Sam’s eye twitched as another shrieking cry assaulted his nerves. He watched the scene unfold, thinking there wasn’t much difference in the hysterical tone from someone knowing their life is about to end, and someone whose life is just beginning.
Screaming babies made him feel funny. Maybe he should do something to stop the deranged hollering, but he wouldn’t know what to do other than gently rub a small rosy cheek and hope it didn’t break.
Terry McCoy, his brother and best friend, had just become a father for the second time, and his little person was wailing like a demon in the hospital nursery, surrounded by other mini people.
Kids were a whole other language for Sam. He couldn’t even remember ever holding one. Even though he thought they were cute and all, he had to admit he was afraid of them. He had been an only child, sent off to be raised by his estranged aunt so Mommy and Daddy could live life like rock stars in the south of France. He knew they loved him in their own way, but responsibility didn’t flow willingly in their veins. They needed their freedom, and to some degree he understood that. With age, his resentment dwindled somewhat, yet he still felt awkward when they did decide to pay a visit once or twice a year, instead of the usual birthday and Christmas cards filled with cash.
He didn’t want or need their money. All he ever wanted as a kid was to spend time with them, not read the pathetic note on the card about how much they missed him and how they enjoyed traveling.
Auntie Rose did her best to raise him right, though ultimately he became a bit of an oddball like her. She had a perfectly teased afro right out of the seventies and wore thick, green-rimmed glasses. She loved real-life crime books and hairless cats. She put icing sugar in her coffee, and crocheted on the steps of her little trailer while Otis Redding blared through the open windows.
Although Sam thrived on those crime books, he hated cats, and he kept his tight curls neatly trimmed. It was hard enough growing up with light brown skin—he didn’t want a crazy afro to go with it. But he couldn’t control everything. Three weeks after his fourteenth birthday he smashed up his pedal bike and broke a front tooth. Auntie Rose thought it would be a great idea to replace the missing tooth with a gold one. “It looks cool, my boy.” Even though he had been teased most of his life about that tooth and told that he might as well become a rapper, he still kept it…for her.
And while he kept his coffee black, he absolutely loved Otis Redding, and sometimes had the notion to sing out loud—as long as he was alone. He’d never win a gig, but he could belt out a few decent notes in the shower.
The little one wiggling in that plastic box sure had a set of lungs on her. She was beautiful and perfect, as every baby should be. He smiled as he watched her wrinkly red face scrunch up for another scream. She had just become a part of a family that would love her to pieces and always protect her. Mary would spoil the girl rotten as she did with their firstborn son. She also had uncles that would kill for her. How he envied everything good she would get in life.
It actually surprised Sam how good of a father Terry had turned out to be, considering his father forced him into a life of crime and made Terry into something he despised. Sam knew that Terry would encourage his kids to be what they wanted to be—not directed around like an employee as Terry had often been treated. Colton McCoy loved his son, but he just didn’t see how the life he’d chosen for his family was only what he wanted for himself.
Many years ago, Sam decided that a true blue family was just a label for other people. He knew it the minute he watched Auntie Rose pull out a rifle on those front steps and shoot a groundhog for their dinner that night. She went right back to her crocheting and told Sam to go fetch the furry beast and toss it on her cutting board.
While he was shocked and appalled that she could be so cruel and kill his secret pet, he was more amazed at her precise shot at such a long distance. It didn’t take long before Auntie Rose taught him a few things about the darker side of life, and the fact that her glasses were cheaters. She could see just fine.
He learned quickly that he wasn’t born to love. He was designed to kill people.
Fate took a turn for him in that bar on a balmy night many years ago. Those degenerates didn’t expect to get their asses handed to them by a seventeen-year-old kid. Maybe they didn’t like his quiet nature, or the fact that a black man had the nerve to drink in their bar. To their chagrin and broken bones, he’d taken all three of them within three minutes. Fighting came as a second nature to Sam. Not a single person in this world scared him. Well, only one person could command his fear, and that was Colton McCoy, when he was alive. One bad move and Colton could simply nod his head and Sam would’ve disappeared like all the others. Now that Colton was gone, Sam had nobody to fill that void. Sometimes he wondered if that made him less than human. Most of the time, he didn’t much care.
