I'm sorry that this update has taken so long. Between working 50 hour scheduled weeks at work and having surgery on my foot today, I've been so busy that I haven't had time to write. I apologize.
"Dunbar? There's not much that I have to tell about him. I worked on his campaign, he accused me of stealing from him, so he fired me. That's how I got stuck working this dead end security job." Briggs scowled, his brow furrowing in confusion.
"That's it? Come on now, Briggs, I can't help you if you don't want to help yourself." I replied, sighing and pinching the bridge of my nose.
"What are you talking about, man? That's all I know about him!" Briggs strained against the chair.
"BULLSHIT!" I barked, leaning foward and bracing my hands on the arms of the chair so that I was directly in front of his face, our noses almost brushing. "A few thousand dollars missing is no reason for him to put crosshairs on your back."
"C-crosshairs?!" Briggs stammered, his face paling.
"Yeah, crosshairs. Do I have your attention now, Briggs?!"
"Why the hell does Dunbar want me dead?" He questioned, his wild eyes fixing on a spot between his feet.
"That's what I'm asking you. So, I need you to tell me what else you know about him."
"I wouldn't push him, Briggs. He's not a patient man." Sam interjected from his spot across the warehouse. He was reclined in a plastic chair, his feet kicked up on a card table. He and Jesse were "casually" playing poker. I'd seen that ruse from them a thousand times, and I was comfortable knowing that they had my back. Briggs' eyes flicked over to Sam briefly before settling back on my face.
"It...it may have been a bit more than just a couple thousand dollars that I stole from the campaign." He muttered, letting his chin drop down. Anger flared through me at the statement. Fiona's life was at stake and he was playing games with me...
My fist connected with the side of his mouth in a wet slap of flesh on flesh, spraying blood-streaked saliva with, potentially, a few of his teeth hit the floor. The punch sent his head snapping backward before lolling forward as he tried to regain focus through the haze that I'm sure he was feeling. Sam's hand on my bicep was the only thing that stopped me from beating him until he was unrecognizable.
"Mikey, I know that you're stressing out here, but we need him alive if we're going to convince Dunbar that we did what he asked and get Fi back in one piece." His voice was gruff as he whispered the rationality that only Sam could bring into a situation like the one we were in.
"Well, actually, Dunbar wants him dead. I could kill the son of a bitch, drop him off on the White House stairs, and wipe our hands of the entire thing. We'd have Fi back, Dunbar would be happy, it'd be fine."
"And Briggs? Would he be fine with that situation?" Sam questioned, quirking his eyebrow as his hand tightened on my shoulder.
"When you steal 'a bit more then a few thousand dollars', you don't get to have a say in the situation." I growled, ignoring the way that Sam's eyes sparked with his own frustration.
"Mike, that isn't how we operate! We're not going to kill a man for stealing some money." I closed my fists around Sam's shirt collar and threw him against the metal wall closest to use. His hot breath rushed across my face as the air left his lungs.
"There is no 'how we operate' when it comes to saving Fi's life, Sam!" I snapped, anger surging through my veins at the idea of losing Fiona. I couldn't let that happen. She was...everything.
"I understand that you want her back, Mikey, and we're going to get her, but not this way. Not. This. Way." I could feel Sam's voice trying to penetrate the rushing of blood in my ears, but this was the kind of rage that was so deepseeded that it overthrew even the darkest recesses of my mind.
"Leave me alone, Sam. Let me do this my way."
"Mike, 'your way' is going to wind you up in prison. We're a team. This is how teams operate, they consult each other!" Jesse interjected. I shot him a purely toxic look.
"Without me, this team isn't anything more than a bunch of misfits."
"No! You know what, without you, I would still have my job! I wouldn't have to run around, skulking in the shadows and hiding from the agency I used to live and breathe for! I would have my life still!" Jesse seethed, poking me in the chest roughly. I was about to reach out and snap that damned finger when my phone started ringing. I scowled at him a moment longer before flipping open the phone.
"Yes?" I snarled.
"Now, now, Westen, don't sound so excited to hear from me."
"Dunbar, this really isn't a good time." I pinched the bridge of my nose and shook my head.
"I don't give half a damned if it's a good time or not. Is the job finished? Did you take care of him?" I could hear the sound of bustling on the other end of the line as Dunbar shifted the receiver.
"I've got him in custody." I replied, my voice sounding arctic even to my own ears.
"I'll be there within the hour."
"How the hell do you know where we are?" I questioned.
"Oh, Michael. I'm the president. I know where everyone is." And then the line went dead.
"I have a bad feeling about this." I muttered.
"I'm right there with you Mike, but what else are we going to do? He kind of has all of the cards in his hand." Sam clapped his hand on my shoulder. I flicked my gaze over to him, and then over to Jesse, who quickly averted his eyes.
"So, now what?" Jesse mumbled. I felt a twinge of guilt in the pit of my stomach.
"Now, we get ready."