Dinner and a Show... conclusion
By Brate
Part Two
Buck raced home, hoping not to miss any exciting plays by the Broncos. He'd been drafted to go pick the pizza up after losing a round of 'rock-paper-scissors.' He was pretty certain Chris and Josiah had conspired against him, but with no proof, he was doomed to be the delivery boy.
He practically ran into his and JD's place and threw the pizza onto the coffee table, yelling at Josiah and Chris to update him on what he missed. They started to relay some plays, while he snaked a piece of pizza. He bit into it distractedly, eyeing the television. Seconds later, he spit out the piece, cursing, "Dammit! JD knows I hate anchovies!"
Josiah, sitting perpendicular to the two on the couch glanced at the box sitting open on the table. Then he did a double take and brought his friends' attention to it. "Buck, that's not a mistake...it's a message." He grabbed the piece back from the ladies' man, replaced it, and turned the box around so it could be seen. Spelled out in anchovies was the word, "HELP."
"Let's go," Chris commanded.
~~*~~*~~*~~*~~
"No one's moved since I was there," commented Buck as he looked through a pair of binoculars at Mancino's Restaurant. The three men were parked across the street in Josiah's Suburban, down the road from the restaurant.
The ex-preacher remarked, "Seems our brothers may be in a bit of trouble."
"When aren't they?" Buck grinned.
Chris took the binoculars and looked through. "It's not natural," he said on the patron's fixed positions. "But you wouldn't notice unless you were looking for it. No sign of Vin?"
"Not a one," answered the scoundrel, a frown quickly replacing his smile. "Come to think of it, I didn't see him when I picked up the food either."
"He's down," Chris stated, with certainty. "We've got to find out what's going on," he continued, and flipped open his cell phone. He dialed the restaurant and watched through the binoculars as JD was motioned to answer it, and a man held a gun on Ezra.
"Mancino's."
"JD, it's Chris. What's going on?"
"Good evening, Mr. Travis. Your reservation for nine-thirty is confirmed; we'll have your table ready."
"It's a hit on Travis?"
"Yes, sir. That'll be no problem."
"Where's Vin?"
"The pizza isn't all that good tonight, I'd recommend the lasagna."
Chris' gut tightened at the verification of his fear. "Got it." Larabee watched as the man signaled JD to hang up. "We're coming in, be ready."
"Very well, sir. Good night."
"Well?" Buck questioned as soon as his boss hung up.
"Vin's hurt bad, and it looks to be a hit on Travis." Chris looked over at his teammates. "There are at least two suspects, and we've only got until nine-thirty. Buck, try to get a hold of Travis and warn him off. Josiah, I'm going to need you to get the two of you in through the back door."
"No problem. I'll go start now." He met Buck's gaze as his friend tried to reach the judge on his phone. "I'll see you in back." The large man reached under the seat and brought out a small pack, which he took with him. He ran across the street, ducking behind the nearest building.
"No luck, amigo," Buck hung up his phone. "Travis is unavailable. How do you want to play this?"
"We've only got fifteen minutes until the judge is supposed to show, and no telling how Vin is holding up. We've got to do this now." The blond quickly outlined his plan and sent his oldest friend on his way, before climbing into the rear of the Suburban. He changed into an old jogging suit of Josiah's, bunching it up to fit, and stuck his gun in the back waistband of the pants. He started to jog along the street, waiting for his agents to make their move.
Part Three
For the first time tonight, JD had hope. He'd been enormously thankful to hear his boss' voice on the phone, and worked hard to keep his relief from showing. He relayed what information he could before he was warned off the phone.
The thugs were celebrating the fact that Travis was headed here and the plan was working wonderfully. Over their happiness, JD managed to catch Ezra's eye and mouth the word, 'Chris.' Ezra nodded that he understood. "I'd better to check on the injured man," the youngest agent announced.
Victor looked up from where he resided at the center table. "Okay, you were good on the phone, I'll give you a break. Go ahead."
JD entered the kitchen and knelt next to Vin. The Texan was still hot. The young agent checked his friend's vitals and found his pulse racing dangerously fast. He hoped Chris and the others would hurry, while checking to see that the bleeding had slowed. Vin was mumbling, but JD couldn't decipher what was being said. He tried to reassure his friend but knew he could do little. "I'm sorry, Vin," he whispered. He ensured Carla was continuing her care of the sharpshooter, and returned to his position at the bar.
