The speed with which my head turned to the stage would’ve broken the neck of a lesser man. As the music began to drift from the speakers around the room my eyes locked onto the girl with the mic in her hand.

She was tall, so far as the average height of American women is concerned, I’d guess she was about five foot ten, with the heels she was wearing bringing her to around six feet even. Her dark brown hair flowed over her shoulders. The line of freckles that streamed across her cheeks below those piercing blue eyes.

I recognized her immediately, as I had given her a ride just the day before (though to me it had been much longer). I had, at the time, cursed myself for not thinking to ask her name or her number before dropping her off at the gas station. Now, I at least knew her name was Charlotte.

When the lyrics began she didn’t bother looking at the screen to read them, she knew the song by heart after all. Somehow her voice seemed to be even better than when she had been singing in the seat next to me. Perhaps it was my bias being influenced by that flowy green sun dress that she was wearing, or perhaps she was just a natural on the stage.

Halfway through the song her eyes met mine, and she smiled. A whole line got missed before she realized that she had been distracted and continued the song. The moment that it ended she hopped down from the stage and started walking my way.

For possibly the first time in my life I suddenly wished that I had put more thought into my outfit. I cursed myself, this time for not shaving or doing anything to my hair. I stood up as she got close, and she beamed at me with a wide smile.

“Well it seems we meet again!”

“Indeed it does. I had just been wondering how I was going to redeem my free dinner. I was this close to dialing every number in the phone book to ask ‘Hey! Did your car break down yesterday?”

“Who the heck uses phone books anymore? The obvious tactic should’ve been a Craigslist ‘Missed Connections’ post.”

“Ah, but you see, I exclusively use Craigslist to sell my coffee tables and stolen copper wire for drugs, I can't mix my personal life with business.”

“That’s fair.”

The conversation had gone on less than a minute, and yet I was already talking to this girl the same as I would with my buddies.

“In all seriousness, I realized about five seconds after you drove off that I hadn’t given you my number.”

“Quicker than me. I got three miles away.”

“Felt too awkward to drive back and ask?”

“Yep.”

“I get that. But hey, it worked out right?”

“Yeah, what are the odds that we’d both come to Fred’s party?”

“Fred? Who the heck is Fred?” Her face went to one of confusion.

My eyebrow lifted just before she started smiling again.

“Just kidding! Yeah, my brother invited me along, something about free food and booze and karaoke kinda spoke to me.”

“Preach it! Well, it looks like I at least know your name now.”

“Only fair that I hear yours now then?”

She plopped herself into the seat next to me, taking Charlie’s stool.

“Only fair. I’m James.”

“James? As in the ‘James’? The one and only?”

“Well if you say it like that, nope! I lied, my name is Boris.”

“Oh I tease! I do know who you are though.”

“I’d say that puts you at an advantage here.”

“Indeed it does, seeing as you don’t appear to recognize me.”

“Beyond being the girl I gave a ride to yesterday? Should I recognize you?”

She pouted at me.

“You wound me. Alright, then perhaps you can guess my brother.”

“Well… You don’t look a bit like Fred, so I’m guessing it's not him.”

“Correct.”

“You can’t be Alon’s sister, because if Lucy was your mother then she’d be leaning over the counter beside me watching like a hawk.”

“Also correct.”

I looked around.

I counted the people I knew at the party, and tried to remember who had siblings.

“Can’t be Bob’s sister, it’s impossible that anyone related to him wouldn’t also have that beak of a nose.”

“Funny! Also correct.”

“Definitely not Jose’s, his family all still live in Puerto Rico and refuse to ever leave.”

“Correcta.” She said with a surprisingly good Spanish accent.

I thought over everyone there, and was coming up with nothing. I mean, the only other person with a sister was—

“Hey Charlotte! You made it!”

Charlie suddenly appeared and wrapped her in a tight hug.

“I see you already tracked down James here.”

Oh fuck.

I had, for a moment, forgotten that Charlie had a sister. She had only been around when we were younger, joining his family about ten months after his mother married his step father. The two of them divorced when Charlie was sixteen, and Charlotte went with him to Tennessee. She was, if I recalled, three years younger than Charlie. I remembered when me and Charlie had been exploring the woods as kids pretending to hunt monsters or look for treasure, how she had followed us around like a lost puppy. The Charlotte I remembered was scrawny, short.

Yet as I looked at the woman before me, it was beginning to click. She always had the freckles, though they had faded somewhat. Of course the eyes couldn’t change that much.

“Well shit.”

Charlotte simply sat there and stared at me with a smug look on her face. Charlie picked up on my confusion.

