words while light whispers exploded over the din of the crowd noise.

His body would not budge. His well exercised muscles locked up as memories of his past consumed him. In an instant, he once again became oblivious to his surroundings as his mind paralyzed all of his physical abilities.

The possibility of disabling himself from a frozen state increased with the consumption of counter productive thoughts. Before any true awareness touched him, he sliced through the crowd tunneling toward Garcia while brushing by hundreds of bodies.

The bodies of the people packed inside of the club so close that they could have easily felt the handgun beneath Mike's jacket. Mike's drive came from a rarely utilized power buried deep inside of his soul. He tapped into that power and used it to get to the man that he thought ─ or rather prayed ─ that he would never see again.

Reactions worked totally off of his trained instincts. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind spontaneity triggered a reaction that took complete control. Something beyond his own body dominated his actions as Mike propelled customer after customer aside to make his way to Garcia.

The crowd soon started to part on its own. A path cleared, opening a final opportunity to put an end to his past. Mike removed his weapon aiming it forward through the crowd disregarding any safety concerns.

The closer he got to Garcia the faster his heart raced. Patrons dove out of his path leaving an even wider lane to get to his target. The moisture on the handle of the weapon increased as the sweat rose between his palm and the tight grip. His reactive mindset continued to push his actions into motion.

Contemplation, planning, or second guessing his intentions never surfaced at any level. The decision, as it were, materialized before he even became consciously aware of it. His fears were going to be faced and ended.

The club filled in complete disarray. Panicked club goers screamed running into one another and falling on to the floor. Their voices bounced against the sounds already blasting from the six foot tall speakers. The band continued to play completely unaware of what was developing below the elevated stage.

The haunting drum beat and lyrics slithered though the venue as Pink Floyd's tune Learn to Fly pressed the bass woofers to capacity. Screams of approval chanted from a range of locations within the club. For Mike, the poignant composition only managed to carve another unneeded mark in his long-term memory.

#  CHAPTER EIGHT

Mike's chest pounded as he charged full speed toward the area where Garcia was seated. His body consumed with a madden determination locked on ending the nightmare that had secretly haunted him for years. His unyielding focus edged on madness.

The trance like state settled like a visitation from an old friend with a bad history. Mike locked in on Garcia and nothing was going to stop him from getting to him. This time it has to end. The thought of finally facing the foe that troubled his principles remained in his head throughout the entire sprint.

Mike could not see into the VIP area clearly but maintained his tenacity. He knew that each step got him closer although he had no idea what to expect once he arrived at his mark. He drove forward along the edge of the dance floor. He was close now, very close. Just a few more steps, past the railing, and a hop across the elevated platform and he would once again face the man who dominated Mike's worse nightmares.

No preconceived plan came to his head. With one final fluid motion Mike leaped over the railing to arrive at the table where Garcia was seated. To his dismay the view remained blocked. This time Kelly obstructed his path with her back turned to Mike.

The dimly lit area grew even darker as the stage lighting changed to set the mood. The group preformed final part of Pink Floyd song with intensity. The vibrations of the speakers pounded against Mike's ears but he ignored it.

With no time for pleasantries, Mike swept his large arm across Kelly pushing her to one side. The shove unintentionally moved Kelly a little harder then Mike actually wanted. Emotions ran high.

He could not contain his actions. The flow of adrenaline directed his overzealous response. With the other arm he swung the pistol around aiming it in the spot where Garcia glared at him from across the room.

Kelly stumbled to the side trying to maintain her balance. Her serving tray tittered in one hand as she flared her arm out franticly. The tray flew from her hand as she grabbed the railing just before crashing against a nearby table.

The area bathed in flashing dark green, red, and blue lights. Smoke effects forced shadows all around while casting a gray blanket across the circular tables. The lighting glowed and faded to the rhythm of the song that roared from the speakers in unfiltered levels. The drum's bass pedal vibrated the walls with the heavy thump from the ghostly tempo.

Even with Kelly out of the way, seeing through the smoke was not easy. The preset timing of the stage effects placed another dense spray of fog in the VIP section. As the Pink Floyd lyrics surged from the across the room, the fog rose in a horizontal clearance allowing more visibility. On the table sat several hundred dollar bills, a still lit cigarette, and on the other side... Garcia's empty seat.

Mike twisted his head 180 degrees intensely scanning the area. On the elevated platform he could see across the sea of people that occupied the dance floor. Instantly he spotted the tall figure standing at the far exit with the mist emitted from the fog machines eerily surrounding him.

Garcia's arrogant expression of pretentiousness flowed across his face. His head almost equaled the upper level of the door's entry and his dark clothing added to the ominous appearance of a modern day grim reaper. He remained still, looking directly at Mike.

The expression on Garcia's face moved to stone. His eyes narrowed to the edge of blinking. Mike felt his nerves freeze from Garcia's stare. Mike felt as if Garcia tried to decipher his inner thoughts from across the room.

Garcia's forehead wrinkled slightly then relaxed. Through the dim lighting and fog Mike returned Garcia's glare but his heart still raced.

Deep and slow bass drum rhythms pounded the air. Roger Water's lyrics slid over the top of the tempo seducing the melody's hidden grasp. For Mike the sound symbolized a musical threshold to something unworldly. The music caressed Garcia's cold stare to a point where it caused Mike to ponder his own spirituality. Something about Garcia placed a distance between Mike and anything pure or sacred.

The visual standoff felt like an eternity. Garcia held his stare as he placed another cigarette in his mouth and lit it. He took a contemplated draw from the end then held the smoke inside before releasing it slowly from his lips that seemed to never open. The smoke lifted into the air spreading widely then wandering outside through the opened front door entrance.

The scene was like a well rehearsed presentation. Garcia clearly commanded the virtual stage in this solo performance of intimidation. He mastered the head game and Mike knew it. Mike completed a lot of research on this man and knew that Garcia thrived on taking a psychological advantage of every situation.

But was this one of those situations? Mike wondered if Garcia was calculating and analyzing him right now by playing the silent odds. Mike preformed some calculations of his own. Garcia stood too far away so firing a weapon across the crown was not an option.

Garcia's icy glare altered into a Mona Lisa smile. Yet this grin actually signified the portrait of a threat. With the burning cigarette balanced between his lips, he spread his arms wide apart. Mike knew exactly what he was taunting with the jester. Go ahead hot shot...take a shot at me. Garcia arched an eyebrow and smirked as if to say, yeah I knew you wouldn't shoot.

As calm as a casual stroll in the park, Garcia turned and walked out of the front entrance. Just as suddenly as he appeared, he vanished and blended into the Dallas night.

No time remained to give chase. With the distance and the crowd a pursuit would be futile. Mike stood in the VIP section placing his hands on his head then jerking them down hard bathed in the multi colored lights.

In the darkness the words from the song settled on Mike invading the former self imposed mental silence. His sweat drenched clothing felt the chill of the blowing air condition streaming from the vents. His heart beat finally slowed to a reasonable pace. The once rapid breathing eased to the song's slower tempo.

"...just an earth bond misfit...I"

Many questions rushed into Mike's head. How did Garcia find him after eighteen years? Why was Garcia there? Was this a coincidence or a planned appearance? And finally, if Garcia knew that he worked at the Memphis Bar in Addison Texas, why not just wait outside and kill him after the club closed in stead of the grand standing?

* * *

Outside the club, Garcia and his men sat in the back of the ten passenger limo. Garcia thoughtfully looked out of the side tinted window at the Memphis nightclub as the limo pulled out of the parking lot. The car drove onto Beltline road before merging with the traffic. In a dry slightly accented tone he spoke out loud but to no one in particular.

"Hell has arrived, Mr. Andrews."

#  CHAPTER NINE

Mike normally enjoyed the drive home of the isolated time to unwind. This time the drive contained an extra passenger so the quiet time used to reflect on business affairs, the next day's agenda, was interrupted. Mike reluctantly insisted on sharing this ride with his employee. He refused to allow Kelly to drive home.

Kelly jerked the seatbelt over her then snapped it in the buckle. "I could have driven myself Mike," she said as Mike placed the car in drive. "What you think that this is the first time I had a couple of drinks at work? Please! Had a hell of a lot more then tonight and got home fine."

Mike cut is eyes toward her but keep his intended response to himself. The conversation, of lack there of, remained one sided. Occasionally words sprinkled within the silence when Kelly guided the small talk toward work related issues.

"When you gonna hire another waitress?" Kelly said.

"Not sure, have to make sure the numbers remain steady first," Mike answered.

"You know there's an after hours spot just south of here," Kelly nudged. "Right now is the best time to go."

"Uh hu," Mike with a dismissive tone.

He heard everything she said but at the same time discarded it to a subconscious file. He couldn't focus on her words, his head flooded with dark prevalent thoughts making him incapable of fully indulging in any real dialogue.

Just to ease the tension, Mike started to say something but stopped himself again. Forget it. He felt concerned that Kelly misunderstood his silence by taking it as a signal that she was not welcomed and had intruded into his private world. He now regretted insisting he drove her home. Should had just sprung for a cab, he thought.

Words remained as scarce as the streets of Dallas as they travel through the city. The streets mirrored the emptiness Mike felt coming from deep in his soul. The emptiness had nothing to do with Kelly but everything to do with his past.

"Are you upset with me?" Kelly probed.

Mike hesitated to answer. "No Kelly, nothing like that."

He could see Kelly considering his words as she leaned her head from one side to the other. He also knew that she was aware that something was wrong; like most of the staff, she knew him too well. The wide space between their short conversations became too wide even for Mike.

#  CHAPTER TEN

"Ok seriously Mike, are you pissed with me for falling down?" Kelly said. Her irritated tone moved far past the point of being cordial.

Kelly tapped Mike lightly on his broad shoulder when he didn't respond. The physical touch pulled Mike out of his trance like state. He jerked his head in her direction he was so deep in thought that he almost forgot that she was even in the car. He looked through her instead of at her.

Kelly cupped her hands over her mouth. "Earth to Mike, Earth to Mike, come in Mike are you there?"

His mental wheels turned in an attempt to verbalize a reply. He forced a smile. The non-verbal reply served as just enough to break the ice and ease the tension.

As she watched Mike he felt his face travel through a series of contortions. The smile weakened then faded. A far away gaze took control of his eyes then transformed into an intense demeanor. A few seconds later the muscles in his face relaxed as he removed his previous thoughts attached to Garcia.

"I really wish I could hear what is going on in that head of your's?" Kelly said.

"No you don't," Mike said flatly.

"Oh yes I do. I want to crack that code of silence that you hold on to so tight."

She brought this observation to Mike's attention. He never thought about it but she was right and had to admit that the embraced his inner thoughts with guarded determination. He considered it was normal until Kelly brought it to light but it was not something he would ever release anything soon.

On the surface Mike played the role of a social open book but somehow Kelly knew better. She constantly nudged him to open up knowing that more existed beneath the surface. He braced himself knowing that she was about to start again.

"Ok Mr. Andrews I always knew that you like to keep to yourself. I figured that there was a lot more to you then just making sure that everyone else was happy by exchanging casual conversations."

Clearly Kelly was interested in the internal structure. He managed to keep his deeper concerns hidden and no matter how much she probed, he was certain that it would not change. He did have to admire her deeper interest in him.

Her curiosity in everyone always went beyond any shallow levels. Now with Mike she pounced on the opportunity to fuel the flame. He had unwilling showed his hand and she saw the distinct change in him that tempted her to dig deeper.

Several attempts at more idol chat drastically failed as Mike passively responded with short answers. The answers, or lack there of, were about as warm as the help tab on a computer program. She eventually conceded and settled with the uncomfortable silence.

This was not the Mike she knew, and he knew it. He always had the ability to place even the most stressful days aside then indulge in any conversation but couldn't do it now. The boss all of his employees knew never allowed anything to bother him. His constant upbeat disposition made him the go to person for his employees and friends to take all of their problems.

Perhaps his even tempered persona was beginning to show cracks. Kelly fidgeted in her seat releasing frustrated breaths.

"Ok Michael I get it now. I guess I need to step back and realize that I'm not really an expert on Mr. Michael. I could have driven myself home you know."

"What are you talking about Kelly?"

"Oh come on now. I've known you for over two months now and you know that I consider you more of a friend then a boss just like everyone else who works at your bar. Since I moved from my hometown in Boise, you are still the closest friend I have in Dallas."

"Ok that is nice to hear but what is your point?"

"My point is...I can tell when something is not right."

Mike felt for her. Few opportunities to meet many people existed for a single girl in a new city as big as Dallas. The job she originally acquired at Hooters unexpectedly fell through with a disappointing thump. She told him the horrific story about how after working only a few days at the restaurant, she discovered that a couch interview was required to fully get the position.

"So maybe I need to put you on more day shifts so you can get out more."

"Yeah right. So I can run into another one like the manager at Hooters? I don't think so."

"What happened with that anyway? You never told me, did you just walk out and quite?"

"Sort of but before I left he discovered the hard way that his new little waitress didn't like being cornered with a hand up her skirt. I kneed him right where he needed to be and that ended the interview. After that I stumped out of the room but could hear him screaming soprano."

Mike watched as Kelly smiled recalling the day she stomped away from Hooters. "That was the same day that I spotted the help wanted sign at the Memphis bar. So with nothing to lose she went for it."

"I see. I guess that is why I detected a little attitude at first when I interviewed you."

Kelly laughed lightly. "Well yeah but just a little one. But when the muscle bound man calm man rounded the corner and introduced himself I relaxed after you stared talking to me. I still had little hope that the stop was worth my time. You were all business when you interviewed me on the spot. I was surprised as hell but so relived then you hired me."

Life has a funny way of lining up paths. In retrospect Hooters turned out to not only be the best thing that happened to her but also for Mike. The very short stint at Hooters brought her to the Memphis bar, to become one of his best employees. Mike assured her that the situation at Hooters would not happen at his bar.

She remembered the very words he told her after she was hired. His deep voice spoke to her with the serious tone of a trail judge. "I don't ever want anyone to feel disrespected at my bar. You should have to deal with that from anyone. That includes the customers, the staff, and me."

The trust she had in Mike was instant. The friendship took a little longer but once it was reached it remained in tact and the friendship grew. Like the rest of the staff, but admittedly more frequently, Kelly constantly went to Mike with issues, concerns, and request. Just like he did with all the workers at Memphis, he always made the time to address them.

He maintained an open door policy that was not just a required statement from the boss to present an illusion of accessibility. He insisted on being approachable. The majority of the time Kelly as well as others would not have to say anything and Mike could somehow tell when something was wrong. In those cases he had to drop everything then drag them to the office.

With Kelly that was never the case. She had no problem calling on him on any day at anytime. Mike helped her with everything from repairs to her car, to moving furniture into her apartment. He treated her like a little sister and never once did he make a pass at her.

Emotions were very mixed when it came to the unusual relationship between them. He wanted to make her feel like she was always welcomed and never an annoyance but he could tell that she thought that she was bothering him at times.

"You know something Mike? Even my family members never learned how to be, like you. You don't judge, criticize, or give unwarranted advice. You are just there for me."

"Thank you Kelly. But you know that it's not a big deal right? I'm there for everyone when I can be."

"Yeah but you go the extra distance. Now I think that it is time that someone was there for you," she said.

"I'm fine Kelly," he assured her then returned t his silence.

They drove through the bare streets of Dallas with Mike floating back into his comfort zone. The wonderful world of silence always felt like a favorite pair of jeans. He focused on the lane in front of him but was not really seeing it.

Kelly moved uncomfortably within the silence. It seemed as if she searched for the right words to fill the gap. He knew that the quiet bothered her.

She turned to the side window unenthusiastically watching the buildings that lined the highway race by. She then turned straight ahead to peer into the headlights of the oncoming traffic. He did the same as the perfectly painted white lines all meshed together in one solid white stream. In fact, everything collided in the form of a transparent existence.

Mike's thoughts reflected the pre dawn. His mind gripped on the darkening thoughts of Garcia. He couldn't see the buildings, the perfectly spaced lines, or the road. Everything appeared as a mere backdrop for the dominating recollection of the man from his past.

He glanced over at Kelly in an effort to take his thoughts out of their dungeon like compartment. She pretended not to notice him looking at her as she slid her body a little closer to the passenger door opting to focus on the empty streets outside of the tinted windows.

Her small arms folded tightly across her chest. Mike needed to remove himself from his pensiveness. Perhaps his top waitress didn't need a ride home from her boss, she needed a friend.

Kelly remained quiet and offered very little eye contact. Mike made a half attempt at light conversation but that was all he was able to give to her. The ongoing colossal struggle with revealing his inner thoughts refused to go away. Kelly would just have to sort her thoughts out on her own.

Keeping his thoughts inside soaked his DNA, it was the cloth he was cut out of and according to his mother; his father was the same way. Years of intentional evasiveness created habitual actions. This safety net, for more reasons than one, managed to keep everyone around him out of harm's way so he was not about to abandon it. With the appearance of Garcia, the streak appeared to be over but his thoughts still felt better remaining tucked away inside.

Mike gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. The muscles between his eyebrows pulled together from the stress. He clenched his teeth to hold in the words that were trying to come out. Inside was too much to hold but far too deep to let out to anyone.

#  CHAPTER ELEVEN

The tension inside of the car rose at a steady pace with no end in sight. Mike's effort to shake off the awkwardness could not get past by the way Kelly withdrew from him. He cut his eyes toward her without turning his head. It's not what you think Kelly...not by a long shot.

She clearly had deep thoughts of her own. He spotted tears begging to form in her large round and dark eyes. Oh God not this.

He opened his mouth then quickly closed it. A deep struggle brewed inside as he twisted his neck to one side then even harder to the other. The tension building across his shoulders refused to let up and the mere thought of talking about his issues added to the tension.

He inhaled then before he realized it the words began pouring out of his mouth.

"About eleven years ago I was in the final weeks of my four year enlistment in the Air Force. At the time when I was about to get out of the military, I was stationed at Fairchild Air force base in Spokane, Washington.

Only three weeks remained before I was set to be released on an honorable discharge so my friends and I decided to celebrate at a local bar." He paused as he felt the sudden rush of pain just from remembering that time of his life. "Anyway, a few others were getting out of the military around the some time as me. We partied hard to cover up the nervousness that I am sure most were feeling about parting ways from under the secure arm of Uncle Sam. The gathering was set to be our last little outing before stepping into the real world." Mike turned to his side window then back forward. "My best friend at the time was Dexter James and we were all to ready to celebrate together. The original plan was to take separate cars but Dexter insisted that I ride with him. He was excited about the completion of a big car restoration project. It took some time but he managed to restore a Datsun 240Z sports car to showroom condition and couldn't wait to show it to me.

When I finally saw it he had every reason to be proud, the car was done beautifully and it rode like a dream. When we drove to the get together and took the scenic route to downtown Spokane. We got to the party location which was also our hang out spot. Once there, we were met by all the guys we hung out with in the Air force and a few others that we just worked with on base. Instead of just a get together it turned out to be a wild testosterone fueled party but that was typical for military gatherings."

Mike stopped again and stared at Kelly. "You sure you want to hear this?"

"Please Mike, I am already at the edge of my seat. Let me hear this ok?"

"Ok. See Dexter was only about 5'5" tall and no more then 150 pounds with a very low tolerance for alcohol. Needless to say by the end of the night Dexter was feeling no pain and his words were about as slurred as they could get. I wasn't in top shape myself but far better then him. We closed down the bar and when it was time to go I told him that I would drive back to the base."

They arrived at s red light and Mike paused but then nodded as if willing him self to finish the story. "I knew that Dexter loved his car so I was driving extra careful that night. I even downed at least five cups of coffee during the final hours of the party. As I drove back to the base, I wouldn't take his car a mile over the speed limit making sure to avoid any potholes that sometimes popped up out of nowhere due to the crazy weather that we got in the far north west.

Throughout the entire drive I took every precaution that I could think of to ensure a smooth ride back to the base. I even decided to take the back way to the base for two reasons. First, the long winding route through the mountains had very little traffic. Secondly, the dark stretch seldom had cops patrolling it.

The back path was not the way that most of the airmen liked drive to get to the base but I never had any issues with it. Although it was always dark I had traveled it so many times so I knew it well.

It was a 45 minute drive, and a two way lane with no street lights. I was focused on the road and the zero visibility ahead of me was not an issue. Aside from the music I was on my own since Dexter was out cold. I was a little worried about the slick streets at first but the temperature was about in the 40's that night so the streets weren't iced over like they tended to get in the winter.

As hard as I tried to remain focused, I still was not able to keep it together. The white lines began to appear blurry and I remembered letting the driver's side window down then shaking my head to remove the mental fog.

Along the way none of that helped. I drifted off to sleep and the car veered into the next lane of oncoming traffic. Only one other car was on the highway that night. Actually it was a van and it was coming in the opposite direction right at me. By the time I snapped out of my daze, I was driving right into a pair of approaching headlights.

I was too shocked to react. Instead of doing anything I froze and just brace myself. The person driving van did react by swerving hard to avoid the collision. My reaction time or lack of it was much slower of course and far too late. The van's hard turn caused it to fly off the road plowing down a deep ravine.

He gripped the wheel so tight that the circulation felt cut off. "The crash reminded me of the time when one of our B-52 plans crashed on the base. It was a sound that you can never forget; I can remember the sound to this very day. The collision was like loud thunder striking against metal and the result was a fatal one. The crash killed the two people in the van instantly.

The two people in the van were a twenty six year old woman, and the other was..." The words hung in the air as Mike ran his large hand across his face. Tears formed in his dark pupils the flowed from the emotional pull of unbreakable memories. The hard reflection caused his face to tense. "And um, and the other was her eight year old son," he finished in a barely audible voice.

#  CHAPTER TWELEVE

Sadden silence consumed Kelly after hearing Mike's astounding confession. She wanted to say something comforting but her instincts told her that Mike needed a good listener, not words. Any input from her would just become an unneeded distraction.

She could not help but notice how Mike's body stiffened as stern wrinkles of apprehension surfaced across his face. He tightened his lips then frowned with deep concern that she knew came from him breaking his self composed silence. He softened his expression then continued to reveal a Mike she never knew.

His broad shoulders slumped from the dark recollection. "God...I was so close, the spot were the accident happened was no more then a couple of miles from the Air force base. The first ones on the scene were the military police. They, of course, protected us by covering up the fact that we were even involved. In the report they wrote that the lady just lost control of her van and we happened to be passing by to call in the accident.

Everyone, well at least Dexter, me, and the MP's knew different. I was sure they could smell the liquor coming from my breath but we were rushed away anyway before the regular city police even showed up on the scene. The accident, cover up, and entire night were never talked about again."

Kelly's eyes released a steady stream of tears, "Oh my God Mike."

Mike continued, "Later that week I was called to the office of my commanding officer. He would have easily been at the infamous party also, but had to work that night. Besides just being my superior, he was also a good friend. He closed his door and began telling me some additional inside information about the accident.

"Sgt. Andrews we may have a little situation brewing from your um recent circumstances." Lt. Franz picked up a manila envelope stamped with the word confidential and read from it. "A civilian has been asking a lot of questions about what happened that night and has been very persistent. We also discovered that this civilian bribed one of the MP's that was at the scene. We had to bring him in because after a few beers, he started mouthing off about the accident at a local bar. So it seems that either from guilt or the alcohol he felt the need to talk about it. A fellow airman reported that the he overheard the MP telling the entire story to someone a couple of days ago. We did some digging and discovered that the MP's bank account grew by several thousand dollars overnight."

The lieutenant gravely looked over the top of his glasses at Mike. "We pulled that MP in for questioning and he is in the process of getting discharged now, dishonorable of course. Mike that damn kid gave the civilian the license plate number to the car you guys were driving that night."

Mike paused. "So the civilian used the information to trace the license plates of Dexter's sports car."

Kelly turned to Mike. "Traced? Someone traced his plates? So was this civilian person an investigator or something?" Kelly's eyes would not even blink at this point.

Mike pulled his car up to her apartment complex entrance. A silver box attached to the small brick wall structure divided the entry and exit gates. Before he could ask, Kelly gave Mike the entry code. He pressed the four digits into the key pad and like Mike's past, the large iron gates slowly swung open.

Kelly directed Mike through the complex to a parking space directly across from her building. He pulled into the reserved space and placed the car into park. The vehicle idled smoothly with an engine so quiet that the sound blended into the early morning sounds of the night.

"No Kelly, no it wasn't an investigator. You don't even know how much I wished that it was just an investigator."

#  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Kelly sat quietly with thoughts that raced in her head like disturbed ants, but she said nothing. The car's engine filled the soft purring engine then gently merged with the natural sounds of morning. She waited for Mike to speak first.

The city began to awake projecting even more of early morning's familiar audible character. But Mike's voice was anything but recognizable; something vital was missing in the tone of his voice. The blended smile that seemed to ride along with his words was no longer there. Tonight it had vanished, replaced by an air of obscurity.

His words laced with grave recollection coupled with dry undertones. His voice managed to reveal the tremendous amount of pain he carried for so many years. The pain clearly had not diminished.

As he recalled the past, stress laced words forced from his mouth. He could no longer support the heavy weight of carrying them all alone. "No, this was definitely not an investigator that was trying to find us." He paused again rubbing his forehead with his rough hand. "See the woman who died in the car crash was named Elvia Perez. Her husband was Daniel Perez who just so happened to be deeply connected to the Mexican Mafia. After doing some research, I later found out more about the gang and just how serious this group was. It was formed out of the California prisons before taking on more sophisticated real world crimes. Perez was the brains and leader of the organization."

"Wait a minute Mike, are you telling me that the mafia was trying to find you and your friend because of the accident?" Kelly said.

"No, not exactly. See the person that was trying to track us down was in search of his own justice. He decided to become judge, jury, and-" Mike's words trailed off once again. "Let me just tell you what happened. See a couple of days after the accident, Dexter had gone missing for about four days. Everyone was worried since it was not like him to vanish without notice. After an intensive search, the local police found his restored 240Z parked at an abandon warehouse.

Dexter was still in the car. The police said he had to have been there for at least three days. A glass bottle was broken across his skull leaving extensive damage to his head. The same broken bottle was used to slash his throat and the remaining glass fragments were forced into his mouth.

The autopsy team said that the evidence showed that his throat was slashed last. He was more then likely conscious through most of the attack. My guess was that it was intended to be a slow painful death."

Kelly's mouth hung open without being able to form any words. Her eyes filled with heavy moisture. With no idea of what to say or do, she placed her hand gently on Mike's forearm.

He spoke again pointing a finger at himself. "That was supposed to be me. Me, not Dexter. For a very long time I wished it had been me, I didn't deserve to live. I was the one driving that night not him."

"So I'm guessing that the police went after Elvia's husband, umm the guy named Daniel right?" Kelly wanted to remain on the story but steer Mike away from the resurfacing guilt.

"No they could never tie the murder of my friend to Daniel Perez," Mike said. "As a matter of a fact Daniel was out of the country during the time of the incident. Anyway, later on I figured out who actually committed the murder and it wasn't Perez."

#  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

"So you're telling me that you know who murdered your friend Dexter?" Kelly said.

"Yes, and it wasn't too hard to do either," Mike replied between gritted teeth.

He recited the painful events from a memory that sealed the incident inside of his head with photographic accuracy. His fading strength rejuvenated as Kelly urged him on.

"Mike I have to say that getting it all out is always good," she assured him. "I bet that you feel relieved to finally get it all out in the open. I know I always do."

Once again she was correct. The recollection became an unexpected therapeutic secession. The more he talked about it, the easier it became and like down hill water the words flowed.

"Hell Kelly I'm not sure how I feel about this. It is just one of those things that happened and I can't take it back."

"So how do you know for sure that it wasn't that Perez guy? What did you find out?"

"The answer sort of fell in my lap actually and it wasn't the best situation. I was walking from the entrance of the mall in Spokane about a week after Dexter was murdered. The next day was my discharge date so I was purchasing some last minute travel stuff. I left the mall and while I walked toward my car, I had an odd feeling like I was being watched.

I have to admit that my nerves were a little rattled since Dexter was just murdered so I just tried to ignore the uneasiness. When I got to my car a hand grabbed my shoulder from behind. I turned to face two of the largest men I had ever seen. They stepped to the side and between them stood another man that I had never seen before.

He didn't speak at first. He just stood looking me up and down as if he was trying to evaluate me or something. The thing that I remembered most was how I felt around him because his look was unnerving. You know like, he was not just trying to read me from within by trying to look into my soul. He had this darkness about him that was more then simple intimidation."

"Darkness?" Kelly said. "Like how?"

"I don't know. It's kind of hard to explain."

"What did he look like?"

"He stood a little taller then me, about 6'3" or so and had a natural tanned skin color. His confidence bordered on a wicked arrogance with jet black hair that was cut short.

He blew a trail of cigarette smoke that slid out of his mouth towards my face. He also had a goatee that he brushed with his thumb and finger stroking it slow like he was calculating my inner thoughts. That was the first time that I came face to face with Martin Garcia."

"The guy you went after in VIP," Kelly said in a dry acknowledgement.

"The very same one. That is one person that I could never forget no matter how long it had been. Even his voice has been locked inside my head. He had a slight Latin accent and had a way of speaking at you, instead of to you. His words were placed in low direct tones.

I'm thinking that you may have had something to do with the Perez incident. He said to me then studied me even harder. Yes, yes, I really think you do.

He paused between sentences and spaced his words carefully as if to gage a reaction. His words were umm, how do I say this? Rhetorical, yeah that's it like the intention was to provoke thought and not a response. Does that make sense?"

"It does Mike. It really does," Kelly said.

"Good because I was beginning to think that I was a little screwed up. He also said, Yesss, yesss I'm gonna to do a little more checking. Until then stay close, and I'm going to need you to come to my address around 7:00 pm tomorrow.

One of the large men handed me a card with a local address on it."

Mike allowed the words flow as he told Kelly the rest of the story. It seemed to get even easier now since it was already all out there. The burden of carrying the heavy weights of guilt positioned across his shoulders had finally been placed aside. She felt honored that he was comfortable enough to share the story with her.

"That evening was already my last full day in the military. The next day was set for an early morning out-processing and an exit interview. I was discharged by noon then moved to Seattle for a while. About a year later I ended up in Dallas."

Kelly pouted her lips. "Well, ok, but I may have missed something. What did Garcia have to do with Elvia Perez? Oh! Was Garcia working for Daniel Perez or were they friends or something?"

"No, not at all. As a matter of fact Daniel Perez and Garcia were anything but friends.

After I moved to Seattle as much as I tried to put everything behind me I couldn't do it. I decided to track down Daniel Perez and confess everything. The guilt was killing me and I was getting a little tired of looking over my shoulders. At the time, I thought just like you are thinking now. I thought that Garcia worked for Daniel Perez.

I tried like hell to track him down. With the hundreds of calls I made I could never get a direct message to Daniel Perez. However I did get close enough for him to get word that I was looking for him.

One night I received a call from an unlisted number. It was none other then Daniel Perez. Although he made it clear that he wasn't too pleased to hear that someone was trying to find him, we had a very informative conversation. He told me that not only were he and Garcia not working together but were sworn enemies. Daniel found out that Garcia was having an affair with his wife while he was away. After Elvia's death, some incriminating letters were found to support that fact."

"Did you tell Daniel Perez that it was you who was driving the car that night?"

"Yeah, I told him everything."

"Affair or not, Daniel Perez must have been going through a lot and still pretty pissed at you," Kelly said.

"Oh you don't know the half of it. I mean not the being pissed at me part. See Daniel went in for a physical before all this happened. With the urging of his sister, he also decided to make a donation to the sperm bank. His sister had some sort of investment in the business and thought that her brother, who was mafia connected but still well respected, going there would be good for business.

Perez was later informed that he was actually sterile all those years."

"Sterile!!!"

"Yes, sterile, Daniel Perez was not able to have children. Elvia was his actually his second wife, and he never had children with his first wife."

Kelly placed her palms outward into the air. "Wait, wait, wait, you really have lost me now. I thought you said that there was a little boy who died in the car accident that was their child." Kelly looked frustrated by still not being able to connect the dots.

"It was a child in the car. You see I not only killed Elvia but also the love child she had with Martin Garcia. I killed their son."

#  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

By the end of the story Mike felt as if he had just run a marathon. He leaned forward with a sweat soaked shirt but the air conditioned temperature was far from hot. A combination of physical as well as mental exhaustion consumed him to near depletion.

"Mike," Kelly said. "You don't look like you are in any condition to drive right now. Come on up and get some rest ok? Please?"

Kelly made every effort to maintain a pleasant persona but Mike knew better. Inside he was certain that she felt a certain degree of sadness and he now regretted telling her the entire story. He should have just kept it to himself instead of bringing her down.

"You know that I'm ok to drive home Kelly. I do this all the time."

Kelly didn't answer.

"Hello?"

"I hear you Mike. Just do it for me ok?" she said.

He reluctantly got out of the car.

"I'll just say one more thing than I'll drop the subject. I find it so heartbreaking that you held so much pain inside for all those years. But I really do appreciate that you were able to share that with me."

"So we are done with that topic now right?"

"Yes," she smiled.

After walking up a flight of stairs they arrived at Kelly's door. Mike followed her inside and took in the brightly decorated arrangement of Kelly apartment. He had been there when she first moved in but that was months ago. She completed a lot of decorating since then so the appearance was totally different.

"This place is a lot bigger then I remembered," he said.

"Really?" she glowed with pride. "Good because that was exactly the look that I was going for. I tried to spread the furniture out as neat as I could, didn't want the cluttered look."

Mike moved around the apartment admiring the pure white walls fixed with a few abstract paintings. Everything in the apartment had some variation of bright yellow in the design. There were yellow vases, a yellow and cream rug under the glass coffee table, and yellow throw pillars on the cream couch.

She laughed. "Ok I know what you are thinking but keep it to yourself ok?"

"Damn Kelly, you're making me wonder if I have too many dark colors in my home," he said.

Kelly laughed hard. Mike was positive that it had a lot to do with him even more then the observation. He noticed many times before how she obtained a certain pleasure with being able to set his as other's poignant moods aside. He admittedly also took enjoyment with the mental but far too short break from reality.

Mike scrutinized the apartment's interior even more. Three artistic multi colored designed plates hung neatly spaced on the mantle above the fire place.

"Everything in this place screams that is was hand picked by you," he smiled. "The decorations are all bright and...too damn bubbly."

"Too bubbly? You say that like it's a bad thing," she said.

"No, not saying that but good lord," he laughed. "I guess its ok, your apartment just reflects your personality you know bright, perfectly organized, and animated. No wonder you are the optimistic heartbeat of Memphis. I thought that it was an act but now I see that you really are that damn cheerful."

"O...K, once again you are saying that like it's a bad thing."

Mike gave the comment a long thought. "Hell Kelly," he grinned. "Look over me. I'm just jealous I guess. I just never had that effortless positive demeanor about me. But you seem like you were born with it. I bet if the average positive person called a glass half full, then you would swear that it was about for overflow."

Kelly's actions were not random. Her invitation to come up to her place was not just for him to rest, it was an attempt to cheer him up. Her efforts to lift Mike's spirits began the moment they stepped into her apartment, her inner sanctum to blissville.

As transparent as her efforts were, Mike had very little faith that she could pull it off. He played along to honor her endeavors but had to admit that her constant desire to make the world smile was normally successful and wearing on him. Like anyone he was the sincerity in her efforts.

"Soooo, Michael Andrews," Kelly began as she stood in front of Mike with her arms folded. She tapped her foot against the floor dramatically. "You do realize that this is the first time I have ever had a man alone in my apartment."

"Oh I wouldn't worry about that too much Kelly. Besides, I trust you," Mike winked.

"Famous! Trust me, you trust me? Whatever!" She laughed.

"Anyway I have some coffee, want some?" She moved out of the room then into the kitchen yelling the offer over her shoulder.

"Yeah, I could use a strong cup of coffee!" Mike yelled back. His body was now really feeling the effects of the extended night.

Kelly re-entered the living room just as Mike ease on to the sofa. He moved slow now and could her hear her behind him sliding the glass doors together that led to the small balcony. He rotated his body in her direction just as she opened the horizontal blinds.

The view outside of the window captured Mike's attention. The dark morning sky invaded the living room inviting him to look closer. He walked over and peered into the dense night across her balcony that overlooked a landscaped courtyard located in the center of the complex.

The European designed courtyard contained small Greek statues, a manmade pond, and small sections of evenly cut patches of grass. Two stone wall fountains depicting the heads of lions spewed out a flowing stream of water.

Kelly stood next to Mike. "It's my favorite spot and the main reason I picked this apartment," she said. "I always had this thing about Europe and am addicted to its rich history.

The balcony is my little sanctuary where I relax, read romance novels, and escape to the places that most hopeless romantics do."

"It's the perfect spot for all of that," Mike said.

The early dawn emerged to succumb to the sun's arrival. The red and orange glow barely peeked into the horizon with the announcement that its grand entrance was about to occur. While the sun refused to delay its arrival, the ridged night tried to hold its ground.

Kelly returned to the kitchen and continued to fix the coffee. Mike pulled away from the view and returned to the couch. A couple of minutes later, Kelly brought out the two hot cups of coffee and sat next to Mike.

He took the ceramic cup then eyed the painted white and yellow circle designs on the outside before taking a sip.

"Mmmmm, thank you Kelly, this is not too bad. It's actually pretty good."

"You act surprised. So you think that blondes can't make a cup of coffee?"

"I'm not touching that one," he smiled.

"Good idea, I would hate to have to throw this hot coffee on my boss."

Mike laughed. He stretched and stood then sipped on the coffee as he made his way around the room. When he sat down again it was on the matching chair across from the couch instead on next to Kelly. He actually didn't realize it till after it was done and wondered if she took notice.

"Mike, any idea how Garcia ended up at the bar last night? How do you think he found you here in Dallas after all that time?"

"Those are the million dollar questions. To be honest I never expected this to totally go away. No matter how you look at it, I killed two people. It's not like I deserve a carefree life. Anyway I had heard rumors that Garcia had ties in Dallas.

Through the years I would occasionally do some searching to get the latest information on Garcia. Finding information on him was about as difficult as it was for finding info on Perez. It took me years to even find out anything about his past and the little that I could find out about him was never good."

"Since you know who he is now can't you get the police to go after him?"

"I wish it was that easy. From what I discovered, Garcia is powerful and has deep connections with even deeper pockets. A lot of key people are in those deep pockets. Policemen, judges, politicians...you name it. On top of that, officially he doesn't even exist. See he had his identity erased."

"Identity erased? Come on now Mike, how in the world did he do that?"

"Oh it can be done. You know Sgt. Franz, the one I told you about who was my superior in the Air Force? Well, he also helped me dig up information on Garcia. Sgt. Franz later changed his career field in the Air Force and worked in intelligence. Once he was there he was able to get a lot of information on Garcia.

He found out that Garcia went to Moscow and paid an underground organization to remove his identity. The organization is very effective and good in what they do. They use a process of scrapping off all your fingertips to remove your fingerprints. After that you are issued a new ID and passport. It is a very costly and very painful process, but it does work.

Also Sgt. Franz found out that Garcia was initially brought to the US at a young age so he has no official birth certificate. With no official identification he is always able to stay a few steps ahead of authorities."

"You know Mike, I was just thinking. What happened back in Spokane on the day you got out of the Air force, you know when you went to the address Garcia gave to you at the mall?"

"I never went. I left, drove to Seattle and thought all of that was behind me. That was the last time I saw Garcia till-"

"Till tonight," Kelly finished.

#  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Outside beyond the glass divider of the sliding balcony door, the chronic struggle of the darkness against the morning's arrival continued its battle. The mêlée persisted every day, 365 days a year. This evening proved to be no different.

The morning breeze skimmed across the landscape laying a resisting blanket of coolness across everything in its path. By the time daylight arrived the sun's rays would eradicate any chill left by the night. The battle of balance touched everything in its unavoidable path.

Kelly stared down at another peaceful night time view of her apartment complex courtyard. A soft breeze skated across the man-made pond pushing across the surface with just enough force to create ripples of tiny waves. The miniature impressions danced along the water making small splashes beneath one of the tiny ducks that inhabited the pond. Like the emotions of the entire night, the duck fought against the current.

Kelly moved away from the glass then into the living area hallway. She entered her bedroom then after a secession of wide yarns, she decided to get more comfortable. Her eyes grew heavy.

"Hey Mike!" She called out from the bedroom. "I'm gonna jump in the shower and change right quick. Help yourself to another cup of coffee if you want ok?" He did not respond.

She returned to the living room wrapped inside her thick terry cloth white robe. Her wet hair dangled her golden curls that fell down her back. She patted her face with a yellow towel while smiling at Mike.

Mike's body leaned to one side as he remained passed out on her couch with his body awkwardly against the side arm. She stood and watched for a moment as his large chest rose and descended laboring with the heavy breaths of life's issues. His body had finally closed for the night even when his apprehension refused to rest. She retrieved a blanket and draped it across him.

She switched off the lights then made her way to the opened blinds of the balcony. Just before pulling them close, she took a little time to look down into the landscaped square once again. The view remained as timeless as the stars.

Since she removed her contact her vision was limited but she could still enjoy the view through the blurriness. Two decorative large tan boulders gleamed from the bright outdoor lighting. The wooden bridge across the pond also managed to appear through her limited vision but for without her contacts, everything else was just a haze of obscure shadows.

She pulled the blinds close then made her way back to the hallway. Before leaving she stopped at the hallway's entrance and placed her hand on the last remaining light switch, took one last look at Mike, and then turned off the switch. She smiled as she retired to her bedroom.

He skin still felt warm from the shower. Her muscles relaxed to the point that she barely remembered getting dressed. A few minutes after her head touched the pillow she was fast asleep.

* * *

Below Kelly's balcony window the small duck floated on the tranquil waters of the pond. The animal allowed the drifting current to take him to the outside edge. He maneuvered across the small pond with graceful ease.

If Kelly's contacts were in place, she may have even seen the peacefully floating creature, and even more.

She might have also caught a glimpse of someone else staring at her through shadows. But as far as he could tell, she didn't see him. He watched her from the courtyard as she drew the blinds closed. His slender shadow stretched across the dark water as he looked away from Kelly's window then at the small duck with mild interest.

He stood among the Greek statues displayed throughout the courtyard. He blended with the stone representations although he was neither Greek nor made of limestone. Even more, unlike the pleasant appearance of the Greek figures, his presence projected a more ominous silhouette.

The smoke from his cigarette rose in a serpent like fashion then mixed into the Texas night. His squinted eyes back at the closed blinds that lead to Kelly apartment then back at the pond. So close.

He knelled down in the darkness and distinguished the cigarette into the brick walkway. The small duck grew curious and moved closer accustomed to humans who probably feed him bread crumbs on a daily basis.

The duck moved closer conditioned not to shy away from visitors and a potential early morning meal. Garcia gently moved his large hand toward the small duck. It waddled out of the water, shook its feathers dry then took several steps to get next to Garcia.