He remembered like it was yesterday how the older fella looked like a teamster. Colton McCoy had taken Sam under his wing and treated him like a son—as he had done with Gabe. Ben, the brawny man with the scars, had become Sam’s mentor. He taught Sam everything he knew. When age and too many broken bones over the years caught up to Ben and he wasn’t able to take on as many tasks, Sam became the gunman for the empire. It came as a bitter surprise to them all when, out of jealousy, Ben tried to kill Terry in the mountains. Apparently Ben hated becoming Colton’s right hand at home, even though he could’ve chosen to walk away with his chin held high, not forced to wait on Colton like a butler. In some ways Sam understood Ben’s resentment, but Terry didn’t deserve the bullet from Ben’s gun. Terry was just the son of a crime boss and never wanted that life anyway. Targeting Terry had been a huge mistake. Ben may have been Sam’s mentor, but Terry was Sam’s brother in all the ways that mattered.
In a short matter of time, Gabe and Terry had become Sam’s best friends, and now that Colton was gone, things had changed. Terry never wanted what Colton created for him, and Sam thought his adopted brother made the right choice giving it all up. He never could’ve left the business while his father was still alive. Colton needed his son by his side, especially after losing his first wife—Terry’s mother.
Terry looked happier now and Sam envied the change in his brother’s life. They all knew it would end one day, and luckily it ended well for Terry and Gabe. Sam didn’t hold that much confidence for his final chapter of life.
His brothers had it all, and Sam envied their happiness. He didn’t mind being left behind, because somebody had to toe the line.
Sam wouldn’t change his past for anything for the world, because he wouldn’t be the man he was today without all of it—even the bad shit.
His uncommitted glance wandered to the sexy little nurse on the other side of the glass. She made her way to each little plastic basket to check on the little devils. They didn’t seem to care for her attention. They waved their little fists in the air, wanting nothing else but a tit to suck on. Hell, so did he.
Sam released a deep breath and fogged the glass in front of his face. As the little ginger nurse glanced up, he drew a smiley face with his fingertip. Instead of a pretty grin he had hoped to see, the nurse glared, shook her head, and turned her back to him.
Huh. He raised a brow. Since when did people have to be so serious in a hospital? People were dying all over the place and this nurse, surrounded by new life, couldn’t even smile at his smiley face.
He checked his watch. In about ten minutes he’d have a tidy seventy-five grand wired to his account in the same small town where he’d first met Colton McCoy and his boys. Sam needed the money badly from all the bills he’d accumulated with his aunt’s medication and her overall well-being. She thought the money deposited into her account twice a month was from the government, or sometimes from lottery tickets she never bought, and that suited him just fine. To Sam, Auntie Rose was his mother, and he’d take care of her until the day she died—no matter how dead tired or broke he’d become in the process.
He was confident the job would go smoothly today as long as Mary didn’t get wind of it. She didn’t need to know he was about to inject a very powerful and newly designed poison that was virtually untraceable, into a man in the next ward. Mary would be devastated and disgusted with him if she knew Sam didn’t really come here to coddle the baby and wish them congrats. He was a man, dammit, and he had work to do. Despite being happy for Terry and Gabe’s drastic change in routine, to Sam, his life could never be truly normal—not when he lived by a steady aim.
“Isn’t she beautiful?” a familiar voice murmured behind him.
Sam shrugged before he turned to face Terry, second time father of less than an hour. The guy looked ridiculously happy and Sam felt a twinge of jealousy. “She seems a little fat,” he answered truthfully.
Terry’s eyes widened in shock for a second before he laughed and playfully slugged Sam’s shoulder. “Almost ten pounds, my little angel. That’s a healthy baby girl right there.”
Sam grimaced, not by the hit to his shoulder, but imagining the last bag of potatoes he’d bought. How could something that big break out of a woman’s cooch? That couldn’t be normal. He forced the scary thought from his mind and glanced back again at the curvy little nurse. She had a shapely bum that appealed to his basic instincts. It didn’t even matter how she’d glared at him only a moment before. Angry sex had its rewards.
“Hello?”
He blinked as Terry snapped his fingers, and Sam suddenly remembered he’d said something. “Sorry, bud.” He shifted on his feet and jammed his hands into his pockets. “What do you call her?”
“No name yet—”
“How about President’s Choice?” Sam hollered with laughter as Terry’s eyes gaped in shock.
Sam’s laughter curbed as a baby shrieked. He regarded Terry more seriously, or at least tried to be sincere. “How’s Mary doing?”
Terry glanced at the nurse then Sam, and raised a brow. “Exhausted, but in really good spirits. Just think, you’re next in line for all this splendor.”