He motioned to Ezra and the undercover agent nodded in return. Neither man knew what their teammates were going to do, but they both knew to be ready for anything.
~~*~~*~~*~~*~~
Josiah managed to silently pick the lock on the backdoor of the bistro, and nodded to Buck. The tall agent moved forward with gun drawn to back up his partner.
"Where'd you learn to do that?" he asked.
"I wasn't always a man of God," was the chuckled answer. Reaching into the bag he had with him, Josiah removed a thin line of cable with a miniature camera mounted on one end. "Let's see where we stand." He maneuvered the cable under the doorframe and swung it around the interior. Watching on the small monitor they could see the inside of the kitchen. The kitchen counter blocked most of the room, but they spotted an armed man standing near the interior door to the restaurant.
"What's the plan?" asked the profiler.
"If we can get him near the door, we can knock him out with it." Josiah agreed, so Buck started to scratch lightly on the door with his fingernails.
Josiah watched through the camera as the man came closer to the door. He made sure the cable was situated out of sight and reported to his friend, "He's almost here."
The scoundrel then knocked lightly, alternating the taps between the top and bottom of the door. While the man stared at it in confusion, Josiah signaled when it was time. "Now!" he whispered furiously.
Quick as lightening, Buck turned the knob and slammed the door into their adversary. The unexpected force knocked the man into the wall and he slid down, unconscious. Carla jumped up in shock, containing a shriek when she saw the agent's familiar face peeking in. "Mr. Buck, Vin needs you," she said quietly. Josiah entered directly behind Buck and went to check on their downed friend.
Buck moved silently, easing himself to the inner door, listening for a sign that they'd been detected while Josiah crouched down next to Vin, checking the injury. His friend's pale face and sweat-covered brow did little to ease the preacher's concerns. "You did real good, Mrs. Mancino," the profiler told the woman. He answered Buck's unasked question with a shake of his head.
Josiah stood up and walked next to his friend. "We've got to do this fast," the grey-haired agent whispered. He opened his cell phone and called for an ambulance.
Buck grinned without mirth, "We'd better be done by the time the medics show, or else they're gonna be pissed." The ladies' man moved over and placed handcuffs on the unconscious gunman. Then he took a strip of the tablecloth and gagged him, to make sure their entrance remained covert.
Josiah returned to Vin's side. "Mrs. Mancino, we need you to leave out the back."
"No."
Buck and Josiah exchanged a look of surprise. "What do you mean 'no'?" the ladies' man asked.
"I am not leaving my husband, nor am I leaving this poor boy who tried to protect my place," the older woman stated emphatically, smoothing Vin's hair off his flushed face. "I'm staying."
Buck shrugged, "Call Chris and tell 'em we're starting." Josiah made the call, reporting Vin's condition and letting him know there was an ambulance on the way.
The scoundrel picked up a fork off the counter and moved to one side of the kitchen door, while Josiah took the other. They readied themselves, and Buck tossed the utensil lightly against the oven.
In the dining room, the clatter could be heard echoing through the quiet restaurant. Managing to catch Ezra's eye, JD knew what he had to do. The dark-haired operative moved from behind the bar. "I'll go check what that was." He started to head to the kitchen only to be stopped by Victor's threatening voice.
"Hold up." The balding man stood up with his weapon pointed at the kitchen door. "Eddie!" he called. When no answer was received, he motioned to Angelo. "Check it out." He pointed at JD and told him to move away from the door. He kept his pistol trained on the agents as his man cautiously stepped through the swinging door.
~~*~~*~~*~~*~~
Outside, Larabee watched as the gunman moved to the rear of the eatery then made his move. He headed straight for the front door and yanked it open. Ezra had seen his leader's approach and was poised to strike at the felon standing across the aisle.
Chris' arrival coincided with Angelo's exit into the kitchen. Victor spun around at the sound of the door, his gun tracking with his body. The blond feigned surprise and threw his hands into the air. "Whoa, whoa. I just wanted to get a bite to eat, mister. Be cool."
Ezra tried to control his shock at seeing his leader dressed as a harmless jogger; he'd never seen Chris look so non-threatening.
Victor sized up the new arrival and dismissed him as a threat. "Sit down over there...now," he ordered, gesturing at a booth with his pistol. Chris did as directed and, as he bent over to enter the booth, he covertly removed his gun from concealment.