In a blindingly swift movement, he snatched the duck away from the pond's edge. He gripped the animal in both hands then ripped it in half. Feathers, blood, and guts burst between his fingers then fell onto the concrete walkway.

#  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The next morning Mike woke up to the scent of fresh coffee. The strong aroma filled his nostrils forcing his body into an upright position. His body ached, beaten by the unmerciful solid texture of the couch. He twisted his neck then leaned it back against his hand as he tried to rub away the soreness. He felt as if he had slept for several uncomfortable days.

A steady stream of sunlight sprayed through the blinds. The common appearance of fog had long burned off allowing the sun to reveal its full glow. On the far wall of Kelly's apartment Mike caught his reflection bouncing off a large sun shaped mirrored clock.

His eyes filled with spots as they adjusted to the light. He blinked repeatedly in his effort to focus on the bright yellow hands of the wall clock. 9:05?

He calculated the elapsed time. What felt like a few days of sleeping actually came to just about two and a half hours. That can't be right.

He stood slowly placing both hands on his waist then leaned back as far as he could to hear the familiar crack. This time the sound would not happen. He twisted his upper torso hard from one side to the other but was still unable to create that relieving crack. Even without the sound, he felt a slight release of tension. Hell, good enough. The mental anxiety however refused to go away.

Kelly peeked around the corner. "Bout time!" she smiled. "I thought I was going to have to give you mouth to mouth to get you going!"

Mike ignored the comment. The fatigue and stress blocked the ability to place any thoughts into her words. His mind could not truly wrap around anything at this point. A dark consideration took precedence. I should just drop everything including the bar, and relocate, he thought.

The thought of dealing with the likes of Garcia at this point in his life was not something he was willing to risk. Far too much remained to lose and as for what there was to gain, he couldn't see it, not now anyway.

In the mist of the strong scent of coffee, toast and bacon emerged to dominate the senses. Kelly unnecessarily but thoughtfully managed to take the time and prepare a small breakfast. It took a little enticing on Kelly's part, but after some eye batting and pouting, he considered eating what she had cook for him instead of bolting out of there.

Mike did not feel the least bit hungry and just wanted to just get home. He still did not want to appear discourteous, so he graciously accepted her offer. Although it wasn't the best breakfast he ever tasted to his surprise it was far better then he expected. He thanked her then gathered his things.

"Hey Kelly," he said turning away from the door. "I have a lot of things to do before I open the bar but I'll swing back through to get you on the way there."

"Ok good, your tank is full, so you won't have to do that," she replied.

"Full?"

"Yeah, I sort of borrowed your Porsche this morning since, you know, my car was still at the bar. I went on a grocery run, dropped off some mail, and then did a thirty-minute jog around the school's track."

Mike remained stoned faced.

"Oh Mike, don't worry I didn't get a scratch on it, I swear," she added but a hand went to her mouth. "Mike I am so sorry, I should have asked you first before taking off in your car."

He stared at Kelly truly amazed at the energy that she always seemed to encompass. He thought that if he could bottle that energy he could make millions. He still remained silent as he thought about her endless level of vigor.

"Mike really, I am so sorry! I should have asked you first. See you were sleeping so sound that I didn't want to wake you. Are you upset?" Kelly toyed with her hair nervously.

"Upset? No," Mike said. "But I am a little shocked."

"Shocked?" she said softly lowering her head.

"Yeah Kelly shocked! You mean to tell me that a blonde knows how to drive a standard shift? Wonders never cease," he smiled.

It took a second for the slight to register. Mike knew what was coming and was already making his way to the door. Lucky for him, a throw pillow from the couch was the closest thing Kelly could grab. She launched the cousin rocket at him missing his head.

She then grabbed a fork off the breakfast plate and continued after Mike who was laughing hysterically on his way out the door.

"Dammit Mike!! I hate those damn blonde jokes!!!"

#  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The Porsche gears whined high before shifting into second as Mike raced out of the driveway of Kelly's apartment complex. The silver sports car bounced onto the street then into the light Frankford Street traffic. For a fleeting moment he smiled within as he waited at the next stop light.

The pleasant mood vanished soon after lifting is spirits. Pressing matters dominated his mind that – in one form or the other – centered on Garcia. Mike weighed the options.

A number of possibilities could explain Garcia's sudden appearance. He wondered if Garcia tracked him down or just happen to come into the Memphis Bar and spot him. The latter seemed more possible since he pictured Garcia to be more of the Ghost Bar or The Glass Cactus type. His bar drew in a more working class clientele. If he had to guess he would say that Garcia tracked him down and didn't just stumble into the Memphis nightclub.

With the most likely case in mind a new set of concerns opened up. From what Mike did know about Garcia, he was not one to stop a pursuit so now that Garcia was aware of his location, Mike had to assume that the chase would not stop. That is of course unless the need had ended with Mike's untimely death.

Yet for every known there were still a growing number of unknowns. Garcia had the element of surprise so why did he walk away? Why not kill him on the way to his car after closing the bar? Why make his presence known just to walk out of the front entrance? No matter how he calculated, it really didn't add up.

One fact was undeniable. The blood hounds of hell had caught his sent and that gave Mike a less then zero percent chance of Garcia losing the trail. The hunt was on and from the look of things it had never actually stopped. For years he pretended that everything was behind him. That convenient lie no longer held any weight. The truth could no longer slide between the shadows.

For this dance to end something drastic would have to occur. The decision brought a sort of morbid peace to his mind. With that mindset settled, for the rest of the day Mike focused on his errands.

The tasks took far longer to complete then Mike anticipated. Mike constantly checked his watch to calculate and recalculate time spans. This ballet with the clock was something he was accustomed to but still not comfortably able to grasp.

The constraints of time compounded but the need to share it added up even faster. As the day passed it seemed that he would always have to divert his plans to squeeze in someone else's. An employee, family, friend, it was always someone.

An added stress evolved around something that was always there but out of his control, the Dallas traffic. The bumper to bumper congestion imprisoned him as it always did in any drive beyond his neighborhood. But it was the price you paid to, dance in Dallas or so he joked with anyone who complained about the constant freeway congestion that plagued the city.

The traffic was not his main concern. As Mike sat inside his car he thought about more important shortcomings because he realized that he got it wrong.

Somehow he miscalculated and his certainty of being insolated from his past by living among the massive population of a big city like Dallas did not work. He lived a world away from Washington State but his past still managed to transfer its grip to his present Texas location. Instead of the calculated move to Dallas being a buffer, it was actually a bridge.

"How in the world did he find me all the way in Addison, Texas?" he said aloud.

The thought disturbed him but deep down he knew that the resurfacing past was inevitable. The how's were actually irrelevant and had no bearing on fate. Garcia was destined to find Mike because karma was not on Mike's side. As much as he tried to convince himself that there was no room in the present for the past, he was not surprised that this day would come, it had to come.

Like an angry lion awaken from a deep sleep, the dark compartments of suppressed memories rushed back into the present.

The cell phone ring gradually faded into his awareness. It took nearly five rings before Mike became fully aware that he was getting a call.

"Hello?" No answer. "Hello?" He repeated.

Out of the silence, words emerged with a low distinctive accent. The voice echoed with familiarity, Mike could never forget it because it had never left his memory. It spoke in dry low tones and with words separated by thoughtful segments. Each word eased out with carefully consideration and calculated phrases intentionally spaced by pauses.

"Ever- wondered why Cain, killed Able, Michael Andrews?"

Mike did not answer. He felt moisture seep from his forehead as he pressed the cell phone hard against his face. Numbness raced across his soul as the aura of malevolence overcame the entire day. He heard the slow pull of wind in the receiver as the caller took a drag of his cigarette.

"It was simple," Garcia continued. "Somewhere deep down, he knew he could get away with it."

The voice of Garcia caused Mike's spine to tingle. His skin felt like a thousand needles were being pricked into it simultaneously. Silence gripped the phone as Garcia allowed his words to slither inside Mike's head. Composure dominated Mike but then fell away after the next unexpected and deeply unsettling words came from Garcia's mouth.

#  CHAPTER NINETEEN

"Mr. Andrews," Garcia paused. The sound of him taking another long contemplated drag from his cigarette filled the gap. "You should really call your mother more often." He stopped to take another pause. "I'm afraid she's just not looking too, healthy, these days."

The call disconnected leaving Mike to dwell in personal terror laced in confusion. The words bounced inside his head trying to pull some logic from them. Garcia's voice played over in repeated contemplation as his mind tried to get a true grip on what was said or implied.

The leisure traffic decreased to an even slower pace as the air conditioned interior of his car dropped from warm to hot. Extreme anxiety settled at levels Mike had never known were possible. His existence slumped as the heavy onset of the vast unknown pressed hard upon him.

Mike's mind rotated in a mental tailspin. He felt like lost, helpless, wounded prey and there was nothing he could do but wait. Soon he would accept humiliating defeat as he got finished off by this relentless predator.

The morbid psychological game of chess began with a scripted end. It would progress to physical deletion. The problem embraced a solemn fact, before Mike even joined in this game was already in progress. Key movements were already accomplished so the odds were heavily stacked against him. When a game has already ended, the progression component of time will bring dark awareness to the unknowing opponent.

He had to think about what he was up against. Doing his personal research there were still a few things that Mike was able to find out about the legendary Garcia. One hundred percent of the known attributes were not putting Mike's mind at ease.

Some long eerily time periods remained where it seemed as if Garcia was off the map. Fortunately, after a period of dead time, he began to receive messages from his friend in the military with new information on Garcia to keep the information flowing but each block became more chilling and even more disturbing.

The stories gave Mike a pretty good or rather pretty dark profile of Garcia. The man's attributes contained cunning, very competitive, and methodical ways. In the end Mike discovered that the real man was far more ruthless then the legend.

As much as he knew about Garcia, he had to admit that he still underestimated him. Mike felt certain that the statue of limitations on bad karma would somehow give him a moral pardon on his past transgressions. He assumed that Garcia would adhere to more pressing matters then a nearly two decade old incident. Clearly Mike was wrong, potentially dead wrong.

In a flash of realization Mike jumped, inadvertently pressing the gas pedal. The reaction caused his Porsche to slam into the rear end of the car in front of him. The low front bumper of his Porsche slid beneath the rear of the late model Chevy truck.

The impact caused the cell phone to fly out of Mike's hand and on to the passenger's floor. Mike's mind soared far away from the moment oblivious to the crash. He franticly removed the seat belt leaning over to the passenger side searching for the dropped cell phone.

Pure time pressing panic filled every fiber inside of him. The revelation of what he was up against crashed into his head in a distressing afterthought. He prayed he was wrong. In fact he had never hoped so much in his life that he was incorrect. But what he saw or thought he saw on his phone rattled him.

The man he just hit in the Chevy truck got out of his car. His hands waved franticly at the point of impact then flew to his head in disbelief.

Mike found his cell phone then pulled it from under the seat. He thumbed through the call log just as a shadow draped across him. The man from the crash stood at the door to the Porsche banging on the window. The heavy raps against the window were hear but ignored. Mike's world fell silent; his focus zeroed on the cell phone's small display.

He scrolled through the call list as he searched for the last incoming call. His hand froze almost refusing to press the number knowing the possibility of what he was about to see. The man at his car window tugged on the locked door handle with insistent jerks. The pulls were so hard that that the Porsche rocked with each one.

Mike pressed the button for the list of incoming calls then read the last call received number. It was not what the wanted to see. Mike's body broke out into a cold sweat as he realized where Garcia's call was made.

#  CHAPTER TWENTY

The digits displayed on the cell phone glowed in Mike's memory. It remained one of the few numbers that he didn't have to use his contact list to remember. The mere site of the seven digits triggered an additional flow of cold sweat to cover Mike. It became the inception of the precise moment when the thought process took second seat to raw reaction.

His foot slammed against the small gas peddle. The Porsche's back spinning tires squealed as they tore hard against the pavement. Mike's only heard the sound of Garcia's voice lurking in his ears. The vision of the seven numbers remained ever so present in his mind. It can't be. Garcia is at my mother's apartment, he mumbled to himself.

The erratic movement of the Porsche caused the man at his diver's side window to jump out of the way. Mike pulled the stick shift forward out of reverse then threw it into first gear. He pressed his foot hard against the accelerator bouncing the car onto the sidewalk.

He raced along the outside of the stagnate traffic guiding the sports car within the small path. The truck Mike collided with was now just a small picture in his rear view mirror. When the sidewalk ended Mike darted in and out of traffic making his way to the North Dallas Tollway.

He arrived at the intersection but was stopped by a red light. After a quick glance he sped through the signal as other cars laid on their horns. The Porsche avoided a major collision by inches.

More horns blared like trumpets as other cars also scarcely missed colliding with the Porsche. The silver car fished tailed across the overpass then swerved left onto the access road before accelerating on to the tollway's entrance ramp to head north.

It would take another fifteen minutes for Mike to get to his mother's retirement apartment community. The drive to the Frankford Estates normally seemed to take only a few minutes in previous trips. Now time dragged on in a far too slow pace. He came to terms with an enlightened observation, there isn't anything as infinite and yet so fleeting as time. The rigid constraints of time continued to extend somehow and stretch to allow more seconds within each minute and more minutes within the present hour.

He pressed the car to its limits. With every thought of not getting to his mother on time, came a harder press against the already floored gas peddle. The Porsche's engine whined as it became tested in its full ability. The RPM's raced high approaching its red line boundary as the vehicle's tires spun peeling faster with each shift to a higher gear.

The faster he drove the harder it was to control the car. Upon the slightest movement of the steering wheel the car would jump and overcompensate due to the extreme velocity. The entire light frame vibrated making the car feel as if it were about to implode.

In the process, Mike grabbed his cell phone and tried to call his mother again. No answer.

His heart raced and hands jittered nervously beneath the tight grip. When he arrived at the exit a hard right was made onto the exit ramp at the very last minute. Two trucks moved slowly in front of him. Mike was forced to maneuver his car between them.

The car's frame vibrated even more as it skipped horizontally across the hot pavement. The enormous amount of stress placed on the Porsche's low profile tires was felt as well as heard. But the combined tension of the high velocity and hot pavement were too much for the tires. The rear passenger side tire exploded causing the car to swerve out of control.

As the car tilted on the two remaining good tires Mike fought desperately to keep the car from flipping over. He grabbed the wheel with both hands as the car rocked hard then bounced forward down the exit. Sparks flew from the bare rim's contact with the street.

As Mike's vehicle sped down the exit ramp, a previously unseen obstruction blocked the lane. A large brown UPS truck crept slowly down the ramp like a dark wall of steel. He pressed hard on the break pedal.

Without any formal training, Mike had his share of driving experiences and it came in handy today. He maneuvered the Porsche perfectly to slide just outside of the truck with two wheels balancing on the outside curb. Mike avoided the collision by mere inches but broke the passenger's door side mirror as he slipped by the side.

The ride had Mike's body tense but it was far from over. The rims bounced down hard then smashed against the concrete curb forcing the car to tilt on the two driver side tires before slamming back down on all four wheels. The car leaped back on to the ramp gaining momentum as it raced on to the access road.

Mike's body felt virtually numb to his surroundings. He did notice that something flew out of his opened passenger side window in the process but he had no idea what. The approaching loud sirens also fell in distracted silence as well as the scrapping sound of the car's bare rim. Everything fell away from his immediate awareness; his mind locked on getting to his mother's apartment.

Two blocks separated Mike from his mother's apartments. Traffic lights located at the beginning of each of the remaining blocks managed to catch him each time. He passed through the first light just in time as the light teetered between yellow and red. By the time his car reached the second light, it was a solid red. Dammit!

He ignored the red indication and pressed the gas pedal even harder. Sparks flew from the tireless rim making everyone around take notice. Mike unknowingly created total clearance to speed through any of the remaining lights as other cars stopped when they spotted the peculiar display of shooting sparks.

The car swerved into the first empty parking space available at his mother's apartments. The parking turned out to be a bad combination of a vertical misalignment mixed with a diagonal placement across the white parallel lines. Smoke from the shredded blown tire and crushed rim floated across the immediate area with a sickening burning scent. Mike swung the car door open then darted through the side gate to enter the complex.

Luckily the gate was not locked. He dashed through the gate quickly then made his way down the sidewalk. Mike took the shortest route through his mother's building which happened to have been the pool area. He jumped over a short gate then hurdled across a few pool side chairs to get across the section. Relaxing seniors sun bathing by the pool moved away or jumped to the side as Mike rushed past them.

Mike's heart raced faster the closer he got to her door. He leaped across the multiple stairs in three wide strides as he made his way to the second floor. His trembling hands shuffled through the multiple keys on his chain trying to find the correct one.

"Come on come!!" he said to himself with words of frustration.

"Thump! Thump! Thump!"

He hammered the side of his fist against the door but the response was far too slow. He needed a quicker way to get inside so backed up then flung his body into the door a full force.

He braced his body for the hard impact expecting to have to try again. The dead bolt was not connected so the door gave away easily causing the small section around the door's latch to shatter. Momentum forced his body through the entry landing inside on the floor with a loud thud.

Mike flipped his body off of his back gripping his sore shoulder. He ignored the pain but his breathing was rapid filled and with the panic devices ignited by the unknown. Anguish bore down on his soul like the heat on top of the sun soaking seniors by the pool.

An uneasy feeling of helpless surfaced. Vulnerability never suited him but he felt exposed among the spirit of the ultimate antagonist. Echoes of despair bounced against the walls as he screamed out for his mother.

He pushed his body up driven by pure will power. He waited to hear the sound of her voice making her way from somewhere in the apartment. He repeated the call out to her. His cry echoed through the empty room but became gripped and discarded by unsettling silence.

His stone expression varied from how he felt inside. Anguish filled his internal being as he held on to bleak hope. He needed to hear her voice answer his cries. The seconds between calls out to her filled with desperate prayers.

Stress induced headaches forced Mike's vision to blur. The silent plea for her safety managed to overlook his physical pain. With that was a self imposed moment of disbelief. It can't be; it just can not be. The onslaught of thoughts mixed with the stillness of the apartment. The silence ripped with an awkward tear.

Click!

The all too familiar metallic sound of the cocked pistol broke his thoughts as well as the silence of the apartment. A shadowed figure cloaked the entry with a foreboding presence as it emerged behind Mike filling the doorway.

#  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Mike's thoughts locked into a state of emptiness from the second he heard the click of the gun behind his head. Then he reflected on a deeper level. His thoughts sorted thorough the select preverbal moments that encompassed all of life. Times like the fatal accident in Spokane. Times like the one he found himself in at that very instant.

Chaos altered into clarity as his mind absorbed the true meaning of being. Surprisingly the people he thought of in that moment were few in numbers. All of his accomplishments became instantly insignificant.

A deep self awareness compressed in the small fraction of a surreal illumination. The thing that astounded Mike most was his calmness. In the wake of a pending untimely demise he embraced it with a sense of peace that he had never felt in his entire existence.

The sensation overpowered him with the exception of a small element of guilt for all he would leave behind. He freely accepted a complimentary pass to the existence of no more worries, no more stress, and most of all, no more past. Mike closed his eyes and stretched out his arms but his eyes filled with tears.

He did not feel the need to turn around and face the person behind him. His mind's eye could visualize Garcia standing and projecting the long shadow that extended around him. That annoying smirk of triumph would be permanently painted across Garcia's face. Yet Mike would give the all of victory to destiny.

Fate placed his mighty finger on the opposite side of the scale then moved it down. Karma, Mike realized, was like Vegas. No matter how much you win in Vegas the money will eventually depart if you keep playing. Life has a way of making sure the scales of karma eventually balance, all you have to do is keep on living.

The natural process occurred as it has done for an eternity. Things always tend to balance out in the end. It was time for him to pay the cost for the death of Elvia Perez and her son, balance the scales.

Dark calm wrapped in an eternity. The constraints of time slowed in a labored pace as he wondered how the sound of death would resonate. But whatever existed or didn't exist in the after life was guess work. Would there even be an actual awareness of the senses post demise? I doubt it.

He waited. Time persistently stretched the delay of oncoming non existence to tease his morbid curiosity. Mike could not stop pondering about how his impending demise would actually feel or not feel. Long seconds past with nothing but more pending fate weaved in stillness.

The wait for the great unknown never arrived. No thunderous explosion erupted in his brain. His body tensed as he waited for the bullet to penetrate his scull and thrust his body forward into some spiritual tunnel.

He lowered his hands then opened his eyes. The so often heard of light never surfaced, not on this day. On this day the only thing that arrived was more silence. Out of the stillness, commanding words shot out. "Don't move. Drop to the floor and keep your hands where I can see them!!" The policeman's harsh forceful voice made Mike smile. The words were as angelic as a singing angel.

Mike followed the officer's instructions to the letter. Once on the floor he exhaled slowly and allowed a silent prayer of thanks to ride across his breath. For whom the prayer was for he wasn't sure. However he was positive of the lingering change as the scales tilted in a direction not beneficial to him.

The policeman's voice broke the silence but was only the fist to do so. The next sound forced an even wider smile across his face. The voice tore straight into Mike's heart releasing emotions that even he never truly knew existed. Tears flowed from his eyes and his body shook with the vibrating emotions of absolute relief.

"What on earth is going on here?!!" Mike's mother's voice said. She entered the doorway then stood next to him. "Michael get off of that floor! Why do you have that gun pointed at my son?!!"

"This is your son ma'am?" the officer question.

"Yes of course it is!" She fanned her frail hand at the officer. "Put that thing down. What is all of this about?"

#  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

The officer lowered his weapon before placing it back inside of its holster. Mike's mother refused to let the tense situation go, she wanted some answers.

"I need you to tell me what is going on, now. Why in the world are you in my home with a gun aimed at my son?!"

"Ma'am I thought that your son was putting people in danger. I spotted him racing away from the accident in Addison and chased his car from that point thinking that it was a hit and run situation. My police car failed to catch with the sports car since he was driving so fast.

By the time I pulled up to the apartments here, your son had already gotten out and ran into your complex. After I saw him burst through your door, I didn't know what to think."

Mike followed by explaining what started the wild ride to his mother's apartment. "It's ok Ma, he was just doing his job."

An explanation followed but Mike remained selective in what he said and most of all didn't say. He left out certain details that would have been more complicated then assisting. In short he told the officer that he received a call that his mother's apartment was being broken into. Although it was a very liberal evasion of the truth, it seemed to pacify everyone.

The officer finally moved his hand away from his holstered weapon. "Well I mean if you thought that someone was breaking into your mother's apartment I guess I can understand the wild driving that you were doing but still not the best way to handle that situation."

"Yeah I know," Mike said.

The sympathy still did not eliminate the officer from ripping of three citations from his pad. One was for speeding, one for reckless driving, and the last was for leaving the scene of an accident.

He continued to write another ticket for breaking and entering but relented after a continuous bashing from Mike's mother. The officer avoided eye contact with his mother's piecing stare as he left the apartment. "Just be a little more careful next time Mr. Andrews," he said.

Now with only the two of them left, Mike still remained as evasive with his mother as he was with the officer. He retold his account of what happened but in a little more detail. Mike danced around the real reasons for his erratic behavior.

"Mom, was anyone in your apartment today?"

"No, not that I know of, why do you ask? What is going on Michael?"

"Are you positive?"

"Yes I'm pretty sure. I was here most of the day then took a walk over to the Jenkins place." her forehead wrinkled in thought. "But that was just in the building next door."

"Did you lock your door?"

"Heavens no, I never lock that door, except at night of course."

That explanation made everything a lot clearer for Mike. Although his mother tried to get more information, Mike guided the conversation to a different subject. He squirmed under the cynical eyes of his mother as he dodged questions.

The smoke screen failed; she knew he was hiding something. After a short span of silence Mike released an inner sigh of relief when he assumed that she decided not to press the issue.

He was wrong. Her eyes narrowed across the top of her silver framed glasses. "So what is really going on Michael David Andrews?"

She waited for more details.

The two coal black wisdom filled pupils were also youthful and vibrant. Her small frail frame moved quickly to as she circled the table with her eyes locked on Mike. Long straight silver hair rested on her head and as always, tightly pulled back into a tight bun. Her sweet disposition now edged into a fiery one.

Worry and concern now filled those black pupils. He knew her better then anyone so her solid independence left little doubt that the concern was not for her, but for him. Like most mothers apprehension ruled her emotions when it came to her son. Even after Mike's father passed he always knew that his mother would be fine but wondered how he was going to manage.

Out of desperation to slide away from her perceptive stare he inserted a sure fire distraction. Mike rubbed on his flat stomach. "Mom I'm hungry, you got anything already cooked?"

Her stern features subsided. Her mouth gapped open slightly before her small head tilted down. She peered over the top of her half moon shaped lenses. Her folded arms pulled apart then fell to her side as her hands settled on her small hips. "I bet you haven't eaten all day!" she said.

Bingo.

Mike shrugged his shoulders putting an extra effort in his display of guilt. Inside however, he jumped for joy pleased that he was able to avoid discussing the true dilemma.

With the more stressing conversation avoided he thought of going for another one. He really wanted to talk to her about staying with him for a while at his home but knew she would not go for that. That request would be a plea fallen on death ears so he didn't even try. As he watched her fuss about the kitchen he found consolation in the fact that for now, she was safe.

The meal turned out to be a culinary masterpiece. There was nothing like mom's cooking because moms always cooked with love. She managed to put together a stack of mouth watering pasta, creamy mash potatoes, and perfectly steamed broccoli. He tried to pace himself but couldn't and managed to eat longer and far more then he had planed.

Mike leaned back in his chair feeling almost too stuffed to even move. As for his mother, she took full advantage of her captive audience to recite her endless spills of gossip and rants. He listened as his mother went on about the same family updates she just told him the day before. The talk went on about the cousins who were having money issues, the aunt who was back in the hospital, and the relatives who, in her opinion, never called. All of the topics were discussed as if she had not told him the exact same thing the week before.

Unlike the other times when he would mentally check out, this time he listened to every word. Just a week before, he did his entire staff's work schedule as she spoke to him on the phone about her neighbor's new car. This time he paid attention welcoming the repetitive stories as if he was hearing them for the first time. He did this because he knew that it would have been what he missed the most if something would have happened to her.

With a kiss placed on her cheek, he left his mother's apartment. Mentally organizing the growing list of things he needed to get done proved to be impossible. The concern for pending issues caused him a great deal of worry but that wasn't what worried him the most. What worried him more was the problems that had yet to come and were waiting somewhere in the distance, just out of sight.

#  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

The tip of the iceberg of issues just began to appear. More turmoil loomed and a wide base of tribulations remained just below the murky waters ready to break the surface. He could feel it. He needed to just tackle the problems the only way he knew how, one at a time and head on.

As he made his way back to his car several thoughts surfaced. Many issues had to be considered and he had no idea how much time remained to get them all done since time now tittered on uneven ground.

He unenthusiastically embraced an uncertain future. The next gun placed to his head could very well have Garcia on the other end. He looked at this as a second chance and this second prospect was an opportunity to align things for a better future existence. Although the future remained tentative, he elected to anchor the mindset of no tomorrow.

Mike aligned his priorities. The first was to protect the very people he thought of when he heard the click of the pistol behind his head. After that things could fall in whatever place they would fit.

Mike approached his car knowing that for now he needed to get back home. This simple task would not be easy. When he arrived at his car the first thing he noticed was the bent and broken rim. His beloved Porsche was in no shape to get him back home. The cracked handle hug loosely off of the door, the front fiberglass bumper was torn almost completely off, and the hood was crushed in front. As bad as is was, the condition of his prized possession barely registered.

Unfazed, he patted his pockets to search for his phone. Before he could find it his eyes drifted to the officer sitting in his squad car on the other side of the parking lot. Not just any officer but the same one who was just inside of his mother's apartment.

Mike walked over to the car. The officer sat inside the air conditioned car filling out paper work. Mike tapped on the driver's side glass.

When Officer Myers turned to see Mike, he rolled his eyes. He slowly placed his pen aside before pressing the button to lower the window. "Yes Mr. Andrews, what can I do for you?"

"I just wanted to thank you again and ask you a couple of questions."

Myers twisted his furry mustache before he spoke. "Ok, what's on your mind?" The officer's eyes drooped with fatigue. Scattered red lines mapped across the whites of his pupils. To Mike he had the expression that he would rather be anywhere but there. The look made Mike reconsider the question he had in mind but he pressed on anyway. Can't hurt to ask.

"My first question is what time is your shift over?"

Officer Meyers took a look at the digital clock on the car's dashboard. "Umm, about 7:30 pm, why you ask?"

"That brings me to my next question. Would you be willing to moonlight after your shift is over?"

After a quick trip to a nearby ATM, Mike hired Officer Thom Myers. The job entailed working as a bodyguard for Mike's mother for the entire of the night. The officer drove Mike back to his car where they both searched for the missing cell phone bit after not finding it Mike used the officer's phone to call for a tow truck.

* * *

Just a few blocks away a twelve passenger limousine pulled away from the access road curb. It had been strategically parked just a few feet away from the exit ramp, waiting, watching. They knew that Mike would be driving right past them and watched the entire sequence unfold.

Mike's Porsche flew right past them down the ramp with sparks flying into the humid Texas air. At the time the plan was to follow Michael Andrews right to his mother's apartment. Plans changed after they spotted the police car trailing behind the silver Porsche.

In the end it worked out even better then they could have anticipated. The item they spotted flying out of car's window caught their attention. After the cars raced by they focused on what they had.

The lone passenger seated in the back of the limo placed the fresh drink in his hand aside. In his other hand, a copy of his favorite book gripped in his large palm. Although he read the narrative a countless number of times, he had discovered that each reading was like a new discovery for the 6th century novel. He placed his copy of The Art of War on the seat next to him.

While still seated in the back seat he picked up the interior phone that connected him to the driver.

"Pull over there," he said.

As always the limo driver followed his bosses' instructions without question. The luxury vehicle pulled away from its parked location next to the grass section along the tollway's exit ramp.

"See if you can find it," he said to the diver. The driver got out of the car and walked directly to the item that sat in the inch high grass. He picked it up and took it to the rear of the car.

The dark tinted rear window lowered allowing an array of cigarette smoke to filter out of the car and into the air outside. The driver placed the cell phone into the hand that extended out from the window's opening before it was raised back up.

The phone's display lit up the dark interior. Still working, good. Garcia gazed into the display. The mirror like surface reflected his iniquitous smile.

This is an unexpected surprise, he thought. Finding the phone that belonged to Michael Andrews gave him an even greater strategic edge and was about to make his quest just a little easier. To know thy enemies. Garcia felt that he now had the Cart Blanche all access pass to Mike's inner circle.

That very morning, Garcia decided to postpone his planned trip to Europe. Now he reconsidered. Inside of his daily planner sat an invitation to the prestigious Moscow poker tournament that was to be played at the Hotel Renaissance.

He waited till the very last minute before he cancelled his reservations in Moscow. The Hotel Metropol along with all the opulent trappings that he had grown to love remained his hotel away from home and his favorite place to visit. For him the five star hotel existed in a class all of its own.

Of the many hotels the he liked, there were very few that he loved. The Hotel Metropol offered the opulence that suited his taste. Detailed perfection displayed in every aspect of the Hotel. The lobby's gold statues, marble columns and priceless chandeliers never failed to impress Garcia.

Just as impressive as the exterior and lobby, the rooms also stood out. He adored the Karelian birch furniture through out the four room presidential suite. The wide bay windows exposed the perfect view of Red Square that was a mere three minute walk away from the hotel.

As he sat in the darkness of the rear limo, Garcia looked down at the phone inside of his hand. With Mike's phone and its content in his possession, he would have time to devise his plan of attack.

A trip to Russia now felt very doable. The delay would not be long but it would take a great deal of wit to get through the poker contest. He would have to make the trip as short as possible. Cleverness has never been associated with long delays, according to Sun Tzu.

Garcia placed a call to Flo, his long time travel agent. "Hello beautiful looks like I am going to need to renew the Moscow reservations that were cancelled this morning," he said.

The limo pulled into the Dallas traffic and headed south toward the DFW airport. In approximately twelve hours he would land in Moscow and take part in the poker tournament after all. He needed the get away. Once the tournament was over, it would be time for Michael Andrews to taste a little man made darkness.

#  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Mike watched as the tow truck drove away from his home with his wrecked Porsche on its flatbed. Luckily the tow driver was able to drop him off after getting the car from his mother's apartment complex.

He could have borrowed his mother's car but that would have created another list of issues. He didn't mention that he wrecked his car. The last thing Mike needed was for his mother the see a totaled his car and tossing her into a world of worry.

With no car and an uncertain future, even in the hot Texas climate, the problems were piling up like snow flakes.

Just as the tow truck pulled away, Enterprise Rental pulled up in his car. A stealth gray metallic GMC Yukon made its way up the driveway. He chose it from the large SUV category and took advantage of the home delivery they offered him. When the SUV pulled to a stop, it was love at first sight.

I could get use to driving this. A fleeting moment of guilt lifted inside of him since one of his new year's resolutions was to go green. The less then environmental friendly mammoth was a far cry from going green.

After the enterprise company's driver informed him that the vehicle was a hybrid, Mike felt a little better about his choice. Not that it mattered, once he got behind the wheel it could have eroded the ozone for all he had cared.

"Just sign here sir and she's all yours," the driver said.

Another car pulled up. The white Ford Taurus with the Enterprise logo took the worker back to the main office.

"I thought I was going to have to drop you off," Mike said.

"Well yes sir normally that would be the case but we were told that you were in a rush so we made arrangements," the worker smiled.

Mike signed the paperwork. "This is almost too convenient. I'm scared to see how much this is going to cost me," he laughed.

As soon as they left, he started the car. The new engine kicked on instantly then purred with sweet precision. By the time he settled in his thoughts, the SUV already lost some of its luster. Outside matters pushed the admiration of material things aside. No matter where his thoughts took him, they always returned to one place, Garcia. Mike leaned heavily against the steering wheel.

The man who re-entered his life never strayed far from Mike's concerns. Shaking the constant feeling of being dying prey beneath the ominous shadow of a hovering vulture lingered in every awaken moment. Garcia managed to infiltrate Mike's mind with unwavering persistence.

The resisted but accepted fact was that Garcia would never move far from Mike's thoughts. During the eighteen year period when the events in his past were not spoken of, a dimension tittered on the perimeter of Garcia's presence.

The digital clock on the Yukon's instrumentation panel reminded Mike of the need to make up lost time. The gas pedal lowered and the V8 engine smoothly hummed into the next gear. The SUV's ride glided along giving a false sense of the actual speed in which he was traveling. Something about the vehicle reminded him of his life.

Yes I could definitely get use to this. Images of the SUV sitting next to his silver Porsche appealed to him. Another look at the digital clock display pulled Mike away from his daydream. He should have picked up Kelly at least an hour ago.

At Kelly's apartment he somehow remembered the gate code. After putting in the four digits he drove right into the apartment complex then parked in her reserved space. He leaped up the stairs till he reached her door. His knuckles were just about to rap against the door before it swung open with Kelly in the doorway.

Her expression mixed with attitude and scolding silence. She dramatically raised her wrist to look at her watch with the other hand holding her cordless phone. She extended it in front of Mike's face with the classic Kelly exaggerated flare.

"So you can't answer your cell phone when a stranded girl is trying to call you?"

"Give me a break ok," he said with a smirk. "It was a lot of traffic."

"Yeah right, anyway you know I can't be late my boss is a class without the C L."

"Ooooh ouch!" he smiled. "That hurts, at least call me an ass behind my back like the rest do."

"Alright I'll work on that. Anyway no one calls you names behind your back; they love you, for God knows why. It's only me who hates ya!" she winked.

"I never knew. Wish you would have told me before your last review. You're a hateful little thing huh? Just pretend that you're pleasant around my customers, deal?"

"Pretend? Oh famous, you're on a roll today," she moved closer to him. "But, I guess I am being a little too mean to you huh?"

"Ya think?" Mike said steeping back.

Kelly moved back in front of Mike getting as close as she could. Her oval dark eyes looked up into his. "So what are you gonna do about it, am I too much trouble for ya?"

The tension between him and Kelly took on a different experience. The maintained fragile glass wall between employee and boss either purposely or inadvertently cracked. Even more critical was the fact that out of all his employees, Mike considered Kelly as a friend. He felt that the sacred line had been approached so he stepped back again as he stared down at Kelly.

"Ok buddy, you had your chance," she shrugged. She made her way to her bedroom humming, got her purse then walked out of the front door. Mike stood in place still not able to move as he tried to make sense of what did or did not happen. Her words churned in his head. Had your chance? What that actually ment he wasn't sure.

Kelly's choice of words puzzled Mike. The aspect of never being sure if her actions were naïve innocence of actual flirting left him mystified more then once. Possibilities were considered but quickly discarded by the more dominant impossibilities.

Mike made his way to the door. By the time he got there he saw Kelly already at the bottom of the stairs. She turned and tossed him her keys up to him. "Mike be a sweetie and lock the door for me!" she said. "Hey you want to make a spare copy for yourself?"

"Huh?"

"Loosen up Mikey!" she laughed.

He locked the door but ignored the remark. He had no idea of how to even respond to her words and wasn't about to try. And make a spare copy for yourself?

For Kelly, words flew from her mouth unfiltered. She had no ability to think before the words raced from her mouth. Mike made a mental note to thank God for a functioning inner monologue. She stood in the parking lot swaying from side to side without in synch with the sunshine filled music in her blonde head. Not a worry in the universe, that must be some kind of feeling, he thought.

He wondered how Kelly really felt when she would say the things that she did. It could have been flirting just as easily as Kelly just being Kelly. One just could never be sure. Whatever the case, she never passed on a chance to say the things that had Mike wondering hours.

When he thought about it, he was actually growing tired of it. Eventually he was going to have to tell her that she might need to filter the words before they came out of her mouth. He hated the way his naturally dark skin would turn a shade of burgundy whenever she flirted, or at least he thought that she flirted with him. In a sense, the jester became an uncomfortable small degree of power that she had over him.

He would never call her bluff. He just wasn't prone to flirtation, and it was not what he was all about. Kelly obviously took his respectfulness for granted.

She stood in the center of the parking lot looking all around. Mike moved down the stairs then walked past her.

"You coming?" he said.

"Yeah but-," she looked around. "Where's the Porsche?"

When Mike walked up to the metallic gray Yukon Kelly stood a few feet back.

"This is yours? Wow, I like it!" she commented. She ran up to the car and slipped into the passenger seat.

"No, this isn't mine. It's just a rental," Mike said.

"Really, what happened to the Porsche?"

With a conspiracy tone in his voice, he answered Kelly. "It hasn't been driving too well since, well since the incident," he said.

Kelly's face went sober. "What incident?" Her normally playful voice now filled with apprehension.

"Well, where do I even start? Umm ok, see, I let this blonde drive it and it has been running like crap every since."

After speaking he couldn't move fast enough to dodge the punch he knew was coming. He laughed and Kelly glowered. Just a few minutes ago he was ready to confront her about the flirting and now they were playing like teens. She had that affect on him.

"You really are turning into a real ass you know?" she added with a smile.

"Yeah yeah I know, but the laughing keeps me sane."

"So what really happened to you car?"

"Let's just say long story."

"Ok fair enough. So why don't you answer you cell phone?"

He looked over to her and thought about everything currently looming in his life, darkening the thoughts in his head.

"Longer story," he replied.

#  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

As Mike and Kelly drove away from her apartments he remembered a number of things he still needed to do. Don't get overwhelmed take care of the important things first. He knew that he needed to make an important phone call. He made the call at least once a day buy more then often several times at random hours. He always made the call when he was alone.

I should just wait till I get back to the bar, he thought. He took a long look at the dashboard clock and realized that there would not be enough time. With the list of things he needed to do after his late arrival, he was positive that if he didn't call now he would not have time to call at all.

"Kelly, do you mind if I use your phone for a minute?"

"For you, anything," she smiled then passed Mike the yellow and white cell phone complete with dark yellow hearts. He took the phone then grimaced as he observed the cover.

"Don't even comment, ok?" she warned.

Mike thought of commenting anyway but opted for a light laugh. He followed by presenting an innocent jester of raising his shoulders pretending not to have any idea of what she was talking about. Kelly didn't appear to buy it before turning her attention to the elegant interior of the Yukon.

Mike dialed the number was quickly. Just like his mother's number, this one was also locked in his memory. He dialed the number so often that he could dial it backwards if he had to do it. Kelly looked through a small calendar that she pulled from her purse to either actually not or pretend not to listen to Mike's conversation.

* * *

"Hey buddy!"

Kelly flipped through the calendar but could hear the inflection in Mike's voice. Whoever answered on the other end of the phone made him happier then she had ever witness.

"Of course I didn't forget. Do I ever forget?" The smile on Mike's face came from deep inside. After a short pause, Mike continued to talk. "Ok tell your mom that I'll call her later. I'll see you later buddy."

The conversation stopped and Mike pressed the red button to disconnect the call. He handed the phone back to a stunned Kelly. She sunk low in her seat as she eased the bright yellow phone back into her purse.

For the remainder of the ride she remained silent devoting all of her attention to the calendar. When she grew tired of staring at the open dates, she deferred her attention to the passing cars outside the window.

The uncomfortable quiet didn't last long. The sound of Walking on Sunshine, her elected ring tone, sprung from her phone indicating an incoming call.

She did not recognized the number but she answered it right anyway. "Hello?"

A long pause followed her words. A young voice then spoke on the other end.

"Is my dad, I mean Michael there?"

"Sure," she said hiding her surprise. "He's right here, hold one just one second."

Kelly offered the phone back to Mike. He pointed a finger to himself with a mystified expression. For me?

"Yes, it's for you," Kelly said.

The confused expression remained as he took the phone.

"Yes this is Michael Andrews," he answered. He paused before allowing an alleviation of his stiff expression. "Oh ok buddy. Well daddy is happy to hear that you learned how to use caller ID, but this is not daddy's phone so-," Another long pause. "You did?"

Mike's facial features hardened. His forehead tightened as the look on Mike's face went from concern to worry then back again. In the end his face turned pale as the blood ran from the surface of his skin causing it to lose its color. Whatever Mike's son told him, placed an enormous degree of trepidation right across his soul.

#  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

The general manager of Hotel Metropol Moscow preformed his final walk through inspection. Yuri Podkopaw paced the interior with his hands folded behind his back. A hotel staff of three followed him closely quickly jumping to adjust or fix anything he spotted that was out of place. Under Yuri's keen eye, something was always out of place.

No matter how much they claimed to be prepared, Yuri always managed to find something. It could be as small as a portrait out of alignment or a towel folded incorrectly. If it was there he would find it and took pride in his unique ability. Yuri Podkopaw would review copies of hotel advertisements for accuracy.

On this occasion he took his meticulous ways to the next level. A very special guest would arrive soon and Yuri wanted the room to be beyond perfect. After pacing through the entire presidential suite he did it once more carefully scrutinizing every inch of the room's décor.