Gabe’s life had changed the moment he’d crashed his Cessna into the Canadian Rockies. Thankfully, Mima lived up in that remote terrain and happened to be out with her sled dogs when she came upon the crash. Their crazy story started while Gabe healed in Mima’s cabin, and then Ben and his crew came after them for the stash of cocaine in Gabe’s plane. Sam chuckled out loud. That right there is pure romance.
And Terry, well, he couldn’t help but return to the boonies when he met Mima’s friend Mary. Knowing Terry, he probably fell into insta-love with the woman before he even banged her. When Colton was murdered by his second wife, Terry rushed back to fulfill his duty of running the empire. But when Mary came after him and was subsequently kidnapped, Terry jumped right into his role as the big boss that he hated and did everything to get her back.
“Pfft.” Sam shook his head, imagining Terry’s living room carpet covered with squeaky toys, while god-awful curtains hung from the windows. “I’ll leave the ‘happy wife—happy life’ bullshit to you guys.” His gaze followed the nurse’s round bum again. There were times in his life when he’d wanted a relationship, but his line of work always put a damper on things. A good woman deserved more than a brief fling with a non-committed man, which was why hookers and strippers were his main course these days. Many of them didn’t want a commitment anyway. They lived life in the fast lane to how it suited them—in the moment—not for anyone else. He couldn’t promise to return home any given night, or to give a woman his heart. His heart didn’t even know what love meant.
Sam released a dejected sigh. He liked good girls, but they were on a whole other level than he could ever reach.
“When was the last time you went on a real date? A real date with a broad that shouldn’t be institutionalized, or paid.”
Sam frowned as he thought about it for a moment. “There was nothing wrong with Annie.”
Terry roared with laughter. “She painted her toenails five times a day all different colors.”
Sam shrugged. “She had cute feet, so what? Plus they glowed under the black lights in the club.”
“Didn’t she try to paint yours one day?”
He ignored that question. If Sam admitted that on one exciting night he had blue nail polish on one side and green on the other, Terry would never leave him alone and probably tell everyone about it. But he couldn’t refuse Annie. She had a smile that could undo the stitches on his gitch.
“And what about that skinny brunette from last year? Didn’t she think you were a chocolate bar salesman? Hmm? She was that dumb to believe you just because you brought her a chocolate bar every night.”
A slow smile curved Sam’s mouth. “Yeah, Rhonda. She did all kinds of things in return for that chocolate.”
“Holy fuck you’re a twat.” It was then that Terry angled his head and frowned, as if only now realizing an important detail. “Didn’t I just call you a few minutes ago? How did you get here so fast?”
Sam gripped Terry’s shoulder, forcing him to wander down the hall, far away from the miniature choir behind them. His ears were about to bleed. “I happened to be close by is all.”
Terry halted in the pale blue and pink hallway. He leaned closer and whispered fiercely, “Are you here on a job?”
When Sam didn’t answer immediately, Terry pulled back and thrust a hand through his neglected hair. “Seriously? You’re here”—he pointed to the floor between them—“you’re here working, aren’t you? In this hospital? Do you have no couth at all?”
Terry’s reddening face contradicted the cheery pink and blue pastel walls behind him. Sam gave him a look to shut him up. “I haven’t had a proper vacation in years, thanks to you. I have to pay for it somehow. Besides, it’s just a quick job, nothing major.”
“My newborn daughter is down the hall.”
The wild fatherly look in Terry’s eyes made Sam lean back slightly, thinking they may come to blows in the newborn ward. “How was I supposed to know Mary would deliver today? I don’t know how that shit works.” He sighed, forcing himself not to lose his temper in this place scented with baby powder. “The guy is in the next ward anyway. What’s the big deal?”
Terry glanced down each end of the hallway and gripped the shoulder of Sam’s shirt, yanking him toward a quiet corner. “What if something goes wrong? How do I explain to Mary that Uncle Sammy just snuffed-out a man in intensive care?”
Unruffled by Terry’s hard grip, Sam patted his shoulder and smiled. “I’m sure you’ll think of something, buddy. You know how it is.”
Terry blew out a frustrated breath. “Fine. There’s no use talking to you. You’re worse than a woman.”
Sam chuckled. “Don’t let Mary hear you say that,” he teased.
When Terry glared at him, Sam grinned and brushed past to head down the hall toward the next ward. He paused a few yards down the hallway and glanced over his shoulder. “I’ll send flowers. Carnations, right?”