"Angelo, what's going on in there?" the felon called. "Angelo?" When no answer was received, the warning bells went off in his head. Unfortunately for him, it was already too late. When he whipped around, he was confronted by Chris Larabee, and the ATF leader was in a decidedly bad mood.
The blond revealed his gun, which was directed at the bald man. "I suggest you put down your weapon and step back, or I will be forced to tell the ME how many bullets I emptied into you."
In the kitchen, Josiah was restraining an unhappy Angelo, as Buck heard his oldest friend's command. He opened the kitchen door announcing, "It's me, Pard," and covered the last remaining gunman from the rear. Buck took in the scene promptly, seeing both that his roommate was fine, and that Chris was involved in a standoff with the last remaining gunman.
As the second man emerged from the kitchen, Victor eyed his position, still hoping for a way out. He swung his gun around and trained it on the undercover agent. "Let me go or he dies."
Chris glanced at his agent, who was shaking his head sadly, saying, "I'm afraid you're out of luck, Victor. The gentleman that you shot is a good friend of Mr. Larabee's, and I don't believe he is in the mood to bargain." The Southerner relayed his concern to his leader, desperation starting to show on the poker face, "We need to get this done, now."
"This asshole shot Vin?" snarled Chris.
"Yes."
No longer caring whether or not the criminal held a weapon, Larabee stormed up to him, and placed his gun barrel against Victor's temple. "Drop it or die."
A clunk sounded on the carpet as the man released his hold on his pistol, and everyone in the restaurant began breathing once again. Sal Mancino raced into the back to check on his wife. The young woman at the table started to cry in relief, while Larabee tossed his handcuffs to Ezra, snapping, "Take care of this trash."
Chris marched over to where Buck was talking to JD. The agent saw his arrival and answered his leader's question before it could be spoken. "He's bad, Chris, but the ambulance is on its way, and Josiah thinks he'll be okay."
The leader nodded to indicate he'd heard and continued his journey to the kitchen. He passed the reunited restaurateurs and knelt down beside Vin. The sharpshooter still hadn't regained consciousness, and Chris gazed down at his too-pale best friend. He stared at the amount of blood collected on the pieces of tablecloth, and met the eyes of his profiler. "He's gonna be okay?" he whispered hoarsely.
"I'm not as skilled as Nathan, but I think if we can get him to the hospital, he'll be fine." Josiah was about to suggest that Chris go and wait for the ambulance, but realized that would be a futile request. Nothing would move the man from his friend's side, so the large agent decided to check for himself to see if the paramedics were there yet. He patted his leader's shoulder and walked through the swaying doors.
Just as Josiah saw the flashing lights of the emergency vehicle, Judge Travis and Evie strolled through the front door of the restaurant.
"What the hell is going on here?" bellowed the judge after surveying the chaos. His wife slapped him on the arm for his coarse language, as Ezra stepped forward and volunteered to explain the entire situation.
Josiah beckoned to the medics, and led them to the injured man. Vin was quickly loaded onto a gurney and transported through the restaurant into the waiting ambulance. On his way by, Chris acknowledged the judge, asking Josiah and Ezra to stay behind and get the mess sorted out. Buck told JD where the Suburban was parked and had to hurry in order to keep up with the young agent.
"Come on, Buck," demanded JD as he belted himself in the front seat.
"Vin'll be fine, kid. Don't fret."
JD nodded as if he understood the statement, but continued to bounce in his seat, anxious to reach the hospital. Both men remained silent until Buck pulled into the hospital's parking lot.
"It was my fault," the raven-haired agent said, voice barely above a whisper.
"What?" asked Buck.
"I said," JD stated louder, "it was my fault."
"What was your fault?"
"Vin getting shot."
"That's bullshit," Buck tried to joke his friend out of his mood as he parked the car. "You know that Texan has a bullet-magnet inside 'im."
"It's not funny!" JD yelled back. "We shoulda called the cops. It wasn't our place to handle it. Chris is probably furious with me."
"You all are federal agents who suspected a crime was going to be committed. You didn't shoot Vin." Buck said this last phrase to an empty seat because his roommate had already exited the vehicle, hurrying inside. "That boy is gonna drive me to drink," mused the mustached man.
Team Seven's leader was pacing in front of the doors to the surgical suite when the young agent arrived on the floor. JD took a deep breath and marched forward, as if into the lion's den. "Will he be okay?" he asked Larabee.