He inspected the drawing room again first. With a white glove he moved his finger across the early twentieth century furniture. With a magnifying glass he viewed the fine lines carved into the mahogany arms of the antique sofa.

Once satisfied with the furniture, the room itself was inspected carefully. He checked the hand painted walls for flawless consistency. The ceiling, molding, and corners were looked over with his detailed oriented eyes.

He moved on to inspect the large bedroom of the presidential suite. The richly designed pure white and silver comforter had to be thoroughly scrutinized for minor tears or wrinkles. After inspecting the bed he made sure that the sheets and comforter were made to perfection. The white silk throw pillow was adjusted to sit dead center at the top of the bed with the points heading directly north and south.

The last on Yuri's list entailed him doing a repeated look at the key pieces in the room. These included the antique gilded mantelpiece clock, the "Harvest of Grapes" painting by a nineteenth century Italian artist, and the solid gold ice bucket carved with the Hotel Metropol's logo.

Inside the ice bucket sat a complimentary bottle of 1998 La Grande Dame. Yuri placed the bottle there because he knew that it was a known favorite of the hotel's special guest. When perfectly satisfied Yuri left the room then made a call to the hotel's driver.

The driver answered but was already well on his way to the Sheremetyevo International airport. Yuri gave the driver a number of questions to make sure that every aspect of the visit was in ideal order. Although the Metropol remained Garcia's favorite hotel, it was Yuri's job to make sure that it stayed that way.

Just two hours and fifteen minutes after Yuri spoke to the driver, flight 316 on Aeroflot Russian Airlines arrived right on schedule. Garcia once again arrived from his frequently taken six thousand mile trip.

* * *

Seated in first class, Martin Garcia engulfed himself in his fifth glass of Chopin vodka and another chapter of the world according to Sun Tzu. After exiting the plane he stretched then kissed the airline stewardess on the hand. She passed him her phone number during the flight and they were to meet up later. He walked through the connecting tunnel spotting the sharply dressed hotel driver up front holding the sign that read, Al Khan.

Like most high profile individuals, Garcia also used an alias when checking into hotels or being picked up by drivers. Garcia insisted on the protocol, far too many potential enemies lurked around. His frequently chosen alias of Al Khan derived from a combination of two of the people he admired, Al Capone and Genghis Khan.

The limo drive to the hotel brought back many memories, all of them good. The historical sites of the Kremlin and Red Square never seemed to grow old and he looked forward to the sites each time he visited Russia.

The desire to get closer to the sights overwhelmed him. He felt tempted to have the driver drop him off at Kitai-gorod known as the merchant quarter. He wanted to stroll through the area even if only for a few moments. Yet the ephemeral attributes of time would not allow the opportunity to smell the roses. An immediate need to get to the hotel and rest for the tournament took priority for now.

When the car pulled up Garcia spotted Yuri waiting at the curb. He opened the rear car door. "Ahhh- Mr. Garcia, welcome back to the Hotel Metropol." Yuri smiled. "Such a pleasure to have you with us again."

The menial job of opening the car door for arriving guest fell far beneath his duties. But that did not apply to this occasion. For his most treasured guest, opening his car door remained a privilege.

"Hello to you Yuri," Garcia said exiting the limo. "You're looking well my friend."

Yuri's youthful appearance differed from his early sixties actual age. As the general manager of the Hotel Metropol, he ran the daily operation for well over a decade and he was never hard to spot. His attire reflected the immaculately detailed perfection of his hotel.

One would never find him in public without his tailored suit, perfectly placed silk handkerchief, and designer tie. His freshly cut hair sat without a single hair out of place. He combed it back with the majority of its silver color blended in with fading black streaks. His naturally tanned skin tone looked fresh as if he was just off of an extended vacation.

"It's always you sir who inspires my attire. You are always impeccably dressed and today is no exception," Yuri replied with a slight bow at the waist.

When Garcia called ahead he knew that his accommodations were guaranteed simply because Yuri said so. Anyone who knew Yuri knew that he was a man of his word. Yuri's sincere compliment flattered anyone, including Garcia. Yuri's staff teasing joked that they would take Yuri's word over a promise from the Pope.

Garcia took Yuri's catering with guarded relevance. Yuri's admiration of him reached much further then his VIP status at the Metropol. Yuri often asked hushed questions about the darker world that Garcia was not only privy to but ruled.

Even without an entourage, Garcia felt his commanding presence whenever he visited the Metropol. The power extended beyond the VIP suite. He heard the whispers, the hushed whispers that spoke with respectful admiration of Garcia's dark side.

As they walked through the main entrance it was always the same. Garcia noticed how the eyes of the men would look at him then lowered their heads before look away. The women would stare and make a concerted effort to be noticed by him.

"How does it feel Mr. Garcia?" Yuri whispered. "To be revered, you do see it don't you?"

"Of course I do," Garcia smiled. "It's an intangible sensation that never grows old. It can be artificially mimicked but never duplicated unless you are willing to take a long dark walk that you will always embrace and always regret."

#  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Stories of Garcia stints at the Metropol grew to legendary levels. The casino attached to the Metropol - one of his more frequently visited spots - never knew whether to cringe or salivate when they received word of his arrival. On the weekends Garcia would lose a few hundred thousand dollars at the roulette wheel then in a flash win a little over a million at the blackjack table.

For Garcia, notoriety excited him more then the money. He drew crowds like a celebrity and women clamored to get his attention. Most of the time they got more attention then they ever intended.

As soon as they entered the hotel, Yuri passed Garcia the card key for his reserved presidential suite. The routine never altered each time Garcia arrived in Moscow. The gold card key slid inside of his pocket and remained there till he reached his room. Garcia didn't have to check the floor and room number, he already knew it. The room was always the same, just as he like it.

Garcia took a direct path across the marble floored lobby to the elevators. As he passed through the magnificence of the hotel, he hardly noticed the whispers and onlookers that were mesmerized by the arrival of the legend. Garcia ran Moscow and as his personal play pen, attention, good as well as bad, was commonplace.

The added attention never bothered him. He accepted it with open arms because it was part of the package of being Garcia. None of it ever derailed his concentration. Lack of focus had never been a weak point for Garcia.

In fact, the combination of his unwavering focus and natural calculating ability made him the person he was. He mastered just about anything he decided to take on. His computer like attention now all centered on the poker tournament.

The exclusive competition lacked the notoriety of other well known more commercial events but in small circles remained the top tournament. In Moscow, this event was top honor for the true professional poker players. It remained as it had always been as an invitation only event with just ten players.

The twenty five thousand dollars entry fee permitted a payout of five hundred thousand dollars to the winner. Once the players received an invitation they salivated at taking down the others to get to the half million dollar prize but the title was for more valuable. The money never motivated Garcia; for him it was only about the status.

Just before Garcia arrived at the elevators he noticed several men gawking at a tall waitress. She moved past the bar with a tray balanced in her hand and her Ukrainian features glowing from afar. Her long dirty blonde hair extended along her bare back dangling over a thin waist line. The tight black form fitting skirt moved in hypnotic motions guided by the ample curves beneath.

She turned just in time to meet the contemplating eyes of Garcia. Once their eyes locked she stopped. She then walked from the opposite side of the hotel right up to him to join him in front of the elevators.

"Hello Mr. Garcia, so nice to see you again." she said.

Garcia squinted then scratched the side of his face as he peered closer at her. "Again," he said then paused before pressing the elevator button. "Have we met?"

She gave him a forced smile. "Yes, well, in a way. I was your waitress last time you were at the hotel."

Garcia lit his cigarette tilting his head from one side to the other. His eyes traced along her body thoughtfully moving down and back up again. The waitress took a step back as her eyes diverted away. She lifted the tray higher to conceal her outfit.

He had no recollection of their former meeting but it didn't matter. She sparked his interested now. He removed the cigarette from his mouth then took her hand inside of his. He placed a soft kiss on the top surface.

"You should join me for dinner at the Evropeisky Restaurant here in the hotel."

She lowered her head and replied while staring still at the floor. "That is very flattering Mr. Garcia but-"

Out of nowhere Yuri popped into the scene and conversation. "Hello again Mr. Garcia, may I introduce you to Nadia, one of our best waitresses."

Yuri's introduction cut off the young beauty's sentence before she could complete it. "Nadia was just about to clock in and begin her shift but she is more then welcomed to spend the evening with you if you wish." Yuri added.

Nadia slashed her eyes at Yuri. Her pupils spread wide as she shook her head. She parted her lips to form the words that would allow her to pass on the invitation.

Yuri raised a daring eyebrow.

When the elevator doors opened, Garcia stepped inside. He placed the cigarette back into his mouth then drew in a line of nicotine. A flow of smoke released fro his tight lips into the closed compartment.

"I'll see you in my suite later Miss Nadia," Garcia smiled.

* * *

After the elevators doors closed Nadia's eyes pleaded with Yuri. "I need to work today. I need the tips and I have no interest in this Garcia. He gave me a very generous tip last time and I was hoping to be his waitress again, nothing more. I have husband."

Yuri turned to his reflection in the outer polished surface of the gold plated walls. He adjusted his tie then checked the setting of the matching silk handkerchief in his jacket pocket.

He pulled the handkerchief out, refolded it, and then placed back in position to his satisfaction. His removed his monogrammed silver plated comb from the interior of his jacket and carefully moved through the side of his thin silver hair.

"Mrs. Micallef, I personally promised Mr. Garcia that he is welcomed to anything in this hotel. So as long as you are employed at the Metropol that would include you. Also until your husband is spending an access of fifty-five thousand rubles here per night at my hotel, I'm afraid that your marriage is of no matter to me."

With that said, Yuri walked away to exchange small talk with a few of the hotel guest. He occasionally cut his eyes toward Nadia noticing how she remained in the same spot staring at the floor.

She didn't have to tell Yuri of her troubles, he was well aware of them. Her situation at home had grown worse over the past few months. Her husband last his job due to his drinking so for now her income took care of all the bills.

As for Garcia, he knew that he made her feel uncomfortable. Garcia had that effect on everyone, including him. But what could he do?

She still had not moved. Finally she lifted her head, placed the tray on a nearby table, and then walked towards the rear exit. That reaction was not what he predicted. Yuri's head dropped in disappointment.

#  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Mike prepared himself to deal with whatever was about to come his way. Typically, this came natural for him. His ability to find fast solutions to the most unexpected issues even amazed him at times. That level of calm sensible thinking transformed with the information he had just received from his son. He could not understand the situation or even begin to come up with a levelheaded solution.

How this could have happened? I had been so careful, beyond careful.

The Dallas skies darken treating a potential downpour. Dreaded impressions of what could evolve simulated the spreading gray clouds that loomed overhead. The very information that Mike didn't want anyone, especially Garcia to have was somehow acquired. Exactly how he had no idea. A clap of thunder forced him to snap away from his thoughts. The rain poured down in heavy sheets.

The conversation with his son replayed in his head over and over. With every examination came a more intense measure of worry. The internal struggle to push away the acceptance of certainty or find a logical reason to deny it remained in place. He replayed the phone conversation once more.

"Hey dad! Guess what? I figured out how to call you back using the caller ID! Cool huh!"

"Oh ok buddy. Well daddy is happy that you know how to use caller ID, but this is not daddy's phone so."

"Oh, daddy I can't wait for my birthday party! It is gonna be the best. Me and my buddy John and the Wiz talk about it everyday at school! You remember the Wiz right, his real name is Walter but everybody calls him the Wiz cause... Well...oh I almost forgot, even my uncle Garcia said he will be there. He called and said that he was going to bring a gift and everything! I didn't even know I had an Uncle Garcia, anyway, I told him about where we were going and everything!"

"You did?"

"Yeah- oh, mom's calling me. I better go I think it's time to eat, love you dad!" The call ended leaving Mike in his current mental tail spin.

Mike's back pressed against a psychological wall, strategically placed and arranged by the madness of Garcia. No one had Danny's phone number except for his mother. Was there a connection? The things that he thought Garcia knew about him were obviously drastically underestimated. If Garcia could get his son's phone number then his reach was virtually limitless.

He had to fix this. Anything related to Danny had always been off limits. Every since he parted ways with Danny's mother, he kept that entire area of his life private. Their short lived love affair produced a lot of fighting, some crazy times, and Danny. The union ended quickly but for the sake of Danny the friendship remained then eventually flourished.

The very existence of Danny remained a well guarded secret, or so he thought. Instincts guided Mike more then anything and his instincts prompted him to keep his personal life separate from the rest of the world.

Now the thought came to mind that he had allowed Garcia to control his actions even when he was not around. The secrecy, he now realized, may have been unconsciously inspired by Garcia. Perhaps in some odd way he anticipated that the past would catch up with him.

Action had to be taken and the reasons were now irrelevant. The game elevated far past personal and Mike did not like getting backed into a corner. This state of affairs forced his hand to participate in a toxic competition. The game would entail an on the job training exercise with no true winners. The likely option of everyone losing was the betting edge.

From the moment Garcia reappeared in Mike's life the same question existed. Just how much did Garcia know? The once certainty was that he knew far too much. The most precious thing in the world for Mike involved the relationship with his son. With that in jeopardy, guilt from his dark history took second seat to the primal instinct to protect.

God help the wolf who wonders into the path between a mother bear and her cubs.

The skies darkened more as the rain continued to pour. An arrival of thunderstorms threatened the city with the indescribable scent of heavy moisture in the air. The smell existed more in theory and less in a visual realm. Theory or not the scent always preceded the most treacherous of storms.

#  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

During the month of September, the temperature in Moscow rarely past fifty degrees Fahrenheit. Garcia usually scheduled his trips for July when the average temperature was over sixty degrees and the city had the maximum amount of daylight hours. On this trip, primarily for business purposes, he had to settle for a less then ideal time. He would have to reschedule a pleasure trip.

He made his way across the suite to the large window. He looked down at the colossal Karl Marx granite monument as the locals passed by it braving the cold. Looking down on creation, he smiled.

The delicate knock on his door barely exceeded the sound level of the Beethoven music that played lightly throughout the suite. Garcia moved away from his elevated window view to the door. When the door opened, the tall slender but shapely Nadia stood before him.

He opened the door wide and extended an arm for her to enter. "Welcome, come in, relax," he smiled. "I just ordered dinner, are you hungry?"

"No, I'm fine," Nadia said.

"Indeed you are," Garcia said as she walked in front of him.

Nadia timidly continued inside with cautious short unsure steps. Her eyes moved all around scanning the enormous presidential suite, taking in the visual splendor of it all.

"Just realized," she spoke softly. "I have worked at the Metropol for some time now and never had a chance to actually enter inside of this suite." Her head swiveled from one item to the next as her mouth remained slightly open.

Garcia trailed at a short distance watching her with his hands tucked into the deep pockets of the hotel robe. The pure white cotton monogrammed robe hung just above his knees. The Metropol's gold logo glistened from the top left side of his chest. Along with the rest of the room, Nadia's eyes also admired the thick white robe.

"I bet you expected that I would make advances as soon as soon as you entered right?" he said walking behind her.

Nadia didn't answer.

"You can relax here. I just wanted some company to talk to and relax before my long day tomorrow," he said.

Garcia walked to the far side of the room. He had his back to her as he casually flipped through the hotel's order menu. He made sure that she never saw him staring at her and avoided eye contact as if he was not interested.

If she would have shown any interest when they first met things would have been different, a lot different. Any immediate show of interest on her part would have been dismissed. He needed to play the power game and giving in to her advanced would have transferred the power to her. Although tall fit women in Russia were in abundance there she still stood out but he would never let her know it. Besides she did not want to be there, her body language dictated it.

He could see the distrust and distain in her eyes. The look bordered on hate and her attitude intrigued him because the challenge got his juices flowing. Like the animal that will chase you only if you run, for Garcia the pursuit was on.

"So Miss Nadia, I never got your last name," he said.

"Micallef, it's, Mrs. Micallef."

Garcia twisted his mouth into a smile. "Ok, Mrs. Micallef," he said after pouring a drink. "Would you please taste this for me? I think it may be a bit bitter, but of course I'm no authority on champagne," he lied.

Unknown to Nadia, Garcia already received a comprehensive list of inside information about her. He knew her favorite music, food, and drink long before she even arrived to his suite. Nadia walked directly into a pre-spun web.

Garcia imagined that her first inclination would be to refuse anything he offered to her. He also guessed that she waited for him to try anything inappropriate so she could tell him to go to hell and thus gaining the power edge. With that in mind he remained set on being everything that she didn't expect.

The drink offer broke the ice. Her hard expression relaxed just enough to let him know that he had eased the tension between them. Her guard may have still been up but he was certain that it was lowered just a little.

Like any sale, it all wound down to the presentation. This one needed to be executed carefully enough to somehow slip under her defenses. She accepted the glass placing it gently to her lips. Once the succulent liquor touched her pallet she closed her eyes. A soft moan escaped from her as she delighted in the flavor.

After more light conversation and a few more drinks, Nadia shoes were off and tossed on the floor. Soon after that, her feet rested on the marble coffee table. Garcia took note.

They talked about the different areas around Russia, as well as the historic facts about the hotel. He made her laugh with a story about how he mistakenly walked into a church thinking that it was a museum. She laughed even harder at the story of how he unknowingly washed his face in the bidet on his first trip to Europe thinking that it was a very low sink.

The conversation went smooth with few if any awkward quite moments. To his delight, he didn't have to dominate the conversation. Nadia had a few stories of her own that he actually enjoyed. One entailed how she spilled several drinks on Elton John after tripping over her own shoes. Although he was certain that her Elton John story was true, Garcia's stories were made up for time filling banter. Out of habit he manipulated conversations like a seasoned master.

Garcia sat on the chair away from her but played the role of the gracious host. He refilled her glass when needed, offered her an extra pillow for her back, then even slid one of the throw pillow under her feet for comfort.

By the time they were a little half way finished with the bottle, Nadia's guard had fallen completely away with her long legs comfortably stretched across the antique sofa. A half filled champagne glass balanced in one hand while the other hand dangled to the floor.

Garcia grinned to himself as she swayed to the playing music. As she hummed along to the Beethoven compositions he knew that he hit a homerun with the music selection. Occasionally her hands flew into the air to orchestrate the musicians. Her blond hair swung wildly with the music when she really got into act of air conducting.

When she stood, she stumbled falling to the side. Garcia reached out to grab her before she fell against the antique marble table.

"Heeey, you smell reeeally good," she said with slurred words. She drunk far more then most females could but was no match for the effects of the champagne.

"Thank you," Garcia said holding her up. "It's Dolce and Gabbana, one of my favorites."

Nadia rubbed the tip of her finger across the gold monogram on the white robe. She stopped for a second then lifted her delicate hand to gently stroke the logo again enjoying the texture of the raised lettering.

"The robes are sooooo eautiful," she slurred then burped lightly before giggling. Garcia helped her back to the sofa.

"Excuse me for one moment please," he said.

He made his way down the hall then entered into one of the back rooms in the suite. When he returned he had on his own personal robe then handed Nadia the monogrammed one from the hotel.

"This is for you," he said.

"Nooo really!" she said snatching it with excitement. "I can't believe it, thank you. Thank you so very much, I've always wanted one of these!"

Nadia placed the robe against her face. She cuddled it as she closed her eyes and cooed. "So soft," she moaned.

Another knock rapped against the door to the suite.

"Come on in," Garcia said.

The waiter entered with a cart full of the most exquisite meal selections offered by the hotel. On the cart were all of Nadia's favorites including lobster and shrimp. Even caviar adorned the tray and was something that she had never tried. In addition to the seafood another tray with an array of fruit, and the most mouthwatering deserts in Russia sat next to the first one.

Nadia placed a hand to her chest. "I'm overwhelmed," she whispered. She managed to sober up enough to express her feeling with words that were not slurred this time. "I feel like a queen," she said.

"By the way, Mrs. Nadia please pardon me for forgetting to ask. But are you seeing anyone now?" Garcia took a sip of the champagne watching her carefully over the top of his glass. He already knew the truth and was well aware that she was married. He adored the chase far more then the capture.

Nadia's eyebrows lifted in surprise. "You're asking me if I'm married? I wasn't expecting that," she said.

"Oh, I am sorry. Am I being too personal?"

"No, it's not, umm, not that. I just didn't think that it would even matter to you," she said.

Garcia loved this point of the evening. The flowing of champagne, shared stories, and relaxed atmosphere created a truth serum.

"God, I shouldn't have even come here," she whispered.

He watched as she sat the glass on the table and sighed. He could almost see the internal wheels of morality spinning inside of her head. Guilt settled in for something she had not even done, yet.

Her eyes moved to the silver trays filled with seafood, fruit, and desserts. According Yuri, Nadia's salary barely allowed her to afford anything more then Kokoschka soup for months on end. She picked the glass back up and downed the remaining contents. Jackpot.

Nadia stood and seductively unbutton her blouse. Her black skirt slid off dropping to the floor in a small heap next to her shoes. She slid her skirt across her hips then down her legs to the carpet before stepping out of it and closer to Garcia.

Her attire now consisted of only a bronzed colored laced matching panty and bra set. She placed on the robe that was just given to her while her eyes locked with Garcia's desired filled observation.

"You ask if I'm married?"

Garcia gave her a slow nod.

"The answer is no for tonight. Tonight Mr. Garcia, I am Miss Nadia and all yours," she said.

Nadia smiled then made her way back to the meal tray.

"Nadia, excuse me for a moment. I need to make a very quick call."

"Sure. I'll be here," she winked.

Garcia moved to the next room. He called a cell number written on the card that he always kept in his wallet. When the call was answered just like always, silence remained on the opposite end.

"It's Martin," he started.

She never responds, just listen. "Hello my dear I am in town. When you get a chance give me a call in my suite. I'm in need of a favor."

Once Garcia finished speaking she simply disconnected the call. No words were needed from her. After the call Garcia picked up a list of the men who he would be competing against in the poker tournament. As he looked at the list he sipped from his glass thoughtfully. One name stuck out.

The plan he already devised would have to fix that problem. He smiled at the developing plan. He knew that most would view his ideas as borderline psychotic. He liked to view his way of thinking as intellectually edgy and merely a way to tilt the playing field. All is fair, and all is war.

A soft hand slipped around his waist then gently pulled the belt to his robe. Garcia tilted the glass up allowing the rest of the champagne to slide down his throat.

The room filled with the strong composition sounds of Symphony number nine. Much like the composer when the piece was written, the world around them fell silent.

#  CHAPTER THIRTY

The next morning the Moscow sky peppered with light snow. The colorful view of St Basil's cathedral towered over the foggy skyline. Garcia marveled at the cathedral just had he had done when he first saw it on his very first trip to Russia.

The sheer design exceeded everything that he had ever seen in his extensive travels. The architecture filled just a small part of his fascination with the structure. Garcia imagined the odd shaped building as the lifeless heads of his competitors impelled on the towering sticks. From what he read, one of his most admired historical figures shared the same perspective. To this vision he displayed a warm smile.

This exceptional form of meditation suited him well. He needed the focus. Nadia remained passed out beneath the thick hand woven comforter and in less then an hour the poker tournament would begin. He came to defend his three year reign and this time it was not going to be simple. He welcomed the peaceful time to reflect since it had always been a therapeutic time for him.

As fulfilling as it was it paled in comparison to the sensation of ripping his opponents into tiny segments.

After a light breakfast he reviewed his personal notes. All of the notations pertained to his opponents so he carefully studied and reviewed each one.

Soon the time to head to the casino had arrived. The time, as most knew, ment fashionably late for Garcia. He waited till the very last moment to make his stroll over to the adjoining building giving him the sensation of a gladiator entering the arena. Lines of well wishers greeted him along the path.

Although they displayed true excitement for the competition, they never truly cared who won. They just wanted to see a winner and Garcia always made sure that he ended up in that position. He tapped the pack of cigarettes against the palm of his hand as he gave a final look at his all black attire in the wide mirror.

A rap on the door led him away from admiring his own view. Two of the hotel's female staff met him at his suite then escorted him to the event. His opponents sat waiting for him at the casino with only minutes remaining for the contest to begin.

Garcia entered the poker room showered by endless camera flashes coming in from every direction. Reporters pushed and shoved their way through the crowd all in hopes for a pre-game interview. Garcia's calculated late arrival allowed him the grand standing that he so skillfully orchestrated and adored. This intensified the intended impression that he was the star and all the attention and glory hinted at one thing. He was the one to beat.

Traditionally after taking his seat, he offered a statement to his competitors. After a couple of years, the highly anticipated proclamation took on a life of its own. It became a must hear for loyal tournament followers.

In his very first Moscow tournament a roar of laughter followed the impromptu comment. Now two years later, everyone eagerly waited to hear what Garcia would say to launch the competition. He never failed to please the audience while nauseating his opponents.

#  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Garcia took his time before speaking. A quiet hush fell across the crowd as they waited to what he would say. All in the timing, he thought, all in the timing. He rarely rehearsed his traditional pre game words; he didn't have to. He relied on his natural wit that came as natural as his dark stare.

This time one of the opponents attempted to pilfer his limelight by making a preemptive comment. The American born twenty five year old from Seattle, Washington named Ryan Quillen placed his own words into the sacred moment. At twenty five, his youth failed to comprehend the true danger that Garcia represented and was also too imprudent to respect things that he knew absolutely nothing about.

"So Garcia I see you have a dimple on your chin there. What tell sign is that?" Ryan laughed lightly at his observation. The rest of the players did not share the humor.

The crowd along with the players remained silent. The two players on each side of Ryan casually inch their chairs away from him. Garcia disregarded the comment as he lit his cigarette without looking up.

A minute later he spoke. "Well my friend, in the words of Pope Paul, a dimple on the chin, is the Garcia within."

"I think the quote was actually, the devil within," Ryan said. This time the words lacked the confidence he had before. His voiced cracked in the middle of the reply.

"Check your thesaurus, the words are interchangeable, my dear friend," Garcia said.

After the reply he looked over at Ryan with distained observation. Garcia tightened his pupils as he blew the cigarette smoke slowly into the tensed atmosphere. Ryan sunk back into his seat recoiling deeper in his chair and tried to avoid the extended eye contact.

Garcia refused to break his stare. Ryan's hands quivered as they rested on the table and his eyes diverted in any direction away from Garcia's stare. The kid known for precise calculations made the worst miscalculation of his life. One down eight to go, Garcia smiled to himself.

A mere hour and a half into the game and the group of ten dwindled down to five. Garcia maintained a simple strategy during the first half of the tournament. His uncharacteristically conservative manner of play consisted of frequent folding and little to no bluffing. A hard focus set on the other players' methodically watching close for tell signs and playing habits.

Of course the observation didn't end when play was stopped. During the breaks, instead of light chatting and stretching like the others, Garcia observed them. He took detailed notes on their habits and mannerisms studying each player with unwavering methodical detail.

The actual winning part of the contest never worried him; that was the easy part. The game was actually won before he sat down at the table. The more difficult process involved the accurate recall of the separate habits of the other players. Every hand, movement, and expression analyzed had to be remembered and used. They, whether they were aware of it of not, were the enemies. By the end of the day he would know them better then they knew themselves.

The day came to a close with the few remaining players set to finish the tournament the following day. Just as Garcia anticipated one of the remaining three was Adam Barrie, the twenty eight year old math genius from Overland Park, Kansas. One of the other players also managed to hang on but not because of his talent. Garcia considered European born Tony Swinton as one of the weakest players. Garcia allowed him to remain in the game by letting him win just enough hands to stick around, all just another part of the strategy.

With Tony Swinton seated to his left, Garcia continued to drag him along in the game. This strategy of keeping one bad player in the game along with another exceptional one game him better control with a decoy. Now the total focus could now be directed to the perfect playing skills of Adam Barrie.

This project or rather destruction of an opponent would require more work then Garcia anticipated. The young player was nothing less the brilliant and unfazed by the worldly distractions of the European limelight.

He remained a very hard read for Garcia. If there were ever a poster child for an introvert, Adam Barrie would surely lead the pack. Garcia watched Adam's eyes as they either locked on the cards or drifted into the air pondering intricate odds and calculations.

This advanced grasp of numbers and percentages directly contrasted to his social capabilities. Eye contact ceased to exist at any level. As for conversations, Adam consistently avoided them each and every time.

His dark unfashionable clothing screamed not to be noticed. Adam had the face that no one remembered enabling him to mesh into any crowd. His height reached about 5'10" although Garcia discovered that he claimed it was an inch taller. Garcia figured that Adam weighed no more then one hundred and forty five pounds so finding clothes off the Walmart rack worked out for him.

No designer frames were attached to his black rimmed glasses. They were far too large for his slender face but in an odd way still fitted him. He had a weak chin that lacked the ability to grow facial hair but the hair that grew on his head lacked any style. He simply brushed it to the side allowing it to rest awkwardly on top on the frame of his glasses.

Before retiring for the night, organizers of the tournament approached the remaining three men to pose for photos. Members of the Metropol promotion department also took the pictures for advertisement. They took several photos of the final three as a group but more taken separately of the man of the hour, Garcia.

The watching crowd moved in closer trying to catch the words of the men as local television stations spoke to them. Magazine writers that worked for different Moscow publications also managed to pull them aside for exclusive private interviews. As always all the media outlets went after Garcia first before settling for the others.

Fifteen minutes of fame never looses its luster. Many strive for it, but never achieve it. Celebrity gravitated towards Garcia so he never had to seek it so he embraced it. This attention may have been new to them but for him it was commonplace, granted to him without a request. If he had the choice he would be more then happy to return it but the spotlight had a way of placing a shine on some that cannot be dimmed.

#  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Garcia posed confidently with fans and scantily dressed women who often followed the tournament. Even in the world of poker, a steady flow of groupies latched on to the players. Garcia loved the prestige and attention but this hardly distracted him from his main goal of wining, but wasn't too sure about the others.

Tony Swinton gushed in every single camera flash buying into the hype with every socially starved penny in his pocket. His confident persona did not fool Garcia, even Tony was aware that he was more lucky then good. Yet the spotlight clouded his thinking and Tony somehow convinced himself that he actually had a chance to win. Idiot.

"Mr. Swinton, how do you feel about your chances now?" the reporter asked.

Tony flashed his best camera smile. "I have to be honest with you. At first I was just hoping to make it through the first round but now with only three players, we're on an even field. It's my game to lose just like the other players," Tony said.

For Adam the unwanted attention grew to an unbearable level. He fidgeted with the string hanging from his grey Walmart jacket the entire time. Every few minutes Adam rubbed the palms of his hands against his faded jeans then toyed with them awkwardly in front of him. His eyes drifted to the door several times as if he wanted to make a break for it.

* * *

To Adam's relief, the interviewers looked over him as a favorite and focused on the other two men.

The sudden spotlight was not the only thing that made him feel uneasy. The sudden trust into the spotlight did not appeal to Adam. The social circles he once observed from the sidelines moved around him and far too close. He felt like a misshaped piece in puzzled world that he had never seen where the beautiful people interacted.

This new world did have its perks. There were the women and not just any women. Stunning women of many different nationalities approached him wishing him luck then would present an easy smile or affectionate touch that would sometimes caress his hand before releasing it. Other times he received kisses on the cheek with phone numbers slipped into his pocket, the front pocket.

Eventually the photo ops along with the crowd tapered off. That was too bad because Adam began to get comfortable with the attention. Tony still lurked about but Garcia was already gone.

Yuri walked up to Adam. "Mr. Barrie I do believe that you're the only one that I haven't had the opportunity to take a photo with." Yuri motioned for one of the camera men to come over. "You mind?"

"Oh no sir not at all," Adam smiled.

After two photos were taken, Yuri quietly slipped away out of the room and back into the hotel. The day finally drew to an end. Adam felt a bit sadden by the sudden end to the post game party and this surprised him. Why do I even care?

A fleeting thought past across his mind. I could always prolong the evening. He recalled the hotel's brochure advertising a glass ceiling restaurant not far from the main entrance. He considered stopping through for dinner. Perhaps I'll even be recognized there.

He glimpsed at the large wall clock posted above the poker table then decided against it. Guess I'll just call in for room service.

The walk back to the Metropol seemed longer then he remembered. He stood before the grand splendor of the polished brass and gold plated elevators wondering about one thing. Who in the hell keeps all this so shiny? The polished surface reflected his poignant image as vivid as a mirror.

The antique elevators were restored to pristine condition. An oversized arrow set above the gold doors moved in a semi-circle as the method of indicating the current floor location. The arrow moved down to the third floor just as he looked up at it.

The floor indicator was a far cry from the modern digital age. However it blended with the hotel's early world décor. The arrow moved again clock wise making its way to the L for the lobby. Two floors away then one then, ding, ding, ding. Even the elevator's chime reflected the intended period.

As the mirror smooth doors slid apart a voice surprised Adam.

"Do you mind if I escort you to your room?" she said.

Her soft voice spoke in a seductive murmur. Before turning around he could smell the sweet perfumed fragrance that rode an invisible breeze directly into his path.

A slender hand gently rested on his shoulder just before she moved in front of him. Her slim but shapely body blocked his path. Adam words evaporated into the mindless mist that encompasses everyone who arrives as the very moment of being infatuated.

Adam's heart fluttered the moment she saw her. Her smooth completion appeared as flawless as porcelain and her jet black hair hung perfectly straight. The hair reached down past her waist line and was cut perfectly straight across like a fine silk curtain. The hem of her dress hung only slightly longer then the length of her hair. The edge of the dress rested just above the center of her shapely thighs. To add to her physical beauty, her chest and hips were alluringly disproportional to the extremely small waist.

Adam nodded instead of chancing on making a verbal mess out of his loss for words.

As soon as she turned, he brushed his palms against his jeans as they entered the elevator. He fidgeted with the side of his pants then the draw string on his jacket trying not to stare. When he looked at her, she stared back so he quickly broke the eye contact to focus on the interior of the elevator.

The inside lined with mirrors trimmed with dark mahogany wood. Everything had a deep rich glow about it. Still for Adam it paled in comparison to the woman standing next to him.

He couldn't help but try to sneak another glance at her. With the assistance of the reflections, Adam silently stared at the Asian beauty standing next to him. Both had to endure those first awkward moments of quiet between strangers.

In the reflection their eyes touched but this time Adam did not turn away. The alluring lady continued to stare tilting her head from one side to the other maintaining a gentle smile.

Her smile sat neatly placed within the most beautiful and inviting red lips that Adam had ever seen. She appeared to want his attention but he was not confident enough to pursue her. He would not second of third guess the attention he thought was there.

Even with the lack of social experience, Adam was not oblivious to reality. Perhaps she does want my attention. The potential of winning a half million dollars made him a lot more attractive in the eyes of some and he was fully aware of that. Plain and simple, he became the flavor of the week by making it to the final three, nothing more but potentially less.

What the hell. He tossed the overanalyzing to the side and chose to just live in the moment. Why not taste a little of the free flowing champagne? Was there really a difference between the lure of money and physical attraction women have for men simply because of their power? The answer was clear; he needed to allow the opportunity given, to take his life in the course was it was veering.

Adam thought of, among all things, his college years. The college days ─ much like the high school years for that matter ─ were filled with cramming for exams and not quite fitting in with the status quo. The few like minded friends he did have shared the same social deficiencies.

With a consistent nearly perfect grade point average and photographic memory, school and only school came natural for him. As for anything else, no self illusions would allow him to think that he was envied by others. For that matter even he did not want to be himself.

Now the social tide shifted and it was the rare chance to dance with the beautiful people. Or as he and his friends would say in college, "A chance to walk in Donald Trump's Ferrogamos."

Adam wondered what was in store for the night, if anything. He smiled into the reflection fantasizing about him and the Asian beauty standing next to him. This would be an opportunity to experience the life he had only seen in the movies; the good life.

Surreal would not just be an obscure word, but a lived encounter. He smiled even wider within. Who are you kidding Adam? The girl just offered to walk you to your room and you're already fantasizing about being the honorary of the inner circle of high society.

The beautiful woman winked then blew a kiss at his mirrored reflection.

But then again, anything can happen, he thought.

#  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Two nights passed since Garcia appeared at the Memphis bar. Tensions elevated and Mike felt as if his sixth sense was stuck on high alert. No matter how peaceful the course of the night went, the sustained feeling of pending bedlam would not go away.

Anticipating unspecified events at unknown times racked Mike's nerves to an exhausting level.

He focused on the daily operations since this seemed to be the only thing that calmed him. Kelly wasn't quite herself. Her short conversations with him remained stiff and all business. The perky sociable girl he knew had been replaced with a more ridged model. Did is say something to piss her off? With all the concerns of Garcia and the safety of the customers it was possible but not intentional.

* * *

Kelly sunk into her own private world. She tried to avoid the thoughts but could not help reeling over the conversation Mike had on her phone.

She didn't care for the facts but now everything made perfect sense. Apparently Mike's cool nature towards her had more to do with just not being interested then just being a gentleman. Not that she was listening in but from what she gathered Mike had a wife and kid. She never put that together. What an idiot.

She imagined that she must have looked like a complete fool throwing herself at Mike. Ever since the previous day's ride to work, she found it difficult to look him in the eyes. The next day she planned on putting in applications at other places.

Mike watched her from a distance. He knew her too well not to notice that she was not herself. She aimlessly moved about wiping tables or just standing in a dark corner. Instead of the normal pep in her step she felt drained and just went through the motions of her nightly tasks. Her slow walk dragged across the room ready for the night to be over.

As much as she wanted to pull Mike aside she couldn't do it. Any other time she wouldn't have to even think about it. Mike would have picked up on her sadness and taken a moment to listen to her concerns. This time he kept his distance. But she should not be surprised Mike had much more then her insecurities on his fragile plate.

He remained worried about the night. Admittedly the entire evening felt peculiar for her also. Plus with all that happened recently, time to cater to anyone including her just may not have been there. Mike's focus stayed solely devoted to the well being of everyone as a whole. This, she knew, would have to be his main focus. She had very little doubt that it would have to remain that way for awhile.

The entire staff knew of Mike's sixth sense and how he used it as a guiding force. Kelly felt that gut feelings had very little clout; it would only take him so far. She felt that Mike was in uncharted territory with no compass. The limited room for error may not be worth the risk. She saw Mike's lost of focus every sense Garcia entered the club.

Kelly's pure perspective could see that Mike was far too absorbed. With his back to her, he felt comfortable watching her boss from the other side of the nightclub. His robotic movements merely mimicked the motions he had done for so many years. His mind was elsewhere.

She could not shake the deep desire to comfort him. This superseded any self-gratifying decisions. Before she talked herself out of it, she walked over to him.

The tap on his shoulder surprised made him jump. Mike turned quickly and his eyes widened when he found Kelly standing with her arms stiffly to her side. She wrestled with the right words and felt her face contort as the mental chambers turned inside. Her lips quivered ever so slightly before she cut her eyes to the air, turned, and marched away.

"What in the hell was that about?" he yelled.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

As Kelly walked away it reminded Mike how these moments made him appreciate the single life. God created the world just like he created women, there to enjoy but never to figure out. He puffed his cheeks as he watched her stoop away.

Certifiable, he thought. Her petite body sashayed across the room as the multi colored club lights darted against her. He thought about going after her but it would have to wait. He'll have to dive into that mystery, but not now.

Before he could return to his own thoughts everything changed. Kelly stopped in her tracks and made a military like about face.

"Oh hell here we go," he mumbled.

Her expression filled with determination. Instead of returning to a higher perch Mike remained at the bottom of the stairs that led to the main bar. He waited for whatever was about to come. She stomped past him then up two steps before turning to meet him at eye level.

Like a sudden alteration of the seasons, the atmosphere changed all around them. Colorful lighting altered from flickering and festive bright hues to slow moving dark tints of blue and red. The house band switched from Sugar Ray's, I Just Wanna Fly, to Sade's hit Is It a Crime.

The noise level in the club followed suite. Voices lowered to soft whispers sharing secrets and hidden fantasies. Kelly and Mike stood silently locked in a visual confrontation.

"Michael Andrews!" Kelly started with conviction and sternness across her voice. The unfamiliar tone surprised him since it was one that Mike had never heard.

"Yeah, what is it on Kelly?" After he spoke, he realized that his voice was laced with irritation.

"Why you never told me you were married!?"

The question made Mike leaned back.

"Where did that come from?"

"So you are married?"

"What? What do you mean? Married? Wait, wait, hold on a second here. I'm not married, who the hell told you that?"

As stunned as he was about the question he was relieved that it wasn't anything serious.

"You engaged!?" she said holding her ground.

"Where in the world are you getting this stuff?"

"Girlfriend!?"

"No, nooo unfortunately no one is willing to put up with your boss trust me," he said still in disbelief.

A sense of relief overcame him since this was the stuff he could handle. Kelly opened her red lips ready to fire off more questions but he caught her.

"Hold on what is with the twenty personal questions?"

The lights dimmed more in a wide spread cast of colored shadows. The deep blue lights faded to allow a deep shade of scarlet to cloak the area. One single spotlight lowered on the female lead singer as she crooned the crowd with Sade's lyrics.

Kelly took one step down moving even closer. Her slight elevation remained just shy of Mike's height. As she stared deeply into his eyes he saw the exact moment that everything changed forever. A right of passage opened to a locked away world.

His mind opened allowing his eyes to fully see through past the once sturdy wall and into her spirit. She opened the door and the chance to turn back had long past by placing the ball in his court.

The song lyrics poured like liquid harmony. Words intertwined with the seductive saxophones pouring its aphrodisiac waters into the subconscious. A widespread music induced hypnotic effect touched the club's patrons including Mike and Kelly.

Like everyone else they were drawn by the irresistible urge to touch the joys of life. With everything transforming around them, Mike and Kelly's view of one another changed in an instant.

Quickening breaths from Kelly's nostrils blew against Mike's face. Her fragrance filled his senses pulled him closer with a reassuring ease. Heat emitted from her body as the enticing essence of desire claimed its latest victim. He felt himself slip between the cracked psychosomatic glass walls.

Her head tilted to one side as her eyelids lowered. All of the passion and desire inside of her waited for the flood gates to open. He had the key to turn away or unlock the ripples that crossed the deepest oceans as her lips parted slightly then waited for his.

Mike's large hands encircle her small waist. He squeezed her gently just before pulling her closer. Their bodies submitted into a collective union. For Mike the moment was more then just feeling right, it was an entitlement to happiness.

No matter what their past dictated they knew what everyone in the world had eventually discovered. They deserved to be loved.

The empty tray Kelly still held in her hand dropped to the floor. Her arms rose to rest her hands on Mike's large chest. As he drew her near, her lips parted even further and her mouth moistened with thirst to connect with Mike's.

The Sade lyrics eased into the moment. It dives, it jumps and it ripples like the deepest oceans.

Their lips touched ever so softly holding in place to allow their minds to accept the reality. He pressed his lips tighter as Kelly moved her hands to the back of his head and the two kissed passionately.

Short breaks of repeated pecks preceded an onslaught of renewed passion. Time froze, the past disappeared and for that flash in time, nothing mattered. Through the rest of the song Mike and Kelly tossed discretion aside. The heated display continued as if they were all alone. Their mouths hungrily explored one another's.