The anger dissipated in Terry’s eyes. Everyone knew carnations were his mom’s favorite, and now, Terry bought them for Mary. Sam’s heart almost tripped as a slow smile crossed Terry’s face. The sucker caved so easily.
“I’m leaving for my vacation this afternoon. Don’t call me unless somebody’s dying.” He strolled away before Terry could argue that point. This would be Sam’s first real vacation without the task of having to kill somebody, or constantly check over his shoulder. He needed it more than Terry could ever understand.
As he headed toward the ICU, he spotted a male nurse nearing an unmarked door. “Excuse me, nurse?”
The young man had just swiped his card and turned the knob to open the door. “Yes. Can I help you?”
Sam discreetly scanned the hallway. When he was sure nobody else lingered nearby, he feigned an expression of desperation and walked right up to him. “My aunt—I don’t know what’s wrong with her.”
Before the nurse could react, Sam shoved him through the door, which led into a small supply room. He shut the door behind them, and with a quiet apology, he covered the man’s mouth with one hand and gripped the pressure point on his neck with the other. As the nurse slunk against the wall, Sam gently eased him down to a sitting position. He removed the nurse’s white coat from over his scrubs and quickly put it on.
Sam checked his watch. He was right on the mark for shift change. Quickly, he transferred the syringe from his inside pocket to the outer pocket of the white coat. With Auntie Rose in mind, he slipped on a smart-looking pair of reading glasses and exited the supply room. With an air of authority, he headed toward the room where a police officer stood guard.
With shift change creating a perfect diversion, the officer thought nothing suspicious of Sam and nodded his head as he brushed past to enter the room. But to his surprise, Sam wasn’t alone.
A woman sat in silent misery at the bedside, her dainty white hands clinging to the left hand of the unconscious man. He noted the massive wedding set on her finger, the expensive white pantsuit and huge diamond earrings. It wasn’t his money she flaunted, it was hers. She was a rich girl and he was her husband.
The man who’d betrayed her.
The man her father hired Sam to kill.
Without saying a word, she looked up from her husband’s pale face and stared at Sam. Her eyes said more than words could ever express. Hope and faith. Maybe it was misguided, but it was there. He felt it as if she’d said the words. Sam knew immediately she was the type who would forgive her husband for anything and everything he had done in this world. But what she probably didn’t know was that she wasn’t his one and only love. He had been living a double life for the past fifteen years and he was planning to use drastic measures and collect on her hefty life insurance. He didn’t even have a job because little wifey had tons of money. This husband whom she loved, had children with another woman. And if that wasn’t enough of a blow, the fact that he had hired a man to kill her, and take her away from the children she had given him, was enough reason for Sam to enjoy this particular job.
Thankfully, her father discovered his son-in-law’s little secret by chance one day as he headed out to view a new investment property. Recognizing his daughter’s luxury car which had a one-of-a-kind paint job, the father pulled over and parked beside the curb. But before he could open his door, a man and a woman stepped out of a cozy restaurant, hand-in-hand, and got into his baby’s car. The other woman was young and beautiful. Seeing them together had put a tear into the old man’s eye. It was in that painful, enraging moment when he decided to hire a private investigator. Each week as new details emerged about the cheating husband and then his ultimate goal, the father took quick action. He called a friend, who called another friend, until way down the line Sam got a call.
Sam smiled while inserting the tip of the syringe into the IV, and felt better about the poor woman. She’d survive this mess. She’d move on with her life, and maybe, just maybe, find a good man she could trust.
Luckily for Sam, the idiot husband got himself into a bit of a bender and smashed up his car, hence the officer sitting outside. Even with the law right on his hip, Sam felt confident that he’d pull this off without a snag. It was Sam’s choice to do it this way, rather than the crazy, and dangerous, stand-off the father wanted to see. They were in a hospital after all, a convenient, safe place for this man to die. They could transfer him straight down to the morgue with relative ease.
“This will help with the pain,” Sam offered, thinking of her—not her husband.
With tears in her eyes, she nodded and looked back at her husband’s face.
Having no time to waste before the heart monitor would skip into a frenzy, Sam dropped the empty syringe back into his pocket and exited the room without looking back.
But as luck would have it on this beautiful autumn day, as he neared the end of the hallway, he heard a commotion. “That’s him!” a man shouted.
