3. Vince
3
VINCE
Seven Years Later
“Stop!” I yelled for what felt like the fifteenth time as I sprinted down the empty sidewalk at the man in front of me.
“Fuck you!” the man I was chasing yelled back.
He may have been a punk, but he wasn’t in bad shape. Usually , when I had to chase these guys down, it didn’t take much. This one was definitely going to be worth every penny of his bounty.
Nine blocks later, he ran into an alley. As we turned the corner, he realized it was a dead end unless he chose to climb the fence. Oh , he tried. He just wasn’t successful. As he started climbing, I jumped up, grabbed the back of his hoodie, and pulled him back down to the ground.
“Get off me, asshole!” he yelled as I tackled him to the ground and flipped him onto his stomach.
“Stay still, dumbass,” I told him, breathing heavily from running so much to chase this guy down.
I reached around and grabbed my wrist ties, pushing him down onto the pavement with my knee on his thighs.
Once I had him secured, I eased off him a little but stayed close in case he tried to jump up. I lifted my cell to call Diego .
“Got him,” I said. “ I’m at the end of the alley on Peachtree Street by the pawn shop.”
“Be there in a sec,” he replied.
Diego and I had gone after this high-bond skip together, but once he took off, I pursued on foot and Diego went to get the vehicle. I looked up to see Diego had pulled down the alley and hopped out, so I leaned down to help my skip up from the ground.
“You’re a dead man,” he grunted at me.
“Is that a threat? I think I heard a threat,” Diego announced as he walked up to help me grab the man who was trying everything to get away from us and likely run again. “ Oklahoma , you threatening the man who captured you isn’t gonna help your sentence any.”
Yes, Oklahoma was the man’s name, or at least his street name. He’d just gotten out of prison for robbery and dealing heroin, and failed to check in with his parole officer. When the officer showed up at his buddy’s house where he was supposedly staying, they found a bunch of drugs, which, in addition to being a crime on its own, were also a violation of his parole.
The guy was good. I’d give him that. It took me almost three days to find him. But I’d learned from the best. My old man had retired from bounty hunting a few months ago, and he’d taught me everything I knew about tracking and hunting skips. People still reached out to my dad about jobs, but now he passed them along to either me or another buddy of his who was still in the business.
I’d started up a private security and investigations business with my former Army Ranger buddies, and my cousin Archer a year ago, and it had really taken off. Archer had been a cop in Las Vegas and was looking to get out. Sick of the bureaucratic red tape, he’d wanted to get more into private investigations stuff. I’d mentioned it to Wade , my staff sergeant at the time, and Jack who was in my squadron, as we were sitting around shooting the shit overseas on a mission waiting for our next task. That was how Ranger Shield Security was born.
Since our security business had taken off, I didn’t do too many bounty retrievals anymore. Only the easy ones I could do in a day or two and brought in good money for the business. And Oklahoma was one of those.
Oklahoma was a couple of inches shy of 6 feet, maybe 180 pounds, with tattoo sleeves on both arms, hands, and most fingers. He also had a huge red snake tattoo that wrapped around his neck—a sign that he was a member of the Crimson Vipers drug cartel. He had close-cropped dark hair, a small mustache, and a scar just above his right eyebrow.
“Hold the hell still,” Diego clipped at Oklahoma as we loaded him into the car and secured him for the ride.
Since our business first opened, we’ve hired a few extra guys to keep up with the increased demand. Diego Martin was also former military and had been part of Ranger Shield for a few months.
Diego and I drove Oklahoma to the police station, where he was happily received, not only because he broke his parole agreement, but he also had two new arrest warrants.
After dropping him off at the station, Diego and I drove back to our headquarters and parked the company vehicle and walked into the front office where our receptionist, Ruthie , was sitting.
Ranger Shield Security was located in a mixed-use multi-story building northwest of Atlanta . The first floor of the building was split with the front lobby and reception for the security business on the left side and a pub-slash-restaurant called The Watering Hole on the right. The entire second floor was the inner workings of the security-side of the business, including our control room, tech space, storage for our guns and gadgets, and private offices.
The third floor was made up of two one-bedroom apartments. Jack currently lived in one, and Wade lived in the other. Technically , Wade lived there with his fiancé, Ellie , who happened to be Jack’s sister. That had been fun to watch unfold, especially since Wade got involved with Ellie while Jack was overseas, still finishing up his last tour.
Wade managed the pub, which his uncle previously owned but sold it to us, along with the entire building, when he retired nearly two years ago. The pub had provided us with an initial source of income while we set up Ranger Shield , and now it provided us with a great location to scout future employees. The pub was also a hot spot for current and former military, since it was right down the street from Dobbington Air Reserve Base . While Dobbington was the 22nd Air Force headquarters, it was also home to Navy operations support, Army Reserve , Marine Reserve , and Georgia National Guard , which meant there were a lot of military-trained personnel to recruit from, which was exactly how we found Diego .
“Did you catch your guy?” Ruthie asked as we walked in.
“Yes, though he was slipperier than I initially gave him credit for,” I told her.
“Which means now is your favorite part.” Ruthie grinned at me. “ Here you go. Paperwork time!”
“Ruthie, what if I just told you what happened, and then you write it all down for me?” I asked her with the sweetest smile I could muster.
She laughed right in my face, turning her chair to face me. “ Nope . I have tasks to do, and you can’t even pawn this off on Diego since Archer said he needs him for some recon thing upstairs.”
“Sorry, not sorry,” Diego all but yelled as he practically bolted from the office, scanned his badge quickly to access the stairs, and ran up them.
I sighed loudly now that I realized the paperwork would be all mine. I hated paperwork. It was the worst part of my job. But I loved my job, so I would suck it up. I reached forward to grab the paperwork off Ruthie’s desk, when something on her computer screen caught my eye.
A website with a cat logo on it. A very particular cat. One I had seen before.
“Ruthie, what is this?” I asked.
She looked back at her screen. “ What’s what?”
“This. The logo?” I clipped. “ Where did you find this? What website are you on?”
I tried to lean in closer and grabbed her mouse, but she blocked me and slapped my hand away.
“Who spit in your coffee today?” Ruthie said back to me, full of attitude.
I sighed, realizing I was taking my sudden sour mood out on her, and I wasn’t sure why.
“If you must know,” she continued. “ Archer asked me to look into some places that do website design to help us out with making ours more user-friendly for inquiries and such.”
“Send me the details on that particular one, will ya?” I asked, trying to sound a little nicer now.
“Okay, but if that one bothers you, I can take it off the short-list,” Ruthie said.
“It’s not that.” I started to explain so she didn’t get the wrong idea. “ I recognize that logo. Might know who runs that company.”
“Oh, well, in that case, let me know, and I can move it to the top of the short-list when I send it to Archer ,” she said with more enthusiasm and a smile on her face.
“Hold off for now. I need to make sure it’s the same person, but thanks,” I told her, grabbing my paperwork for the skip and heading back upstairs to my office with a renewed sense of energy.
I’d know that cat drawing anywhere. Sure , it may be a digital version on the website, but that was not from a generic clipart.
That was the same cat drawing that had haunted me for years. The same cat that was tattooed on my chest. The same cat my pen pal had drawn in every letter she ever sent me.
Until she ghosted me.