A total emergence of pure yearning arrived at the door of fate's finality. Seven years of working at and owning the Memphis Bar and grille and this was the first time Mike let his guard down. The kiss took his mind away from all that had plagued him. He zoned out and became oblivious to everything around him and did not care. The issues of the world vanished in the bliss of the sweetest distraction.

After the kiss ended their lips separated but remained close. The short distance between them appeared like a portrait. Like always Kelly broke the tension first.

"So my Italian Stallion, what time do you get off?"

"I'm guessing about a half an hour after I make it to your bedroom," he said.

Kelly's face blended with the red lighting that still filled the room. The implication did not go unnoticed.

"I'm beginning to like this new side of Mike," she gushed.

#  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

In the affluent surroundings of the Hotel Metropol, implication failed to adhere to Aki's attributes. On the contrary, the woman discarded any reservations in the confinements of the mirrored elevator's interior. At twenty-eight, the Asian charmer got what she wanted and never regretted any of her choices. With the soft sounds of Tchaikovsky playing through the interior speakers she had a composition of her own in mind.

Adam Barrie fell into a locked position on her radar and she never missed. She went to Adam then showered him with kisses. The passionate pecks traveled along his neck then up to his ear and face. Trails of red lipstick marked a path leading from his lower neck to his mouth.

She placed her lips against his, gently at first then much more aggressive. Her tongue darted in and out of Adams opened mouth with yearning hunger as her sensually explored the most sensitive areas of his body with reckless abandonment. He moaned softly with closed eyes.

She stopped abruptly.

"What's wrong?" he said. "Everything ok?"

"Mr. Barrie, I don't want to frighten you away, I sometime forget that women in your America are not as, as, how do you say?" she said.

"Aggressive?" he offered.

"Yes! Yes, agres-sive. I mean like European women are. Am I correct?"

Adam's eyes averted hers before he spoke. "Aki, I not sure how to explain this but-"

"Yes?" she said placing a gentle hand on his arm.

He racked his hand through his bushy dark brown hair. "Look Aki I have to be honest with you," he said then tightened his lips. "I would love to tell you how other women are compared to you but I can't. I would not have any idea how American or any other women behave. I am not very experienced you might say."

"It's ok Adam. That's a good thing, not a bad one. Now I should be honest with you. I had many drinks while I watch you play." She paused then looked away. "So I may have had a little too much. That's why I am bolder tonight, but I did see that you are great poker player."

"I wouldn't say that I am that great. I just think that I have a knack at figuring out the odds and the good memory helps. Photographic, I am told."

"Photo-graph?"

"No I'm sorry I just meant that I don't forget anything I see."

"Oooooooh, very good thing to have."

"Yeah it definitely helps."

The elevator stopped then opened on his floor. They stepped out of the compartment then stood in the second floor hallway. His floor contained the largest number of rooms and all were the hotel's standard suites.

"Mr. Barrie," she began.

"Please, Adam, call me Adam," he said.

"Ok, Adam let me be honest with you again. I'm not what you may think."

"I never thought anything, really, I just-" he started.

She placed a finger over his lips. "I'm not one of the groupie girls I see that hang around the tournaments waiting to see who will win big money. My full name is Aki Nakanishi and my father is Takashi Nakanishi of-"

"Naka industries based in Japan?" he finished.

"Yes the same, you know him?"

"Know him, you kidding?!" he took a moment to collect his thoughts. "Well, no not know him personally, but his name is all over the electronics magazines. He's the Japanese version of our Bill Gates."

"Oh I can assure you that he doesn't have that kind of money."

"Well pretty close. The man is a genius."

Aki smiled and bowed forward. "You are far too kind, thank you for the compliments about my father. I work for my father almost year around representing the company.

Although I don't have to work I really enjoy what I do. My father did not have any sons so I feel like I please him by showing him that I can be a reliable substitute. I know that he wants me to take over one day so I am pleased to do as he wishes."

Aki placed a thoughtful finger to her temple then turned her back to Adam. She took a step back placing a small distance between them before she spoke again. "When I watched you play, I saw something that I liked. I have a weakness for smart men and even more for the ones who know how to respect women. You didn't seem to even notice the cheap women trying to get your attention. I like that, it is very attractive Mr. Bar-, I mean Adam. Life on the road and living in hotels no matter how nice they are gets very lonely."

She turned around to face Adam. His expression filled with concern. It seemed as if he wanted to speak but he remained quiet. With no words coming from him he had time to gather her remaining thoughts. Just like when they first met he hesitated to speak as if his words would potentially ruin the moment.

"You are quiet Adam," she said.

"I know," he nodded. "I just have been enjoying the conversation and didn't want to kill the chemistry that I was feeling between us."

This time Aki remained silent.

Just as she expected Adam fidgeted uncomfortably with his clothing from the silence. She knowingly placed the ball in his court to see if he would make an effort to revive the opportunity that he assumed was quickly slipping away. His face twisted with worry. Then from the depths within he drummed up enough courage to speak.

"Aki, I can truly say that no one understands loneliness as much as me. If you like I can just hang out with you for as long as I am here in Moscow."

Aki looked into Adam's eyes. She smiled. Now she felt that her connection with him was solid.

"Thank you Adam," she said.

Adam took her hand in his with confidence leading her down the hall toward his room. She stopped with their hands still connected. After two steps he also stopped once realizing that Aki had remained in place. She shook her head slowly from side to side. No.

Turning back to the elevators she pulled Adam along with her without explanation. Once inside she retrieved the key to Metropol's elite floor out of her purse. The gold key gleamed with the numbers 3364 elegantly written in raised Vivaldi font. Upon insertion into the separate VIP slot, the key would allow them to enter the exclusive floor with total access to the ultimate suites as well as the private VIP lounge. As the elevator ascended to the top floor, Aki faced Adam. She leaned over placing her lips close to Adam's ear.

"How about coming to my place tonight?" she whispered.

Aki's suite contained the square footage of a small apartment. Adam's head swiveled as he marveled at the splendor and beauty of it all.

"Your suite is about four times the size of mine," he said.

Aki didn't respond. Instead she poured two drinks then entered the adjoining room. A moment later Adam followed Aki, rounding the corner. His head still circled the room taking in the décor.

"This place reminds me of a miniature European palace," Adam smiled.

Aki handed him his drink then lifted hers in front of him.

"Let's toast," she said.

Adam took the drink and tapped his glass against hers.

"To?" he said.

"To no inhibitions," she smiled.

#  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Adam downed the stiff cocktail in one gulp. Can courage, was better then none at all. Aki left the room then moved down the hallway venturing into a separate section of the suite. Her slow sultry walk swayed her hips with motions of seduction.

Just before she shifted out of his sight, she stopped and turned back to Adam. She toyed with the top of the glass by circling the rim with one or her manicured fingers then dipped it inside the drink before sliding her tongue across it. With the most intoxication eyes Adam had seen, she held her gaze with his until she vanished into the other room.

When Aki returned she wore the hotel's robe. I didn't know that some of the rooms had robes, he thought. The differences between the room he could afford and the suites that he could not were worlds apart.

Aki's opened robe gave Adam a mouth watering view. The belt draped down on each side permitting a voyeuristic peak at the silk and laced lingerie worn beneath it. A warm sensation came over him. I need another drink.

She walked over to Adam closing the space between them but stopped just a few feet away. She then placed her hands on her hips spreading the opening of the robe even wider.

For Adam, Aki oozed sex appeal effortlessly. From the perfectly fitted silk black and pink bra to the matching black panties with thigh high stockings, to the high heel shoes. She pointed to Adam and motioned her finger for him to come to her.

Adam floated toward her on a cloud of desire. She took a few steps backwards to return down the hallway. Adam followed her like a hypnotized love sick puppy right into the bedroom.

Inside the two stood with only one lit candle in the corner. The single light flickered casting elongated shadows against the hand pained walls. At long last, Adam allowed his mind to embrace the moment. This was it. The end all be all, and the quintessential walk in Trump's Ferragamos.

"Adam I know that I was tipsy before, but don't worry. I know what I am doing. I always know what I am doing." Aki's whisper presented a proposition to take a stroll into desire's dawn. The invitation didn't need a sales pitch; he waited to take this walk all his life. Aki pushed him onto the thick white comforter that enveloped the large king size bed.

#  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Few perks accompanied getting off of work at three-thirty in the morning but there was one. Kelly dreaded the early morning travel but never took the beauty of having nearly zero traffic for granted. On this night nothing could damper her spirits since she still floated from the kiss she shared with Mike. The kiss, for her anyway, ultimately answered the questioned of a romance delayed. Her permanent smile set on her face proudly as she made her way through the empty Dallas streets.

Unlike her usual one way trips home this one would be pleasantly different. This one would be a round trip. On top of the magical kiss, reciprocated attraction, and invitation to spend the night with Mike, another welcomed surprise was sprung on her. A change in her mundane routine felt nice. She looked forward to this new and exciting turn of destiny and the anticipation made her skin tingle.

Mike invited her for weekend getaway and not just any get away. He asked her to spend Friday through Sunday in San Antonio with him, his son, and his son's friends. She felt honored as well as flattered; she could not wait.

The clock inside of her car appeared to move far too slow for her comfort. Although she left early to make the run back to her apartment, she was ready to get back. Ok, don't drag this on, get what you need and get out of there. The trip back to her apartment was to gather some clothes for the weekend and meet Mike back at the bar. Easier said, she thought.

She shifted her jaw from side to side to relieve the stiffness in her face. She realized that he had been smiling for the past thirty minute straight. At her apartment she repeated what she needed to get over in her head.

To her own astonishment, she managed to get out of her apartment with what she needed and without deliberating too much on what to take or leave. It took less time then she thought but by the time Kelly returned to the Memphis bar, the parking lot was nearly empty. She never saw the lot that empty and the desolate sight had an eerie air to it.

The vacant eccentricity never lasted long. No matter how empty the parking places were after the bar was closed, they refilled the next day. Some would leave with the promises only to return the very next night while others the next week. One could rest for sure that whether it was the regulars or first time visitors the spaces would refill the next night just like every night.

For now all the customers filtered out to their various destinations guided by the illuminated early morning street lights. Kelly represented the only one who returned to the bar on that night. She parked right next to Mike's car.

At the entrance she cupped her hands over the sides of her face peering through the dark glass of the rear window. Right away she spotted Mike doing his final closing walk through. She used her key and stepped inside.

As she watched from the rear entrance she smiled. From what she could see, he was back to his old self. He hummed softly with that familiar relaxed and carefree stroll. Now, that's my Mike. After seeing her he smiled broadly and winked making her heart sped up a little faster. He blew him a kiss.

"Right on time. I'm done now, let's get out of here," he said.

* * *

After setting the alarm then locking the doors, they held hands as they crossed the parking lot. When he saw the smile on her face he knew that he was able to pull it off. He felt anything but relaxed but just before Kelly made it back to the bar; he put on his best façade. When he heard the door open he made sure that he appeared as relaxed as possible. No need to let her see my anxiety.

The act worked and partly because the odd sensation was actually finally going away. Even without the sensation that something was wrong, Mike could not help being cautious. He continued to look around the parking but did it as casually as possible. In the end the extra effort was not needed; everything remained peaceful.

"Ok follow me close. The foot that I use on the gas peddle weighs a little more then the other one if you know what I mean," he said.

"Don't worry you're not gonna lose me," she smiled.

Mike grinned catching the play on words. "It's about a forty minute dive. That is if we don't run into traffic from a late night car accident."

After leaving the parking lot Mike checked the review mirror frequently. Kelly trailed him close on the way to his far north Dallas home. Her small economy car managed to stay close without ever getting out of eyesight. When they pulled into his neighborhood Mike noted the time. It took a little over fifty minutes to get there.

He loved his neighborhood and wondered what Kelly thought about it. The homes were not too oversized but just right with beautifully designs and large yards. He also enjoyed the peaceful atmosphere and most of all the quiet.

The automatic garage door swung open to break the early morning calm. His garage had enough room for two vehicles but only one side was ever needed and used. Instead of driving in his normal spot he pulled to the side.

He waited for Kelly to pull up next to him then waved his hand to motion her inside. She pulled her small yellow car into the side of the garage that was always vacant. The night or in their case, early morning officially began.

Just as Kelley parked and stepped out of her car, Mike received a phone call. She stepped out of her car and walked toward him till she noticed him still seated with his new cell phone up to his face.

At first her was going to ignore the call but when he saw the caller ID, he had to answer it.

He spotted Kelly glance at her watch. His guess was that she found it a little odd to have a phone conversation at three in the morning. She stood patiently in the garage and waited as she leaned against her car.

Mike tried to rush through the conversation. He didn't want to make his guest wait too long for him, and was pretty eager to see her also. As he talked to Officer Myers, he held up one finger to Kelly.

She mouth two words back to him, "No rush."

The one-minute signal given to her was hopeful thinking. Who knows what Myers had to tell him since he was posted in his squad car in front of his mother's apartment complex. Anything was possible.

His voice dragged. "Heeey Michael, it's Meyers."

"What's going on?" Mike asked.

"Was just gonna leave you a message to let you know that I'll be able to watch your mom's place through the weekend for sure," he said.

"I almost forgot that I was supposed to get back to you about that. You're sure you can do it?" Mike asked.

"Yeah, no problem. I've been watching close and haven't seen anything out of the ordinary. But you sure you want me to keep watching?" Officer Myers said.

"I'm positive."

"Ok, your dime. You do realize that she knows I am watching her right?"

Mike frowned. "No, I never told her that I hired you. Why do you think she knows?"

"Well last night at around 11:15 I'm sitting there watching the place and here comes your mom around the corner. She came right up to my car and tapped on the window. I let the window down and she hands me a plate of baked cookies and told me I needed to dress warmer. Then she says, my son better not be paying you a fortune for this nonsense!"

Mike burst into laughter, "That's her alright!"

After the call he hurried to the garage to get Kelly. She leaned against her car rocking from side to side wearing a smile. The dim outside light glowed against her skin shimmering across the blonde curls.

As he came into her view her eyes sparkled as if she had not seen him in weeks. She didn't appear irked or even the least bothered by the wait and he loved that about her. I could really get use to this girl.

Mike bent over to look inside of her late model yellow Chevy Cobalt. The small car appeared well kept and a good fit for Kelly. A picture of Romeo and Juliet hung on the review mirror. Mike touched the picture and looked at Kelly.

"You really are a hopeless romantic aren't ya? Is this some kind of Shakespeare air freshener or something?"

"No it's not an air fresher! You bum, it's just a picture." she laughed.

"Oh I see, a big Shakespeare fan I take it."

"The biggest. Now can we change subjects?"

"Come on now that's nothing to be ashamed of, I'm a bit of a sap myself."

"Really now? Give me an example"

"Hmmm, how about Lord Byron?"

"No way!"

Mike pressed the interior button to close the garage door. "Afraid so," he said as they made their way into the house.

"Mike, I'm so surprised. This is not the typical bachelor pad. I expected cheap bud light signs, hooter girl wall posters, and of course the plastic football designed chip bowl on the coffee table."

"Is that right? Aren't we the stereotypical queen," he said.

"That did sound bad huh? But I love your place everything is so tasteful and done just right."

He felt flattered by her compliment. The thought of how others would see his home never came to mind when he put his ideas of decorating it together. He just tried to maintain it as best as he could while avoiding a lot of clutter. So to have Kelly give him a thumbs up was a bonus.

"Thank you Kelly, I'm glad that you like it."

"I love it. This is so impressive Mike, very well done," she said.

He realized that he did put a lot of work into his home over time. The color scheme Mike chose composed of a mixture of dark tans and browns accented with cream. He painted the interior living room taupe since he thought that it blended nicely with the dark woods of the couch and end tables.

Kelly ran her hand across the thick curtains. "You know at one time I thought about becoming an interior designer. And if I was to come to your place to give you some suggestions, I would not change one single thing. Well except one."

#  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

While she looked around his home, Mike came up to her with that serious look that he knew she could never get use to seeing on him.

"Ok Kelly, I rarely invite anyone over to my home but when I do I have one strict rule." He paused and waited to gain full eye contact. He needed to make sure that he had Kelly's undivided attention.

"You will have to go anywhere in here you want to and never ask. You can not feel like this is some museum. So please just get whatever you want when ever you want. In other words, when I say make yourself at home I really mean it, deal?"

Kelly kissed Mike on the corner of his lips lightly.

"Deal, but I do have one serious question." This time she paused so Mike's gave her his full attention. "Where do you keep your liquor for now and your whipped cream, for later." She gave him a cunning smile.

Laughter burst from inside of Mike so fast that it caused him to bend over. He held his stomach till he fell to the floor. It wasn't till then that he realized just how much he needed that humor induced release.

Kelly joined in with his robust laughter. Mike wasn't sure if she was laughing because it was just as funny to her or because it was just funny to watch him laugh. It didn't matter; he loved the sound of her laughter. After the laughter subsided he pointed toward the standing dry bar.

"The liquor is inside the bar, and the whipped cream is in the kitchen cabinet."

Kelly passed in front of Mike making her way to the bar. As she did Mike gave her a slap on the rear. She stopped and turned back to him. Her expression changed from jovial to serious. "Hold on there Michael! Aren't you overstepping your boundaries just a little bit? Really Mike? Seriously? After one kiss now all of a sudden I am some bimbo that you can slap on the butt?"

Mike began to smile then stopped when he saw the sober look on her face. You're serious? At first he still took the scolding as a joke till her eyes tightened with anger. She not only seemed insulted but almost disrespected by the innocent jester. Mike felt like crawling under the coffee table. Unbelievable, I guess I did cross the line.

"Are you serious? But-"

"But what Michael, dumb blonde right? That's all I am right, you see me just like all the rest-"

She turned her back to him. Mike had no idea what to say but was already mentally back in single mode. Wrong or not he wasn't about to deal with Miss double personality, not tonight and damn sure not for an entire weekend. Her head lowered with sniffling sounds of what sounded like soft sobs. God, I need a way out of this and never again.

"Damn you Michael Andrews! Damn you to hell!!" Kelly's voice projected with dramatic overacting.

"I've been punked, right?" Mike realized.

Kelly's laughter echoed like a roar. While Mike felt duped she found tremendous pleasure in her prank.

"Ok, ok you got me, pay back is hell," he smiled. "Your actually pretty good. I can admit it, you had me."

"Oh come on now, be a sport. You know the good book says not to be vengeful."

"It that right? Now the demon is quoting the bible to get out of trouble. Well I'm not buying that."

Kelly poked out her bottom lip but couldn't hold it as the laughter started again. When he took one step toward her she took off running. The chase circled around the living room at full speed.

Even with her continued laughter he could not catch her. Her tiny frame swiftly darted through the house. If he could have actually caught her, he wouldn't have, he enjoyed the chase.

After tiring himself out he called a truce then collapsed on the couch. With Mike fully exhausted, Kelly once again made her way to the bar. It appeared to Mike that she had not lost a breath. Where she got all the energy he had no idea. He smiled and realized that he had not had this much fun in a very long time.

"I love this bar Mike!" she said.

"I picked it up from a second store," he said. "I thought that it fit in pretty well in here."

"Good eye. It fits perfect in here. I love the design." He watched her open the small doors in front of the bar. "Goodness! You have just about anything that a bar could carry inside of here."

She bent over at the waist looking the line bottles. "I can't even decide what to drink."

Mike stood as he looked over at Kelly, "Hey Kelly I'm going to the bedroom and log on to the computer. I need to check on the reservations for San Antonio."

"Ok I'll make you a drink. Any request?" she said not looking away from the row of bottles.

"No, surprise me," he said.

"Mike!?" she said, still not looking away from the bottles.

"Yeah?"

"Are you looking at my butt?"

Mike hurried away to the bedroom. In the distance he could hear her laughter again. He could also feel his face transform to a deep shade of crimson. He had to admit that Kelly kept him on his toes; he didn't know how she did it but somehow Kelly slipped inside his private world. The fit was like a missing puzzle piece.

Every rule that he accumulated through the years had been broken. The first one he set did not allow any relationship to evolve into his private life. The second one broke the cardinal rule of never dating an employee. He also topped that with a third one that he deemed as sacred. He vowed not to allow his personal life to intertwine with his private life. The weekend getaway with Danny and Kelly dismantled that decree.

At fist he thought that the rules were one in the same but realized that they were not. In fact, in his life, they were as opposing as night and day. He crossed that line the second that he allowed his son Danny to meet Kelly. His out of character actions remained a mystery even to him.

* * *

Kelly searched through the liquor bottles but nothing stood out. Forget it, I'll just close my eyes and pick one. Before doing so, one particular brand caught her attention. It wasn't anything to do with the contents; the label produced some suppressed memories.

The fifth of Nusta Pisco along with its odd label tunneled into the depths of her memories. Then like a bad after taste the memory pulled back into the present. His words floated into her head.

"A bottle of Nusta Pisco for me and something for the little lady-"

The voice from an earlier time in her life echoed through her psyche then slammed the contrite memory back as if it just happened. The accented voice and recollection regrettably revived to become as new as the unopened bottle of dark brandy.

#  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Mike took only a few minutes to reserve the rooms for the San Antonio trip. In less then ten minutes Mike booked two adjoining rooms at Danny's favorite hotel located in the downtown area of San Antonio. Every since he and Danny did a father-son trip there three years before, he promised him that they would return to the very same hotel. After one final click on the computer's keyboard the reservations were set.

Kelly appeared in the doorway holding the bags she brought with her to Mike's home. Her face drooped with sadness. She didn't have to speak; Mike sensed that something was wrong. He waited for her to reveal it then his suspensions were answered quickly as soon as Kelly spoke.

"Mike would you be a sweetheart and make the drinks for us? With all of the choices I couldn't decide."

He heard it in her voice, something was wrong. Her best smile made an effort to disguise the tension. She tried to hide it but something had stolen her joy.

"Hey no problem I'll handle it, I'm already done with the reservations. Just set your bags anywhere you want and the bathroom is right at the end on the hall."

"Good I'm going to jump in the shower," she said.

Kelly made her way down the hall moving with far less energy. He seen her move with more vigor at the end of a double shift. She dragged along as if she was placed in a dark zone. Something was definitely wrong.

He wanted to ask her but could see that she obviously was trying to cover it up. Just let her bring it up Mike, don't kill the evening. He thought back about the last few things they said to one another to pinpoint what may have triggered it. Nothing stood out as far as he could remember. I wonder what's stirring in that blonde head of yours Kelly?

With Kelly in the shower Mike had time to get a few things in order. It had been some time since he had been able to display his romantic side so now was as good of a time as any. He went straight to the bottle of Cirroc vodka. The vodka gave him a wide variety of exotic drinks that he could make with the light liquor. After he lit a few candles he put on some soft music then rushed into the other bathroom to take a quick shower.

* * *

In the bathroom down the hall, Kelly stood before the well lit mirror. She slowly brushed her long curls as she marveled at the ability to get a clear picture of her appearance. The lighting made a big difference.

She concentrated on her hair, outfit, and the mirror but avoided her own eye contact. A deep look into her reflection would ignite another onslaught of suppressed memories. She avoided those memories not wanting them to resurface, not tonight anyway. More then likely, she may not ever be ready to relive that memory.

While observing her outfit she contemplated if she should have worn something different. After four changes she settled on a tight fitting t-shirt and boy-shorts. Her intentions were to capture a sexy but not sleazy look. With any luck the outfit would become unnecessary.

She leaned in closer to the mirror carefully placing on some – also hopefully soon removed \- cherries in the snow lipstick. She shifted her head to the side then sniffed. Hmmmmm-

The scent of vanilla and jasmine floated under the bathroom door. The fragrance migrated from somewhere in the home taking her away from her current thoughts. If it had not been for her curiosity to find out where the scent originated, she may have stayed in the bathroom forever tugging and primping.

When she opened the door the familiar sound of smooth saxophones slid across the Caribbean styled jazzy drums. Unmistakably the music was that of the songstress Sade. Nice, very nice, she thought.

She made her way down the hall with the fragrance and soft music pulling her toward the bedroom. The opened door allowed her to see light flickering from inside. Candles, she guessed. Her imagination soared as she guessed what Mike would be wearing and just how much of a romantic night awaited them.

Kelly appeared in the door entrance but stopped short of entering the room. The room looked like a different place. The large candle lit the interior with a magic like feel. She felt like she had been transported into another time and space with Mike being the only common factor.

He walked over to her with two drinks in his hands. His opened black silk robe allowed her to see a set of matching silk boxers. Tiny white polo symbols spread all across both pieces.

She accepted the drink. "You're as classy as you are romantic Mike," she said.

The lit candle projected hidden shadows inside of the dark room. The small flame danced in motions beautifully synced with the soft playing music. The interior walls served as a canvas, projecting animated motions of the room's stationary objects. The walls slowly vanished as the moon's glow strained between the beige curtains in an attempt to peek inside.

The room contained the ambiance of a dream. A feather like sensation gripped her feet as she stepped out of the entry and onto the thick cream carpet of the bedroom. Her bare feet sunk to a seemingly endless depth till they floated on the thick softness beneath them. The bed, adorned with its thick bronzed comforter, appeared to float on clouds as it rested in its heavenly position.

The high vaulted ceilings added an element of enchantment to the room. Shades of soft light mixed with shadows to give an unintentional but beautiful illusion. The entire setting could not have portrayed a more perfect stage for temptation's temple.

"You look beautiful Kelly," Mike said.

His eyes scanned over her but made her feel more desired then just an object. She knew that she had managed to get accepted into his private sanctuary, and the invitation wasn't taken lightly. His private place to unwind and block out the rest of the world opened up to her. Now, she was a small part of it.

"You know what Kelly?" he said. "Till seeing you stand in front of me, I thought that nothing was missing from my home."

Any other time, the words would have made her melt and they did, but also sadden her. She attempted to hide it and couldn't find the words to follow his. She wanted to say thank you but couldn't since she felt that the words were too good for her and she didn't deserve them.

The sweet words had the opposite intended effect. She wished that she had never come there.

#  CHAPTER FORTY

Mike not only marveled at how stunning Kelly looked but also marveled at his new perspective. He never knew how lonely he was till then. The thought never even entered his mind. Combined emotions of sadness in realizing his denial was over run with the desire to have Kelly around as much as possible. From that very day he knew that he would not place any constraints on their relationship.

Kelly became much more then a possibility, she was an angel, his angel. Her virtuous flight landed in his arms during a time when he didn't know he needed a positive force in it. Their relationship took a colossal leap beyond his control.

Her large eyes sparked the reflection of light that bounced off the candle. The pink fitted t-shirt and body hugging matching shorts aroused Mike at first sight. Her blonde curls fell down her back resting against the angelic wings that only he could see.

Kelly took a sip of the drink then gave him an appreciative smile.

"You said that you rarely have anyone over here but you're a natural at making a guest feel at home," she said.

"It may have more to do with the company then any hospitality on my part," he admitted.

He held her gaze till she broke the eye contact with a nervous giggle.

"Don't tell me that you are playing the shy role now?" he smiled.

Kelly tilted her head to think about the statement. "Shy? No, I wouldn't say shy. I guess that it's just something about the way you look at me. Sometimes I can handle it but sometimes I guess I can't."

He understood exactly what she was saying because he felt the very same way about her. He could not help but notice how she would stare at him the way a secret love watches from a distance. It never got old and made him fell like the most important person in the world.

She approached Mike while seductively still sipping on her drink. Her hips swayed smoothly orchestrating the background music to the timing of desire. Anticipation rose along with the elevated jazz sounds escaping from the stereo speakers.

Her locked gaze remained in place this time. As she got closer, Mike felt the rapid increase of his breathing. A clearer focus of Kelly emerged from the dim lighting as her eyes bore into his soul.

While stepping into his arms the magnetic chemistry ignited his body. He felt a surge of electricity that ran through him. He wasn't sure about her, but it was a feeling he had never truly experienced. The raw indescribable but distinctive arrival of passion and perfectly matched souls hit him without warning.

They touched glasses in a wordless acknowledgement of the occasion. Words were no longer needed. If there were any reservations, this was the point when they became obsolete. The voice of surreal romance spoke for them. The invisible line had been crossed, and on top of the solid foundation of friendship, a higher union formed.

The embrace increased with the suspended emotions that could now be fully exposed. His hands rested on the small of her back pulling her in even closer.

Her free hand gently explored the ridges across his shoulders and arms. Her eyes glazed over in a trance like state and Mike could sense that something deeper was still going on behind those eyes.

Perhaps she was sharing his thoughts in that the world was now theirs and theirs alone.

Mike placed the empty glass on the nightstand. Kelly did the same but stopped when she noticed the glass ice bucket. She picked up the bottle next to it and stared at the familiar clear and blue Cirroc label.

He saw her mind drifting to anther place. Instead of disturbing her, he remained quiet to allow her to think about what ever was on her mind. After a few minutes her words came out as if the inner thoughts needed to be said allowed.

"I like this label," she said as she moved her hand across it thoughtfully. "I saw that you had a bottle of Nusta Pisco brandy." She squeezed her eyes together tightly. "Don't care for that label."

She turned her back to Mike then sat the bottle back down. Her head turned to the side and her hand lifted quickly to wipe her face. She then lowered her head and placed it into her hands.

"Mike before this goes any further; I have a confession of my own. And I'm pretty sure that afterwards you many not want me to stay."

Mike went to her. He tried to lift her chin with his finger. "Come on now Kelly, it can't be that serious."

She lifted her head but turned it to the side away from him avoiding eye contact. Although she turned away fast, he noticed that tears now filled her eyes. She kept her head to the side not allowing Mike to see her eyes then folded her arms before looking down again. She wept softly.

"That serious?" he said.

"It's-it's worse then you could ever imagine," she confessed between sobs.

#  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

When Adam woke up the next morning he did not move. He remained on his back staring at the complicated patterns on the Metropol's ceiling. His mind swirled like the circular patterns embedded into the paint. Just as he was about to question reality he felt the stir of the warm body next him. Aki stretched and turned before snuggling up closer to his side. It really happened, the night was real.

Not wanting to wake her, he placed a light kiss on her forehead then eased from under her arm draped over him. According to the wall clock he still had a few hours before the final session of the poker tournament. He dressed quietly till he heard a voice emerge behind him.

"So you were going to run out on me without saying goodbye?" Aki said. Her sleepy voice contained a playful tone.

Adam turned to find her standing in the doorway using one of the sheets to cover her body. His heart went out to her as even in the early morning, she glowed with beauty. The front of the sheet lowered exposing one side of her chest. She seemingly had not noticed till she saw Adam's eyes drift to the location.

Looking down she spotted the exposure then lifted the sheet higher. He instantly thought that he made two strikes already. He wanted to prove to her that he was different.

"Trust me Aki, I would never leave without saying goodbye. I was just trying not to wake you. I was about to get dressed and as a matter of a fact I was hoping that you would." He cleared his throat nervously. "Escort me to the tournament."

"Adam you don't have to invite me."

He went to her and placed his finger on her lips. She took both of her hands and wrapped them around his. She then placed several soft kisses on his fingers before inserting it inside of her mouth and allowing the sheet to fall onto the carpet.

"I want you to come with me," he said panting from her kisses.

"Ok Adam, I would love to escort you to the tournament. Perhaps I'll bring you luck, not that you need it."

She ran into the restroom to get dressed. Adam smiled thinking about her words. She was right in one aspect. He never trusted the incalculable constraints of luck and always calculated the odds. Just play the odds perfectly and the game comes to you, there will never be a need to chase lady luck.

As the words given to him from his mentor danced in his head, he thought about the competition. The reigning champion, Martin Garcia, played an excellent and flawless game. Adam calculated his playing the entire time. But like everyone, Garcia had his weakness. Adam noticed that Garcia had a tell sign.

As any poker player knows, unconscious tell signs are game killers. They can tell your competition what is going on in your head. Adam picked up on tell signs better then anyone in the game but had none of his own. Years ago fellow players game him the nickname of the mannequin. His face remained expressionless from the time he sat down. However any twitch, fidgeting, or nervous chatter gave him key advantages over his opponents far more then they would ever like to know.

When it came to Garcia, Adam noticed a slight almost missed tell sign. Whenever Garcia felt that that he had an upper hand he would occasionally brush his goatee with his right hand. The only other thing that he noticed was that Garcia was not a patient player. With an already advantage of nearly twice as many chips as Garcia, Adam would use both flaws to defeat him.

Aki exited the bathroom and placed her arm around his. A short elevator ride and walk later, the emerged in the mist of poker mayhem. I can get use to this, Adam thought.

The first surprise came to Adam the moment he arrived at the tournament. Garcia sat in his seat uncharacteristically early. Adam felt sure that his opponent would make his normal last minute grand entrance.

The second surprise came from Garcia's appearance. An odd smile rested across his face. The normally stoned faced all business expression was missing. Adam tried to ignore it but it just didn't feel right, at all.

#  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

Other then tell signs, Adam never spent much time concerning himself with the other players. His strategy had always been to focus on the cards. He did know that Garcia was someone he may needed to give some special attention to but not Tony Swinton.

Whatever the case, Adam knew all he had to do was play his game. Calculate the plays, take advantage of the odds and utilize his perfect memory. With that in mind he knew and was confident that even Garcia knew that he could not be beat. With Adams widely known advantage of being virtually unreadable this game would be no different then the rest. He returned Garcia's odd smile.

The Russian announcement of the start of the tournament caused a loud round of applause. As the contest began, Adam played the first hand cautiously but Tony was aggressive. As the match continued Adam watched Garcia's every move. He would wait for him to make an error then play accordingly. It would come, they always made errors.

The cards dispersed from a shoot to the dealer's left clockwise, starting with Adam then to Garcia and last to Tony Swinton. Two cards for the players were face down then light bets are made. The dealer then flipped three cards face up, know as the flop. Garcia placed another light bet. After that the dealer turned up another card to accompany the previous three. Adam felt that his hand was just average but played along anyway. By the end of the hand the total amount of money was substantial but not enough to do any major damage to Garcia or Adam. Garcia folded this hand turning the pot or winnings over to Adam whose hand beat out Tony's. This wiped out Tony who tried to bluff with a bad had but failed to scare away Adam.

When Adam glanced at Garcia the site confused him. Garcia sat in place not only smiling but unfazed by the loss of the hand. But the real shocker was the tell sign.

Although no cards had been dealt, Garcia stroked his goatee. This action not only unnerved Adam but slightly worried him. Why a tell sign before the cards are even dealt? It did not add up.

Although the action was quick Adam caught it. A second guess was not necessary; he trusted his memory of events more then anything in life. It indeed happened, as for why the actions was done was of some concern. As the cards continued to be dealt, Adam made his calculations like a human computer. Hand after hand fell his way with Garcia no less then thirty minutes from losing it all.

"Mr. Barrie," Garcia smiled. "Once all of this is over." Garcia tossed his hand about as if this, as in the most coveted tournament in Europe, was much to do about nothing. "Win or lose, you will have to come to my suite for a post game celebration. We should share a drink; you're by far the best player I have ever had the pleasure of competing against."

"Oh, well, sure thank you. That would be very nice," Adam said. His words eased out nervously spoken but his mind remained sharp. This small ploy, in Adam's head anyway, was a painfully obvious attempt to distract him. He heard the rumors about Garcia just like everyone else and it was no way in hell that he would visit Garcia's suite after beating him. Adam quickly began calculating how may hands he needed to take the rest of Garcia's chips then finish the game.

"Fine, fine," Garcia said. "Just swing by my room after the tournament...I'm in the presidential suite."

Adam thought that he had never met a person in his entire like more full of themselves then Garcia. The words Presidential Suite were hung out there like a name dropping salesman. Garcia attempted to pre-empt the ego shot of a tournament loss. The words contained an, I don't even need the money, arrogance to them.

Garcia's sudden nervous chatter would hurt him the next time they met. It became just another item to file in Adam's solid memory. They would certainly end up competing again so he would just add the too talkative aspect to the other tell signs.

As for this game, luck ran in abundance and just in time. He could not wait to finish and remove himself from the range of Garcia's persistent voice. To Adam's delight, Garcia's constant chatter was interrupted by an extended coughing attack. After Garcia requested a glass of water, the dealer stopped the game for a short break.

They waited for the waitress but Garcia began speaking again. He smiled apologetically as he spoke directly to Adam. "I'm so sorry it must have been the chips that I had a few hours ago. I am sure some water will clear this up. Anyway while we are on break let me give you a key to my suite so you can let yourself in for the post party. What do you say huh?"

"I don't think that will be necessary," Adam said.

"Oh come on now, we're all friends here right? You can bring as many people as you wish. As a matter of a fact everyone here is invited!" Garcia raised his voice dramatically as he extended the invitation to everyone in ear shot. The entire crowd applauded enthusiastically.

Garcia pulled out the room key and tossed it across the table to Adam. The card key landed face up displaying the raised numbering in Vivaldi font, 3364. The number glistened in the lights, but not for Adam. For him the numbers floated like a grey cloud in Adam's memory. For the first time, he questioned the accuracy of recollection.

Erratic emotions surfaced at first then froze inside of him. His eyes attached to the numerals as his senses went into shock. His photographic memory flashed a sequence of pictures across his inner eye. Her smile, her voice, and the elevator all tore across his mind in flashes of troubled memoirs. Aki's voice echoed inside his head, "How about coming to my place tonight?"

Then images of the elevator and the key appeared. The gold card key that Aki held in her slim manicured hand. The numbers on her key card flashed again inside his head. Three- three-six-four, it didn't make sense. Mental snapshots of the two gold cards were placed side by side.

Adam faced Garcia, his mind tried to make some logic out of the matching room key numbers. As he pondered the numbers, the waitress passed by Adam to deliver Garcia's bottled water. As he sipped the liquid his eyes remained on Adam and his face maintained the same odd grin.

"The tournament will restart in five minutes gentlemen," the announcer said.

The organizer of the tournament leaned over to whisper to Garcia. "Will you desire anything else Sir?" he said. Adam's other less known skill was the ability to read lips. He watched the whispered words roll from the organizer's mouth. Garcia shook his head no. "No thank you, I have all I need now." Adam read each word that formed across Garcia's lips. Yet something about the way that Garcia appeared disturbed him as his eyes remained locked on Adam.

Adam heard the tapping sound of stilettos approaching from behind him. Just as the waitress emerged from his immediate left, another person passed him to get to Garcia. This, however, wasn't another waitress.

The clicking heels walked right past Adam. He watched the familiar body frame make her way over to Garcia. Even from behind he knew the person. To Adam's extreme dismay, everything now all added up like a desolate afterthought.

#  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

Nothing could have prepared Adam for the events that were about to take place. Even if he were told before hand exactly was about to happen, it would have done little to soften the crippling blow.

Aki leaned over and placed a kiss on Garcia's cheek then spoke softly into his ear. Adam's body stiffened as he read her moist lips from across the table. The very same lips were placed against his the night before.

As Garcia listened to Aki's whisper, his eyes and grin would not leave Adam. Garcia lifted his hand and stroked his goatee several times while smiling at Adam. Aki removed the spare room key from her cleavage and passed it to Garcia. Adam continued to read her words.

"Hey baby, here is the room key you gave me. I did it exactly like you told me to. Did you want me to come by and see you tonight?" she said.

"Well I will be having a little party tonight so come on by, who knows you might find a few new customers," he smiled.

"Ok baby. Do you have something for me?"

"Oh yes, how could I forget, you did well."

Their voices were too low to hear but Adam read every word that came from their lips. Garcia pulled out a money clip and counted out several one hundred dollar bills then passed them to Aki.

Aki stuck out her lips with a pouty look. "So that's it, you don't want me now after the good job I did for you?" she said.

She continued to speak low into Garcia's ear. Garcia kept his eyes on Adam.

"No, you're still my favorite but not tonight my dear," he said.

Aki placed the bills into her ample cleavage. She then stuck her tongue into Garcia's ear. "Let me know if you change your mind. You know there is never a charge for you baby," she said. Aki then walked right past Adam as if he did not exist. Just another John.

Garcia placed the spare key inside his jacket then picked up the other key he had thrown on the table.

"On second thought, I'll just keep both keys. We can just walk to the suite together for the post party. But if we end up losing track of one anther and you get there before me just wait there, I'll be right along. I'm sure you remember the room number right?" After this comment Garcia smiled with a wide self satisfying sneer. Garcia mouthed the next words; I also know that you read lips my friend.

Garcia then addressed the men close to the table, "I'm so sorry for the delay gentlemen, that was my um, friend." He made it a point to look at Adam when he said the word friend. "She was just returning my room key since I let her borrow it to en-ter-tain, from time to time." Entertained was said one syllable at a time for maximum effect.

The results of this calculated act proved to be nothing short of catastrophic for Adam. The next sessions of hands became an unending nightmare. His concentration fell off and was lost in a fog of confused disbelief. His calculations missed their mark, his memory fell into a short term nightmare and his facial expressions displayed tell signs that even the novice player could have picked up. In less then two hours Adam had not only let Garcia regain a chip lead but lost the entire tournament. The contest became the biggest turn around loss in poker tournament history.

Before the rush of congratulatory hand shakes and photo ops, Garcia made his way over to Adam. He placed a consoling hand on Adam's shoulder and leaned over to whisper in his ear. "Don't bother yourself by coming to the after party my friend. No one wants to hang around with a loser." With that he rose and walked into the countless congratulations, photos with fans who literally patted Garcia on the back.

Adam remained seated. He heard the crowd behind him erupt like a dark volcano but it wasn't for him. They poured out their adoration for the winner. Second place was last place and no one remembers the runner up. Garcia's voice boomed across the room, "Party for everyone on the VIP floor!"

The sound of champagne bottles popped loudly. The crowd noise faded into the casino lobby then moved into the distance. The room emptied till only forlorn silence remained.

#  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

Intimacy, at all levels dwindled fast between Kelly and Mike. The concern for Kelly's distress took precedence over his immediate desires. Her eyes remained averted and focused on the floor or any random point in the air. He sat on the edge of the bed then patted his hand on the empty space next to him.

A long hesitation came before she made a halfhearted walk over to sit next to Mike. She bounced her hand on her knee nervously. Her lowered head took in deep breaths followed by slow exhalations, more silence, but no words.

Both hands then slapped against the bed. She took in a deep breath then swept the hair out of her face. Here goes nothing, she thought. The possibility of destroying everything before it had a chance to begin was something she would just have to accept.

"Mike back when I was in Idaho, like most of the girls my age, I was determined to get out and see the world. Whatever in the hell that means. The older I became the smaller Boise seem to get to me. I had a positive attitude and a lot of drive. As soon as I heard from a friend that there were a lot of jobs in Dallas, I was dead set on coming here.

That summer after graduating high school I worked two jobs and began saving every dime to move. I continued living with my parents so not having any bills made it pretty easy. By the time summer was over I had enough money saved and had already contacted several hiring managers about positions here in Dallas.

