Chapter 19
"Time's almost up, Sam," whispered Mallory, a hand to her earpiece. "They're cutting him loose soon."
Sam's jaw set. "So, Bobby, I assume you know your way around a rifle."
Bobby's eyes and mouth popped wide open. Mallory mouthed to Sam, "What the fuck?" but he ignored her.
He said to Bobby, "Hey, you wanted to play tough guy, now's your chance."
"Learned as a kid, but..." Bobby looked at the guys with his tail between his legs.
"But it's a parole violation. Got it." Sam scratched the back of his neck. "Anyone else know how to shoot?" When Phillip, Little Joey and black Malone slowly raised their hands, Sam said "Name your best."
"Hundred yards. Hunting rifle," said Malone, his shoulders back, chest out.
Little Joey sneered at Malone. "I learned to shoot my dad's revolver, but we just targeted beer cans. I mean, I don't hunt or anything like that. I'm vegetarian"
Phillip nodded. "Hunting rifles, pistols, shotgun. Learned to shoot coyotes at my stepdad's ranch. But I don't hunt either. I'm a doctor; I don't like killing. In fact, I don't even like guns."
"Good. Neither do I." Sam set his hands on his hips. "But seeing you're all dressed up and available, tonight you're the cavalry." The men looked sideways at each other, hesitating to move. Sam pointed to each man. "I'm officially deputizing you, you, you and...not you." He ended with Bobby.
"With or without him behind the wheel?" Mallory elbowed Sam aside as she followed the men out the door, and Sam winked at me.
***
"I swear I didn't sign up for this shit." Mallory stood watch, leaning against a column of the parking garage, while the bikers huddled at the front of a Town Car. "You even sure this is his ride?"
"Checks out against the parking roster. Last in, last out," Sam mumbled.
"You're FBI now, Sam. We've got ethics, remember. Rules. We don't break the law to enforce the law."
"Hey, it was your brilliant idea to boot-jack his ride. We can still go back to plan A, if you want more excitement," he said, referring to the tire blowout scenario.
"No, really, I prefer a demotion over real jail time." She leaned and spat in the corner. "Glad I didn't mention rolling it down to the lake."
Sam paused with that thought. Then, with a yank on the iron chain yoked from the front axle of Stone's Town Car to the parking lot column, Sam grunted his satisfaction. He tapped Bobby's leg, which jetted out from under the car. The redhead rolled free of the vehicle, and Sam grasped his hand to pull Bobby up.
"Guess I'm the one who cost him his old car," I said, handing Sam a paper-wrapped ribeye and a long serrated knife. We'd made a pit stop in the kitchen for supplies before ducking into this corner of the garage, out of view of the security guard on duty.
"Makes me proud just to think of you blowing a few holes in his engine." Sam handed the ribeye to Bobby and slid the knife between the window and doorframe to pop the lock.
I wasn't sure I liked Sam feeling proud of my gun-toting skills. Or lack thereof. "I suppose the bottle of bourbon's for celebrating."
"Nope," said Sam, grunting as he tried to maneuver the knife inside the door. "That's to thank the guard for the car roster. And for looking the other way."
"I think bribery of a federal agent is a felony, Sam," I whispered to keep Mallory from hearing. Suddenly, the tire blowout seemed the more anonymous option.