“Oh, I guess it’s been a few years since the last time you saw her, huh James?”

“Yep.”

“What was it, fifteen years now?” He pondered.

“To the day next week.” She chimed in.

“You have a far better memory than I, it seems.” How else could I respond? Yeah. I remembered the shitshow of the divorce, Charlie spent a few weeks living on my couch around that time. It was ugly.

Another singer started up on a shrill voiced rendition of Born To Be Wild. I winced, but clapped politely along with Charlie and Charlotte. Afterall, you should never dissuade someone from having fun. Everyone deserves the right to sing.

They don’t necessarily need to be heard, though. I was, for a moment, thankful for the hearing damage I had earned over the years as I plugged the ear closest to the stage and resumed talking.

“So, how's life been for you? I remember Charlie mentioned you were going to college.”

“Trade school, technically, despite how my teachers and fellow students treated it. I was going to culinary school.”

“Oh, that’s what it was.”

I had no room to judge on her educational path of choice. I personally dropped out after my first year. A series of bad decisions, which were entirely my own dumbass fault, had led to me losing my scholarship. Of course I couldn’t afford to keep going, my mother didn’t have the means at that time to keep paying the tuition, so I dropped out and moved on.

Did I regret not finishing out my degree? No, not really. My choices led to the exact point that I’m at now, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Charlotte though? The girl I remembered had been stubborn, even when she was little. When me and Charlie climbed the tall trees she was right there after us, no matter how many times she fell down.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“Yep. Even got a job lined up already, here in town actually.”

That took me by surprise. The town had maybe five restaurants worth a damn, and three of them were family owned and operated. The other two were a shawarma place that I frequented and a Thai place that opened the year before.

“Where at? Joey’s?” I randomly guessed my favorite barbeque place.

“Nope. New place. They just made the arrangements and bought the plot last week. Construction starts next month. I'm going to be the head chef.”

“Hold shit, you’re saying this small town is getting another restaurant? How long are they saying it’ll take to open? What kinda food?”

“Months, at least. It’s going to be an Italian restaurant. The boss is saying we might open early next year. Til then, I’m still on the payroll because they have me cooking meals as the owner’s private chef!”

“Hot damn! Anybody we’ve heard of?” I’d heard that celebrities had opened restaurants before, and anybody willing to fork out that amount of money had to be someone famous.”

“Ah, I’m not supposed to give out his name willy nilly.”

Charlie poked her in the side.

“Come on Char! You can’t just leave us hanging like that?”

She stirred her drink with a straw as she thought about how to answer.

“Alright! Fine! I’m working for Mister Anthony Geoni.”

It took me more seconds than I care to admit to realize just what name she had said.

“I’m sorry, I think I misheard you. Run that by me one more time?”

Charlie spoke up before I could.

“Yep! Anthony Geoni, the guy who owns all that property in the city!”

“I, uh…”

There was such excitement in her eyes that I couldn’t bring myself to immediately tell her just who she was working for. Looking up at Charlie, I could see an equal amount of hesitation on his face.

“It’s okay to admit that you’re jealous! Not everyone gets the opportunity to work for a real estate mogul like that! Especially when he’s branching out to other places!”

Anthony Geoni buying and developing property in our sleep little town could only mean one thing.

He was finally growing out of the city.

“Shit…”

I couldn’t help but silently exclaim, but Charlotte must’ve taken it as bewilderment.

“Charlotte, do you know what kinda of man Geoni is?”

“Yeah! I read all the time about his charity programs, like that soup kitchen he opened.”

Geoni had, like many a crime lord before him, gone the route of Al Capone, performing acts of charity for the needy to cement a favorable reputation among the populace. It made it difficult for any authorities,at least those who hadn’t been paid off to ignore his operation, to take action against him.

“Uh huh…”

This wasn’t the place, or the time, to sit down and explain to her just what kind of monster she was working for. There was no point in breaking the news to her in public, if she’d believe what we told her. There would also be the issue of having to explain exactly how we knew what we knew.

I shared a look with Charlie, a silent agreement formed between us to just leave it be for the moment.

“Well, what else can I say but congratulations!” I broke the one-sided tension by raising my drink, and Charlie followed suit. Charlotte was absolutely beaming with excitement.

“Here’s to new jobs, new opportunities, and reunions of friends and family.”

Our drinks clinked together and we all chugged down what we had left in our cups.

The three of us drank, despite my newfound worry for the future of the town, for several more hours. The food that Fred had prepared outside made its way inside and to us in turn. I filled my stomach with some of the finest ribs I'd had in years.