The first job that I thought I had for sure, turned out to be one that required a couch interview at the manager's home. Well, you probably remember me telling you all about that. Anyway, that was nearly half a year before I returned and went through the same thing then applied at Memphis. Anyway, I was naïve, but not that naïve or desperate. I had flown in to Dallas for the weekend and tried some more jobs but didn't have any luck. The original plan was to return to Boise and save a little more then return back to Dallas with a job waiting for me.

So I went back home and was too embarrassed to tell everyone that the job did not pan out. I made another trip to Seattle to look into a couple of jobs there. I really wasn't serious about working there but was enjoying the traveling since I had not traveled at all till then.

The first day there I rented a car and found my way around. I talked to a couple of hiring managers, shopped a little then saw a brochure about Vancouver. Since I had the traveling bug and it was only a few hours to drive there I went there on a whim. I took in the sights then heard about a night club that was the hottest spot in Vancouver.

That night I called a cab from my hotel and gave him the address. The place was so nice and it was very crowded but the bouncer at the door saw me all by myself and let me walk in front of the line and right inside. I meet four girls who were airline stewardess for Continental airlines and ended up latching on to party with them the whole night.

The girls were so friendly and were telling me how to get a job on at the airlines. It really sounded exciting. They traveled all the time and knew everyone. During the night they introduced me to a guy who they said flies with them all the time.

He ended up hanging out with us for the rest of the night. He bought the drinks and danced with all of us. By the time it was midnight the girls had to leave because of an early flight the next day. The guy and I were left and continued to party."

Kelly paused, thinking about the night. She moved a little further away from Mike. She turned away, lifted her hand, and began to wipe her eyes. "Guess you're wondering if there is a point to all of this right?" Kelly never looked up and didn't expect an answer.

"He, the guy, told me that he had a few businesses in Dallas. We had already talked about my plans to move there. He gave me his business card and told me that he would see what he could do for me. After that he offered me a ride to my hotel.

We hung out in my room and he made me several more drinks. Before I knew what was happening I was doing all sort of things with this guy. It wasn't till later that I figured he must have put something in my drink.

That next morning I felt like crap. My clothes were all off and he was no where in site. Pretty stupid huh?"

Mike remained silent as he continued to listen. Kelly looked up for the first time. Her beautiful eyes were now red and filled with tears.

"Mike, that guy was Martin Garcia."

#  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

The celebration lasted till the early morning hours for Garcia's victory party. With the constant flow of people in and out of the suite, no one noticed when Garcia disappeared from his own party. He quietly slipped away then took the elevators down to the second floor where he decided to do some preventive maintenance.

He could have left it alone but could not resist. The needed to be the constant director of fate controlled his actions. After a visit to Adam's room, he eased back into the party before anyone noticed that he was missing.

By the time housekeeping entered Garcia's suite that morning, evidence of the celebration was still present. Half dressed women were spread throughout the suite sleeping in nearly every room. Empty bottles scattered everywhere and food was spilled across the white marble tables, floor, and carpet. The party goers trashed the elegant suite.

While the crisp morning released its usual chilled Moscow temperatures, even less warm impressions filled inside of the hotel's housekeeper. Garcia stepped out from the bedroom into the hallway already immaculately dressed.

He walked casually into the living room. The lighter in his hand flickered to ignite the cigarette hanging from his mouth. He stepped over one of the two females lying on the floor before noticing the housekeeper.

"Well, I thought I was the only one awake this morning," he smiled. He walked past her as she looked back at him with her mouth wide open.

Before speaking he took a moment to think. The smoke from his cigarette lifted into the air as the steady release blew from his mouth. He tapped his cigarette letting the ashes fall across another young girl passed out below him.

A silent pause preceded his words. He always did it because it allowed him time to organize his thoughts. The habit served him well through the years.

Speaking in perfect Russian Garcia told the housekeeper, "After the cleaning is complete, have the girls get dressed and escort them out of my room." Garcia walked passed the still stunned housekeeper then left the suite.

He pretended to leave but stood inside of the front door. As expected he heard her pick up the phone to call Yuri and complain.

"Mr. Yuri! I have no idea where to even start. I have never seen any of the suites in such condition!"

Before she could continue she jumped and stumbled from the surprise of the voice that came up behind her.

"On second thought," Garcia said again in Russian. "Tell the two girls in my bedroom that they may stay till I return. Also tell Yuri that I need another bottle of my favorite." Just as instantly as he appeared, he was gone.

The large gold and polished bronze elevators stood before Garcia as he waited for the doors to open. He moved the small black comb through the length of his goatee in the reflection. The lit cigarette dangled from his lips as his mind organized his next move.

When the elevator doors opened, an unexpected visitor stood inside, "Mr. Garcia, my sincere apologies sir. Would you be so kind to take the next elevator? I am afraid that the Metropol has had an unfortunate incident."

Yuri looked as if he had not slept in days. His words were spoken quickly as his eyes shifted around nervously. His uncombed hair the grey strands flung across his face. His usual tailored suite was replaced with a wrinkled jogging suite and his eyes were blood shot and baggy.

Garcia leaned to the side to see what Yuri so desperately tried to conceal with his body. After placing the cigarette back into his mouth, Garcia stepped into the elevator.

"No Yuri, I think I'll take this one," he said.

Two men stood at the rear of the elevator dressed in white hospital uniforms. That, however, was not what had caused Yuri to become so frazzled. Stretched across the entire length of the elevator, a gurney with a body on it lay covered with a white sheet.

After the elevators closed Yuri continued to face forward. As if an unrealistic hope set in place that Garcia would do the same, he did not acknowledge the dead body on the gurney.

#  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

"So, a dead body I take it." Garcia said as if he were surprised to see it. Fact was that he was not surprised.

The blood drained from Yuri's face. As poised as he normally presented himself in any given situation, this was something that he was not able to handle in a dignified manner. He pulled the hair away from his face then cleared his throat. "I am afraid, Mr. Garcia, that one of my housekeeping staff regrettably found a deceased man in one of our suites."

"Is that right? Tragic," Garcia said. His nonchalant and unconcerned words traveled across the thin cigarette smoke.

He faced forward along with Yuri, seemingly no longer interested in the dead body. Yuri cut his eyes toward Garcia undoubtedly surprised by the lack of alarm in his voice.

Garcia's allowed his signature smirk to appear on his face. As with most that hovered close to in circles associated with Garcia, Yuri was familiar with the less then reputable rumors. He knew that the smirk would make Yuri wonder if he was involved. Garcia reveled in keeping those around him off balanced.

"Also," Yuri continued. "Before you read about it in the papers, I wanted to tell you that the person is someone that you know."

Garcia pulled his cigarette out then turned to look at the covered body before turning back to Yuri. His eyes widen in mock interest. "Is that so? Someone that I know."

The elevator doors opened to the basement floor. Before the men could push the gurney out Garcia placed his hand on the cart. He pulled the white sheet down to the chest area of the deceased. Adam Barrie's soulless opened eyes stared into the finality of non existence. His place bloodless face displayed a look of shock from the realization of witnessing his own demise and becoming planted in God's garden. The shocking site did not faze Garcia.

"The investigators left just minutes ago. They said that the cause of death was likely suicide. A weapon was found next to the body with Adam's hand print on it," Yuri said.

The statement had less to do with the divulging of information and more to do with the need to disarm Garcia. "I'm guessing that the tournament loss was too much for the young man to deal with," Yuri finished.

Garcia pulled the sheet back over Adam's face. He looked at the end of his cigarette noticing that the ashes had built up again. He flicked the ashes allowing them to land on the white sheet that draped over Adam.

"Well, one thing is for sure," Garcia winked. "He won't be in the final two next year."

The two workers pushed the gurney out into the bottom garage floor, then into an awaiting ambulance. The emergency workers took their time. And why not? No need to rush since this patient had already made his escape from the problems of the mortal world. A toe tag bearing his name waited for him at the morgue.

As the elevator doors closed Yuri could not help but look back at Garcia. Although no smoking was allowed in the elevators no one would dare tell that to Garcia and he took full advantage of it. The small compartment filled with grey mist as he stood in the vapors of the smoke. Yuri continued to watch him as the doors closed.

Back on the lobby floor Garcia made his way out the front entrance. His personal driver pulled up just as he exited the glass doors. The driver parked then opened the rear door for Garcia to get inside. In the back of the limo Garcia pulled Mike's cell phone from his jacket. Playtime was over.

Garcia changed his previous plans to return to the Metropol. He picked up the interior phone of the limo and made a call to lave a message on the hotel office phone.

"Hello Yuri, I decided to head back to the states on the next flight. Have my things packed and send to my address at my Manzanillo, Colima home. As always thank you for your excellent hospitality."

Garcia looked at his watch then scrolled through Mike's cell phone.

"Time to finish what I had started", he whispered.

#  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

The heat that drifted from the fireplace on the other side of Mike's home gave no warmth to Kelly. All of a sudden the room's temperature seemed to drop. The mere thought of Garcia alone sucked all the air out of the room. Martin Garcia had somehow managed to infiltrate one of the most intimate moments of Mike's recent life. Right up until Garcia's name was said, Mike was the happiest he had been in some time.

Garcia instantly consumed Mike's thoughts. Through a haze of smoke Garcia's face appeared like a recurring nightmare. The room began to spin tossing his thoughts in confused directions as blood rushed through his body. He head pounded and body weakened.

"So let me get this straight," Mike said. He placed his rugged hands against his forehead rubbing hard. He paced the room trying to select the proper thoughts to verbally display. "You're trying to tell me that you knew who Garcia was this entire time and didn't say anything?"

"No, no Mike, it wasn't like that. Well I sort of knew but-," she said.

"But what Kelly? What could you possibly tell me?"

"Mike, that was a long time ago! You can't understand that was a memory that I tried to forget. It was the worst time of my life; I tried to forget everything, including Garcia. Dammit Mike, I didn't even recognize him when he was in Memphis. At first I thought he looked familiar but I don't think he remembered me either."

Mike stopped pacing the floor but remained at the distance. The descending flame of the lone candle gave a final flicker then extinguished. Except for the developed tension, only darkness remained within the room. She took a small degree of pleasure from the darkness and not being able to see Mike's expression.

She went on to explain. "It wasn't till earlier today that the thought came to me. I dug through some old boxes I had stuck in the back of my closet. That was where I found it. It was the business card he gave me when we met in Vancouver. The name was different, it had Arturo Leyva written across it, but this was the same person who came into the club, I know it. After I thought about it more, I still wasn't 100% sure that it was him. To be honest Mike I didn't think it even mattered till, well you know." Toward the end of her speech her words trailed off overcome with the hopeless despair of a moot explanation.

"Till now," Mike finished her thoughts.

Kelly cradled herself in her arms and wept. As she leaned over, the tears fell even harder, masked by the cover of darkness. Moisture landed against her thighs soaking into her skin with the salty sadness of shamed memories.

Kelly desperately tried to control herself. With her head down she continued to wipe the flood of tears from her face. Deep breaths were taken to gain some kind of composure. As she lifted her head she could see the blurry vision of Mike leaving the room. Upon seeing this, the tears flowed uncontrollably and the room became even colder.

Kelly sat in the dark. It felt like and eternity of loneliness in the minute that crept by. Never in her life could she ever remember feeling so small and insignificant.

The once sweet fragrance of the candle evaporated. The last song playing on the stereo ended to allow an unwanted hush to dominate the room. Her heart sunk, absorbed in the emptiness of the moment and she wanted to be anywhere but there.

The lights came on in the hallway. The darken room still managed to block any of the illumination from coming inside till Mike's silhouette appeared in the doorway.

"I got some medicine for ya," he said then walked over to Kelly. "Well this always made me feel better anyway."

Kelly brushed the hair out of her face. The tears in her eyes made it difficult to see as she tried to focus. Mike's smile managed to filter through the darkness with welcoming acceptance. Her red puffy eyes slowly began to adjust and reveal the item held in front of her.

The bowl was held below the silver spoon suspended before her. On the spoon, a single dip of ice cream awaited. She ate it right away and continued to allow Mike to feed her. He was right, she felt better, a lot better.

After getting enough, Kelly smiled weakly and leaned against Mike's chest. Fatigue finally managed to grip her body after the emotionally long day. Outside the bedroom's window the moon made its final descent as the remaining butter pecan ice cream melted in the bowl.

Soon they both were fast asleep.

#  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

The loud chirping outside Mike's window pierced the air like nature's alarm. His eyes sprung opened instantly wondering if he had overslept. Looking to his side he found Kelly still fast asleep leaning against his arm so he eased away from her before hurrying to get dressed.

Like most Saturdays, the list of things that needed to be done remained long. Before their planned trip to San Antonio, this list extended even more. He first had to make sure that everything was ready at the bar. Going away made him nervous since he had not been away from his bar for an entire weekend since he took ownership of it. The last item on checklist was to pick up the boys.

He promised himself not to deliberate on the trip. He had been driving himself crazy with the idea of canceling the entire mini vacation and the mental struggle still loomed in the back of his mind. In the end he promised Danny, and he had to lead by example by keeping that promise. Also allowing Garcia to dictate his life could not ever become an option.

Promises aside, another factor remained that he had to consider. Was it really worth taking this trip with the potential of crossing paths with Garcia? If now, then when?

To keep the planned trip would draw Garcia away from the bar and place them on a neutral playing field. Also he had to accept the hard fact that their paths were going to cross sooner or later. Later may as well be now. Other thoughts about this trip raced through Mike's head and one thought in particular also demanded some serious consideration.

The idea was a long shot, a very long shot, but it couldn't hurt to try it. He pulled out the phone number that he kept throughout all those years. Since he only used it once, he wasn't totally positive that it still worked. On top of that it wasn't even a direct number and just associated with the person he needed to speak with. He wasn't even sure why he kept the number. A short thoughtful pause proceeded till he finally pressed the corresponding numerals to dial the long distance number.

The phone rung several times till the call was captured by an answering machine. The automated voice merely recited the number called followed by a beep. Not positive that the call just wasn't a waste of time, Mike kept the message as vague as possible.

The message turned out to be much longer then Mike desired. He briefly explained who he was, where he was calling from, and a contact number. Even during the message he thought that the idea was useless. If the number was still correct, which he seriously doubted, it was no way that Mike would receive a return call. The idea would just be another live start to a dead end.

#  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

The black limousine drove slowly through the winding roads that lead to the docks on Lake Lewisville. During the early part of March, the initial convergence of the upcoming spring break crowd normally arrived in droves. Due to the extended stay of the winter temperatures, the number visitors at the lake decreased substantially.

Behind the wheel, Garcia's young but very dangerous henchman steered through the winding roads. Twenty-one year old Tyler Fowler was already haunted by more ghosts then the average cemetery. His blood line directly linked to John Wesley Hardin the infamous Texas gunfighter known as the meanest man who ever lived. Four generations later Tyler Fowler may not have been meaner, but was arguably just as murderous.

Even odder then Tyler's eerie connection to his great ancestor was the way in which he and Garcia became acquainted. Four years before, Garcia and his driver slash body guard, pulled up to the Hotel ZaZa in the uptown district section of Dallas. With Garcia seated in the back, the driver got out of the car to survey the area.

An infinite number of enemies dwelled in Garcia's line of work so caution was always exercised. Tyler, who worked as a bus boy in the hotel's restaurants, just happened to be standing by the curb eating a sandwich.

When the driver passed by Tyler, he shot him a look to intimidate the youngster. In turn, Tyler smirked at the much larger body guard. This caused the three hundred pound guard to turn and knock the food out of Tyler's hand.

"What in the hell do you think you looking at you little punk!" he said. His deep rough voice sounded like grinding gravel.

The guard then walked toward the car to open the rear door for Garcia. Garcia watched the events unfold from behind the dark tinted glass windows of the limo.

Out of nowhere came the eruption of deafening gunfire. Splatters of blood pelted the side of the limo. The three hundred pound body guard fell to the ground slapping his mass against the rigid concrete. The barrel of Tyler's gun still pressed against the back of the bodyguard's head.

Tyler calmly wiped the weapon off on the back of the dead man's coat then sat next to the body to finished eating his sandwich. Just two feet away, Tyler looked into the dark tinted glass. Although he could not see inside he knew someone was looking right back at him.

The kid sat as calm as ever with no apprehensions or concern of vengeance. He just sat admiring the car's length and shiny black color. No fear.

Garcia lowered the rear window. Smoke from the passenger's cigarette drifted out into the downtown Dallas air. Martin Garcia turned to the then sixteen year old with curious eyes. "Kid, you want a job?"

#  CHAPTER FIFTY

Most of Garcia's inner circle called his hired gun kid or Tyler. For Garcia Tyler was always called by the same name, Fuse. The name sort of stuck through the years after Garcia would often remark, "Go get that short fuse to drive you. Or who lit the fuse this time?" The name eventually shortened to just Fuse. At just twenty-one years old, Tyler had become one of the least known but most dangerous men in America.

As he drove through the winding roads that lead to the lake, Garcia looked through the tinted windows. The scenic lake view never seemed to change. Just as he remembered, the still waters rested up against the green Texas banks.

Homes scattered along in extended distances separated by acres of privacy. Across the center of the lake a bridge containing highway 35 reached across carrying commuters between Oklahoma and Texas. The location served Garcia well by remaining the same timeless private sanctuary.

Rounding the last turn Garcia spotted Bo leaning against the wood railing. Bo's weight placed a significant amount of stress on the aged boards causing them to bow inwards. As another of Garcia's guards, Bo was the number one connection in Dallas. Whenever Garcia and the Fuse were away on business, Bo was in charge.

Handling Garcia's less then sanitary work from time to time was just one of Bo's jobs. He lived in a trailer home located in a small addition next to the lake. This gave him instant access to attend to his other main duty of taking care of Garcia's Carver 47 motor yacht which remained docked at Lake Lewisville. Bo navigated the vessel for Garcia whenever he was in town.

The menacing outer appearance of Bo appealed to Garcia while scaring others. Bo stood no more then 5'10" but was much larger then Garcia with rugged features. His more then serious expressions made him appear unapproachable, which was not totally inaccurate. The mere presence of Bo pre-emptied would be challengers who didn't know that Garcia was not one to be tested.

The lake had a way of relaxing Garcia but no matter what thoughts ran through Garcia's head, reflection of Mike were not far behind. During the entire flight from Moscow plans and backup plans were mentally devised. The successful trip to Moscow as well as the tournament was great, but his next plan involving Michael Andrews would trump everything. On the yacht he could relax while sorting out the minor details.

Bo opened the rear door for his employer. The two men rarely spoke more then a few words to one another since this had always been strictly a working relationship. Words were not needed, only text messages and jesters were their major form of communication which always worked well for the pair. Men were ordered to be murdered in the same manner as ordering lunch by just placing a simple nod.

The routine at the lake did not vary. Garcia walked briskly to the boat with Bo trailing close behind. As far as the outside world was concerned neither of the men were ever actually there. This was Garcia's private location unknown by most including some of his small inner circle.

After Garcia stepped on to the yacht then sat in his favorite recliner. Bo started the engines and began to circle the enormous lake.

After they moved out of the reach of prying eyes Garcia would take a spot along the side of Bo on the command bridge. Unless his boss wanted to command the controls, Bo took the wheel and guided the boat around for as long as Garcia wished to cruise. The lake view from the upper deck appeared as scenic perfection.

Surrounded by pure white surfaces and polished aluminum, the upper deck was one of the many elegant locations on the boat. The lake itself never failed to present an exquisite view.

Once he absorbed the view Garcia took the four steps down to the next level and made a small drink at the wet bar. After that he entered his favorite part of the yacht. Through the salon styled entrance door, he walked down into the lounge.

He switched the main light to bring the main cabin to life. The plush interior influenced him to purchase this particular vessel over all the others. Halogen lights shined down in the living area revealing the polished surfaces of the solid cherry wood. Tan leather covered the couch and two cushioned chairs. A fifteen inch flat screen hung on one wall which was just to the right of the door leading into the separate bedroom.

Inside the bedroom the island like oval mattress set high surrounded by more solid cherry wood walls, night stands, and storage cabinets. Soft halogen lights glowed from overhead and another flat screen hung on an adjacent wall above a small desk area. Garcia's guarded sanctuary allowed him to relax and reflect on the world around him.

The yacht pulled away from the docks then leaned slightly as it made its way deeper into the large lake. Garcia placed Mike's cell phone on the cherry wood table located between the two large reclining chairs. He sat in one of the recliners and stared into the clear liquid of the freshly made cocktail stirring his drink thoughtfully.

He turned his head over toward the cell phone once more. Time to fine tune the master plan, he thought. Michael Andrews would be more then just eliminated, he would be destroyed. Broken down and torn into the depths of obscurity.

Here I come Michael Andrews, here I come.

#  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

Michael Andrews' time on earth ticked away weather he knew it or not. He would be taken care of but it was not an immediate rush for that, at least not for now. Time remained on Garcia's side, like an added level of security, an ally. Michael would have to ponder how much time was left or not left not him. Under the umbrella of time, the attack could emerge at any period under his personal timed discretion.

He leaned back allowing the soft cushions of the soft leather to engulf him. Time for a fast drink and a slow decision had arrived. A rare smile crept across his face as he lifted the remote and turned on the stereo.

The CD already set to play was Harry Connick Jr., big band smooth. The yacht's large engines hummed pushing the outsized vessel across the lake. Relaxed and content, the smile on Garcia's face widened. Just like all of his targets, the poor bastard will have no idea what was coming at him.

The soft big band music combined with the gentle bouncing of the yacht took Garcia's mind to a peaceful place. Other elements also soothed him. Maybe it came from the scent of the lake waters or the hint of Chanel No. 5 perfume that remained on the chair from a time before.

He turned his head to get a better grasp of the scent. It was without a doubt the Chanel. It lingered in a faint presence but remained etched in Garcia's memory.

Although the waters may have assisted the fragrance in his recall, the perfume was unmistakable. The only person who always took Garcia's guard down never strayed fr from his thoughts. She was there before he became the person he is today. All defenses went down around her because she knew him better then anyone. She wore the Chanel on all of their special occasions and it stirred up the fondest memories in Garcia's head.

He allowed the memories to inhabit his head. He preasense felt alive as if she was there. He recalled the first time he laid eyes on Anna Souza as she walked with a shopping bag along the boardwalk on the oasis of the sea cruise ship.

She stood out like a runway model all alone on a catwalk. Men stumbled as she passed by making her way toward the ship's famed aqua theater. Garcia left the woman he was talking to and followed, since like the rest she felt drawn to her beauty.

Her light tan Brazilian features set against a flawless completion. Her grey cat like eyes had bedroom appeal. Although she was stunning she also had a very open and sociably approachable look. Her inviting smile hinted at sexiness without a true awareness of her own raw magnetism. She swayed along with a black bikini top and multicolored wrap around her waist.

Garcia approached her feeling the immediate chemistry.

"You truly stand out in the crowd you know," he said.

"Do I really?" she blushed.

"Indeed you do. You have a unique beauty that most would consider unapproachable."

"But you approached me," she smiled.

"Yes but I'm not most. I never have taken to living life wondering if," he said.

"If?"

"Correct, like getting back home and wondering if there was any chemistry between us."

"And?"

"Like hydrazine and nitric acid," he smiled.

She gave Garcia an impressive nod. "So you are saying that our chemistry is explosive."

"Extremely," Garcia winked.

When he saw her blush, he knew that he was in, and didn't let up on the charm. In the end he accompanied her to the theater for an impromptu first date.

Later during a walk around the ship Garcia found that her conversation was as attractive as her outer beauty. They debated on the likes of Kahlil Gibran and the sanctity of Sigmund Freud. He found her company to be nothing less tehn addictive.

Form the very start Garcia felt nothing but good vibes from their union. In his mind destiny pushed their paths together. The explosive chemistry ignited a timeless love affair that never ended from that very day.

Although for different reasons, they were in the same place at the same time. She sailed on the cruise with her mother and father who at the time was the CEO of the Central Brazil Investment Group. The group celebrated the acquisition of a casino located in Rio de Janeiro. Garcia's invitation stemmed from his link as a new partner of her father's Dallas, Texas restaurant company.

Anna's Father, Mario Souza owned the Texas de Brazil restaurant. So while she took the cruise as a member of the family, Garcia was more like an unofficial adopted member of the Souza's.

In the beginning Garcia had an employee relationship with her father's by simply working at one of his Dallas restaurants. Later his responsibilities grew as Garcia became considered part of the family. Soon Garcia became a favorite of Mario's and when the powerful business owner made frequent trips to Dallas, he took the opportunity to teach Garcia the business.

Over time Mario took their business relationship a step further. He allowed Garcia to become a full partner with him when he opened several more restaurants. Mario did the majority of his work from his office in South America and allowed Garcia to run the day to day operations in North American businesses.

Garcia felt a certain degree of comfort in being in charge as if he was born to be a leader. In a very short time Garcia felt comfortable enough to initiate a few less then civil side businesses that were kept away from Mario.

The cruise, by sheer coincidence, introduced Garcia to the only part of the family that he had knew of but never met. Mario's well protected daughter finally met Garcia on the cruise ship. Once Garcia put together the fact that she was the daughter of Mario Souza, he insisted on keeping their union a secret.

The love affair between the two lasted through the years without ever losing its temperature, or as they often joked, it's explosive nature. Seven years after they first met, the union also remained known only to everyone except a very select few.

When Garcia and Anna met, she was just eighteen and he was a very seasoned twenty-three year old man. Since that time, like most lives tend to do, their directions changed drastically. Anna attended law school at SMU and Garcia was far more notorious and even more seasoned.

Along with the distance and schedules, their time together proved to be difficult; the desire however, remained intact.

Garcia set up in his chair. He thought about Anna in a distinct effort to not think about anything else.

All work and no play dictated a dull existence. He smiled at the thought since Garcia was a notorious workaholic. For him the extreme work level was never an issue. Even with the constant work schedule life remained a non-stop party. He had been called many things over his lifetime but one thing that he had never been called, was dull.

He placed a call to his driver. "Pick her up and bring her to the docks." No other information needed because Tyler knew whom he was referring to and exactly where to find her at anytime. Among other things, that was his job.

#  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

The constant motions of the lake rocked the boat with gentle motions. Garcia drifted off into a light sleep after the comfortable surroundings got the best of him. Just before approaching the primary stages of REM sleep he was pulled away from a solid slumber.

The distraction came from the outside stimulation that his senses found pleasantly familiar. The sweet scent caused his nostrils to flare. The motors of the boat revved up high to signal Garcia that the boat had been stationary but was about to circle the lake.

Heeled footsteps descended the staircase. He lifted his heavy eyelids just as she made her way across the final steps. Her gray eyes glowed appearing like almonds in the soft lighting. She pouted with her full red lips reacting to the inability to maintain her balance on the tittering yacht.

Garcia woke up to the sweetest vision he had ever witnessed. Behind her, the full moon glowed giving her the virtuous appearance that mirrored her inner beauty. Anna blossomed from the eighteen year old that he met so long ago on that faithful cruise.

She stood at the bottom of the stairs blinking her eyes repeatedly to adjust them to the dark. Her cold black hair shined as it danced against her olive skin. When he last saw her, she wore the natural curls he was accustomed to seeing in her always perfectly styled hair. Now her straight hair hung past her shoulders reaching the top of her perky breast.

The mature Anna grew much wiser to the ways of the world. Even her clothes reflected the growth. She replaced her once tight fitted polo shirts with a crisp white blouse. Instead of jeans, now she wore a form fitting black mini skirt that bowed across her curved hips. The cute beautiful girl he first met now became a stunning woman.

Anna lifted her hand above her eyes, "Honey, are you hiding over there?" she said.

"Hello beautiful," he said.

"Heeey!!! Wow it has been a while. I thought you forgot all about me."

"Never Anna never, you know that."

Anna walked over to Garcia. Her six inch heels allowed her to get almost face to face with him. She draped her arms across his shoulders and toyed with the back of his hair. After taking a moment to gaze into his eyes, she placed a soft kiss on his neck then again on the side of his face.

"You can't forget me Martin, because I'm never going away," she said. Anna then gave Garcia a adoring kiss that made him wonder how he was able to stay away so long.

Anna pulled away. "Ok time for a toast. I'll make the drinks."

She walked over to the galley and found a XR red box of crown royal reserve. She picked up the bottle then presented to Garcia as I she was posing with it in some kind of liquor commercial. "Well well, this is a limited item. Were you saving it for someone special?"

Garcia lit his cigarette and smiled, "Sure, she is as special as they get."

"I'm assuming that is me, so I'm going to open it," she said.

"Mi casa es su casa."

"¿Entonces su yate es mi yate también?" she said jokingly.

"Yes my love, my yacht is your yacht also," he said.

Anna's smile faded. "You are serious aren't you?"

"Always."

They had been around one another so long that he could almost read her thoughts. She wanted to press the issue of their relationship, she always did. He expected for her to ask when they could make the relationship official.

Her red lips tightened as her eyes shifted to the side. Her thoughts twirled but she managed to keep them inside. She pulled herself away from the pending feelings and twisted the cap off of the bottle.

He secretly shared her thoughts. She encompassed everything that he adored about women. All the attributes he desires wrapped up in one petite package. He watched Anna pour two drinks and considered what it would be like to have her as his wife.

It wasn't the first time that he considered the option. A year and a half before her father passed away so no real dilemmas existed with that past issue. Anna brought up the idea several times but now avoided the conversation. If she knew his situation she may have never even brought up the idea.

Legally, right now anyway, they couldn't get married if they wanted to do it. He never had the courage to tell her the hard truth of his yet dissolved married. Although he and his wife had been separated for some time, he was still legally married. Even during his marriage he always managed to see Anna never losing his desire for her but never telling her.

"Buzzzzzzz! Buzzzzzzzzzz!" The cell phone vibrated against the wooden table next to the chair. Michael Andrews' cell continued to buzz as the sound filled the room. Garcia rushed over, picked it up, and looked closely at the caller ID.

One eight hundred preceded the numbers, but he answered the call anyway. He pressed the answering key then listened. Anna watched from across the room and he felt the tension of her ready to scold him for trying to work during her rare visit.

To ease the tension he winked at her. The jester curved her apprehension enough to force a smile across her face. As the voice on the opposite end spoke he grabbed a pen to make some notes. He never said a word but delighted at the information. After disconnecting the call he sat back stroking his goatee.

No one knew how easily distracted he tended to get, except for Anna. When she gave him a sly smile instead of an irritated stare, he knew that she was going to get her way tonight. She craved to receive his undivided attention.

"Hun, I'm going to go to the restroom ok?" she said.

Garcia drifted into another deep thought session that circled around the recent phone call. "Uh hu," he said.

He never noticed when Anna came out of the restroom and stood directly in front of him.

"Martin, are you going to ignore me all night?" she said.

Anna stood with both drinks in her hand. Her unbuttoned white blouse remained fully opened. Beneath the blouse only a pair of white laced panties and black stockings were visible. Aside from that she wore a pair of six inch heels but nothing else.

Sometimes, life is just a little past perfect, Garcia thought.

#  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

The eastern rays from the morning's rising sun projected spotlights through the rectangle windows of the yacht's bedroom. Anna's nude body laid sprawled half draped under the covers snuggled against Garcia. A small flash shot from the souvenir Metropol cigarette lighter as he lit his morning cigarette.

He pulled in the nicotine then slowly released the toxins into the air. Sunlight shot multiple rays through the smoke dancing in the fumes like his rare blissful thoughts.

With the bedroom's door opened, Garcia had a direct view of Mike's cell phone. It remained where he left it on the small table in the living room. For now this item had proven to be his most valuable asset. Much like the bedroom's small rectangle windows, the phone existed as a gateway to so much more. He observed the phone reveling in what it unknowingly delivered right into his hands.

The one eight hundred number call he answered the previous night placed him at the right place at the right time. The call sent to Mike's phone turned out to be the last piece of wanted, or rather needed information. The automated message electronically generated a courtesy call detailing and audible review of Michael Andrew's itinerary. The courtesy message verified the time of arrival, room selections, and hotel reserved for the weekend.

Like killing at a suicide camp, some things just fell in place far too easily.

Garcia reached over Anna to picked up his blackberry. Although he remained cautious most of the time, he was never concerned about his calls being traced when using his cell phone. The phone had a US number but also had international capabilities so sensitive business deals were conducted on it. To maintain his privacy he rented the phone from a company out of the Woodland's Texas and changed on a weekly basis.

No one could trace his number. He called in his reservations to proceed with his plan. No matter what time of day or night, when a call was made directly to Flo Martinez's private number she always answered.

Very few people had her direct number. As the owner of Ace travel agency she stayed in high demand but the phone only rung twice before it was picked up.

"Hey Poppi! Back from Russia so soon?" she said.

"Yes indeed I am Flo," Garcia said.

"So where to this time? A whirl wind romantic get away with your favorite travel agent?"

The office to Ace Travel had not opened yet but for Garcia, it was always opened. He could hear her laptop computer coming to life. Flo already logged online ready to make flight arrangements for him and that was one of the reasons that he always used her.

The flirtation began the first time they met and had never stopped. He never took her up on her blatant propositions and that seemed to encourage her to press him even more. The nudge to travel with him was not a joke.

He imagined her biting the bottom of her lip as she waited for his response. He also pictured her still in her sleep attire with her pink laptop computer on top of her bare thighs. The very same thighs in fact, that caught Garcia's attention when he first spotted her walking into her Lewisville office the day they met.

Initially he made a play for her. After discovering that she owned a travel agency, Garcia changed his physical attraction for her to opt for a business relationship. Now Ace took care of all his travel needs.

"You do realize that, I'm going to call your bluff one day," he lied.

"Sure you will handsome. So where are we headed to now?"

"I need two tickets to San Antonio leaving sometime today. The other ticket will be in my driver's name Tyler Fowler."

"Hum, Tyler huh?" Flo said with an air of distaste. She did the same thing whenever he mentioned Tyler's name.

"Yes your favorite person," Garcia joked finding an odd pleasure in the way that Tyler made most of the people around him squirm with discomfort.

"Not my favorite person. I only met that guy one time and there is just something about him that, I don't know. He had this condescending smirk and he just creeps me out." She paused. "Everyone can't be a charmer like you right?"

"Charmer? Me?" Garcia smiled.

"Like you didn't know. Anyway, let me get your reservations in, first class right?"

When Garcia spoke, his voice caused Anna to stir next to him. She snuggled closer but remained asleep as her head rested against his chest.

"On second thought, make that three tickets. Add another for Anna Souza."

"Anna huh? Well lucky girl, am I next?"

"Oh you know you are," he lied.

The next call Garcia made was to Tyler, all plans were channeled through him. Garcia made sure that wherever he was, Tyler stayed very close since he was the eyes behind Garcia's back.

With the Fuse now in the loop, all the pieces were in place. Tyler would organize the rest of the team. Three of Garcia's guards would drive to San Antonio fully armed to meet them there. The flight with Garcia, Tyler, and Anna would leave that evening. The next day, hell paled in comparison to what was scheduled to arrive in San Antonio.

#  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

Michael sat in his office reviewing the hotel reservations. After printing out the form he looked over it one more time just to make sure everything was in order. He shifted in his chair uneasily as the fought the anxiety that continued to rise. Being away from the bar for the rest of the weekend sounded much better then it felt.

He committed himself to the San Antonio trip with the boys and Kelly so there was no turning back. They planned on leaving early the next morning for the six-hour drive. He would work one last full shift but leave a little early as long as everything at the bar was in order.

He hoped that he covered all the basis. In a meeting he arranged before the club opened, Mike alerted the employees as best as he could. Everyone got the message to remain on full alert keeping his or her eyes peeled for anything out of place. He left out specific details to the entire group but more information directly related to Garcia was giving to the few people that he left in charge.

The busy night ran smooth and the constant contact between Mike and his staff put his worries at ease. Even with that level of comfort, some reservations remained about leaving for the whole weekend. Ok Mike, you have done all that you can, he assured himself.

Before leaving he spoke to a few of the regulars. While appearing engaged in conversation, his side vision focused on what was going on all around him. Amazingly enough, even with everyone watching everything closely, one person still managed to slip past the heightened security. Before anyone noticed, the person sat in the VIP area.

The opened door to Mike's past had allowed another person to walk right through it. This person arrived from a much earlier time in Mike's life and took a seat in the present.

#  CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

The stranger rested his hands together on his legs then crossed them. Michael Andrews knew very little about him for that simple fact that no one did. Besides that, he and Michael never actually met in person.

Yet even without a physical meeting the history between them was a definite one. He sat in Mike's establishment knowing all about him as well as his past. He also knew exactly what Michael Andrews looked like and watched him from across the club just as the bar owner disappeared through a back door.

Up until that point he had gone virtually unnoticed just the way the liked it. As soon as the waitress spotted him in her area, she made her way over to him.

"I'm sorry sir I just noticed you. Have you been waiting long?" she smiled.

"No, not long. You're fine my dear," he said.

She smiled weakly with a look of relief. He guessed that she had her fair share of disgruntled customers working in a bar but he would not be one of them.

"Thank God! I wasn't up for another pissed off customer," she said placing a hand on her hip. "You know there are two things I have learned in life. One is that the moon rotates around the earth, and the second was that the earth rotates around VIP customers," she said.

He laughed. This seemed to make her even more relaxed. She talked fast and had a lot to say with her new level of comfort.

When she finally ran out of words she eyed him close. "You don't fit into the category of my regulars. I mean no offense but you sort of stand out and remain unnoticed at the same time. I use to work at a men's clothing store so I noticed your clothes. You have very good taste."

"Why thank you," he said.

"Seriously, the white shirt under the cream sports coat is very stylish. Very nice. I'm sorry I have been going on and on. What can I get you to drink?"

Soon after she asked him for his order, Mike exited from the back then disappeared again. He turned his attention back to the waitress.

"Oh yes, I think I will have a scotch on the rocks please. Lagavulin if you have it, if not Johnny Walker black label would be adequate," he said.

"Hey I love the accent. Are you from England?"

"Something like that," he said.

"Oh ok. I'll see if we have the Lagavulin."

Before she could walk away he called out to her. "Also my dear, would you be so kind to notify Mr. Michael Andrews that I would like to speak with him?"

"Sure, no problem. What is your name sir?"

"Just tell him that I'm and old friend," he smiled

#  CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

Samantha poked her head into Mike's office. "Big Mike, a friend of yours is here. He wanted to see you."

"Really? Who is it?"

"Don't know he just said an old friend."

"What does he look like?"

Samantha angled her head up, thinking of the answer. "Ummmm, in his late fifties I guess, could be a little younger. Very well dressed. He has a gray beard but it was trimmed down neatly. Also, very sparkling light eyes that reminded me of my grandfather. Not in an old way but in a wise kind of way, know what I mean?"

"Yeah sort of."

"He also had long silver hair that was pulled back to the back into a pony tail. Dressed very nice. Did I already say that?" She placed a finger on her chin. "He has this mysterious thing about him that I kind of like." When she saw the blank look on Mike's face she stopped. "Is any of this ringing a bell?"

"Honestly, no," Mike said.

She hunched her shoulders. "Anyway he ordered some Lagavol or something. Do we have any of that?"

"You mean Lagavulin, that's a high end scotch. It's not something that I keep stocked."

"It's ok, he also said that he would take some Johnny Walker if we didn't have it. I was going to shoot for that anyway and pretend they didn't have the other umm, whatever in the hell that was," she said.

The desk phone rung cutting off their conversation. Mike held up one finger before turning his back to answer it. "Hello Memphis bar."

When no one answered Mike hung up. He thought about the conversation he had with Samantha. "Wait a second. Is this guy in your VIP area?"

He spun back around but she was already gone. Mike jumped up and quickly made his way out of the office. As he made his way to the VIP area, flashbacks of the night when Garcia visited him shot into his head.

It can't be him again can it?

With all the people on the look out he doubted that it was Garcia. But you never know.

When the area became visible, he spotted the stranger looking directly at him. The face did not register. In Mike's line of work it could have been an old customer or a new complaining one. He placed his reservations aside, smiled, and made his way over to the stranger.

#  CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

"Hello Sir I'm Mike Andrews, how can I help you tonight?" Mike smiled.

The man leaned forward and then back again in his seat. He crossed his legs then extended his hand offering Mike to take a seat next to him. His confidence made Mike ponder the identity of this man.

"Mr. Andrews, I do believe that the question is what can I do for you? You did leave a message on my phone requesting to see me correct?"

Mike dropped into the chair. His muscular legs felt as if they could no longer support his own weight. Now he knew the man's identity and the shock overcame him. Mike faced the man he had heard so much about, the boss of bosses. Aside from that Mike also realized that this was also the husband of the woman Mike killed over fifteen years ago, Daniel Carlos Perez.

The one telephone conversation between them seemed like a lifetime ago and in a sense, it was. Michael remembered going through an obsessive period trying to find out as much as he could on Perez as well as Garcia. The scarce information proved to be very hard to get but the picture painted of Perez was one of an underground legend. Perez served as the quiet power that the Mexican cartel was built around.

For most, Perez was not even real. He worked behind the scenes pulling the strings and ordering the deaths of hundreds with a simple nod of his head. He controlled the entire inner workings that encompassed the major drug trafficking between Mexico and the United States. Nothing happened without his knowledge or approval, both were never an option.

During the time period when his second wife was killed, Perez rise in power made him one of the top five cartel bosses. Now he was the boss. After Elvia's death he poured himself into his work showing no mercy to anyone in his way. Fifteen years later his power had expanded to an immeasurable level.

The power never decreased but according to underground insiders his ways had changed. His later years calmed him enough to allow a more business like approach to his operations. Still with one call he could have you and your entire family eliminated.

When the waitress arrived with the glass of Johnny Walker, a shot of Patron was also on her tray. The Patron was for another customer but Mike took it for himself.

"Would you get another one for them please? On the house, ok?" Mike downed the shot in one gulp.

The waitress shrugged, "Ok, no problem."

After the tequila shot, Mike got right down to business.

"Mr. Perez first of all, thank you for coming here. I know that you are a busy man so I won't beat around the bush. Recently Martin Garcia popped up in my club."

Perez's eyes widened but only slightly. Mike went on to tell him all the details that transpired that night. After that he caught him up with the current situation.

"The main reason I called you was because I need your help. I need you because I know all about Garcia and there is no way I can do this alone. I need your help if there is any shot I'm going to have to take down Garcia," Mike confessed.

The expression on Perez's face remained unreadable. Throughout the entire time that Mike spoke, nothing was said. After finishing his speech, Mike sat hopeful, silently waiting for a positive response.

Perez averted eye contact. He instead kept his eyes on the glass of Johnny Walker turning the glass slowly by its base. He took a sip of the drink before placing it back on the table then removed a fifty-dollar bill from a gold money clip retrieved from his jacket. He placed the fifty dollars under the drink glass, stood and walked away.

Mike felt as if the air had been taken out of him. He dropped back hard into set and watched as Perez made his way to the exit. As Perez moved through the club Mike noticed something else.

