Brian stood at the back of the courtroom waiting for the recovery contract from a bondsman who had made the huge mistake of bailing out two big wig executives who’d been arrested for multiple white-collar crimes. Both men were partners in a money management firm that had been investigated and eventually shut down for money laundering, embezzlement, and investment fraud. One of them had shown up for his preliminary hearing but the other—Robert Clarkson—has been missing for nineteen days, and with a five hundred-thousand-dollar bond leaning on the bondsman, Brian could understand why he was going batshit. He needed Duke to catch this guy, fast. Brian had been researching the jumper’s file and trusted contacts for the past week and he felt he had a good lead. The charges were all nonviolent and therefore the jumper wasn’t considered a threat, so Duke wanted Brian to collect him at will. It’d be a big, easy check for them.

He stood listening to a general district judge rain down punishments like there was no tomorrow: fines, sentences, suspended sentences, probation and more. Brian tried to stay aware of his surroundings, but his mind wandered to his session yesterday with Colton. Brian hadn’t had any more flashbacks, but he admitted to still feeling an overwhelming sense of anxiety that another one was right around the corner, and then another and another until he was back where he’d started. There was nothing scarier than being stuck in a traumatic past and having to relive it at any time without a second’s notice. Even with his doctor’s reassurances, he was still convinced his isolation, his silence, would no longer be a life preservation tactic. It’d reversed roles. Being voiceless could now be his undoing.

“Okay so the judge revoked the bond and— Hey, where’s Duke? Quick?”

Brian didn’t outwardly startle at the bondsman’s abrupt appearance beside him, but it did surprise him. Damn, when did court recess? He turned and walked out into the communal area to retrieve the bond papers and contract so he could go.

Brian just shook his head, letting the short man know that neither of his bosses were there. They didn’t need to be to fix this mess.

“What? What does that… oh hell… you’re not the mute one are you?” The man stomped his foot and swung a fist in the air, cursing and pulling at the wispy gray and sandy strands of hair on the side of his head, the top had already been yanked clean.

Brian didn’t bother confirming that. His T-shirt said Duke’s—that was all the man needed to know. A couple of people still making their way out of the courtrooms slowed down at the bondsman’s theatrics.

“I guess Duke calls himself being an ass. He knows I need someone good and fast. I need him and Quick. They know I can’t risk losing this money, so he sends me the damn retard.”

Brian didn’t move, he had no reaction, even though the disrespect stung like hell. Instead, he stepped in and towered over the pudgy man, who reminded him a lot of Danny DeVito, and slowly brought his cell phone up and held it in front of the man’s face. His screensaver said one word.

CAREFUL.

The man scoffed. “What-the-hell-ever. Just tell me you can catch this thieving prick.”

Brian kept his composure locked tight. He wouldn’t do to the man all the painful things that were springing to his mind the longer he stood in front of him. Duke’s office was busy and any contracts they took never guaranteed fast turnarounds like this idiot was demanding. Basically, Brian had to drop the case he was on and take this one. Duke had done the man a favor and he refused to see it that way, all because he had Brian to deal with. He had been sent the best, but he couldn’t accept it.

Brian was done listening to the man’s tirade. He yanked the thin stack of papers out of the bondsman’s hands and turned his back on him. The man made the mistake of hurrying around a few people and jumping back in front of Brian.

“I want to know when you’re gonna start. Are you going now? Did you look up all the contacts that I—?”

Brian gently but determinedly pushed the guy to the side as if he was a stubborn turnstile. He gave him another warning glare, but the guy was in such a state over his crises that he was getting hysterical. “The contract is mine, so you technically work for me. You don’t walk away until I tell you you can.”

More people were slowing and stopping, angling for a good show. They swiped their heads back and forth between the two men as if they were watching a tennis match. The way spectators gawked at Brian, taking in his size, the all-black leather, the shiny gold recovery agent star suspended from his neck, they just knew he was about to smash someone. But Brian was far more disciplined than that and he’d never use his skills on someone so inferior.

“I want to know the scope of your grid. If you already have a plan I want to know the details. I won’t be left in the dark because it’s my ass on the line!” The bondsman fumed.

Brian would have to knock the man down if he wanted to get past him this time. Instead of drawing an even bigger crowd, Brian pulled out his cell again and opened his text to speech app, typing a quick message.