Chris turned toward his youngest agent and shrugged. "They seem to think it was a good place to be shot," he said scathingly. He continued his explanation when he saw his oldest friend's approach. "The bullet missed any vital organs, but he was bleeding on that floor a long time."
The blond stalked to the waiting room and sat on the nearest chair, followed by his agents. "The only thing we can do now is wait."
JD started to pace as the two older agents sat. On his fourth trip around the room, the young lawman was told to go find some coffee for them. As soon as JD left the room, Buck shared his concern with his friend.
"The kid feels responsible."
Chris seemed confused. "For what?"
"All of it."
"That's ridiculous. Ezra and Vin attract trouble no matter where they go."
"Yeah, but JD asked for their help, and now Vin's shot. He's also worried that you'll be pissed at him."
"He's an idiot."
"Well, now, Pard. This moment probably wouldn't be the best time to tell him that," Buck grinned.
"Yeah." The green-eyed leader lowered his voice when he heard his agent returning with the drinks. "I'll take care of it."
"Thanks, Chris."
The three agents sipped on bitter coffee and waited for word from Vin's doctors. Josiah and Ezra arrived after securing the chaos at the restaurant. The two newly arrived agents found their counterparts and told what had been discovered after the interrogation at the site.
"Apparently they were out-of-town muscle hired by Ed Graham as payback," Josiah explained.
"What did they hope to accomplish?" JD asked.
"Letting the cretins in the underworld know that Graham would not be bested. Although, in this case, that will not be accomplished." The undercover agent sat down next to the ladies' man. "Any news on Mr. Tanner?"
"A nurse came out a few minutes ago and said the doctor would be out shortly to let us know how he is," the leader told his agents.
As if summoned, the doctor strode through the room to stop in front of the men. The five men jumped up and moved toward the physician. "Well?" Larabee's men, pressing in to hear the announcement, quickly surrounded their friend.
The doctor held up his hand to ward off the men's assault. "With a bit of rest, Mr. Tanner should make a complete recovery. Whoever wrapped the wound did a good job at looking after your man. We were able to remove the bullet and restore some of his lost fluid. He'll be in recovery for a while, then you can see him."
Smiles and chuckles were released at the report, and the men started to relax. Chris continued his watch, not able to be completely happy until he could see his best friend in the flesh. JD also persisted in blaming himself, not celebrating with the others.
~~*~~*~~*~~*~~
Larabee had gone to see Tanner in the recovery room. Josiah and Ezra had gone home after being reassured about their fellow agent's health, promising to call Nathan and let him know about Vin. Buck tried to persuade JD to return to their place, but the young agent insisted he apologize to Vin. Chris' voice rang out across the waiting room. "Vin wants to see you, JD."
The young agent nodded his head and started to walk very slowly to the room where his friend lay, shot because of his mistake. He leaned against the doorway, knowing he had to get this over with, but hoping the sharpshooter would be sleeping so he could delay the inevitable.
"Ya gonna stand there all day?" came the raspy whisper.
"No," JD softly replied. He walked over to the side of the hospital bed and looked down at the equipment attached to his friend, and the stark white bandage peeking out from under the covers. "I'm so sorry, Vin," he sighed.
"You should be," the ex-bounty hunter replied. He watched the young man flinch as if struck. "I never got my lasagna."
"What?" asked the youth.
"I said you owe me big... I never got my lasagna."
JD stared down at his friend, not understanding, and then laughed in relief. "I'm really sorry, Vin."
"Nothing to 'pologize for. Chris told me about the pizza; ya done good, kid. Ya kept yer head and no one else got hurt."
"You did," JD reported mournfully.
"True, but after my tenth visit to this place, I get frequent-injury miles." Vin laid his head back down on the pillow and closed his eyes. "So I figger I'm ahead of the game."
The young agent smiled down at his friend, "You're so full of crap."
"I'm feeling a mite tired, why don't you go tell Larabee to take his old, wrinkled ass home and get some sleep. I'm fine."
"Yeah," JD scoffed. "That'll happen."
"I can dream," the sharpshooter yawned. He moved his head a bit and settled down, succumbing to the drugs in his system and his body's need for rest.
JD knew he should probably go get Chris, but looking down at his injured friend, he decided to stay and keep watch, just for a while.
The End