Perez did not come alone. When he past by various areas of the club, a person would appear and trail behind him. Just before he arrived at the door another appeared and went in front of him. Bodyguards, Mike thought to himself.

The small glimmer of hope faded. Plan B had yet to be conceived and even his plan A laced a solid design. Perez, it seems was out so this brewing battle was going to have to be a one on one war.

Mike knew that he had a serious disadvantage. The war with Garcia had been placed on Garcia's field, with Garcia's rules and on Garcia's terms. The scales of life tilted away from Mike. He leaned over the table gripping his forehead inside of his hand with a distraught mind and closed eyes.

#  CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

At just past 2:00 am Mike pulled into the driveway of his home. As the garage door lifted he noticed something right away. Kelly's car was missing. She taped a note to the door that led from the garage into the house.

Hey Mike! I wanted to stay but realized that I left a few things that I needed for the trip at my apartment. I am going to try to make it back tonight but if it gets too late I will just come back early in the morning.

XOXO Kelly

Mike breathed a sigh of relief. This actually turned out to be good news. Mike needed to sort through some lingering issues attached to the night before. Time alone to think was what he really needed.

He also felt torn by the promises he made. Got to rethink this San Antonio trip. More and more the strong possibility of canceling loomed in the sensible options. The trip gave Mike a bad feeling every time he thought about it.

He walked through his living room in a slow thoughtful pace. The message light blinked on his home phone but that was normal. Messages always waited on his phone but most were from telephone solicitors. He picked up the receiver and to listened anyway.

The automated female computer voice spoke, "You have 3 messages."

The first message, as expected, came from a solicitor. He pressed delete to skip over it. The next message put a smile on Mike's face. His son Danny shouted an excited message with his two friends screaming in the background. A combination of loud simultaneous chattering from all three of the boys made the call a virtual incoherent mesh of words.

They're really excited about the trip.

The last message came from Kelly. Like the boys, Kelly's voice raced with excitement. The message went on and on about the things she needed to bring, meeting Danny, and wishing she didn't have to leave. Since the message went on too long, it ended up being cut off before she finished. When her words cut of, Kelly was in mid sentence describing a bikini that she purchased at the mall. Bad timing, he thought.

He wanted to rest; the next day would be a long one so before he got comfortable he went over his checklist for the last time. He placed the bags for the trip in his car, and then he shaved and showered. Once he finished, he stretched across his bed and flipped through the channels with no real interest to watch TV.

The doorbell made Mike bolt up in his bead. He last thing he remembered was watching a CSI rerun. He squinted at the clock to see the time. 6:14 am? He slept all night but felt as if he had gotten zero amount of rest. He stumbled to the door wearing only his t-shirt and briefs.

He peered through the peephole to see Kelly dancing in place. As soon as he opened the door Kelly rushed inside. She hurried past him talking even faster then she moved.

"Hey Mike! You not dressed yet? Ooh nice briefs! Anyway gotta pee!" By the time Kelly got the last word out he was already around the corner and down the hall.

Mike laughed.

#  CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

At the American Airlines terminal C, a black Lincoln Town Car pulled up to park next to the curb. The young skycap assisted the driver with the designer luggage till Anna stepped out of the back of the car. Upon seeing her, the skycap dropped his jaw and then the bag.

From the back seat, Garcia saw this but found it more humorous then upsetting. The skycap could not stop staring as drool literally fell from the corner of his mouth. Garcia stepped out of the opposite side of the car just before Tyler emerged from the passenger side.

Anna's almond shaped eyes glowed with happiness as Garcia approached her. As they entered the airport she took his hand. Tyler tipped the mesmerized skycap then trailed behind them.

They passed the mirrored reflection of the interior glass wall and Garcia could see Tyler walking behind them. Tyler's eyes darted about catching and sizing up everyone who came within two feet of the trio. In the process he pulled out his cell phone.

"Hey X, you guys there yet?" he said.

Garcia listened as his number one bodyguard orchestrated the upcoming events. The phone call to X, whose actual name was Javier assured Garcia that Tyler had everything in order.

Tyler spoke to the three hundred and twenty five pound hit man at least once a day. X worked faithfully as additional muscle for Garcia and the third in line in Garcia's short chain of command. Garcia took tremendous pride in his dark inner circle.

Before Tyler finished the conversation with X he pulled the phone away to address Garcia. "X said that they're about twenty minutes away."

"Good, right on schedule. Tell him that we will meet them at the hotel," Garcia said.

"Ok, we will see you guy there," Tyler said into the phone then clicked off.

Garcia and Anna drew a lot of attention. With his tall statue and tailored suite along with Anna on his arm, he guessed that they might have appeared like a movie star couple.

"Too much attention," Tyler grumbled behind them.

Garcia laughed. "Don't worry, they're looking at our beautiful companion here, not us."

Tyler didn't appear relieved by the statement. He moved a little closer to them watching with edgy eyes. He kept one hand under his jacket that Garcia knew rested comfortably on the handle of his loaded gun.

Tyler's eyes shifted wildly. This even made Garcia feel slightly anxious because Tyler's daily prayer was to get a chance to fire his weapon. The kid had an addictive desire to kill and was going through withdrawals. Soon, Garcia would give him the opportunity for a solid fix for his addiction.

#  CHAPTER SIXTY

Tyler kept his gun two ways, off of safety and fully loaded. Even at the airport it remained that way until Garcia was on the opposite side of the security point. Then, as he always did before they boarded each flight, he dispose of the gun in a trash can before passing through the security point.

An insider who worked as a custodian at the airport also worked for Garcia. Once Tyler disposed of the gun, the custodian retrieved it out of the designated garbage can. As soon as his shift ended he shipped the gun to a predetermined destination.

Tyler gave their insider a short head nod as he watched from the other side of the airport. Once he dropped the weapon in the garbage he moved on past the row of airport shops and eateries to catch up with Garcia on the other side of the security check.

He walked past a woman sitting at a small table with a magazine opened in her hands. She sat outside of the Texas Stadium Skybox bar located in terminal C. Tyler ignored her at first till he caught her peek from behind the magazine.

He paused till he glanced at his watch. Less then 30 minutes remained before their flight was scheduled to take off. He stared at her and she ducked back behind her magazine.

"Yeah, good idea," Tyler mumbled.

* * *

She could not believe her eyes. Sheer luck placed her at the exact right time and place to cross paths with the man she had given up on ever seeing again. She just happened to look up at the precise moment that Garcia walked through the airport. When she first spotted him, she dropped the fork into her salad.

She lowered her dark shades truly not believing who walked right past her. At the time one hand rested on the Vogue magazine that she had just purchased from the newsstand. The sight of Garcia caused her hand to tense gripping the magazine so hard that her nails dug into the pages. She lost track of how long it had been since she last saw Garcia.

Right after the young boy that was with Garcia passed by her she pushed the sunglasses back on her face. She slammed the magazine into a nearby garbage can. Then returned to the table to slam two twenty-dollar bills on it to cover the thirty-dollar tab.

Her actions from that point became as spontaneous as they were uncharacteristic. She watched Garcia walked through to his gate then the kid with him just five minutes later. She moved closer while making sure that he didn't spot her. After seeing the gate number and checking the airport screen she figured it out. He's headed to San Antonio.

She walked to the ticket counter and made a flight change. Upon seeing her work ID a round trip ticket to San Antonio was given to her with no questions asked. This perk came along with her current job. Flight to anywhere at anytime could be change, taken, or cancelled with no questions asked or hassle given to her.

She continued to watch from a safe distance. A few days before she got word of Garcia playing in the Moscow poker tournament so dropped everything to find him. She missed him by only a few hours. This time she got lucky and was not going to lose him.

The first class section boarded the plane. Garcia walked to the gate with a young woman and the young man trailing him. The young man appeared just a little too concerned with his surroundings. His eyes darted all around sizing up everyone but Garcia. She knew that he was not just a part of Garcia's entourage, but a bodyguard.

With her newly acquired ticket on the same flight she had only one obstacle. She had to board the plane without being noticed. Her job credentials allowed her to bypass security but the difficulty would be to pass through first class and thus right pass Garcia without him noticing her.

She blended in with the final boarding passengers as they inched into the plane. Garcia sat on the third row isle seat. Dammit. She turned her head to the opposite side as she moved along the isle.

The traveler in front of her large body filled the entire space. She took advantage of his size by using him as a shield. Her heart raced when the line to board the plane slowed just as they passed through the first class section.

She tiptoed to see what held them up. A man ahead of them stopped the entire line to place a bag in the overhead compartment. With more people behind her, she was stuck right next to Garcia. Her body edged on passing out.

She stood so close to Garcia that she could hear his conversation and even smell his favorite cologne. Her jaw tightened as she gritted her teeth. The mere sound of his voice grated at her nerves and fear. The room began to spin and grow dim as the temperature grew warmer.

"I'm going to the rest room now before we take off," Garcia said to his date.

This time she began to hyperventilate and found it hard to breath. Every effort surfaced even harder to stop from passing out. Her back turned all the way around away from Garcia.

An empty first class window seat became her only option. She quickly slid across a seated first class passenger then took the vacant seat. As soon as she sat she turned her head to the window just as Garcia stood and moved in line with the boarding passengers.

She waited till he passed then jumped up and moved as fast as she could to the rear of the plane to find her seat.

In the last row of the first class section she bumped right into another passenger. He turned and they were face to face. His empty eyes were dark and cold. This, she realized, was the young man that was with Garcia. Much to her relief no recognition appeared in those cold dark eyes.

"Excuse me," she said cutting her eyes away.

He didn't bother to acknowledge her as she moved around him and continued to her assigned seat. When she finally made it to the back of the plane she tried to calm her frayed nerves.

I don't think that I can handle too much of this.

#  CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

Just minutes before the plane was scheduled to take off, a youthful man in his mid to late twenties made his way down the isle to his seat. He wore a plastic covered name badge with S. GLOW written across it in wide black letters. He moved with a confident strut as he chatting into his iphone.

"Damn right I nailed it! That sale put me over the top. Number one again for three months straight baby."

He tossed his bag into the overhead compartment before releasing an exaggerated laugh. "Yeah you go right ahead, not me padre' I'm taking a little R&R before coming back and kicking some more ass." His eyes cut over to the woman seated. He glanced at his ticket again then smiled. "Check it Kev, I'm about to bounce now but I'm gonna chat with ya latter."

He pressed the disconnect button with a flare then slipped it into his jacket pocket. His eyes locked on the woman but she continued to ignore him. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him mouth the word COU-GAR.

He slid into his seat then released a blissful sigh. "What a day, what a day," he said aloud.

She didn't respond to his obvious attempt to strike up a conversation. His eyes traced along her legs then hovered when they arrived at her chest. He nodded as if he approved then pulled out his briefcase.

The burgundy leather brief case was placed in his lap. A small gold plate displayed across the front had the words Steven "Let it" Glow. When he opened it, she noticed an arsenal of female attracting weaponry.

He picked up a hand held mirror and small comb to pass it through his thick professionally cut hair. A small amount of Sean John's cologne Unforgivable was then pulled out of its compartment. A few spray mists were shot toward his extended neck. He turned his head toward her and smiled but she continued to thumb through a magazine.

Anticipating another attempt to talk to her, she shifted her body away him. He closed the briefcase and spoke out loud again. "Got to love that Diddy. He has the Midas touch, I love his cologne," he said.

She never looked up or even acknowledged that he was speaking. Let it go lover boy.

As much as she tried to remain positive, she was sure that he was not going to catch the hint. When his briefcase or cologne failed to break the ice he moved on to plan B. She had met his type before there was always a plan B. He reeked the scent of a salesman in every sense of the word and was just getting started.

They all, the good ones anyway, were the classic optimist. Anything could be sold to anyone. Whether it was security systems, cheap tupperware, perfume, it didn't matter. At the end of the day they were selling the exact same thing, themselves.

He continued to size up his target touching his thick light brown hair. He flashed his blue eyes thinking of his next move. She felt his eyes on her but she was not interested in the least.

His timing could not have been worse. She had no desire to go on any dates in years. Her mind gripped on the same person for as long as she could remember. Martin Garcia dominated her thoughts, mind, and world. At fist thoughts of him made her glow now it made her glower.

* * *

When she turned her head away from him to stare out of the small window, Seven Glow was not the least bit discouraged. Even seated he could tell that she was tall, about 5'11 he guessed. Her business dress still appeared sexy. She would be well worth the effort.

He studied her for a moment but she wasn't easy to figure out. Wealthy, middle class, he couldn't be sure. The black Movado watch contrasted to her off the rack dress.

The remaining assessment went quick. Since she faced the window he guessed that she was either missing the ex-boyfriend or just depressed. The high dollar watch? She more then likely received it as a gift from the deep pocket boyfriend. Steven saw her as a prime target, vulnerable.

Since she was tall he figured that she was more then likely confident, most tall women are. The conservative hair style along with her designer dark shades reminded him of a b movie star he dated sometime back. She seemed a little on the shy side and he liked that. The shades, he guessed, remained on to hide the swollen eyes from the tears. This is going to be easy, he thought.

He thought of a place he could take her to after the plane landed.

Perhaps he would take her to a place that was frequented by his co-workers. Although he remained the top gun at his job, his coworkers still failed to show him the respect that he thought he was entitled. He noticed how they rolled their eyes when he closed a sale and chanted, "Ice to an Eskimo baby, ice to an Eskimo!" With this one hanging on his arm, they would take notice for sure.

Steven tossed his best seductive glance over at her. He was about to speak but decided to wait till the plane was airborne. Yeah wait till the plane is flying a smooth as my words.

Once the plane leveled off, he would get this going and make sure she was melting in his hands before the final decent. The short flight from Dallas to San Antonio lfet very little time to work but he would need much time.

The announcement over the speakers informed everyone to be seated and fasten their seatbelts. She faced forward and he was able to get an even better look at her. A stunner. She had the European look that he loved.

Her strong facial features were evenly spaced. Below her dress, a tight body with strong calves and toned arms showed through. While seated, her hips flared out slightly showing zero percent fat. The stretched fabric of her dress pulled over a set of natural and perfectly sized breast that were inviting and erect.

The plan lifted into the air and minutes later leveled off. Steven stretched out his entwined fingers. He loved this moment; it was time to sell his favorite product, himself.

The approach rarely altered. Step one analyze the target, check. Step two; gather some information about the target by looking at it closely, check. Step three; offer the target the best production of the product. That would be yours truly so, double check.

With everything in place he delivered the ice breaker. In no time he would close the sale.

"You know," he started. He leaned in closer to make sure she was able to get a whiff of his cologne. "They say when a woman wears shades indoors that she is unconsciously waiting for a gentleman to ask her to see her eyes. Once he looks into them, she will capture his heart," he finished.

Even he almost could not believe the genius impromptu line. He flashed the million-dollar smile then waited. The lines, impromptu or rehearsed, were always full proof. He considered this deal closed.

The woman didn't even flinch when he spoke as if she had not heard a single word he said. Her thoughts seemed far away and in another dimension. He still held his smile waiting for his words to sink in.

Finally her hand moved unhurried as she reached up to pull off her shades. She folded the frames then carefully placed them inside of her purse. Her next movement turned slow turn in the man's direction. The blank look was void of any emotions.

Steven's diamond smile tarnished in an instant. Easing back into his seat he felt as if the rug was pulled from under him. Years of studying all the aspects of body language couldn't prepare him for her disagreeable stare that she continued without words.

Steven pulled out a magazine that was stowed away in compartment in front of him. He broke eye contact then flipped though the pages portraying interest in the outdated Women's Daily issue.

He misjudged his target; this was definitely not the type of woman that one could just pick up. He felt as if she had a personal inner resentment for him that was resolute. This one had been scorned and if hell had no fury, even Satan would have trembled if he could have seen the way she looked at him.

He got the message. When she was satisfied that he understood she returned to her private thoughts. Out of the corner of his eye he watched as she reached inside her purse then pulled out a gold bracelet then held it gently.

She gazed at it as if it held some deep memories. She flipped the locket on the gold bracelet opened and inside was a small photo. Steven could see a portrait of a man embraced with a younger version of her.

He stared at the small photo out the side of his eye. She sat with it in her hand gazing at the picture. Also on the small picture was a scene from Red Square in Moscow in the background.

She closed the locket then shoved it back into her purse. She quickly wiped her eyes then turned back to the window. Steven felt positive that tears were flowing and was not about to disturb her for the rest of the flight.

Feel sorry for that guy. She's going to kill him if she ever gets the chance.

#  CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

Less then seven miles separated the Addison Airport from the Memphis bar but Mike never used it. As close as it was, the facility sat outside of his pay scale, way outside of his pay scale. Addison Airport mostly serviced owners of private and corporate jets not people who still cringe at paying for business class. The airport never worked for people in Mike's tax bracket but the extremely affluent, the airport remained ideal.

Many wealthy and well-connected individuals passed through the private airport but few were as powerful as the one that would enter on this day. On this particular Saturday morning a sleek silver Rolls Royce Phantom limousine pulled up to the Addison Airport's outside curb. Right behind the limo a black suburban with dark tinted windows pulled in behind it. The owner of both of the vehicles sat in the rear of the limousine taking on his cell phone. He dialed the number to his personal pilot. Only two words were said, "I'm here."

* * *

On the opposite side of town in Plano, Mike approached his ex girlfriend's home. The mother of his son lived just 30 minutes away from him. Before he could make it up the cement path the front door swung open with his son Danny rushing out to great him.

"Hey Dad! We were up all night and guess what? Me and Wiz-" Danny started.

"Wiz and I," Mike corrected with a smile.

"Yeah right, both of us, anyway, um, yeah we played X-box till four in the morning then he beat me, then I won two games, then-"

"Woooe, woe, slow down! You're going to blow a head gasket. Let me guess, you guys snuck some coffee in didn't ya?" Mike didn't need a confession; Danny's guilty expression told it all. Plus he knew that Danny loved to sneak in coffee during his stays at his home on weekends. Mike didn't care if he got a cup every now and then but Danny's mother hated it when he drunk coffee.

Mike laughed. "Ok don't worry I'm not gonna bust ya this time, you're lucky your mom didn't see you bouncing off the wall like that."

With the door still opened wide Mike could see his ex walking though the house with the phone cradled between her cheek and shoulder. She looked up and waved from the distance; Mike waved back. Aside from the short talks concerning Danny, that was the extent of their relationship, a wave and a wave back.

She continued on with her phone conversation. Willard and John came running out the door.

"Hey Mr. Andrews!!" The two boys yelled out in unison as they ran pass him fighting for the best seat for the ride to San Antonio. They were just as hyper as Danny.

More caffeine victims, he thought with a smile. They knocked one another over twice before finally making it to the suburban.

* * *

From inside the car, Kelly watched on with a smile permanently fixed on her face. She loved the way Mike playfully brushed his son's hair. It made her feel warm inside.

She laughed lightly as the other two boys stumbled over one another on their way to the car. After a struggle at the rear door, one of the boys fell down which allowed the red head with freckles to jump into the back seat first.

She he saw Kelly he froze in place. His stunned look let Kelly know that he had no idea she was already in the car. His mouth stayed gapped opened as she looked back at him from her front passenger seat.

"Well hello there cutie!" Kelly said.

He remained wide-eyed and silent. The next little boy jumped into the car.

"Thanks for knocking me down butt breath!" he said.

The playful insult was about to be followed with a continuation of more till the comatose red head elbowed him. He looked over to see what his friend's eyes were locked on. Both boys now sat frozen staring at Kelly.

By the time Mike and Danny entered the car, the boys were still catatonic. Mike laughed when he saw the sight so elected to speak for all of them.

"Kelly this is my son Danny, sitting right next to him is his friend Willard but everyone calls him the Wiz. And the red head there is their friend John. They're usually a little more talkative but I'm sure they'll come around."

Kelly giggled. "Well you are three of the most handsome men I have ever seen." Kelly then winked at the boys continuing to spread her effortless charm. "I just don't remember the boys being this good looking when I was ten. I bet you three have a ton of girlfriends."

The boys' faces transformed into an instant shade of glowing red. Each one sat a little taller.

"Looks like you won the boys over," Mike laughed. He started the engine. "Now if you boys don't mind, could you put on your seat belts?"

Kelly winked at Mike. "How long of a drive do we have handsome?"

Mike lifted an eyebrow. "So you're trying to charm me too now?"

"I don't know? Do I need too?"

Mike lifted his shoulders, "Perhaps, but to answer your question I calculated that the drive will take close to seven hours."

Along the way the boys stayed well mannered while still being typical boys. Arguments broke out about everything from the toughest out of Jet Li and Jean Claude Van Damme to who would win a fight out of the Hulk and Iron Man.

"When I was that age it was all about the sights along the highway," Mike said to Kelly.

"Same here. Times, they change huh?"

The boys spent more time debating on what movie to watch on the car's DVD player then looking at the sights. Not that they were missing much. The highway lined with the common Texas views of flat farmland scattered with trees. The only excitement came when the Wiz would spot a sign with the amount of remaining miles. He took the information calculated the time remaining before they would arrive in San Antonio.

"Now I see why you guys call him the Wiz," she said to Mike.

Kelly also quickly figured out that John would be the one in which they would need to keep close tabs. John had manners but was just one of those kids who adored mischief. At the next truck stop John slipped away from them as soon as they turned their heads. Mike eventually found him thumbing through a playboy magazine.

Mike gave John a stern scolding about disappearing then gave him a pretend choking to ease the tension. John seemed to get the message but Mike had little confidence that he actually did. The others were never a problem.

Mike and Danny exchanged playful punches at one another every chance they got. The close bond made her feel warm inside since this was a side of Mike that she had not seen. She found his natural ability with kids very attractive.

Anyone could see that Danny centered Mike's private universe. Back inside of the car thoughts of Mike and Danny's bond remained in her head. Nice, very nice.

* * *

As Mike, Kelly, and the three boys traveled along highway 35 South, Mike a sign pointing toward Killeen sat next to the highway. The now infamous army base stood only a few miles from where they were driving past. The sign made him think of the shooting that occurred there by the now convicted officer who for what ever reason lost it.

He thought of how life could be so very unexpectedly short sometimes. How many families remained after the shooting that never had a chance to enjoy trips like the one he was taking at that moment. He sat in silence in a private show of respect for the victims and their families.

Kelly looked over at him noticing his distant gaze. "Mike, you ok honey?"

When Mike turned to answer her, he saw something he had not noticed before. Her warm smile and concerned tone allowed him to see the true beauty inside of her.

"I'm fine, just thinking about the club," he lied.

"Oh, the club is fine relax, you'll live longer!" she said.

"Look a jet plane!" the whiz said from the read seat pointing into the air.

* * *

Thirty thousand feet above them, a private jet directed its course for San Antonio International Airport. The owner of the plane sat in his seat looking out the oval window. A blanket of white clouds stretched endlessly across the sky as the private jet sailed over them. One of the four men that traveled with him walked over with his gun exposed under his coat.

Weapons were never an issue on private planes. Guns didn't need to be concealed beneath their jackets, everyone on the private flight were carrying weapons. When he was handed a single sheet of paper he looked over it, reading the private details of Michael Andrews' trip. The information included the bar owner's San Antonio hotel reservations as well as his room numbers.

#  CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

Seven hours and fifteen minutes after they left Dallas, the suburban pulled into the parking garage of the Omni La Mansion Del Rio Hotel. Mike and Danny had been there before but still marveled along with everyone else at the historic building. To no one's surprise, the Wiz had already done his homework and gave everyone historical facts and details about the hotel.

"This building was constructed in the mid eighteen hundreds by four brothers as a private school. They were a part of the Society of Mary," he said.

"What exactly is a society of Mary?" John asked.

"I'm not too sure but I think it's some sort of religion."

John leaned back looking around a far corner. "So you think the place is haunted?" he said.

"I wouldn't doubt it a bit. But it was a school, so if the ghost is anything like you, I bet they don't wanna hang around to learn anything!"

Danny burst into laughter. John punched the Wiz in the arm for the remark.

"Boys!" Mike warned.

They entered the lobby and all of them twisted their heads admiring the structure. The hotel's design filled with the splendor of Spanish architecture. The combination of brick walls and dark wood gave its visitors the impression of an elegant home rather then a hotel. The decor masterfully brought the past into the present with unmatched quality.

Mike walked to the desk to retrieve the room keys. After getting the keys they made their way down the twisting hallways to their rooms. The narrow corridors composed of brick walls that were left in place to maintain the antique ambiance of the hotel.

Kelly moved closer to Mike. "I wonder about the many students passed through these very hallways over one hundred and fifty years ago?"

"I was thinking the same thing Kelly. Talk about historic huh?"

"I know this place is enchanting," she said then whispered. "I am so happy now that I feel like I am about to burst."

Inside the actual adjoining rooms, the hotel didn't disappoint. The room design contained a taste of Spanish styled furniture mixed with the modern trappings of a large flat screen TV and fully stocked mini fridge. Again the mix of old and new was perfectly balanced.

Dark wooden beams protruded out of the ceiling. The exposed bare wood extended horizontally across the length of the room's vaulted ceilings. The taupe walls and cream carpet blended into the dark paisley design of the thick curtains in an ideal color combination.

Kelly parted the curtains to reveal a breath taking view of the famed river walk below. Visitors crowded the network of walkways along the San Antonio River along with a countless bars and restaurants.

Much like the hotel, the cement path managed to blend in a mixture of the past with the present. Modern bars lined the river's concrete course with thick trees, rich shrubbery and old world styled bridges.

"Mike," Kelly said. "This is one of the most romantic things I have ever seen." She reached over to hold Mike's hand.

Kelly and Mike could hear the ruckus sounds of the boys in the adjoining room. Their endless energy took a shot of adrenalin with their arrival in this mini paradise. The dynamism level of three ten year olds was enough to power the entire city of San Antonio.

Mike's eyes widened when the sound of one of them falling to the floor was followed with laughter from the others.

"Good lord I wish that I had just a portion of the energy those boys always have," he said.

"You and I both," Kelly smiled.

"After the sun sets", Mike said. "The river walk will become about as wild as the boys in there."

Kelly looked out over the balcony again. "Thanks for inviting me Mike. I'm already having the best time I have had since coming to Texas."

"Don't thank me yet. You're going to have to deal with four boys all weekend," he smiled.

"Oh, I think I can handle you guys. Can't be any harder then dealing with half drunk customers all night right?"

Mike laughed, "You got a point but I'm not sure about that. John is a hand full."

"They're all sweet Mike. They're just boys. I bet you were worse," she said with one lifted eyebrow.

Mike scratched his head. "Come to think of it, I think I was."

Kelly nodded. "I thought so but glad you grew out of it. I'm not really into the bad boys."

"Whew, I thought you were gonna leave me for John there for a second," he joked.

"John? No way, now as for your son Danny, I may be willing to wait another ten years or so for him," she winked.

Mike laughed again. "Ok fair enough. Let's head out and walk around soon. I'll give you guys a tour of the river walk so you can see the city up close and personal."

They left the room and moved back through the hallways. A few turns later they came across a back exit that led out of the hotel and on to the picturesque river walk.

The long path extended on and on passing by restaurants, bars, stores and small shops. Occasionally, flat bottom river boats would pass them filled with tourist and a bullhorn wielding tour guide belting out historic information.

The boys excitedly pointed out all the eye-catching features lined along the river. They walked in front of Mike and Kelly in their own excited pre-teen world.

Kelly also pointed out sights with the youthful excitement of a child. The dynamic landscape only added to the beauty of the La Mansion Del Rio Hotel as well as the other hotels that set on the river's concrete banks.

Mike recalled the visit before as being fantastic but this time it was even better. Before they knew it, they had veered away from the river walk to the downtown section of the city.

They walked by even more stores and shops along the city streets of San Antonio. Just a short distance later all five of them stood silently directly in front of Texas' symbol of freedom. The Alamo glowed in the bright lights.

* * *

A deeper affection for the structure spread among all five of them. A kindred sprit dwelled inside of Mike as memories of crossed connections surfaced in reference to the symbolic nature of the building.

The story of the Alamo was an ageless tale; David verses Goliath, against all odds. The two hundred men that defended it knew that the stand was much more then defending the building. They risked their lives for what they believed in knowing that it was greater then themselves.

The Wiz pulled on Mike's coat taking him away from his thoughts. "Mr. Andrews, what ever happened to the one?"

"The one?" Mike said.

"Yeah, you know I read that the Colonel of the Alamo knew that they were out numbered."

"Yes, I think they sent for more troops to fight Santa Anna but only a few came," Mike said.

"Right, but I read that after the Colonel knew that he didn't have enough people he drew a line in the dirt and said whoever wanted to stay and fight to cross the line,"

Willard continued.

"Yeah, I remember reading something like that."

"So what happened to the one?" Willard asked again.

"Oh yeah, um which one is that?" Mike asked.

"I read that one didn't cross the line."

"That's a good question. Well my guess is that he just went back to his family to keep them safe."

Willard twisted his mouth thoughtfully. "Humm, I think he shoulda stayed and crossed the line with the rest," Willard said then ran back and stood Danny and John.

The group eventually left the Alamo then found their way back to the river walk path. Night had fallen across the river as they passed bars with more mature crowds then Mike wanted to deal with. Nestled between the wilder establishments, they came across a more family friendly place to eat.

It had been a while since they had eaten so the food was devoured fast by everyone. As pallet pleasing as it was, Mike was more impressed with the ability to just relax.

While the small talk and laughter continued through out the meal, Mike's mind was haunted by the words of the Wiz. He hated when his thoughts drifted and hoped that the other's didn't notice.

You where right Wiz; there will always those who play it safe and never cross the line.

#  CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR

The Omni La Mansion Del Rio Hotel sister property sat directly across river. The Watermark Hotel operated by the same company represented contemporary version of The La Mansion with five star excellence. The Watermark may have lacked an historic link but impressed its visitors with pure elegance.

Even without the historic value it delivered an atmosphere of urban sophistication. It existed as a modern compliment to the La Mansion and the chosen location for Garcia and his associates. Garcia didn't need the history; he planned on making some of his own.

"Beautiful," Anna said as they entered the grand lobby.

Several eyes, mostly on Anna, followed the couple as they passed through the lobby. Just like at the airport, their presence drew a lot of attention. Garcia and Anna remained a short distance away while Tyler walked up to the check in counter.

He maintained an expressionless face when he spoke to the girl behind the counter. "We have several rooms reserved under the name Al Khan," he said.

A total of four suites were reserved for the group. One premier suite with the three regular suites was all specifically chosen for strategic purposes. With the arrival of Garcia, Anna, and Tyler, now everyone had arrived.

The four men that included X, who drove to the location, sat in the lobby waiting for their room keys. Tyler completed taking care of the room assignments then passed out the room keys. Anna and Garcia made their way to their private suite.

* * *

Across the river at the La Mansion, an equally large party checked into the historic hotel. This group landed in a private jet at the San Antonio International Airport carrying a total of three armed men. He knew Michael was already there in the same hotel as well as the exact rooms that he and his family occupied.

Daniel Perez knew more then most people even wanted to know.

To the staff at the La Mansion, the group of men appeared like an assembly of business travelers. As they received their separate room keys no words were passed between them. Their rehearsed assignment locked in their heads as solid as the ABC's. The rest of the night would be routine. They completed missions much more complicated then this, so errors on any level were not an option. That lack of tolerance did not concern any of them, mistakes were never made.

* * *

About four blocks away from the La Mansion, a tall female checked into her room. Men working at the Holiday Inn tried to conceal their constant staring but still twisted their heads for a better view. She disliked the attention and felt like a virtual magnet for moral deprived male onlookers.

As she unwillingly pulled their eyes toward her she thought about only one man. Her head lifted held remaining unmindful and unconcerned about the distant admiration. She made a concerted effort not to draw attention.

She knew that she commanded attention in a way that she did not consciously control. The innate sway of her hips and, so she has been told, sultry strut came as natural for her as her breathy voice and a genetic curse from her mother. As she approached the front desk, the young lady working behind it stood up straight looking up to her almost as mesmerize as the men.

The six-inch heels on her Manolo shoes made her tall frame reach even higher, towering above nearly everyone around her. Men at the lobby's desk stood transfixed with their eyes locked on her tight red dressed. She tried not to sway when she walked up to the check in counter but failed.

"Do you have any rooms available?" she said. Her strong Russian accent laced across every word.

"Yes we do we have several available, would you like smoking or non smoking?"

"Smoking please. Also would you tell me how close am I to the Watermark Hotel?"

The young girl behind the counter voice shook when she spoke. "I, I think we are only a few books, I mean blocks away." She pointed east. "The Watermark sits right on the, the river walk. If you walk that way, you can't miss it, I think."

The woman handed the girl her passport and credit card.

"Ok Miss um," the hotel clerk looked at the passport for her name.

"It's Garcia, Mrs. Marsha Garcia," she said.

#  CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE

Alone in his suite, Daniel Perez sipped on a glass of Cognac. He brought the liquor with him from his personal collection. Tonight's choice turned out to be a bottle of Remy Martin Louis XIII.

He sipped from the monogrammed glass. "Ahhhhhhh," he said leaning back. The flavor caressed his pallet allowing him to savor all that he possessed.

What eluded him for so many years fell within his grasp. With all the connections, inside information, and control of powerful people the one thing he had not been able to obtain was closure from his last wife's indiscretions. When Michael Andrews approached him to help get Garcia, it was the very thing he needed for solace. The planets aligned in his favor.

The idea of getting Garcia was not a new one. During the years that followed his wife's death, he quietly tried to track Garcia down to make him pay for the affair. For Perez, the indiscretion insulted and ultimately showed a sign of total disrespect. As hard as he tried, locating Garcia proved to be problematical to say the least. With multiple identities, world traveling and insiders working with him, the task became more trouble then it was worth.

Perez heard the stories about Garcia like everyone else. In the small circles of organized crime word traveled fast. The mutual respect accompanied a strong level of revulsion. In Perez's eyes Garcia was a foul representation of the honor among society's rebels.

The fact that he arrived to the crest of crossing paths with Garcia was of no surprise. Perez had no doubt that that sooner or later the collision would occur. With Garcia after Michael he could use the situation to enter a surprise attack of his own.

Perez had no false illusions. The very moment that he and Garcia crossed paths would become a collision that was going to be nothing shot of volatile. The sick scent of death lingered as if waiting for the pending war. He would have to chalk up the bodies left in their wake as casualties of conflict.

Perez consider Garcia as a worthy but lesser adversary. He would never allow himself to be place Garcia in the same category. The mere thought of this issue disturbed him more then anything. As far apart as he wanted to be from Garcia, their names would somehow end up spoken in the same outside conversations. Their links from the past migrated to the vast separated underground empires they ruled today.

Comparisons were unavoidable and often spoken of by others but never out loud. On the flight to San Antonio, Perez overheard two of his men whisper about Garcia. The conversation center on one of the numerous rumors they heard about the man. This rumor spoke of a man who tried to repay a debt to Garcia with counterfeit bills.

The minuscule dollar amount had little bearing on Garcia's response. For him it was a matter of principal and reputation.

The man who gave Garcia the counterfeit money made a grave error. While sitting at a bar he had just enough drinks that allowed him to brag about the incident. The bar just so happened to be partly owned by Garcia. Word got out fast and to Garcia just as Garcia was about to board a flight to Mexico. Instead of getting on he stepped out of the plane and instructed his personal driver to take him to the establishment.

Garcia entered to find the half drunk man still sat at the bar. The entire bar fell to a haunting silence. The man however rambled on about odd topics till he too noticed the change in atmosphere.

He looked around then saw the people inside moving away for him while others eased closer to the walls. In the door way the shadowy figure of Garcia stood. His smoldering cigarette rested between his fingers and his eyes locked on the seated man.

Sobriety hit him instantly from extreme trepidation. Garcia walked slowly from the entrance in his direction. The man nervously knocked over his glass as he trembled on the barstool. Garcia stood over him looking down with the squinted eyes of a dark soul. The man soiled his pants as tears began to develop in his red eyes and all conditions of drunkenness had left his body.

The initial hope that Garcia may not have known about the counterfeit bills dissolved the moment he saw him. Garcia reached inside of his jacket then gently placed the fake bills on the bar. He pulled a ten-inch blade from his other pocket and kissed the tip of the blade.

Heavy sweat poured from the man's body. His breathing grew loud and rapid followed by incoherent mumbling. "Pleees...Oh Ga...oh...oh, God, Jesus Chr-" Heavy whimpering followed the unintelligible plea.

Garcia separated the bills in shorter stacks. With the care of a surgeon he began cutting up the bills in to smaller pieces. Garcia reached behind the bar and slid a bowl in front of the terrified man. All of the dissected bills were sprinkled into the bowl.

"Listen my friend; you have known me for a long time. I know you were just in a bad situation," Garcia paused and lifted his shoulders to the crowd. "It happens right guys?" No one responded.

He turned his attention back to the shivering man. "But as much as I would like to, I just can't let this go. Understand? My reputation just can't afford that kind of bad publicity."

The man blubbered like a five year old looking into the bowl of cut up counterfeit money. Garcia spoke low with an emotionless tone and only loud enough for the man right next to him to hear.

"So, you think you can get me the real, money by say next week?" he said.

"Oh God, I am so sa sa sorry Mr. Garcia. Next week no problem, I'll have it all every cent. Before next week even, I'll ga get it, for sure I'll get it," he said as his voice quivered and he sniffed between every other word.

Garcia got even closer. His breath fell against the man's face as the cigarette smoke exited out of his mouth.

"I think you will my friend. I really think you will. Also I need you to add five hundred dollars to the previous total, you know to make up for this little inconvenience?"

"Ok, ok, no problem. I'll get the money and the extra, you have my word."

"Yeah, I think you'll be ok." Garcia patted the man on the back gently. "Before I leave, I do need you to eat this bowl of fake money you gave to me." Garcia pulled up the bar stool next to him and sat calmly smoking his cigarette.

The bar crowed watched in disbelief. The man picked up the pieces of bills by the hand full and washed it down with water. He continued till the entire bowl was empty.

After he finished it all, Garcia stood then signaled his driver. "I'll see you next week my friend," he said. Garcia walked to the exit with his driver holding the door open for him then walked through it.

The man sat slumped in the barstool. His breathing slowed but the tremendous amount of sweat remained across his face and soaked shirt. He appeared to be at the brink of a stroke with his lowered head now apparently too heavy to hold up. The burden of trying to think of ways to come up with the cash already weighed heavily on him.

When a loud scream came from inside of the bar, he jumped in his seat. The startled man jerked his head up to see catch the sight of Garcia running directly at him.

The silver blade held high above his head. Garcia's wide eyes laced with madness and his forehead creased with stern intensity. Before the man could even react the ten-inch blade plunged into his chest. The momentum forced his body off the barstool crashing into a nearby table.

The victim's eyes remained open as the shock of instant death touched his last seconds of consciousness. His eyes stayed fixed on Garcia who stood directly over him. "Save a seat for me in hell, my friend."

Garcia extinguished his lit cigarette against the man's face then walked out of the bar.

* * *

Perez walked over to his guard who had just told the story.

"Who told you that story about Garcia?" Perez asked.

The guard gave a nervous glance to the other one seated next to him. He cleared his throat. "Sir, I um, was told that story by a guy who said that he was there that day."

"Is that correct? I have to tell you that my brother was there on that day and your account was not accurate," Perez said then returned to his seat.

The guard stood then moved over to Perez.

"Sir I'm sorry. I was just telling him what I had heard," he said.

Perez could see his bottom lip quivering.

"It's fine," Perez assured him. "Besides most of the story was accurate."

"Oh ok thank you Sir." He turned to walk away then stopped. "Sir, if I may ask. What part of the story was not accurate?"

Perez leaned his head back against the chair and closed his eyes. "The blade was 12 inches not 10. The rest of the story was dead on," he said.

"That man is pure evil," the guard sad before lowering his head then walking away.

"That he is," Perez agreed.

Yet, in my youth, I've done a lot worst, he thought.

#  CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX

Garcia sat at the end of the four-post iron bed. On the bedroom chair inside the suite, his treasured copy of the Art of War sat in pristine condition. He kept the book close and found a sense of comfort by it constantly being in his presence.

"Anna my dear," he said. "I signed you up for a spa treatment here. After that you can do some shopping if you would like."

Anna kissed Garcia on the cheek. Over the years they developed a level of communication that didn't need words. She knew that the spa and shopping offer was his way of telling her that he needed her to disappear for a while, business ─ to whatever extent that entailed ─ needed to be attended to without her around.

"Ok baby, thank you," she said.

"X!" he called out. Javier entered the room.

"X, Anna is going to the spa and then do a little shopping for about an hour of so. Would you escort her for me?"

"Of course Mr. Garcia," he said.

Once they left Garcia took time to gather his thoughts. He wanted; rather needed the space to allow the well arranged pieces to fall in place. So much work needed to be done.

Final adjustment would ensure that everything was as it should be. He removed a pair of high-powered night vision binoculars from the nightstand then walked to the balcony. He placed then to his eyes then peered through them looking across river walk.

The view that materialized inside of the scope was none other then the La Mansion Hotel. From the ground floor he counted up five floors. He then counted across to the fourth and fifth windows.

The curtains were closed, but Garcia knew exactly who occupied the rooms. The two rooms had been reserved by Michael Andrews and his family. With his free hand he made a call to Tyler.

"Is everything set?" Garcia said.

"Yeah, we all got the balconies to their adjoining rooms visually marked. They're not there now but we'll be able to spot them as soon as they return," Tyler said.

"And Chris?"

"Chris is posted on the balcony to his suite just one level directly below you. He's just waiting for the signal."

"How good is this guy?"

"He was a sniper for the army and did a tour in Afghanistan, worked for a swat team in New York as the top man on the team, then was recruited by the CIA but turned them down. Word was he got a better offer from another team, so not above reproach. That's why I got him."

"Like him already," Garcia said.

"He does this job and disappears till we need him again. He wasn't told who or when just to stay at his post till you make the call to his earpiece."

"That's good Fuse, very good." Garcia disconnected the call and continued to survey the area.

* * *

The shops along the river walk were lined up waiting for customers just like Anna. The window displays pulled her inside then tempted her with sales that she thought she would be foolish to pass. After just a half hour she could see that X had already grown restless.

The impatience didn't just come from the idol time spent waiting for her to try on different outfits. She noticed how he sat the bags he was carrying for her down every chance he could.

"Are the bags getting heavy X?" she said.

"No, there're fine," he lied.

While inside of one stores Anna was told about a good place to buy jewelry by one of the sales persons. The lure of jewelry purchases overpowered her without fail. She dashed out to find store as X trailed behind as best as he could.

The concrete path between the shops and the river itself lined with several brightly colored oversized umbrellas. Below the umbrellas, small tables anchored where many would sit to people watch and embrace the essence of San Antonio. Anna noticed a stunning tall women sitting at one of the tables and offered her a nod.

The woman did not return the friendly greeting.

CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN

Marsha Garcia sat with a cup of coffee, watching, waiting. When Anna passed right in front of her Marsha recognized her immediately. Martin's flavor of the week, she sniffed. She could not help but notice the large body guard the trailed behind the petite brunette.