Without thinking, he glanced over his shoulder and made eye contact with the officer. Exactly what he should never do. Ben had taught him years ago to never make eye contact with anybody of authority when you just killed somebody. He cursed himself for being careless over such an easy job. The male nurse had woken up sooner than he’d thought and was already standing next to the police officer and pointing right at Sam. As the officer shouted orders into his radio, Sam darted around the corner and made an insane dash to the nearest stairwell.
The warning beeper to his victim’s heart monitor started shrieking through the ward. The doctor raced into the room, followed by his team of nurses.
Fuck.
Sam whipped open the door leading into the stairwell on the north side of the building and took a chance by jumping down three steps at a time. This would not be a good time to break your ankle and get caught. Think about the perfect record. He’d reached the main floor landing in rapid time when he heard shouting on the stairs above.
He ripped off the white coat and flung it on the floor. As he adjusted his shirtsleeves and took a deep breath, he thought of what Auntie Rose would say at a time like this. She’d cluck her tongue at him then say, “The world is yours, my boy. Take it by the hairy balls.” How he loved her frank manner of speech.
He pushed through the door, immediately eyeing three security guards taking up post in front of the lobby doors. All eyes trained on him as their radios screeched with the report.
Sam’s muscles tightened in preparation as he released a steady breath. The three men in uniform focused on him. The second they took a step forward with hands on holsters, Sam shot off like the devil toward the emergency ward. As he reached a row of wheelchairs lined up on the far wall, he grabbed one and shoved it behind him. The chair violently wheeled toward the officers like a good guard dog, and smashed into the knees of one of the guards, making him tumble over it and crash to the tile floor.
A woman screamed.
“Hey!” a man shouted. “Stop him!”
Sam burst through the emergency doors beneath the overhang in the back, nearly taking down a man struggling on his crutches. “Asshole!” the guy shouted, wielding a crutch in the air.
Police sirens shrieked as he ran past a parked ambulance and darted into the busy street. The two remaining guards were hot on his heels, but the bigger man had already begun to struggle and wheeze.
A car honked and screeched to a halt as Sam jumped up and slid on his ass over the hood. He got his advantage as the guards were suddenly halted in between the flow of traffic in the middle of the street.
He cut through the nearest alley and didn’t slow down. Despite years of smoking and his lungs screaming to stop and rest, Sam wouldn’t give up until his lungs collapsed or one of the officers shot him in the back of the leg.
For some silly reason the only thing rushing through his mind as he turned onto the next sidewalk was that he told Terry he’d send carnations for Mary. What color should he send her, and how many? What’s expected for gifts when you pop out a kid? It would be unforgivable if he didn’t make good on his word. Terry would know something happened—if he didn’t already—and give him a blast of shit.
Still, that was a close call. Too close.
As he caught his caving breath, he scanned the street and spotted a bargain clothing store a few shops down. He rushed in, grabbed a pair of jeans off a shelf, a hoodie from a rack, and went straight to a dressing room. Once he transferred his wallet and cigarettes into his pockets, and removed the reading glasses, he stepped out of the dressing room like a new man.
“Ah, just what I need.” With calm only a man used to a life of chaos could have, he strolled over to a row of baseball caps and fitted the nearest one onto his head.
The cashier stared at him with wide, unbelieving eyes, before her nervous gaze shifted to the street. Two hospital guards and a few cops stood outside hitting up pedestrians for information.
Sam smiled at the girl. She looked barely of age, probably only in the work force for a few months. He’d bet a grand she was about to pee behind that counter.
He lifted his hands to reassure he didn’t have a weapon. “You have nothing to fear from me.” With one hand still raised, he reached into his pocket with the other, pulled out a few bills and gently placed them onto the counter. “This is more than enough for the clothes, and a little extra for you.”
She nodded despite the shimmer of tears in her eyes. “I won’t say anything. Just promise you won’t hurt me.”
Sam smiled again, positive she wouldn’t alert the cops. “I promise, and I appreciate your cooperation. It’s not what you think.”
He knew she didn’t believe him. “Whatever you say, mister.”
Sam headed toward the front door.
“You—you’re gonna go out there? There’s cops everywhere,” the girl said, her eyes wide with surprise, her mouth curved up in a do it, I dare you grin.
Sam couldn’t help a low chuckle. She may be scared, but like a typical kid, she was thrilled by the chase. He headed for the door again, but paused to say over his shoulder, “If I were you, I’d treat myself to a night out with that money. It’s Saturday, the best day of the week.”