“You can come to the office. Talk there.” The computerized voice answered for him.

The bondsman barked an I-can’t-believe-this-shit’ laugh and mocked in his own robotic voice that ended up making him sound like Yoda on Auto-Tune. “I can come to the office, he says.”

The crowd laughed along with the bondsman. “I can’t work with your incompetence or whatever special needs you have.”

“Can you be any more of a dick, Ron? Probably not. Do you know you’re insulting a decorated veteran, you shit?”

Brian didn’t have to turn around to know the bondswoman—Grace—with a mouth like a sailor had come up behind him, drawing all the attention to herself and off Brian’s heated face. The mocking of his app had him pissed. The way the crowd snickered and the hushed murmurs of ‘what’s wrong with him’ reached his ears over all the others. Nothing was wrong with him, dammit. Then Brian realized they were staring at him with pity now. Another mentally fucked-up vet. Now they gaped at his massive size as if he was a gamma radiation experiment gone bad.

“I don’t give a damn. He’s a recovery agent I’ve contracted for my bounty.”

“God, you are such an ass,” she went on.

The crowd was still increasing as people started to frown on Ron and agree with Brian’s heroine, thanking her for busting up his disrespectful one-man show. Many still believed that men and women who served in the armed forces, who put their lives on the line for America’s freedom should be treated with respect when they came home. Not publicly ridiculed.

Grace had the name of angel, but she also had the sharp tongue of the devil. She’d been known to cut people down to size when they tried to flex their muscles on her or in general, and Ron the bondsman wouldn’t be spared. She always put Brian in the mind of an Amazon. Tall, lean, sexy and fierce. She had her jet-black hair pulled back at her neck and her face was devoid of any makeup. Revlon wasn’t needed for natural beauty. Grace put her hands on her hips, unbuttoned the jacket on one of her notorious pant suits and stood with her feet shoulder width apart as if she had to brace herself for what she was about to say next. Looking over the heads in the crowd, Brian could see some court officials making their way over to the spectacle, their hands resting on the butts of their tasers. He tapped Grace on her shoulder, but she waved him off as if she couldn’t be deterred.

“It’s no one’s fault that you bit off more than your dumb ass can chew. Took a bond that was too big for what was in your tiny bank account and now you want to take it out on everyone else.” She pointed over her shoulder. “If I was Duke, I wouldn’t have sent anyone to help you. I’d let you go bankrupt, asshole. You’d be right up shit’s creek, after I beat your ass with your own paddle.”

“You’re not Duke, so stay the hell out of it, Grace.” Ron’s face was now as red as Brian’s.

She nodded as if she was in complete agreement with herself as the crowd egged her on. “If you were on fire, I wouldn’t squat and piss on you, Ron.”

Ron growled and threw his hands up. “You talk too damn much, woman. No wonder you’re still single at forty-five.”

That earned Ron a few ‘ohhhs’ from the audience but mostly scowls from the women.

Grace threw her head back and laughed like a crazed jackal. She moved right up to Ron’s face and snarled. “I’m single because I have standards.” She looked Ron up and down with disgust. “If me and you were stranded on an island, and there wasn’t another dick in sight; I’d still fuck myself with a pine cone before I touch you.”

Raucous laughter rang out just as the officials arrived, waving their hands for the crowd to disperse. They were well aware who Grace was and instead of reprimanding her—which was useless—another bailiff just pointed towards the door with a clipped warning to move it out of the building.

When they got outside, Ron made a quick getaway, never sparing Brian another glance. He smirked down at Grace who was shooting daggers at Ron’s back and tapped her again. He mouthed ‘thank you’, hoping she could tell how grateful he was. It wasn’t easy for him to let a female come to his rescue but the look on Ron’s face had been priceless. The guy had that coming.

“No problem, Brian. You know I hate that guy.” She hefted her briefcase higher on her shoulder and gave him a devilish grin. “That was fun. I enjoyed that. Tell Duke and the crew I said, ‘hey’. And tell him my invite to his Fourth of July charity youth cookout better not be late.”

Brian watched her until she got to her black and silver Lexus. Damn, that’s a lot of woman. He drove back to the office to pick up his weapons before he went out to do surveillance. He’d just turned on to the M.L.K. when his phone buzzed on the center console.