When the young girl smiled and nodded at her she was too shocked to nod back. She never expected to come across part of Garcia's group so fast but embraced the moment.

Opportunity knocked and Marsha made an instant plan. Until that point, she had no idea what she would do or say to Garcia. The time on the plane allowed her to revisit the bad memories of their short never legally dissolved marriage. The memory pulled the anger back to the surface. She liked the idea that ascended in her head.

Her marriage Garcia ment nothing to him and it devastated her. Garcia married her for visa purposes only and discover that fact when she overheard him talking about it over the phone. She confronted him in hopes to get some answers that would sooth her soul but the answers never came.

The next day she came home to an empty house. He had not seen Garcia since that day, until that chance moment at the airport. The stroke of luck at the Dallas airport came just when she was about to give up on catching up to him.

As she watched Anna pass by she had a sudden change of emotions. What if this girl is not just the flavor week? What if she is also being used by Garcia? Marsha considered the distinct possibility the more she thought about it.

Yet it could very well be much more then that. She could not help but notice the way they held hands in the airport. His voice filled with affection when he spoke to her. As much as she hated to admit it, he may truly care for this girl.

She understood. Marsha knew exactly how the girl felt about Garcia. She too once had the same deep love sick gaze under his charming spell. But after he disappeared she began to see a Garcia she never knew.

He presented the person that he wanted you to see. She often wondered if anyone ever knew the true person he was or did they all only know the person he portrayed and would just as quickly change at will.

Stories about his violent past were not accepted at first. Now, from her own research, she discovered that the stories were not only possible, but even more shocking then the truth.

She cautiously trailed the young girl and the large bodyguard. She wasn't as nervous as she was excited to be back on Garcia's trail. A small sense of confidence dwelled in her since she was positive that neither of them was aware of her identity.

She debated on following through with the sketchy plan floating across her thoughts. Pictures of the wanted posters and memo's that placed Garcia on the FBI's most wanted list flashed across her thoughts. The decision was made.

She casually entered into the store. He eyes followed the girl with the bodyguard walking near her. Marsha patted the pistol inside of her purse for a mental appeasement. She took full advantage of the post 911 hiring frenzy for security workers. After getting trained the agency hired her as one of the very few females that were aloud to work as Airline marshals.

The position afforded her access to many departments used to track Garcia. She grinned to herself. With all of the resources she ended up finding Garcia by chance. The right place at the right time.

Even with him being on the most wanted list, procedures still needed to be followed. She had no intentions on going through the red tape and losing him again. Besides that she had very few worries that any repercussions would await her for killing Garcia. She would just be doing her job.

Marsha watched Anna excitedly look at the assortment of pricey diamond necklaces. The large bodyguard stood next to her like a Buddha in an Armani suite. His expression screamed that he wished that he were anywhere else but here.

"Ok let's do this. Take me to your leader guys," Marsha whispered to herself.

#  CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN

On the opposite side of the river walk, Mike and Kelly trailed behind the energetic boys as best as they could. They had a little trouble keeping up with all three but it wasn't as difficult as Mike anticipated. The harder task involved keeping a close eye on John.

The task of watching John took more effort then watching Danny and the Wiz combined. John, forever the magnet to mischief, would frequently look back at Mike and Kelly to see if he was being watch. Mike held up two fingers to his eyes and then pointed the fingers back at the boys. However everyone knew that the signal was intended for John.

Danny spotted an ice cream parlor and bolted to it. Soon all three boys took off toward it at full speed. By the time Mike and Kelly caught up to them, a shoving match ensued between the boys just to look into the glass display.

"This is not going to be a quick stop," Mike said already exhausted.

He turned out to be more correct then he wanted. With the multiple flavor choices it took some time for the ten year olds to make a choice. Mike took advantage of the break by sitting beneath one on the umbrella tables and Kelly sat next to him.

They people watched together without words. Above their heads, the clear Texas skies permitted an unhindered view of its infinite magnificence. Tiny stars dotted the darkness like caring eyes watching the world below. A full moon dominated the sky with a bright glow of illumination. This time Mike instead of Kelly reached over and grabbed her hand.

San Antonio's temperature stabilized at a steady 70 degrees. It neither ventured to hot nor cold but maintained an even temperature that went virtually noticed. It existed as a compliment to the night instead of standing out in ascendancy. It remained unfelt as an invisible but ideal existence taking an understood inferior place to a night wrapped in romance.

As beautiful as the night was, Mike found the thought of Garcia crippling the effort to enjoy it. The thought of Garcia knowing that they were in San Antonio unsettled him never venturing far from Mike's mind.

Faces passed by them resembled Garcia. Strangers seemed to stare as if they knew Mike's past. More paranoid thoughts created the scent of Garcia's cigarette slithering across the night's air.

Just like that night at the club, he felt Garcia's presence. His existence tainted the air making Mike feel that he was there somewhere lurking in the shadows placing a different kind of darkness across the night.

#  CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT

The row of brightly colored large umbrellas blocked Garcia's view. He stood on the balcony with his binoculars pressed to his eye sockets looking down at the people that moved along the river's edge. He scanned along the row of blue, red, yellow, and green umbrellas.

He watched as the smoke from his cigarette rose into the air merging into the Texas humidity. The crowd served no interest to him since he failed to find his target so he changed his view. His line of sight rested on the windows to Michael's adjoining hotel rooms directly across from him.

The closed curtains and no lights made him twist his expression. "Nobody's home," he whispered. Their absence did not dishearten him; he knew it would not be long now. Time ticked on his side and all the pieces were set in place. The trap sat in place like the hen walking right into the fox house.

Garcia pressed the number 1 on his speed dial. Tyler answered in the middle of the first ring.

"Keep an eye out, I'm gonna sit inside the suite for a bit," Garcia said.

"I'm on it," Tyler replied.

* * *

Far below the Waterfront balcony and still out of view, the boys finally emerged from ice cream shop.

"Hey Mike, I saw a convenience store a few blocks that way. Do you mind if we back track so that I can get a disposable camera. I just have to get some photos of this trip."

"Why not," Mike winked.

The path back took a lot longer then both of them remembered. In addition to that, the onset of night made parts of the walkway a lot darker then before. They pressed on and once they purchased the camera made their way back in the direction of the La Mansion Hotel.

The first photo op came at a stone bridge that, like the others, crossed to the opposite side on the river. Several pictures were snapped on arched bridge before they crossed it but took several more photos on top of it.

"Ok guys we're back on the side of the river where the hotel is now," Mike said. "We should have a straight shot back."

Danny pointed in front of them. "So we just walk straight ahead now?"

"Yeap, just straight ahead," Mike said.

The straight shot included a few short covered pathways and winding curves. They passed on any additional photo locations to wait till they made it back to the hotel.

The straight shot more accurately consisted of a winding path. The path curved inward deeply to the left then made other deep turns along the way. Far off the boys spotted a street performer tossing bowling pins high into the air.

"Hey look at that!" Danny said. "Let's go watch him."

Mike looked up. "Guys he is a lot further away then he seems. This winding path just makes it look like he is close."

The path bowed back outwards with a deep bend. Due to the winding of the path, Mike figured that they were still more then two city blocks away from the performer.

"It's ok, let's go," Danny screamed.

Once again the boys took off running. Mike stepped forward to run after them till Kelly placed a hand on his chest.

"Relax Mike; I'll catch up with them. You may need your rest tonight," she winked.

"Come on! Hurry before he stops!" Danny yelled back with his hands cupped over his mouth.

Before Mike could protest, Kelly ran ahead to catch up with the boys. She rushed across the short stretch of walkway that extended several feet till it made a hard turn to the left. They moved along the path, took the deep turn, and then were gone.

Mike heard the distant laughter mixed with fading running footsteps. The echo of their voices bounced off the weathered brick walls of the small dark tunnel along the path. He saw them emerge further up the path, and then vanish again into the thick crowd of tourist.

Mike heaved a sigh of pleasant relief. The internal struggle of wanting to watch his family close and distancing himself wore on him since he knew that he was a potential target. This was not a comfortable position and if any harm came to any of the others form trying to get to him would destroy him.

The more Mike thought about it, more dots were connected but even more added. Would Garcia really show up in San Antonio? If so, Mike wondered why didn't he just take care of him in Dallas. Maybe I should have stayed in Dallas.

As soon as the thought came Mike admonished himself. He broke his promise of not second-guessing the decision to come to San Antonio. When he made that promise one thought was not considered. I'm taking a chance of Danny having to witness seeing his father being gunned down. This did not set well.

The hard facts were difficult in not impossible to ignore. From Mike's research he knew that Garcia had a way of finding those he wanted to locate. In articles he was considered to be a cross between fanatical and brilliant. Mike's opinion leaned to the latter. Garcia's drive contained the same blind ambition that created the likes of Napoleon as well as those who defended the Alamo then ones who crossed the line.

Mike considered what he would or would not do to defend the people he loved. The answer came instantly knowing and realizing that he was not too much unlike Garcia. If the situation was reversed and he came across someone who harmed Danny how would he respond? The fine line between passion and fanatical is so very easily faded. Garcia may be ruthless and calculating yes, but insane? Not in the least.

For now there would have to be a balance. Mike actually did the very thing he had done for years inside of his club. He would have to enjoy the quality time while still remaining alert. A chilled anxiety stemmed from the possibility that Garcia might emerge from the darkness.

Mike stopped and looked all around. He hated to think of Garcia now because if invariably stirred up paranoia. Now suddenly felt that something loomed in the shadows. He hoped that he was wrong as he searched for something that would calm him.

Finally the crowd ahead put Mike's mind at ease. Safety in numbers, he hoped.

A few small abandoned sections along the path had little to no tourist traffic. Other then that, most of the walk lined with people. Mike could feel his heart rate return to a normal level.

Out of nowhere, Mike thought about a documentary he saw on TV. He watched it several months ago but now popped back into his head. The show covered, of all things, boxers.

Although it was late he felt drawn to the program from his memories of his father's great love for the sport. His father never missed a single boxing match. However a deeper affinity remained for Rocky Marciano.

"Mike! Mike! Son come here!" he would say. "Look, see that guy? One of the greats, Italian blooded boxing great! There will never be another Rocky. They don't make em like that no more. Don't even have the cloth that they were cut out of!"

The program Mike watched back then did a small segment on Marciano and other greats from different eras. It brought back a lot of good memories that Mike was able to take away. With that Mike took something else from the program.

Interviews, taped matches, and stories were played of all the boxing greats. An even longer segment centered on the life of Ali and this segment really grabbed Mike's attention.

One of the many boxers who faced Mohammad Ali discussed why they thought he was the greatest. George Foreman told the story of how Ali had him where he wanted in the course of the fight and could have taken him out with one extra punch. Instead of taking advantage of the injured Foreman, Ali pulled back and walked away.

Foreman said Ali knew he was vulnerable and exposed. But instead of taking advantage of the situation, Ali just walked away. The unsaid part of the aired documentation was clear. Ali showed his opponent their weakness, therefore finding a secure advantageous place in their psyche. From that point on he remained in Foreman's head, and every fight between the men after that point, was lost before it even began.

Mike's walk slowed as he thought about the program. He had to confess that Garcia was in his head. If this were true the next deduction would have to be that this war between he and Garcia was already lost.

Sometimes lines are crossed because we can't see on the other side. Other times we don't care. Mike decided that if Garcia wanted him dead then it was going to happen. Although the results of crossing the line were clear, it would be crossed.

The pace of his walk increased as he extended his stride along the concrete. Kelly and the boys were far ahead by now somewhere free from the concerns he battled in his head. The path darkened even more as it made a hard left curve that veered with the river's course.

He kept his head up trying to catch a distant glimpse of Kelly and the boys. The obstructed view vanished with the next tunnel but would clear after he emerged from the secluded area. For now all was calm.

The tranquil night contradicted how he felt inside. He hated this feeling and the inability to fully enjoy the visit to San Antonio with his family angered Mike. He wondered if it was ever going to change.

The moon's glow touched the scenic landscape with a gentle caress. Soft light danced around the river walk guiding him through the shadowy section. Just another half block he would feel a small amount of peace after seeing Kelly with the boys.

Mike walked under the small overpass then spotted something on the ground. He shook his head thinking that his eyes were mistaken. He stood below the bridge, which was the darkest part of the path with limited visibility.

Is that one of my-? Mike stopped. He peered at the book of matches. On the cover, an all too familiar logo depicted white piano keys. He leaned even closer to see the green lettering and fonts that he personally selected.

The slogan "By Far The Best Live Entertainment in Texas" was also visible. The book of matches came from his club in Dallas. He reached down and picked up the matches.

When doing so, he froze. An overwhelming feeling came to him that he was being watched.

"Welcome to San Antonio, Mr. Andrews," the voice said standing just inches behind him.

#  CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE

Mike's reaction swiftly spun his body around. The automatic reflexes twisted his body into a kneeling stance with his gun drawn and aimed for a direct headshot. Daniel Perez stared down at Mike unaffected.

"Now we wouldn't want to do that, would we?"

At the same time Mike felt the impression of two guns pushed against the back of his head. Perez signaled his men to lower their guns then Mike did the same.

Mike and Daniel Perez walked up the path just a little further then sat at a table in front of one of the coffee shops. Perez leaned back, closing his eyes taking in a deep breath of the humid night.

"Ahhhh, I just love sitting out at night. It's like the world always welcomes you in to enjoy its hospitality," Perez said.

Mike didn't respond. He still had not gotten over the first time he met Perez so the sense of awe never left. The same feeling resurfaced from simple act of sitting next to the legend. Even with the pleasant demeanor, Mike knew that this was a very powerful and dangerous man.

Mike turned his head in every direction; the two body guards were nowhere to be seen. But he knew that they were near by, they were always close. Mike imagined them posted somewhere hidden with their guns trained directly at his head. Sudden moves would not be a smart thing to do at this point.

"To alleviate a few of your concerns, let me get right to the point." Perez said. "Your friend Garcia is here in San Antonio. But that should not be of any concern to you. I can assure you that he will be dealt with."

After Perez spoke Mike exhaled. The vast weight of the universe had been lifted from just those words. Mike placed his hand on the back of his neck twisting it from side to side. Much of the tension left his neck and shoulders.

Not too many words were spoken after Perez revealed his intentions. Nothing else needed to be said. When Perez spoke it became law and his word was always the final verdict.

Mike never entertained the thought that Perez was taking care of Garcia for him. This had nothing to do with helping Mike. This assistance derived from nothing less then retribution for an indiscretion that occurred many years before.

Just like he did in the club, Perez stood and walked away. Mike watched as he ventured back in the direction they had just come from. He faded into the darkness softly whistling Sinatra's I've Got The World on a String. His hands linked behind his back as he strolled along till he disappeared along the path.

Once Perez vanished out of view Mike continued up the path in the direction he was already headed. A few blocks divided the space from where Mike stood and the more populated area of the river walk path. Just ahead saw the street performers, the well lit shops, and free standing vendor booths.

He moved along leaning from one side to the other stretching his neck to catch site of Kelly or the boys.

They were unable to be spotted. The larger crowd had grown to a level far too dense to see through.

He walked faster till he moved away from the darkened area walking past a clothing store. He glanced through the store window. A few of people shopped inside but his eyes connected with a large man that stood next to a slender brunette. Faint but fleeting recognition triggered something in Mike's head but he moved on discarding the thought.

#  CHAPTER SEVENTY

Anna changed into her fifth outfit while X stood outside of her dressing room. Marsha shuffled through a nearby clothing rack pretending to look at the fine apparel. She listened carefully to their conversations gathering even more clues to Garcia's exact location.

"Javier, do you think Martin will like the red one or the blue dress better?" Anna said talking from inside of the dressing room.

"Both are fine," X offered unenthused.

"Really I think I might go for both. After that I need to find a bikini. There's a pool at the hotel right?"

"Yes, it's on the roof."

"Really? Like right above the floor we are on? Nice, I think I'm gonna skip on the spa, but I don't want to miss that pool."

Marsha moved out the door walking quickly but trying to remain as casual as possible. She took the bits of information she eased dropped on with her. With the exact floor of Garcia's room she would easily be able to figure out the room. If the swimming pool on the roof was just above the floor of their suite she could find his room in no time. Garcia hours were numbered.

Details of her spontaneous plan were devised as she rushed out of the store. All she had to do was endure some waiting time inside of the hotel lobby. Once Garcia's gal pal returned from her shopping spree she would just follow them to their room. With the element of surprise, she felt that she had a big advantage over Garcia.

Marsha patiently weaved through the crowd. The thick tourist traffic forced her to twist between the moving crowd. Marsha brushed against a muscular man also moving through the crowd.

* * *

Mike made his way along the sidewalk angling his body through between the bevy of people. This is worst then Memphis on the weekends. Mike's calmed his nerves after getting bumped into a few times to many by groups of inebriated tourist. His overwrought mood changed as soon as he spotted Kelly standing several feet away among a small crowd of onlookers.

The crowd's attention drew to a street performer. The all watched with excited with gleeful expressions as a man dressed in motley attire juggled bowling pins. Danny and his friends stood directly in front of Kelly smiling and pointing at the demonstration.

Mike smiled at first. Then as he looked on, he felt a chill race across him. There it is again. The ominous chill overcame him as if a dark alignment of events were about to unfold. What the hell? He attributed the sensation to the meeting with Perez.

"Must have gotten me a little on edge," he muttered.

* * *

On the fifth floor of the Waterfront hotel, Garcia returned to the balcony. With the night vision binoculars placed against his eyes he scanned the area. This time he spotted none other then Michael Andrews through the circular magnified windows. He lifted the two-way radio to his mouth.

"Get ready," he said.

The sniper located on the balcony directly below Garcia pulled the bill of his hat to the back. With his eye peering through the scope, he rested the rifle on the outer edge of the balcony's wall. Garcia's voice pushed his already focused stance to the next level.

He spoke to Garcia through the small microphone attached to his headset. "Focus test is good. Ready when you are. Just say who, and when," the sniper said.

"Hold tight. They'll be in your sight in about two minutes my friend," Garcia smiled.

#  CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE

The domino effect received its first tumble when Marsha spotted Garcia. A steady sequence of cross-connected events unfolded in a span of less then five minutes. Although Garcia didn't see her, Marsha spotted him from the distance as he stood on the balcony. Actions tumbled faster with an unwavering gain of momentum.

Marsha observed the entire scene watching every aspect of it play out from her vantage point. Stationed on a balcony at the La Mansion, two men peered through their binoculars semi cloaked by the darkness. Their attention fixed directly across the river walk scanning the balconies of the Watermark Hotel where Garcia and his men stood.

Garcia pulled out a small set of binoculars. He appeared unaware that he was being watched. But Marsh saw that he was by the men at the hotel directly across from him. Garcia's binoculars aimed at the sidewalk below as if that was all that mattered to him. Surely he wasn't people watching. Interesting.

* * *

"There you are Mr. Andrews," Garcia whispered. He rotated his line of sight away from Michael methodically searching the surrounding area. A high level of excitement lifted inside of him now; the moment was so near that he could feel it, taste it.

#

#  CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO

Daniel Perez phone rung but he expected the call. He never broke stride when he answered the call; he already knew who was on the other end.

"Yes?" he answered.

"Target spotted," the sniper replied.

"Good, hold in place," Perez replied. "We're already headed up to get him."

Inside of the Watermark's lobby, Perez approached the elevator with two of his men in tow. Inside of their coats, hidden pockets, and leg straps were enough weapons to launch a small war. Perez walked ahead of the others entering the elevator first. He pressed the button for the fifth floor then waited for the doors to close, the elevator to lift, and put an end to Garcia's reign.

The two snipers under Perez's command remained posted across the street. Their steady fingers suspended over the triggers of their rifles with their scopes set on Garcia's head. They waited for the signal. The instructions were to keep Garcia in their rifle's sites till Perez personally told them to take him out.

When the elevator doors opened to the 5th floor, Perez and his men walked down the hall in unison. Stride for stride they made their way down the hall like marching executioners till they arrived at Garcia's room. Like a caged pig in the slaughterhouse, Garcia was trapped.

* * *

Hidden along an abandoned section of store fronts, Marsha watched Garcia. The vacant unlit retail area stayed just dark enough for her to remain hidden away from potential witnesses. She positioned herself where she had a clear shot, just about forty-five degrees to her left.

The only issue was the distance. Her distant location exceeded the ideal range for accuracy. If she missed, he would more then likely vanish forever. An even worse situation would be if she was spotted and thus reversing the roles from the hunter to the prey. She knew this man better then most and Garcia's retaliation was not something that she wanted to subscribe to not now, not ever.

#  CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE

"Mike, Mike! Over here!" Kelly swung her hand high over the crowd.

Before that he had lost sight of her. After hearing Kelly's voice, he spotted her right away waving her arm over the crowd and made his way toward her. Just within the peripheral range of his line of site, Mike also spotted something else. High above them a tall shadowed figure stood on the balcony of the hotel across the street.

With his sense still on edge, Mike questioned everything around him. The quizzical mindset never subsided but instead grew even larger then before. Eventually it rose to the level of doubting his own thoughts and now it seems, even his own eyes. The tall shadow looked down and as far as he could tell, right at him.

Logically the distance made it impossible to truly tell if the figure was looking at him or just the general area. Lately he questioned the logic of his thinking so he found it difficult to remain sold on the idea of being watched.

He stared up at the figure. Although the space did allow a confident visual, Mike was still able to make a comparison. The shadowed outline matched the same one as he recalled that night in his club. Tall, slender, and ominous, the comparison was agonizingly uncanny and he had little doubt, this was Garcia.

Mike stopped short of moving closer to Kelly; more unsettling images came into focus. Directly below the balcony where Garcia stood, another figure knelled in a shooter's stance. Even in the darkness Mike could still make out the outline of rifle's shaft. On the same level posted on the balcony to the right of the shooter, two addition men stood in the dark looking down in Mike's direction.

All were indistinguishable shadows but more then enough too alarm Mike. Other shadows posted in various locations were also noticed. The silhouettes stood in the dark with no lighting around them. They have to be working together.

Habits kicked in. Just like he conditioned himself to do as his club's security he swiveled his head in every direction. Faster and faster he rotated his line of sight locking in on the various dark balconies occupied by the shadows.

His mind slowed gripping on the possibilities as his head swiveled even faster. Up, down, right, and lower. Up, down, right, and lower.

Snapshots of pending peril filed into his short term memory. His eyes widened as more perspiration emerged from his pores. Comprehension instantly tied the separate images together linking puzzle pieces.

Bits of occurrences from years before along with the recent visit to his club began to reveal the possibility of a bloodcurdling event. The shadow of Garcia staring down, the posted shooter, and the real reason for sparing him that night at the Memphis became forebodingly clear.

Mike suddenly found it difficult to breath. Lucid thoughts drenched into a level of panic he had never felt. Tell me that I'm wrong please.

When he thought it could not get worse it did. Kelly emerged from the crowd of tourist with Danny following behind her. After spotting his dad, Danny excitedly ran in his direction. Mike moved his head from left to right with his inner voice screaming no, but no words were able to come out.

* * *

From the darkness of the balcony, Garcia smiled. He picked up his two-way radio to send the direct order to the sniper's ear piece.

"Do you see the muscular male with the short sleeved green shirt walking in this direction?" Garcia said to the sniper.

The sniper's keen eyes scanned the vicinity in a few short seconds. Without being pre-informed about who the person would be, his only knowledge of the target was the possible area that they would emerge. Now he had a real target. He rotated the rifle positioned on the short wall till he placed Mike's head in the cross hairs.

"Got em' in the cross hairs," he said.

Smoke seeped between Garcia smile as he looked down at the scene. "Now look just to the right of that man," Garcia said. "The target is the boy running toward him."

#  CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR

The sniper pivoted the rifle's scope inches to the right. He spotted the boy running to the man in the green shirt then locked him in on his site. The rifle's scope trailed along with its moving target waiting for him to stop.

A moving target was too unpredictable and risked the chance of an erratic shift that would cause a miss. Once he stopped a precise shot could be taken. The sniper locked on the target then readjusted as the boy's unstable movement took him out of the crosshairs that had sentenced a countless number of victims to death.

* * *

The loud noise of the tourist crowd disorientated Mike. The sound of Danny's voice enabled him to gather his faculties. Once he gathered his bearings, he ran toward Danny.

"Danny! Noooo! Go back!! Go back!!!"

Mike's arms flailed wildly as a confused Kelly looked on then stopped just short of meeting up with him. Danny hardly noticed Mike's protest as he continued to run to his dad. Mike screams fell deep inside the din of the surrounding spectators who cheered on the street performers.

"Pow!!"

The sound of the fired gunshot altered the entire environment like blood across a playground. What was previously a calm social gathering of tourism, transformed into something much darker. In an instant, the entire group altered into an elevated level of turmoil.

The fired shot raced across the scene just a fraction of a second before the sniper fired at Danny. The bullet, Mike realized, didn't come from the balcony but from somewhere behind him within the dark vacant section along the river walk.

He spotted what looked like a woman ducking in the darkness with her weapon extended from her hidden location. Before he could react multiple shots fired from all directions. Garcia's shadow dropped to the floor of the balcony.

Mike turned to see a tall woman dashing out of the darkness. He looked around again and screamed in frustration. Somehow, he lost sight of Danny.

#  CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE

"Sir, shoots are being fired but we're not sure from where," the voiced echoed through Perez's radio.

"Take him out," Perez barked back into the radio.

Perez's men saw the unidentified first shot miss Garcia by inches. They called Perez just before a second shot was fired at him. The second shot raced by Garcia's head even closer causing him to drop to the balcony's floor.

Ironically enough, the missed shots were the very thing that saved Garcia from Perez's men. They would not have missed the target. When they tried to lock him in their sights again, Garcia had already crawled back into the hotel suite away from the balcony.

* * *

Garcia's own sniper adjusted his aim after seeing the first bullet whizzed just past the boy's left ear. The missed shot caused the boy to dive to the ground. The new stationary position made the shot even more difficult due to the countless number of scattered people racing by in different directions and obstructing the view.

Through the scope the sniper saw the lifeless body of a middle-aged man stood next to the boy just before the shot was fired. He now stretched across the sidewalk with blood oozing out of his man's chest. Nice shot but wrong target.

The sniper blocked out the disorder all around him. His professionalism would not allow him to dwell on the miss; he had a job to complete. He adjusted his aim using the scope to relocate his target in the mist of the pandemonium. He found him just as the stationary target lifted his head to look for help. Much better.

This was a sniper's dream and the easiest shot to make. Not gonna miss this time, that's for sure. The cross hairs aligned directly on the boy's forehead. Even the boy's mouth movement could be seen in the powerful scope. "Daddy!! Daddy!!"

The boy remained on the ground straining his neck upwards. His silent screams were too far away to be heard. Soon the boy's screams would be silenced forever.

The sniper's finger slid across the sensitive trigger. The two thin black lines in the scope intersected dead center on the boy's temple. He took in a short breath and held it. Steady, steady.

Like a sudden odd eclipse the scope's site filled with green blocking the target. He titled the site up to see that the green was actually the shirt of the man he spotted before.

The shock of the instant appearance caused the sniper to delay his reaction a half of a second. That fraction of time separated him from this world. Through the rifle's site the green shirted man knelled in front of the target with a pistol aimed directly at him. The slug shattered the rifle's scope ricocheting into the snipers temple.

Shock, pain then total darkness followed the unexpected presence of the muscular man. Like so many of his victims, the sniper died instantly.

#  CHAPTER SEVEN-SIX

The door to Garcia's suite smashed inward. Perez remained in the doorway as the two guards rushed inside searching the suite for Garcia. He spotted then from around a far corner then heard them come move closer. But as the master manipulator he already had a way out.

Along with the four rooms reserved for him, his bodyguards as well as the sniper, was another unoccupied suite. This room connected to his and was purchased as a safety net. As soon as he saw them enter he crawled into the other suite vanishing inside then locking the door behind him. The war was on.

He placed his ear to the door and listened closely. He heard them go from room to room talking to one another. When they mentioned Perez's name more then once he smiled. The satisfaction of now knowing who was after him made all the difference. Now he could devise a plan to get out of this and the price of payback was going to cost some lives.

* * *

While still standing in the doorway to Garcia's suite, Perez made a call to his men at the hotel on the other side of the river.

"What happened?" Perez said.

"We had him locked in sir but someone fired shots from below. It spooked him and he ran back inside," his guard answered.

"Who was shooting, Michael?" he asked.

"No sir. It was someone hiding along the river walk but we couldn't see them."

"I see. Where are you now?"

"We're already making our way from the La Mansion back to meet you at the Waterfront."

"Good, when you get here cover the entrance. Make sure Mr. Garcia does not leave this hotel," he said.

After disconnecting the call Perez frowned at the shadow that materialized behind him. Garcia's monotone voice filled Perez's ears. "Time to call on your God to save your sorry soul my friend."

No time remained for Perez to reach for his weapon. Garcia's knife tore across Perez's throat. The gurgling sound of blood soaked vocal cords drowned any words that tried to escape from his mouth.

Perez's body weakened then buckled but was held up by Garcia. Perez's hands went to his throat as the world he once knew faded fast. Garcia's whisper echoed over and over till the words dissolved as the very last connection he had to mortality.

* * *

Garcia released Perez allowing his body to collapse to the hallway floor. Perez stared up at Garcia in his half conscious state. "Maybe your God will call you," Garcia offered. "As for me, he never calls. He lost my number a long time ago my friend."

#  CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN

By the time his guards returned to the doorway, their bosses' lifeless body laid partially into the hallway with his legs extended through the doorway's entrance. One of the men pointed at the door that led to the stairwell then placed a hand to his ear. Footsteps echoed down the stairs vanishing away to another floor.

On a hunch they rushed over to the suite next to them but it was locked. They banged on the door. Nothing. The gash across Perez neck made all of them cringe and the men took just a few seconds to think, to morn.

As if they were given an unspoken command from beyond, they snapped to attention. Both ran to the door that led to stairwell. No words were said about the next move because silently they understood. Even without their leader, boss and friend the mission would continue.

The men had no personal vendetta against Garcia; they hardly knew him, just knew of him. However the endeavor took on an above the ground roots level. Their bosses' vendetta had been tossed into the universe and the wheels of destiny spun into motion.

They couldn't abandon the mission. Personal pride accompanied a last allegiance to the man they had tremendous respect for so the mission became a personal commitment.

Inside the stairwell the sound of hurried footsteps descended to the lower floors. They knew it had to be Garcia. Several options were available and Perez's guards weighed every one as they rushed down the stairs.

They proceeded with extreme caution. Garcia could be hiding inside one of the many dark crevices carved into the walls causing them to walk right into a death trap. He could have also exited into the hallway on one of the lower floors or just pretended to throwing them off of his trail. The possibilities did not slow their resolve of pursuit. The determination to find Garcia outweighed the potential of any personal risk.

* * *

On the opposite side of the river, inside of the Watermark Hotel's lobby, a large group of conventioneers stood marveling at its interior. They paced the grand lobby speaking among one another and discussing the various works of art. Their voices elevated in unison when they would spot a particular item that excited them.

The Watermark gave the visitors a lot to gawk at with rich oil paintings that adorned the walls depicting various representations of early Texas life. Fixed around the paintings were exquisitely hand-carved wooden frames with gilded moldings. The wood's naturally dark hue complimented the warm colors specifically chosen to blend in with the wall's rich deep cream paint. The lobby, like most lobbies, served the sole intent of being inviting and warm.

The welcoming ambiance however greatly contrasted with the developing events that took place in the hallways of the hotel. Perez's guards split apart to take separate floors in their deadly search. Each guard carried a weapon and an attitude.

"Just take the elevator down to the second floor and work your way up the stairs," one of the guards said to the other. "Garcia won't have time to make it all the way to the lobby."

The guard rushed to the elevator while the remaining one made his way down the stairs. Stationed outside of the hotel were the rest of Perez's men watching every single person who exited the doors. Garcia would not slip past them.

Except for the two that were Garcia's room, none of the remaining men had any idea that they were now unemployed. The chief executive officer of the underground mafia had died.

#  CHAPTER SEVEN-EIGHT

Several feet away Mike gathered everyone together. He hid them all inside of a restaurant along the river walk. After seeing that they were all safe for the moment he made his way to the Watermark Hotel.

"Kelly keep everyone here ok?" Mike said already making his way out of the restaurant. "You guys should be safe here, I'll be back as soon as I can."

He rushed out with his thoughts set on finding and destroying the man who tried to kill his son. The fight had now become for lower then dirty and Mike was ready to tunnel through any amount of mud to get to Garcia.

The desertion of time hovered in Mike's head. Garcia would not wait around to see what would happen next so Mike knew he needed to do the same. With a missed target Garcia would vanish into the night only to return later and finish the job. Mike had no intention or desire to wait for that to happen.

As fast as he could, he maneuvered through the crowd. Confusion and panic gripped the atmosphere as tourist scattered in every direction trying to make sense out of the unfamiliar sound of real gunfire.

Mike arrived at the Watermark's lobby only to find it crowded and filled with guest. He made his way through the large room by moving along its outer perimeter. He could see the elevators across the lobby but there was no quick way to reach them. The route took him through some back hallways then to a side exit.

As Mike rounded the corner he got turned around. He started to retrace his steps till he spotted someone exiting out of the side door. The person's back was to Mike but he recognized them just before they slipped away into the darkness.

Garcia...

A rush of adrenalin shot through Mike's body. He leaped forward to catch up with Garcia. While in full stride he drew his weapon out flipping off the safety switch.

Garcia made his way from the back of the hotel into the tourist traffic of the River Walk. As soon as he surfaced, the single sniper that remained on the balcony of the La Mansion spotted him. Mike spotted him before Garcia looked up just before the first shot was fired.

A trail rapidly fired shots followed Garcia as he ran along the aged brick wall that connected to the line of small shops. Chips of concrete exploded from the wall spraying debris in all directions. Garcia scurried in swift and erratic movements making him a difficult target.

Mike trailed at a safe distance. The shots stopped when the glass behind the sniper shattered. More shots landed through out the area where he was posted forcing the sniper to dive behind the balcony's short wall.

Mike fell back even more and pressed against the wall. A large man stood in the center of the sidewalk returning fired shots at the sniper.

Mike recognized him as the same man in the store with the attractive brunette. He made his way down the street to protect Garcia. Mike also saw the attractive brunette a half a block away.

Her bags were dropped along the sidewalk. She stood watching the exchange of gunfire with wide-eyed shock. Garcia moved back to join in as he too fired at the upper balcony. With all of the chaos around her, the woman remained frozen in place.

#  CHAPTER SEVENTY-NINE

X fired return shots the moment he spotted Garcia being shot at along the river walk. When the shots stopped, X ran back to get Anna then returned to the spot where Garcia was taking cover.

Once united, all three were rushed down the cemented path that follows the scenic river's course. Mike emerged from the back ally just in time to spot them headed east along the river. He followed in hot pursuit with his gun drawn and ready to fire.

He wasn't sure if Garcia spotted him but that didn't matter. He also didn't bother with trying to remain unseen. Timing and linked events had all arrived to the current critical point. Like the 10:30 p.m. time frame at his nightclub, the point of no return arrived. Anything that could happen was about to happen.

Mike followed the trio as they made their way further from the central tourist area. The visitor traffic became more and more scarce till they passed all of the occupied and leased buildings. The quiet area lined with sections of yet to be leased spaces that remained dark and vacant.

Mike steadied his pace at a safe distance. Mike could have sped up and easily caught them but that wasn't the plan. For him the light jog was just fast enough to maintain a visual and wait for them to make an error.

Their pace seemed to decrease so he adjusted his. An opportunity would arise where he would take advantage of their fatigue so he had to remain patient. The girl lagged behind Garcia and the large man as she clutched her chest for air. Garcia and his accomplice never even noticed that the third person in their party was no longer with them.

Mike slowed his pursuit moving closer to the walls while maintaining his close observation. He hid in the shadows dipping within the brush cloaked by the night, out of view. The distance between Garcia and the girl expanded so far that if he turned around she might not have been seen.

They waited far too late to check on her.

Mike came to a complete stop. Out of the shadows someone reached out and snatched the girl. Mike moved into a carved section of the wall then remained in the distant obscurity waiting for the next events to unfold.

Whoever grabbed the girl was swift. The fast moving hand covered her mouth and in a flash just before they vanished. Just ahead of the scene Garcia and the large man finally stopped.

Mike listened close but their voices were too far away to hear. The men talked as Garcia motioned for his accomplice to return. He waddled back slowly calling her name while looking all around.

"Anna! Anna! You ok?" he said.

Garcia remained in place. The small flame sprung from his lighter then moved to the end of the cigarette. He took a few steps to follow behind the guard and in the direction where Mike was hidden. The large bodyguard arrived at the exact spot where Mike witnessed the girl disappear.

A female voice shot from the dark. "That's close enough!" she said.

Out of the shadows a tall woman stepped out with a pistol pressed into Anna's back. Garcia's guard looked back at his boss for guidance. Garcia walked leisurely closer to them then settled next to his bodyguard.

"My, my, my," Garcia began. He dropped the cigarette to the ground then extinguished it with the tip of his foot then looked over to his guard. "This is awkward now isn't it?"

The guard chuckled at the statement. Garcia rested his hand on the man's thick shoulder to share another laugh.

"So looks like my wife has caught me with the mistress."

While the girl they called Anna looked panicked and confused the tall woman maintained a straight-faced appearance. She held the gun to Anna's back but said nothing to the men.

Garcia moved away from his bodyguard circling around to a new but calculated position.

"Get away from there," Mike warned under his breath.

The woman had no idea what Garcia was doing but Mike knew exactly why he changed positions. Separated from his guard was a way to create a safety net. Spread apart, she would not have a chance to shoot all three.

Sensing the danger, the woman moved to her right using Anna as a buffer between her and the men.

"Here's the catch, my Marsha," Garcia continued. "I think that you were so caught up on tracking me down, that you didn't take enough time to figure out what you would do with me once you did." Garcia lifted this pistol from the holster inside of his jacket then pointed it directly at the women. The tall woman he called Marsha shifted further behind Anna.

"You do remember how much I loved to play chess right?" Garcia added. The woman didn't respond. He shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe not, it has been awhile. Anyway, using my little Anna here as a shield was pretty good." Garcia nodded his head approvingly. "It's almost like placing a valuable chess piece in front of another for protection. The problem is, my dear Marsha unlike most chess players, I have no problems sacrificing my queen."

After the last words escaped from his mouth, the sound of the single gunshot raced through the darkness. Garcia placed a bullet right through Anna. The hot led penetrated her small frame then tore into Marsha's stomach.

Both women dropped instantly silenced forever by the impartial hand of death.

#  CHAPTER EIGHTY

Instead of a loud splash, the sound of the dead bodies was more like quiet sadness. The large bodyguard unceremoniously tossed the bodies one by one into the river. Garcia stood by and watched on as he lit another cigarette.

Mike could no longer remain in the shadows. He slammed his hand against the wall he was hidden behind. He should have done something, anything, but now two women were dead. For the first time in years he had thoughts of his friend Dexter.

As if his legs decided to take action without the consent of his mind, Mike bolted from his hiding place. He fired his pistol rapidly alternating shots from Garcia to the large bodyguard who instantly reacted.

The first shot missed both but the second hit Garcia's guard causing him to buckle to the ground. Garcia jerked his weapon out and fired back. The guard regained his composure and also returned shots at Mike with one hand gripped his shoulder.

Mike ran toward the river with bullets racing all around him. He felt the bullets race over his head missing him by mere inches before jumping into the water. He dipped under the surface then moved in the first randomly picked direction below the dark waters.

Unable to hold his breath any longer, Mike eased to the surface lifting his face just above the water level. He took great effort to make the least amount of noise possible. With his head tilted back, only his nose and mouth broke the surface pulling in the much needed oxygen.

Partially exposed he felt vulnerable. He remained as still as possible, half anticipating another onslaught of bullets to pepper the river's surface. There were none.

He opened his eyes to find himself staring up at the flawless San Antonio night, a perfect night. The same perfect night he and Kelly admired earlier that evening. Now, however, the sky seemed less pure, tainted, and further away.

He lowered his head to see across the still waters and on to the edge. His eyes scanned the vicinity trying to see if Garcia and his guard were waiting to finish the task. He moved his head slow and cautiously searched for Garcia.

The level of quiet he tried to maintain was shattered in an instant. "Oh Shi-!" Mike's released a verbal reaction to what appeared in front of him. The dead open eyes of Anna stared right back at him. He looked around again quickly to see if he had been spotted or heard. No one was around.

Mike propelled backwards placing a distance between him and the beautiful corpse. Even in death the young woman they called Anna appeared full of life. Her soaked white blouse pressed against the body and her jet black hair floated above her head in a halo like pattern. Completely angelic, the girl was sadly linked to an incomplete life.

Mike eased out of the water hardly noticing the cold temperature. He made his way to the same area that he was before. There he felt safe, securely hidden in the vacant seclusion. He leaned his body against one of the dividing walls and tried to listen for a sound, any sound.

Within minutes Mike heard heavy breathing on the opposite side of the dividing wall. He listened close and the breathing seemed to grow heaver and labored. A trail of claret liquid led from the center of the sidewalk then vanished on the opposite side of the wall. The trail ended right were the heavy breathing could be heard.

With no regard for what could possible go wrong he made a bold move. Mike grabbed the edge of the wall then catapulted his body around the opposite side feet first. The hard kick landed directly into the upper body of the bodyguard flinging him backwards on to the unforgiving concrete.

To avoid any chance of recovery Mike pounced on top of him. Ferocious blows landed into his face like a jack hammer locked on automatic. His accumulated rage spilled out in the form of continued punches. Javier's semi conscious state went quickly into a total blackout.

Wetness covered Mike's knuckles. The thick blood drained from his hands down his right arm. The sensation was enough to make him stop the delivering the blows.

When Mike stood, he noticed the pistol lying next to the large guard. Since his gun was somewhere at the bottom on the river, he picked up the weapon and shoved it into the small of his back just under his belt. He walked east again along the river walk knowing that it was the only way Garcia could have gone. I'm coming after you.

Most of the sections were dark with winding paths that veered along the edge of brick walls covered in shrubbery. He moved fast taking long strides along the concrete trail trying to pull up ideas on his next move. The ideas would have to come later, for now his mind was too consumed with finding Garcia. No plan B was thought of or necessary.

#  CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE

Just ahead of Mike a well lit populated section of the river walk came into view. When he got closer, a dock with two tour boats floated on the waters. Several bars and clubs sat side by side across from the short boat dock with a large crowd of people scattered throughout the area.

The thick crowd allowed anyone to blend into its dense presence. Someone like Garcia could easily maneuver within it unnoticed so the group of tourist served as the perfect location for him to disappear, or try at least.

