Sam drained the shot glass and thumped it onto the bar. Without looking at the bartender, he raised a finger. Seconds later, another drink appeared in front of him.
Before he could pick it up, someone stepped up beside him and picked up the glass, handing it back to the bartender, who silently took it away.
Sam swiveled to face the newcomer.
Mary. Behind her, Bobby. And Charlie.
"It's time to go, Sam," Mary said crisply. "We've got work to do."
Sam stared at each of them. Nodded. Stood.
He wasn't alone this time.
"Let's go get my fucking brother."