The cashier blushed and pocketed all of the money. “We don’t have cameras in here. Stuff goes missing all the time.” She shrugged, obviously more comfortable now that he was leaving, and maybe because she had made a few bucks for keeping her mouth shut. She grinned. “Have a good day, sir, and good luck.”
Sam winked and walked out of the store, right in front of the men in uniform. He knew he wouldn’t be recognized with a new outfit and a baseball cap. He plastered an expression of concern on his face. “What’s going on?” He stood next to one of the officers, withdrew a cigarette and his lighter from the case. As he lit the end and took a long drag, one of the cops turned to face him.
The officer gave Sam a good once-over and nodded. “We’re looking for a man who just escaped from the hospital.”
“You mean a mental patient?”
The cop shook his head. “No. All we know at this time is that he was wearing grey slacks with a white button-up shirt, glasses, and he looked to be of mixed descent. Average height and build.” The cop glanced at him again from shoes to baseball cap.
Sam hid his amusement as he sucked in another deep drag of his cigarette. Mixed descent could mean anyone this day and age. He was often confused as being Asian or Native American, or a mixture of the two, and he enjoyed keeping people guessing his true African-Irish origin. “I see.”
Another officer joined them. Sam recognized him as one of the guys connected to the McCoys. They often called upon him for Intel: when patrol would be going by, or to make tickets and profiles disappear, or to dig up background on a person. He was also among the badges at Colton’s funeral. As they made eye contact, Sam kept his expression passive. “Well, I hope you find him. We don’t need criminals running around these streets.”
The second officer didn’t bat a lash. “Absolutely. Be sure to contact the police department if you happen to see this man. You can move along now.” The cop smirked, nodded his head, and turned the other way.
Sam grinned and headed down the street at a casual pace. As he passed a few vagrants sitting along the edge of the sidewalk, a happy couple walking hand-in-hand, and a few suits rushing to get to work, he wondered what life would be like on their side of the fence. Was a normal life boring or was it peaceful? He halted, turned back, and tossed a few bills into the cups lined up in front of the poor men, then headed back down the street.
Auntie Rose would be proud of him. No matter how tight she was for money, she always did her best to help others who needed it more than she did. Despite her horrible cooking, she regularly volunteered at shelter houses and soup kitchens. She handed out blankets during the winter months, and was even known to haul women back home, even if only for her own company.
She’d be sitting on her front steps right about now, possibly crocheting a scarf or perhaps a pair of socks. He had a closet full of her colorful creations he didn’t have the heart or the balls to wear. Sam chuckled out loud remembering the last pair of socks she’d given him, half-yellow and half a putrid, baby-shit green. He put them on in front of her, of course, and she smiled sweetly with open happiness.
“Oh, they look wonderful, sweetheart.”
He’d lifted his pant legs and had to force himself not to laugh at his appearance. But the moment he got home he ripped those things off and tossed them into the closet. It wasn’t the color that bothered him, or the fact that they were three sizes too big, it was the horrible scratch of the wool on his skin. He’d spent a majority of the night rubbing lotion on his feet and ankles to alleviate the burning.
Never again.
He made it back to his truck and headed to the nearest flower shop. With Mary in mind, and the newest addition to their little family, he chose five-dozen pink carnations and had them delivered to the hospital. He couldn’t think of what to write on the card, but as that bag of potatoes came to mind, he quickly scribbled, I wish you a speedy recovery. Love, Sam.
After a brief ferry ride and short drive to his quaint apartment downtown, once again he became invisible with the mixture of the homeless, the street thugs, and the junkies. Nobody would ever guess a hired killer to lived here, but while it wasn’t the safest or cleanest, or most aromatic place to live, it provided the perfect cover. He had friends who enjoyed a lavish lifestyle, only to eventually cause too much attention to themselves because of it. Sam rarely wore a suit, and he didn’t drive the latest sports car. He liked his old Ford pickup just fine, especially when the beast packed a few surprises under that hood.
While he quickly packed some comfortable clothes for his first vacation that was bound to give him privacy and relaxation, Sam realized he wouldn’t have time to visit Auntie Rose before his flight.
On impulse, as he’d done many times over the years, he went online and wired some money to her account. It always made him feel good to provide for her. One day he’d take her on a trip with him. But for now, he needed time to himself, without mindless chatter and responsibilities, or the threat of a possible job.
He couldn’t wait to get on that plane and head to paradise. A place far away from anyone he knew, and quiet enough to maybe give him some peace. If peace could ever be found for a man like him.