Mike walked along focused ahead till his foot hit a hard object along the path. The inadvertent stumble pushed the item along the walkway releasing the sound of sliding the metal across the concrete. After a short search, Mike found and picked up a discarded fully automatic handgun. He inspected it carefully and discovered that the weapon was empty but still very warm. Garcia's, he assumed.

Mike continued toward the crowded area. The festive atmosphere contained the typical alcohol induced vacationers who looked for bad decision and good times. The group mirrored most of the crowds that gathered along river walk at night.

The assembly thinned out once the tour boat loaded up with passengers. They stumbled on to the wide flat boat to get their fill of San Antonio's historic stories as they got transported to the other end of the river walk. Mike guessed that the majority of them boarded to avoid the walk but for whatever the reason, he was grateful that there were less people to sort through.

Ninety-nine percent of them had no real interest in the historical value of the twenty-dollar ride. Mike knew this because he had to admit that he might have been among the high percentage of visitors with no interest in the rich history of the river walk. Aside from finding Garcia, nothing mattered.

Even with an obsessed focus solely on ending this battle, self-doubt managed to surface. Thoughts of abandoning his search for Garcia invaded his resolve. He refused to allow the thoughts to surface and in the end any ideas counter to tracking down Garcia was discarded.

"Hello ladies and gentleman! Welcome to the world famous El Paseo del Rio tour!" The tour guide echoed through his overused bullhorn. "We will pass under just a few of the uniquely different thirty five bridges that cross over the river! Don't worry folks I haven't crashed into one yet...not today at least." The tour guide chuckled as if he had not said the same stale joke a few hundred times a day.

The boat pulled away from the small dock and Mike turned to the remaining crowd. Ok where do I search first? He moved through the remaining tourist scanning each and every face. None of them resembled Garcia but he felt as if he was closing in on him. His skin tingled with anticipation.

First thoughts Mike, first thoughts. Second thoughts, Mike would always admit to himself, were his biggest weakness. The majority of the time his instincts were dead on but on rare occasions, drastically off.

When his instincts veered off the common condition contributed to unbalance. Each time too many issues cluttered his mind to allow and stable line of thinking. The uncertainty created a paused calculation of the obvious and this was one of those clouded moments.

Just as fast as the dim thoughts grouped together, the clouds parted and in a moment of transparency. He figured it out and pulled his hands on top of his head shaking it in disbelief.

He turned to watch the boat float away in the distance. It moved further away behind him transforming into a distant shadow. The ongoing description of the river's history echoed across the area as the tour guide recited the memorized speech through his bullhorn.

Mike grunted with frustration. He lifted his head to the sky then lowered it just as the tour boat faded around the far turn. This time he didn't have to search, he and Garcia's eyes met right away.

In his grandiose style, Garcia stood from the tour boat's seat. Just like Garcia did in the Memphis Night club, his taunting stance presented one of total defiance. Garcia stood too far away for Mike to see him clearly but he didn't have too, it was him.

Mike's vivid imagination filled in the indistinguishable parts. He saw the pompous smirk below a set of squinted eyes that peered between the rising cigarette smoke. The small orange glow from the end of the lit cigarette pierced the night as it dangled between Garcia's lips.

The small light moved away from his mouth as he pulled the cigarette out then invitingly spread his arms wide apart. The jester caused Mike's temper to rise. Once again Garcia dared him to shoot.

Mike's mind spun with calculations determining the distance between them. I know I can catch them on foot. He yanked off his shoes with his eyes locked on Garcia.

I'm going after that bastard.

As Garcia watched Mike prepare to come after him he appeared unfazed. The distant smirk grew wider. Garcia held his cell phone high making sure that Mike could see it.

Mike paused just before making a full sprint along the concrete path of the river walk. His face contorted with when the sound of footsteps approached from behind him. The confusion preceded complete bewilderment when several hands grabbed him from behind then slammed him to the ground.

The men forced Mike's arms behind his back before pushing his face against the cold hard concrete surface. Radio static from the police scanners crackled through the small speakers. Then the sound of the locking metal preceded the sensation of the tight metal handcuffs slapping around his wrists.

He strained his head against the callous riddled hand placed on the back of his head. Mike managed to lift his neck up just as enough to see Garcia's tour boat drift around the final turn.

Garcia's shadow coolly pulled the cigarette in and out of his mouth. In a malevolent twist of irony, Mike put it together. That bastard called the cops on me.

Like a menacing mirage, Garcia's silhouette faded into the night. The flat bottom tour boat floated out of view serving as the last time that he saw Martin Garcia.

#  Epilogue

On the one-year anniversary after the events from their San Antonio experience. They welcomed the milestone with a unanimous decision of a simple celebration. Danny's birthday party would include a lot of cake, games, and a family themed movie.

Mike and Danny's minds churned as they landed in the mist of a competitive chess game. Normally Mike would easily defeat his son, except for the occasional thrown in white towel to allow Danny some sense of confidence. This time Mike didn't have the luxury of backing down. Danny had some expert assistance.

The Whiz sat by Danny's side guiding him along with advice that Mike realized bordered on brilliant. Through a succession of moves they cornered Mike's key chess pieces placing him in very tough predicaments more then once.

"What is this two against one?" Mike laughed.

The game went on longer then expected running right into snack time. Kelly called from the kitchen. "Hey boys, everything is ready!"

The meal for the evening, if you could call it that, consisted of items personally requested from the birthday boy with the advisory committee of his two buddies of course. Hot dogs, hot wings, and hot popcorn were the requested items and all prepared by Kelly.

Mike studied the last move made by the Wiz and Danny with John looking on anxiously bouncing in place. John, when he didn't cheat, was a pretty good chess player himself but this time assumed the role of the spectator. He rocked on the edge of his chair routing them on.

John could not play the part of just any bystander. He became the irreverent spectator who played the character to Denzel Washington perfection. The squeaky voiced red head, made Mike feel as if he were playing at the opponent's unreceptive stadium and a virtual visitor among the hostile environment of the home team.

"Damn Mr. Andrews why did you do that?" John would say after every other move. This sneer would be followed by, "Ooooh you needed that piece! It's...so...ova...now!" Then came the obnoxious nerdy butt dance. "Game time!! Game time!!"

Clearly the audience leaned to his opponent's side. Between the badgering and trying to hold in his laughter, concentrating on the game proved to be impossible.

John tossed an air punch over the game board. "Smash!! He just took yo queen Mr. Andrews! Yoooo Queeeen!! Oh my God it's so ova, it's soooo ova! You can tell that king to bend ova and kiss yo-"

"John!!!!!" Kelly shouted from the other room. Mike stifled his chuckle but Danny and the Wiz rolled on the floor holding their stomachs, wailing with laughter as well as the pride of their moves. John turned a beet red between his multiple freckles.

Kelly leaned back into the living room with a stern glare. Mike hunched his shoulders and smiled just before she vanished back into the kitchen.

She felt as sense of calm when she was around. Soon they would be official. For half of a year now they reveled in the ongoing wedding plans. He couldn't wait.

He couldn't speak for her; she had her hands full with four men. But Mike knew she adored it almost as much as he adored her. Danny had to give his stamp of approval and he did. A year after they returned from San Antonio the relationship with Kelly had progressed to a peek level. The next step had to be a wedding.

The boys seemed as happy to hear the news as Danny. The Whiz went with the flow but it was clear that he wanted to marry Kelly. As for John, Mike doubted that he ever actually saw Kelly's face since he couldn't stop staring at her chest. Mike understood that problem because he still did it.

A text message popped up on Mike's phone from his good friend Eric. "Big Mike, I am back in Mexico this week, Tell Danny happy birthday and I'll have a gift for him when I get back!" The message made Mike smile.

He thought about how he met Eric years ago and how their friendship evolved from him being a regular customer to becoming someone he considered as part of the family. He made Mike laugh every time. That Eric is a damn clown, he smiled to himself.

Time truly raced along because it seemed like it was only recently that he met Eric at the Memphis bar. Now he was the unofficial Godfather to Danny. Seeing his buddy was always a treat and upon each returned trip, Eric would have stories about the beautiful sites and places that he visited. No matter how much Eric would rave on about the joys of traveling, Mike knew that he longed for something more secure, like a family of his own.

Each week after Eric returned from one of his trips, he came straight to the bar. Last time he saw him he had a new story of his travel adventures. Eric told Mike about an extended Mexico trip that he took in Manzanillo, Colima.

The conversation didn't take its usual course. More times then less, the escapades consisted of scantily dressed model like women fully filled with exotic drinks. This time he spoke of a man he spotted on the beach in the small picturesque town.

The man, he said, was flocked by several beautiful women all vying to gain his attention. At least five bodyguards stood near him. Eric confessed the he could only see the back of the person's head but swore that the man was none other then Martin Garcia.

Mike thought about the possibility and had very little doubt that it was Garcia. From what Mike discovered some time ago, Garcia was from the small town.

The FBI's investigation into the San Antonio shootings placed Garcia on the country's top ten most wanted list but that was only in America. Everyone knew that he had skipped the country but any attempt to enter the US would be impossible and essentially, a death wish.

Marsha Garcia, the murdered federal air marshal and ex-wife of Garcia was key in Garcia's top 10 listing. Her involvement in the case gave the FBI some valuable information so Martin Garcia no longer possessed the freedom to fly under the radar. Saddly she never saw the fruit of her efforts.

The government buried her in Arlington cemetery with full honor. First lady Michelle Obama gave the eulogy.

The peaceful times Mike now enjoyed, made the San Antonio ordeal seem as if it occurred a lifetime ago. Every so often when time sores by, it's a good thing.

A lingering annoyance remained from the verity that Garcia was still breathing the same air; it would take time for the hatred to totally fade, immeasurable time.

"Check!! Dad, earth to Dad! Come on, your move dad!" Danny said.

Mike pulled his attention back to the chess game. The boys were giving each other high fives and beaming proudly at their recent moves. They had every reason to celebrate. The boys placed Mike's king piece in a very tight spot and at first glance, getting out seemed impossible.

He studied the board hard to see if there was a way to avoid the pending checkmate. It took some doing but Mike pulled out a miracle. In a few moves he managed to slip out of the trap set by the boys. A few plays later, he gained an advantage and soon the two kings were the only remaining pieces left on the board.

John reacted first, "Damn!"

Danny held out his hands palms up. "So what do we do now, who won?"

Danny never reached this point of the game. His youthful face frowned with confusion.

"Nobody won," the Wiz answered dryly.

Mike reached across the chessboard then laid both kings on their sides.

Kelly rounded the corner with a large plate of hot wings. John and the Wiz jumped up to help her then dashed around the corner to see what else waited in the kitchen.

"Don't hurt yourselves boys!" Kelly yelled back.

Mike looked across the chessboard at Danny. He gave his son a smile laced with fatherly pride. He palmed Danny's head, running his hand through his son's hair. His thoughts mixed with enjoying the moment and realizing how close he came to losing him.

"Good game son," he said.

"So dad, you saying that nobody won?" Danny could not pull his eyes away from the chessboard.

"No, no one won. But no one really lost either. We live to fight another day, for now it was a stalemate."

After a long night of more games and movies everyone had finally tired out. One by one they drifted to sleep in a shared onset of exhaustion linked to the long evening. Nearly everyone fell into separate compartments of secluded dreams.

The one exception often found the peaceful conditions of REM sleep evasive. Mike stared at the ceiling above his bed. By now he had every crevice and indention of the surface counted. Even the number of rotations the ceiling fan completed per minute was calculated within 1 to 2 turns. Kelly slept next to him with the most peaceful expression he had ever seen across her face.

Outside of the window another Dallas night spread across the city with skies so clear that every star was visible. The same timeless starry skies hovered above the great men and women of the past. They gazed at the very same skies, the very same stars, where time only affected the existence below the sky above.

No matter how beautiful, Mike knew that somewhere beneath that same dusk dwelled another kind of existence. That night hovered over iniquitous intentions where the volume of morality was balanced by comparison.

Mike never had any illusion that it wasn't there. Just like the past, the future, and today evil was definitely alive. It existed because it has to exist. The reality of the other kind of night balanced the scales just out of reach, but never far away. It also had the potential of tilting its way.

A walk through the purest garden could be filled with the most beautiful music and still drowned by dark footsteps. Happiness can always change on a dime. Sometimes it is caused by the problems of the present. Other times it is just the reverberation from a past that would not go away, like a dormant plague, like yesterday's darkness.

### Do not miss the mind blowing sequel to Yesterday's Darkness! Author Carl Henegan takes a literary quantum leap with his next installment in the Michael Andrews series.

Read on for this sneak preview of Darkness Left Undone!

Coming out July 2012!

#### Prologue

Tehran, Iran

January 11, 12:45 p.m.

Mostafa Ahmadi Roshan stumbled as he rushed into the back seat of the dark gray Peugeot 405. Agonizing thoughts pressed large amounts of sweat through his pores to the surface of his tanned face. Moisture seeped from his scalp, trickling under the frame of his wire-rimmed glasses till dripping through his neatly cropped jet-black beard. He wiped the condensation away more then once, lifting the thin frames then patting a small handkerchief on the drenched areas just below his baggy eye sockets.

Time - in the extended seconds after leaving the office - towed in a sluggish tempo. The entire environment felt off beat and dark. He stole a glance at his watch and could have sworn that the second hand tick to the left instead of to the right.

More sweat followed the lead of his forehead by rising through the skin across the rest of his body. His pure white cotton shirt clung to his slim frame as if it were glued to the epidermis. The clammy palms of his hands were much like the back of his neck and felt like warm water had been slashed across it.

He slapped his damp hand against the back of the driver's headrest. Sweat clouded eyes darted in every direction. Aside from a dark clothed man watching from a nearby intersection, virtually no one was around. At least not any one I can actually see, he thought. He urged his driver to pull away. "Go Amin! Please go...go now!"

In the mist of the chaos Mostafa took a precious moment to think about what he just saw. A black overcoat in this temperature? He took another look at the man fully dressed in dark clothing standing in the same spot looking on with a calm but curious interest.

A small white square now appeared on the front of the man's collar. Hadn't noticed that before. The dark clothing was actually a robe, a priest robe. Mostafa stopped breathing in mid inhalation. My God...it's him. The black robe swayed in the breeze atop of his tall slender frame.

Before Mostafa could fully process the sight of the priest his attention drew away. Oddly enough the distraction evolved around what was not happening with the car. Why aren't we moving?

His driver placed the car into gear but when their eyes meet in the mirror Amin's foot remained on the break. Although Mostafa tried to hide it, the image that Amin saw was enough to raise serious concern. The friendship portion of their relationship took precedence over the business side. His driver was about to place the camaraderie hat on and not remove it; Mostafa saw it in his eyes.

Amin swiveled his round body around in the front seat narrowing his eyes with genuine disquiet at Mostafa. He understood the concern but there just wasn't enough time to explain...not now and not later, if ever. This act of silence wasn't a choice it was a necessity. He had to keep that part of his life the way he always kept it, far away from everyone including Amin.

More then anything he feared this moment. The highly off limits part of his life had finally bled into the known areas. The act of keeping anything remotely related to his occupation away from his family had run its course.

The moment surprised him but he should have been ready for it. Denial pushed his coherent thought process aside and that was his entire fault. Admittedly he wasn't prepared for the inevitable.

Before any of this, Mostafa made a personal vow. His soul stood as the only witness to very the private conversation. As far as his family was concerned, none of them would ever know.

The vow of self-secrecy not only excluded family but also the people he considered as family. The very few that fell in this category dwelled on a very short list with Amin at the very top. With the enlightenment of the current circumstances, he admonished the fact that he intentionally ignored the all too clear signs. Day after day it became more difficult to maintain his secret.

Mostafa managed to go on for a long time keeping his private life hidden but Amin was about to end it. His eyes said as much as the silence. He made a stand and Mostafa knew better then anyone that his friend's resilience was legendary.

Amin stuck to issues, opinions, and even the planet itself like glue. He had more close calls then any mortal alive, which became an inside joke. Mostafa often said that at the end of the world the only things left would be Betty White, the ocean, and Amin.

Today Amin drew the virtual line in the sand. He refused to allow Mostafa's secrecy to continue as he lifted a judicious eyebrow at Mostafa.

"Just drive Amin! I know you have questions but for now, just drive!"

Little hope existed that Amin would actually listen but he had to try. Unlike past incidents, this one commanded immediate attention and Amin could not just look the other way. This time his unyielding glare remained solid.

He wanted more then anything to bypass this moment but that option had been dissolved forever. Amin didn't ask the question hovering above them. He didn't ask it simply because he didn't have to ask it. Amin placed his very large foot down but not out of casual curiosity; this stemmed from authentic and admittedly justified apprehension.

Amin's part in the family consisted of multiple roles. He considered himself as Mostafa's close friend but it did not end there. Amin's roles also included the Godfather to his son, Mostafa's personal driver, and the protector for the entire family. Amin also – unknown to him till that instant – represented the position of the family's unofficial bodyguard; a position that he had no idea was even needed.

No matter how much Mostafa attempted to rationalize the need for concealment, he could not lie to himself. He handled the situation all wrong. Of all people in Mostafa's life, Amin had the right to know not just part of the information, but everything. In fact the entire family should have known including any relatives of his so they could also be on guard.

Amin's only blood relative lived far away. He seldom spoke of his sister but when he did anyone could here the pride in his voice whenever he mentioned her. She is a journalist in northern Africa who is an avid fighter against injustice, he would say with swelling pride.

Aside from his sister, Amin made it no secret that he considered the Roshans as his true family. All family functions included Amin's jolly presence. To Mostafa's son he was simply Uncle Amin, but no matter the title, the entire family felt as close to him as he felt to them.

The bond began from the day they first met mere weeks after Mostafa graduated from Sharif University. Initially Amin's work consisted of odd jobs around the home of the Roshan's. His duties quickly expanded till the relationship transformed into what it became today. In the months that followed he became without a doubt, family. Not friend or employee but true unconditional family.

"They saw me. I think they saw me," Mostafa grabbed his head with both hands, "No, I know that they saw me!"

He spun around looking out the back window for a fifth time. He then paused recalling the other even much more disturbing sight then scanned to the exact spot where the priest stood. This time no one was there. He's gone. "Go Amin! Just go...that's all I can say now!"

"Ok Ok! I'll go but after this we need to talk. I'm not here just for the fine times Mostafa, let me help you." Amin twisted his body forward then griped his meaty hands on the steering wheel.

A loud thump followed Amin's words as his heavy foot slammed the gas peddle to the floorboard. The back tires rotated over the solid surface for only a split second before gripping the cold concrete and launching the car forward. The scent of burning rubber filled the car's interior as it rocketed away from the curb. The Peugeot shot down Ferdosi Avenue like a gray flash of fleeting steel.

Amin maneuvered the car through the light Northern Tehran traffic till he pulled ahead of the other vehicles that occupied the road. Within minutes they were far away from their initial starting point at the office. Even at the safe distance Mostafa felt compelled to look out the back window. If anyone lurked out there now he couldn't see them but that was hardly enough to settle his anxiety.

Amin cut his eyes into the rearview mirror. "Relax, I can assure you that no one was able to follow us."

Just as he spoke a car emerged from a side street nearly colliding into them. Amin swerved the Peugeot to the left bouncing on the far curb. He jerked the steering wheel hard to the right bringing the car back on the level surface. Once in control, he grunted frustrated words at the other passing car.

Mostafa eyed the vehicle as it moved by them. He peered inside at the driver but the person behind the wheel remained facing forward with a look of discomfort. The car then sped away.

"I hope you're right Amin," Mostafa said with an unsure tone.

At the next intersection Amin took a quick left. He turned the car so fast that the Peugeot briefly tilted on two wheels. Like a professional driver, Amin repeated the maneuver for several more turns till they arrived far away from the main streets.

The car's speed decreased to a slow casual roll. Amin waited till his eyes connected with Mostafa's again in the rear view mirror. "Mostafa, what is this about?"

When he opened his mouth he planned on telling Amin the truth but out of condition, the truth just wouldn't come out. "It's nothing. Just paranoid but it's nothing."

Amin lifted one furry eyebrow as he glared at his friend. "Nothing?" Amin tightened a thick hand on the back of his neck to massage it.

"I should have just moved my family to America," he said under his breath.

"America?"

"Yes, I want my son to have more options. Here even with my degree, there are very few," he said then gripped Amin's meaty shoulder. "Amin, if anything happens to me, will you look after my wife and son?"

"You ask me this? You already know this. I would watch over them even after my own death. What...is...going...on?! Tell me," Amin said as he brought the car to an even slower pace.

Mostafa leaned forward placing a hand on Amin's thick shoulder. "Amin, I think someone leaked information on me. They know what I do now."

Amin's eyes altered from concern to alarm. His normally tanned even keel expression transformed into gaunt worry. "La hawla wala quwata illa billah," he said.

Mostafa nodded in agreement. "I know. I'm dissatisfied also but what can I do?"

"And what exactly was leaked?"

"My job Amin, working with things everyday that could cause much sorrow in the wrong hands. I accepted a position that I'm too ashamed to even tell my own family."

Amin shook his head. "No," he said. He wagged a bulky finger in the air. "Do not be ashamed of what you do. You are a scientist and that is something to be proud of Mostafa."

"Nuclear scientist," Mostafa said.

"What's the difference? You're just doing a job. Is that why we are driving like fools? You think that someone will harm you for that?"

"Not think...know. Two of my co-workers have already been killed and I don't think it was a coincidence. That's why I insisted that I remain anonymous when I accepted the position."

"And why do you think you are not anonymous now?"

"A reporter contacted me, some online journalist or something. She told me that she read my name in a Hungarian and American newspaper. After she told me that, I pulled up the article on line. She was right. It gave inside information on me, even listed my full name as head of the program. Since then I've been noticing people not with the company looking for someone, I know it was for me. Just before I left today I know that I saw two men lurking outside of the office building."

Amin groaned heavily. "Uhh, I understand now. You should have told me this before. It's ok Mostafa I have my own circle of connections. As long as I'm around no one will harm you or your family. La ilaha illa Allah."

"Yes...yes I know. But although there is no good but Allah, there is a lot of bad out there."

A black motorcycle with two passengers pulled out from between two buildings. Just as the car did before, the bike also barely missed a direct collision into them. Amin rolled his driver's side window half way down. "Idiot! Watch where you are going!!" He threw his hand out with a clinched fist grumbling angrily beneath his breath. The black motorcycle slowed down as it veered to the far right allowing their car to pull up next to him. Amin lowered the window the rest of the way down.

"Let it go Amin!" Mostafa urged.

Amin cut his glance into the mirror. "You're right Mostafa, and I can not be upset for you keeping the information about your work away from me. I have a small confession of my own."

"The mysterious monthly trips?"

Amin's face enveloped with surprise. "You know of this?"

"I never pried into your affairs Amin, but I was aware that you would vanish from time to time."

"Ok Mostafa I will tell only you. Aside from working with you, I also..."

Amin's words were cut off when he became distracted by another two passenger black motorcycle. It pulled up on the opposite side of the Peugeot.

Clank!! Clank!!

The metal to metal clinging sounded off on both sides of the car.

"What was that?" Amin said looking back to make sure Mostafa was ok.

"It was them," Mostafa said pointing at the motorcycles. "The two people on back of those bikes just attached something to the car!"

"What is this? What's going on here?" Amin protested out of the driver's window as the motorcycles speeds away.

Mostafa sat up straight. After a serene realization he leaned back into the back seat. The mystery ended; he now knew what just happened to them recognizing the uncommon but very effective tactic. Mostafa watched as the high whining engines of the two motorcycles speed away then cut between the buildings ahead before vanishing out of view.

This time when their eyes met in the mirror Mostafa saw the reflection of his own internal fear in Amin's eyes. Something was very wrong. The muffled hum of Amin's voice hung in the air like a balloon that was just about to rupture.

"A-ozu billahi mena shaitaan Arrajeem," Mostafa whispered.

The Islamic prayer came into his head although it had been years since it was taught to him. He remembered the prayer word for word just as his mother had embedded into his psyche from as far back as he could remember. Although his mother had passed away years ago he could now hear her reciting the phrase with her angelic voice that was as alive and vibrant now as it was when she had actually spoke to him so many years before.

"Boooom!!!!!"

His mother's voice vanished along with his ability to hear the sounds around him. Amin's voice, the car engine, and the distant whining of the motorcycle engines vanished and became replaced by a steady buzz.

A-ozu billahi mena shaitaan Arrajeem, he said again. But he could only hear the words internally where even there they still blended into the fixed buzz.

His mother's voice somehow elevated over the maddening noise. Her words murmured in his head and this time he not only hears her but also sees her.

She stood there directly in front of him so close that he reached out to her. Along with her was the vision of him as a young boy. She leaned over him as she taught him the sacrosanct prayer. Whenever you feel unsafe Mostafa recite these words for your mother ok? Use them to seek refuge in the arms of Allah.

Intense heat consumed his body as flames filled the interior of the vehicle. Weightlessness followed as the entire car lifted into the air. If it were not for the burning pain across this skin he would feel like an angel in flight.

His mind cleared, free of worry, free of all worldly matters.

"A-ozu billahi mena...." he started uttering the phrase one more time but only got half way through. The full force of the explosion propelled the car higher into the air. The car detonated as the second thunderous explosion hit. The scent of ignited fuel and burning flesh consumed his nostrils.

The heap of mangled metal crashed back to earth. Along with the inflamed car, gray metal pieces tainted in crimson blood cascaded across the multi colored cobblestone street.

Chapter 1

Dallas, Texas

February 3, 6:14 p.m.

"Big Mike!!!" One of his waitress' screamed from outside of his back office. "Mike! I think we're out of one of the beers!"

Even before she shouted from the hallway the stress level had materialized into the form of a severe headache. The accounting numbers for the monthly report blurred and jumbled together. Hours creped by with little variation in Mike's comatose gaze at the figures. This would have continued for hours longer if it had not been for his waitress calling out to him.

He replied with the question that should have already been addressed. "Which one? What beer are we out of?" he shouted back.

He never lifted his head as he waited for an answer. When he didn't get a reply, the issue skimmed across his immediate concerns. In the recent weeks his mind not only drifted but also preformed an all out lost surf on rough waters. He made a half hearted effort but it was just too difficult to elevate his head from the sea of red accounting numbers etched across the stack of papers on his desk.

The numbers just like the month before and the month before that, refused to add up. More accurately they did add up but refused to add up the way he needed them, in the black instead of the red. Along with the rest of the country, his Dallas Texas bar suffered from the economy's downturn. For the first time since he took sole ownership, the bar tittered on the edge of going out of business.

Finally a response came from the hallway. "Nooot sure!"

"You think you can find out for me?!" He stopped looking at the numbers and waited. "Ok?! You still there?!"

He puffed his cheeks then released a short burst of frustrated air. A quick glance at his watch made him repeat the process. It's just never enough time in twenty - four hours. At 6:53 p.m. time arrived far too quickly to leave the office and put on another of his many hats. For the rest of the night he will roam the floor of the bar serving as one of the main bouncers.

He didn't need to check his watch to know what time it was; he could hear the crowd gearing up as they had always done at that hour in the late evening. Rumblings from the ever expanding bar visitors filtered through the walls. The night shift merged into the initial stages of mayhem.

He held a small stack of the papers mindlessly shifting through them. After a steady four hours working, he was far from finished. Another pile of tax forms and vendor contracts that he had not touched stacked like a small tower on his desk. The work may grow but it never ended.

As much as he would love to blame his unfinished duties on the lack of time, it had a lot to do with him. He stared at the worksheets far more then coming up with actual solutions, if there were any solutions. At this point he had his doubts.

The numbers would have to wait. Resolved issues or not, patrons ordered the drinks and the bartenders pored them every night seven days a week. Thirsty visitors could care less that he hadn't made a dent in his paperwork nor should they.

The crowd grew fast as this point in the late evening. The chatter outside of his office increased so loud that it would have been impossible to work even if he had the time. Mike slammed the papers on top of the rest. As usual, it's going to be even more for me to not finish tomorrow.

Crash!

The far too familiar sound of shattering glass thundered through the back wall. His guess was that another tray of serving glasses had been dropped in the kitchen. He hoped that he was wrong but if that was in fact a tray of glasses, it would be the seventh one this week. The cost of replacing the glasses took an additional toll on the already strained budget of the Memphis Bar.

Ring! Ring!

The office phone chimed and the timing was as perfectly placed as leg cramps in the middle of a foot race. He stared at the receiver and if looks could dismantle the business phone would have imploded. Where is a bat when you need one? Inopportune times by definition are never welcomed so the phone call fell into that unwanted category.

"Memphis Bar and Grill, Michael speaking," he said. At the same time Rufus – his head bartender – appeared in the doorway. When he saw the phone against Mike's face he held up a lemon with one hand and formed a zero with the other. The good news keeps flowing, out of beer, out of lemons, and out of money.

"Mr. Andrews?" the tart female voice said on the other end of the phone.

Mike flipped through his rolodex for a vender who could bring in more lemons on credit. His brain – out of absolute necessity – grew comfortable with conducting multiple tasks. "Yes this is Mike Andrews," he answered.

"Mr. Andrews this is Mrs. Janelle Wooten the principal from Plano Jr. High School," she said.

Mike stopped spinning the rolodex. Oh come on Danny. This call marked the second one from his son's principal in the last month. The first time stemmed from an incident that occurred when the teacher left the room for a bathroom break. Danny and his best friend John decided to super glue the classroom door. It took over an hour for the janitor to get back inside.

Mike hoped that this was not for something even more serious. He sat up in his chair. "Yes Miss Wooten how can I help you?"

She spoke like a stage actor doing an over performed scene. Her heavy Texas accented words dragged out as if what she was about to say had worldly implications. "Mr. Andrews, it seems that your son Daniel and a classmate of his...a err um Willard Matthews somehow figured out the password to the school computers and were uploading animated cartoons with the faculty's faces placed on them."

"I see," Mike said more impressed then pissed.

"Mr. Andrews you will need to have a talk with your son. We just cannot I repeat cannot tolerate this sort of deliberate lack of respect for our school rules and faculty members. Also I just wanted to inform you that Daniel as well as Willard will be suspended from school on Monday and I do hope that this will be the last time that I have to call you about Daniel."

"I'll take care of it Mrs. Wooten thank you for calling me. I am so sorry," Mike said.

"Your welcomed Mr. Andrews," she said abruptly then disconnected the call.

Ring! Ring!!

"Memphis Bar and Grill Mike Andrews speaking," he answered.

His wife Kelly's voice returned words that was as dry as the principal's. "Michael."

At one time his name was honey or babes but somewhere along the way the pet labels vanished. In the past several months the nomenclature became just Michael, not Mike but a short abrupt disgruntled Michael. "Did you remember to set a new doctor's appointment for Danny for next week?" Kelly said.

A mere two years of marriage and the tension had already reared its ugly head. The honeymoon phase of the relationship fizzled out faster then the kegs at dollar beer happy hour. Mike's schedule permitted little time for anything other then work except that is for the time needed to work on his marriage.

His relationship with Kelly wasn't the only thing suffering due to the extensive work hours. Quality time between he and Danny had been scarce a best. Danny split time between Mike's home and his biological mom's place evenly. Unfortunately Mike hardly spent his allotted time at home.

Kelly didn't pull any punches about Mike's lack of time at home. As she put it, no matter how much time Danny spent at his place would still be unless in the end because Mike was never around to share it with him. He argued with her at the time but deep inside he knew she was right. When his son visited his place, Danny shared the majority of his time with Kelly while Mike worked feverishly at the bar.

"No I didn't reschedule the appointment Kelly but I'll take care of it tomorrow," Mike said.

Kelly remained quiet for a moment. "You said that last week Michael."

"I realize that, and not that you care or notice but here's some breaking information. I have a lot going on Kelly so yes it may have slipped my mind, what are the great odds on that one? But I'll take care of it, I always do."

"You could have kept the sarcasm, I know that! But look Michael it's not like you have to be spread out like this."

"You think so huh?"

"Come on Mike I use to work there remember? You can delegated some of the things you do there, let one of the guys take on more duties. You always think that you have to carry everything on your own shoulders!"

"Oh please Kelly, it's not that simple and you know that!"

"It is that simple Michael!"

Another employee stood in the doorway trying to get Mike's attention. "I don't even have time for this right now Kelly," he said between clinched teeth. Before he could finish his words he jerked at the sound of the phone being slammed on the opposite end.

The hard smash left a ringing in Mike's ear. When provoked by him, she had a habit of slamming her cell phone against the nearest hard surface. After the last two times he upset Kelly and had to purchase a new phone, he took a proactive approach by purchasing adequate insurance. Now he had backup to cover the cost of any future phones that fell victim to Kelly's wrath.

* * *

That night or more accurately, morning, Mike took the scenic route home. After closing the bar Mike traditionally utilized the forty-minute drive to unwind and clear his mind. On this morning the questionable future of the bar governed his thoughts. Maybe I'll just sell the damn place. He twisted his neck from one side to the other feeling the tight muscles across his broad shoulders stiffen.

He reached back with one hand and massaged his neck. Weeks, if not longer, had past since he made any time to hit the gym. As he drove north, the round about path took him directly past a 24 hour fitness center. He felt the need to take the long way home and this was not the first time. Unlike the others, this time he pulled his car into the fitness center parking lot.

After a very short warm up session he attacked the weights with an aggressive one-hour set. The workout revived his recent lack of enthusiasm doing far more for his mind then his body. The displaced focus of the intense workout left his muscles tight and in turn therapeutically allowing him to place his worries aside.

On the way out of the fitness center Mike notices the large round wall clock. The design, as surely intended, looked like a dumbbell weight. The barbell shaped hands pointed slightly past 3:30 a.m. By the time he would make it home it will be close to four in the morning.

The remainder of the ride home consisted of a slow increase of troubling issues flowing back into his head. The effective workout session only paused his carefree mentality but he embraced the short mental break from the veracity of the real world.

The peace of mind ended up being nothing more then a very brief escape. He felt as if the brief break server as nothing more then looking the other way before crashing into a wall. Eventually he was going to have to deal with the mounting issues.

Once inside of his north Dallas home the first thing Mike notices is Kelly's cell phone sitting half tilted on the counter. He flipped it over to find the lower end protruding away from the frame with visible wires extending from the bottom. A crack extended from the top of the screen straight down the center.

"Unbelievable," Mike said with frustration.

Two neatly folded blankets and pillow rest on the couch. Great. On the bright side, if he could call it that, two blankets were placed there for him. One blanket indicated that she was really pissed off. No blankets signified that he needed to sleep with one eye opened.

The quick shower relaxed him so much that he closed his eyes the entire time. After he finished, he dropped on the couch feeling the weight of the entire day push him into the soft cushions. Much like the iced shoulder Kelly gave to him, the living room felt far too cold so he pulled the covers over his head then drifted off to sleep.

When Mike opened his eyes again, morning had already arrived. He blinked to make out the shadow standing over him. His son Danny looked down with his usual half smile expression.

"Dad you sleep?" Danny smiled. "Check it out I found this old video of you doing back flips over a wall!"

Mike twisted his back from one side to the other. His face grimaced from the stiff pain across his shoulders. "No I'm up," he grunts. "Video? What video?" He squinted at Danny who pointed at the flat screen television. Mike turned his head to the TV screen.

Danny increased the volume with the remote. "Yeah see?"

Fatigue touched every part of Mike's body and it took an added effort to even see. Mike peered between the small slits of his sleep deprived eyes. On the television was his own blurred image dressed in Air Force fatigues.

Mike blinked to make the image appear clearer in a slow focus.

"Where in the world did you get that?" he said.

His clouded vision finally became lucid enough to see the entire picture. "Good lord that's old. Where did you find that?"

"Found it in a box in the garage," Danny said. "Whoooooe look at that!"

"Yeah, but you should see the videos that I threw away when I almost busted my head," Mike laughed.

"How old where you back then dad?"

"I think I was in my early twenties."

"Who was holding the camera?"

"My buddy Dexter filmed that when we were goofing around on the job." Mike stretched hard and yarned. "We were on the avionics team, sort of like mechanics for airplanes. We had to wait in these big trucks next to the flight lines till the planes took off. So since that would take hours sometimes, we would do back flips over these short wall dividers while we waited." He looked closer at the TV lifting his eyebrows in disbelief. "We could have broken our necks. That was pretty stupid."

Danny's eyes locked on the television. "Man that's cool! Can you still do that?"

"Ha! I doubt it. That was dumb and a looong time ago, so now it would be insane. Speaking of not being too smart, we need to have a little talk there Danny the Kid. Got a call from your principal, again."

"Wha? Me? But I didn't even..."

Mike held up his hand. "Save it. Your principal said that...."

"Mike! Mike!!!" Kelly screamed from the other side of the house.

Mike placed his hand over his forehead. "Good God Kelly," he mumbled. "Yeah?!!" he said louder.

"Come here, you have a call. Hurry up!"

"The cordless is in here, I'll pick it up here!"

"No, come here Mike! You have to get it in here!"

"Daa...m" he started, and then changed his choice of words. "Doggit!" He lifted his body off the couch then made his way to the hall. "You're not off the hook yet," he said over his shoulder to Danny.

A tight cramp pulled at his thigh mussel so hard that he had to limp down the remainder of the hallway. Kelly poked her head out of the bedroom and saw him moving down the hall. "What's taking you so long?"

"I'm coming," Mike grunted.

He entered the bedroom and Kelly guided him to the computer.

"It's Eric, he's on Skype," she said.

"Eric Dunbar? On skype? You talking about the online phone deal?" Mike said still not fully awake.

"Yes on all three questions. I use skype all the time to talk to my parents in Idaho, oh...but you're not around enough to see that right?"

Mike ignored the jab. She caught him of guard before with one of her many her mild protests. The growing list of things that irritated her stayed at her beckon call. This time he avoided opening up another ongoing dialogue about how he doesn't spend enough time at home. He flopped into the desk chair and was eye to eye with Eric's on screen image.

"Damn bout time man! You left a brotha waiting forever," Eric laughed.

"Eric D! Where in the hell are you? You haven't stunk up my bar in a month," Mike joked. He eased back into the cushioned desk chair as Eric released a loud burst of laughter.

"Man get the hell out of here. I'm the classiest customer you got in that hole in the ghetto you own. You still doing your own bouncing there too?"

Mike's cheeks remain lifted as they always did around Eric. His long time friend not only had that affect on him but on everyone. Eric made you forget your troubles or at the very least laugh about them.

Eric's large physique filled the monitor's screen as much as his robust laughter filled the room. With the free spirited wit of a comedian and the personable traits of a salesman he always had a commanding presence. With that Eric still maintained a degree of mystery about him almost as if the jolly façade was to ensure that no one tried to dig deeper.

"Ghetto?" Mike laughed. "Addison is about as far from the Ghetto as you are from monogamous. But you may be right about being the classiest customer that comes into my bar. At least when you're buying rounds for the women that you're chasing, you pay off their tab."

"Damn right I'm the classiest customer you have. Wait! Hold on a second. Did you just call me a playboy in front of Kelly? Oooo you wrong as hell for that!"

"Yeah right!" Mike laughed. "Ok, before you close your mouth here's another shocker for ya. As far as I know Kelly never thought of you as a choir boy. But she does think that you might have slept with a few girls who sing in the choir though."

"Oooo another sucker punch, back off Mike you not that damn big! You're on a roll today." Eric lifted his chin to peer over Mike's shoulder. "Where is Kelly anyway?"

"Just stepped out of the room."

"Oh yeah? I was gonna tell her to put in a word in for me to her friend Tracy."

"Tracy? You like Tracy? I thought you were on your European girl fetish this month."

"Man look here, I draw no lines when it comes to females. Tracy is bad. Gotta keep a steady stream of my sista's in the harem, feel me?"

"No, not at all playboy," Mike laughed. "But um you know you can count on me to take you to the clinic."

"The clinic?" Eric leaned back with an even bigger roar of laughter. He lifted his hands to the monitor placing his finger tips against the inside palm of his hand to give Mike the football time out signal. "Ok, I quit, you're in rare form today. I'm having a hell of a time here; you have to check out Europe one day." Eric pointed his finger at the screen. "Say man I just thought of something. I don't think I have seen you take a vacation since I've known you. What you need to do is get out of Dallas and check out another country. Take Kelly on that honeymoon you guys never went on."

"Yeah right. I'm too busy trying to get the bar out of the red. Plus you know I'm not much for flying. Anyway where are you?"

Eric leaned back far in his char. He spread his arms apart dramatically like he was revealing his location to the awaiting free world. For added measure he spoke in his Ryan Seacrest voice complete with the theatrical pause for affect. "America, THIS....is Budapest."

"What? Budapest?!"

"Hell yeah! I tried to call you from here but you didn't answer. Didn't you see the pictures I emailed you yesterday? The stacked Hungarian female, smooth skin, with the big...."

Mike cut Eric off by coughing into his fist. "Ummm, nooo I didn't," Mike said.

Mike intercepted Eric's words for a good reason. Kelly had just reentered the room. Mike cut his eyes toward her to see if she was paying attention to their conversation. She wasn't, or so she pretended.

"I haven't checked my email in a few days man."

"I hear ya. I'll be sending more pictures anyway so make sure you check them out. Later on I gotta hot red head teacher meeting me to give me a personal tour of Budapest. After that, in the next few days I'll be headed to your mother land."

"My mother land?"

"Yeah Rome. Oh man this is embarrassing, I thought you knew. How do I say this Mike? You're Italian!" Eric laughed. "Anyway, I'll be hanging out in Italy for a few days. Maybe I'll bump into a hot Italian female relative of yours, get hitched, and we'll be end up being kin."

"Yeah dream on," Mike laughed.

"Don't hate Mike please, you're embarrassing yourself. So anyway, after I hit Rome that will be the final stop on my bucket list."

"No kidding? You talking about the list you showed me last year, you finished already? Man you are living like there is no tomorrow. Plus all that traveling has to get costly, what did you do hit the lotto or something?" Mike paused. "Come to think of it, I thought you had already gone to Rome."

Eric slanted his head to one side. He nodded with an internal post thought of the words Mike had just said to him. "Oh yeah yeah, but um, this is a revisit. It's a lot to see to see in Rome."

"Ok then world wide playboy, do your thing," Mike smiled. "Hey won't you...."

Eric turned his head to the left holding one finger up to the monitor for Mike to pause his words. He waited a few seconds then got up moving away from the camera and out of view. A few seconds later he returned.

"Everything alright?" Mike asked.

"Yeah, it's cool," Eric assured him but Mike was not convinced. Eric then peered into the monitor with an uncommon sober expression. "Say Big Mike, you still by yourself?"

"Yeah, Kelly was in here but she just stepped out again." Mike looked over his shoulder. "She closed the door to the bedroom so I'm by myself now. What's up?"

Eric paused then inhaled deeply. "Check it out man."

He turned toward the left again as if another sudden noise distracted him. Once satisfied he turned back to the monitor then leaned in close. Mike wasn't sure if it was the poor video quality or the ascetic facial expression, but Eric's dark completion appeared even darker now.

"Garcia is here," he said.