I am a bit ashamed to admit that I don’t remember much more of that evening at the bar. We all hit the drink fairly hard, what with it all being free. I do however remember quite well what happened when I got home. Charlie left before me, giving his sister a ride home after she had a few too many to drink. Lucy honored our longstanding agreement and stopped serving me drinks once my speech started to slur, and told me that I should head home.

Being a responsible person I left my car parked at the bar and let Lucy call me a cab.

I believe that my enhanced Endurance helped me sober up a bit during the drive to my house, or at least I think that’s why my memories of the following events are so clear. It didn’t occur to me that the black SUV behind us was taking the same turns, or keeping perfect pace. It didn’t register that there were two more parked along the road in the bushes.

I didn’t notice at the time the markings around the doorknob where tools had worked at the lock. I didn’t immediately see the dirt tracked in near the door. It didn’t even register with me that my dog hadn’t ran to meet me at the foyer, or that my cats weren’t screaming at me to feed them dinner.

I drunkenly stumbled to my kitchen and to the fridge. I pulled the door open and began to peruse the contents, looking for a final drink and a snack before heading to bed.

The sound of the floorboard squeaking was so faint that it barely registered to my ear, yet I instinctively turned. I expected to see one of my cats there, to find one of them begging for whatever food I might be holding. Instead there stood a figure clad in black. A ski mask covered their face. Two piercing blue eyes stared at me through the slits in the fabric. The moonlight that poured through the window glistened on the stainless steel slide of the Colt 1911 in their right hand.

It rose up and aimed at my heart with impressive speed, and I began to move. My 10mm was in my hand and aiming for them in a moment, but far slower than if I had been sober.

Their finger squeezed the trigger.

Mine did the same.

And I just a moment too slow.

Their round stuck me just below the heart as I moved just enough to save myself, mine hit them in the forehead and their body dropped like a sack of rocks. My vision went fuzzy almost instantly. The sound of three more pairs of footsteps met my ears as one of them stepped out of my bedroom, one out of the guestroom, and the third kicked through the door. Unlike their first compatriot, they were armed with two shotguns, Benelli M4's it appeared, and a M4 carbine. The man who had been in my bedroom joined his friend on the floor before I dove backward into my kitchen. Buckshot put a fist sized hole through the drywall right behind where I had been standing, and 22 caliber holes peppered the cabinets as their aim chased after me.

I returned fire, taking out the knee of the shotgun wielder. His new life as a amputee was cut short as my second round went through his throat. Blood was pouring down my chest, my shirt was soaked. My heartbeat was slowly weakening as more and more of my vital fluids were spilled on the floor. The last man must've switched to full-auto, as he began mag dumping through the wall. I couldn't see him as I took shelter behind my fridge. The metal box did little to slow down the 5.56 but it was at least something between us.

My Blade appeared in my hand, and it went flying into the room.

"What the fuck!" I heard him yell just before the sound of metal hitting metal. I guessed that he had batted the Blade away with his rifle.

That sound was what I needed to pinpoint his position.

Why, oh why, had I forgotton that my rifle was in the pouch on my hip?

My .308 materialized in my hand and I took aim at the wall, firing twice. My ears were left ringing and my sineses cleared when the oppressive concussion force filled the small room. Hearing damage was almost certain, but that was something a man only has to worry about if he survives the fight.

Outside the kitchen I heard him scream as one of the rounds hit something important. Then I focused on my workshop.

I heard the door of my workshop slam open when the Hold My Stuff Mk 1, still loaded down with the weights I had intended to use for the experiment, crashed through it. A sound quite similar to a person getting hit by a truck rung out followed by the impact of a body against the wall. I wasted no time in getting up and dashing through the door to finish him off. He was still conscious, but his rifle had landed several feet away from his reach. It appeared that he hadn't been using a sling.

His eyes met mine as I lined up my shot.

"Fuck you."

Those were his final and only words to me as I fired.

I dropped to one knee as I tried to apply pressure to the wound beneath my heart. My grip on my rifle loosened and it clattered to the floor. I fished into my pocket with my remaining strength to try and get my phone..

As more blood seeped out, I found it harder and hard to focus, my finger dexterity went to shit. I tried desperately to punch in the code to unlock it, to call for help. Twice I got the pin wrong and my phone refused to let me in.

For the second time in as many days, I was bleeding out on the floor. Yet again without anyone there to help me. No means to stop it. The phone fell from my hand and landed next to the gun. I joined them on the floor a moment later in a growing sanguine pool.

Everything went black.

End of Book 1