“G o back to your boss—tell him I’m looking for him.” I drove my fist into the face of the two-bit thug I had against the wall. “My name is Vincent Crane and he can find me at Dixon’s Bar.”

It was the fourth of Lawson King’s known associates I had put my fist through. The easiest way to get his attention was to tell people I was looking for him. I was fairly certain he was looking for me too, because I didn’t expect Peoria to hide the fact I gave her the necklace. I just hoped they hadn’t hurt her before she told them—and I hoped they didn’t kill her after she did. I watched as the man ran down the alleyway and then climbed back into my truck. The only thing I could do was wait for the hell that was coming my way. The jewelry was still locked up where we left it, but I had the ring and tennis bracelet in my pocket to prove I was the one who robbed the store. I lit a cigarette and headed to Dixon’s Bar. I didn’t manage to take more than a few sips from my beer when the door opened and a man with jet black hair stepped into the bar. He wasn’t a regular and his suit suggested he was definitely a long way from home.

“Vincent Crane.” He looked around the bar.

“That’s me.” I slid off the stool and walked over to him. “But you’re not the man I’m looking for—I want to talk to Lawson King.”

“You don’t get to talk to Lawson King, you get to talk to me. My name is Gill, and that is the last name you’re going to hear.” He smiled, but it was an emotionless stare. “Now, if you would be so kind as to give me back what you stole from Mr. King, I’ll take you out to the desert so you can dig your own grave. I’m sure you understand.”

“I want the girls you took. The minute I know they’re safe, I’ll give you your jewelry and you can do what you want with me.” I narrowed my eyes at him. “It isn’t up for negotiation.”

“I figured you would probably say something like that.” He sighed and shook his head. “That’s why we didn’t kill them.”

“They had nothing to do with this. It was all me. I stole from you.” I tapped my chest several times and then tossed the two pieces of jewelry on the table. “That should be proof enough.”

“You had help. The people at the jewelry store said there were two of you.” He reached down and picked up the ring and tennis bracelet.

“That was just a low-life thug I paid to carry a gun for me. I’m the one who was behind it. He’s halfway to Mexico by now—he got wind of who owned the store before I did.” I exhaled sharply and shook my head. “I didn’t know the store was owned by your boss when I hit it. I just thought it was an easy way to make some money.”

“I see. You’ve got two hours.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a card. “Bring everything to that address.”

“That isn’t good enough.” I shook my head back and forth. “I want Lawson King’s word—it actually means something to him. I don’t know you.”

“Lift your arms.” He motioned towards me.

“What?” I raised my eyebrows.

“Mr. King is in the car outside—he can’t wait to meet you.” Gill motioned to me again. “But I’m going to check you for weapons first.”

I lifted my arms and Gill started checking me from head to toe. He seemed content when he noticed I wasn’t armed. He motioned for me to follow him and I obliged. I didn’t bother bringing a gun. There was one in my truck, but if it came to a shootout, I wasn’t going to be able to win. It certainly wouldn’t do anything to keep Peoria safe. I noticed the bartender looking at me with a concerned look, but I waved him off. The rest of the patrons that were at the bar that early didn’t seem to pay us any attention. I walked outside and Gill opened the back door of a black sedan. I took a deep breath and slid inside of it, finding an older man with gray hair sitting in the front seat. He didn’t look back at me, but I knew it was Lawson King. I had seen his picture on television enough to recognize him, even if all I could see was the side of his face and his hair.

“Mr. King.” I nodded to him, showing him respect even though I didn’t think very highly of him or what he did.

“Vincent Crane.” A sigh echoed from his lips. “It is unusual for the people I’m hunting to come looking for me.”

“I fucked up, Mr. King. I understand the consequences, I just want your word that the girls will go free. You can do whatever you want with me after you have your jewelry back and they are safe.” I leaned against the seat and felt my jaw clenching involuntarily.

