Page 24 of Sam to the Rescue

“Shit. No pressure, then.” The barrels of ammonium nitrate weigh heavy on my mind. What if Sam hadn’t come across them? Would our government have been able to react in time?

Colin rasps his palm against his jaw’s short beard. “As soon as you have enough information to stop the attack, you bug the hell out.”

“Roger that.” I pull off my well-worn leather belt and feed the new one through the loops in my jeans.

Then, after we review what little information they have once again, they usher me down some back stairs to a secret exit which leads to the subway. From there, I take a train to Brooklyn and exit across the street from my office.

It feels weird not to check in with my wife but I can’t put her or the baby at risk. Sometimes doing the right thing sucks but how could I live with myself if these assholes blow up a city block like McVeigh did in Oklahoma? The devastation is too much to contemplate.

Fuck. I open the door to the gun club and shudder. Damn, I’m betting Stephen King got his inspiration for Pennywise right here.

“Back so soon?” The big guy at the front desk raises a brow.

“You gotta problem wid dat?” Lowering my lids, I cross my arms, and clench my back teeth.

“No, no. Just making conversation.” The desk groans when he places his palms down and eases to stand.

“Well, don’t.” Being an asshole don’t come easy and I need to up my game. Otherwise, an engraved invitation to join their terrorist group won’t be coming any time soon.

Clowns with huge eyes and toothy grins mock me as I stroll on down the dingy hallway. I still can’t believe parents took their kids here. Maybe, they used it as a threat.Listen here little Johnny, if you aren’t a good boy, I’m taking you to the Pizza Place for dinner.

At the shooting booths. I place my credit card on the counter. “Just keep the ammo comin’.”

A little southern accent slips but the guy doesn’t notice and once I put on my headset, I’m all about the target.

I was one of the best shots on my team until my eye got messed up in Afghanistan. Even so, I hardly ever miss. After I’ve spent enough dough, I remove my headgear and check my watch. “Shit. I need to call my old lady. I don’t suppose you have a landline.”

The guy’s brows raise. “What? No cell phone?”

“Hell, no. Haven’t you heard? The Russians are hacking all of our calls and selling our intel to the Chinese. They own this new 6z network and man, once they have our airwaves, we are fucked. I own land upstate. They aren’t going to mind-control me.”

“I hear you, bro.” The man puts an old rotary phone on the counter. “You know how to use it?”

“Yeah, sure. We had plenty of them where I grew up on the r… ranch.” Shit. I almost said reservation.

A white supremist group would never ask an indigenous man to their merry band of idiots. If I don’t pull my shit together, I’m going to end up dead. It’s been a long time since I went undercover and I’m rusty as fuck.

I dial my wife.

“Hello?” She surprised me by picking up. Usually, she lets unknown numbers go to voice mail.

I assume someone in the gun club is listening in. “Hey babe. I’m going out tonight. Don’t wait up.”

“Suds? Hold on. Where are you? What’s-”

Time to be a complete asshole and I pray she’ll understand. “I told you before. I don’t like you asking questions. I’ll be home when I get there. You should be happy I called. Next time, I won’t.”

I hang up, shaking my head. “God, if she wasn’t such a good lay, I’d drop her like a bad habit.”

The other guy grins. “Your bitch is hot. If you don’t want her, I’ll take her.”

My jaw clenches in the back and it takes all my willpower to not wipe the lecherous look off his fat face. When I’m done here, my wife is never stepping one foot inside this range again. Better yet, I’ll close this place down.

When my temper tamps down, I shrug. “I’ll keep that in mind. You want to go for a drink? I’m buying.”

The guy nods and lifts his heavy frame. “Sure. Let me tell Fangs to watch the desk and I’ll meet youz out front.”

Checkpoint one? Done and done.