“You’re not old enough to remember Las Vegas the way it was in my day.” His voice was ragged and somber. “Honor used to mean a lot—a man’s word used to mean everything. It still does to me—I like that you recognize that. You have my word that if I get everything back, the girls will not be harmed.”

“Thank you, Mr. King.” I nodded and let out a slight sigh of relief. “I’m sorry about your jewelry store. I would have never done that if I knew you owned the place.”

“Maybe I’ll put that on your tombstone, Mr. Crane. I trust that Gill gave you the address.” He continued to stare straight ahead.

“Yes sir.” I nodded.

“I’ll see you soon, Mr. Crane.” He motioned with his hand and the back door opened.

I had hope as I climbed back in my truck and cranked it up. I lit a cigarette and started driving towards the bus station where we stashed one of our bags. Mr. Lawson might have been a gangster who did horrible things, but he was a man of his word. If he promised that Peoria would be okay, then I just had to trust that and make things right. I was going to be walking into my own funeral, but if meant Peoria could go back home to Georgia, then I was willing to let it be my final act. I regretted the situation, but I didn’t regret one minute that I spent with her. Getting her out of the mess she was in because of me was the only thing that truly mattered.

I parked outside the bus station and walked inside with the key in my hand. As I approached the locker, I realized something was wrong. My head started spinning and I started sprinting towards it. The edge of the door had been forced open and there was nothing inside of it. I put my hands on my head and took a step back.

Fuck! Fuck you, Floyd! You fucking bastard!

Floyd was the only one who could have taken the jewelry from the bus station. It wasn’t the largest part of the stash, but I didn’t think Mr. King would appreciate not getting every bit of his stolen merchandise back. I walked towards my truck with haste in my step, unsure where to go from there. I leaned back against the seat and cursed Floyd’s name with every single despicable word I could think of. I trusted him when he said he wouldn’t take the jewelry—it was clear that his word didn’t mean shit.

I turned on the truck and drove to the bank. At least I could get that and try to negotiate with Mr. King. Bringing him some of his jewelry was better than nothing at all. I walked into the bank and stepped up to the teller who greeted me with a smile. I pushed my fake identification across the counter and waited for her to return with the key to my safety deposit box. She disappeared into the back for a few minutes and when she returned, she had a man following her.

“Mr. Grant?” The man held up my fake identification and used the name that was on it.

“Yes sir.” I nodded.

“Do you have your key to the safety deposit box?” He put my identification card on the counter.

“Yeah.” I nodded and reached into my pocket. “Right here.”

“Oh dear...” His face went white.

“What the fuck does that mean?” I felt my stomach churning.

“Sir, I think we’re going to need to call the police. A man came in here earlier and requested your safety deposit box. He had a key—he had an identification card with your name on it.” The man’s forehead started to sweat.

“Sir, this is Mr. Grant.” The teller motioned to me. “I helped him set up the safety deposit box.”

“Oh dear.” The man reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief as he repeated the same phrase. He wiped it across the sweat beads on his forehead.

“Fuck!” I slammed my hand on the counter and turned towards the door.

“Mr. Grant, do you want me to call the police?” The teller asked as I started to walk away.

“No!” I practically yelled it across the bank.

I had no idea what I was going to do. I couldn’t let Peoria die because of my own stupidity. I picked up my phone and dialed Floyd’s number several times, immediately redialing it when I didn’t get a response. It was clear he had skipped town with all the jewelry and fed me a bag of garbage in the process. I made one more trip to his apartment and when I didn’t get a response, I kicked it open and stared at a mostly empty apartment. Nothing large was taken, but he was definitely gone. I stormed back to my apartment and took a drink of whiskey before returning to my truck.

I had to save Peoria.

I was going to have to do the one thing I never thought I would do and that was betray Floyd. He had already taken the first steps in that betrayal, but I didn’t have a choice. The only thing that could possibly save Peoria was telling Mr. King who had his jewelry and hoped he let me live long enough to see Peoria walk out alive. I continued cursing Floyd’s name as I approached the address I got from Gill, which appeared to be a club.