Called Up
An ATF/AU
By: Tidia
Beta/Fluffer (because she added to this to make it so much better, but is too humble to be a co-author): Mog (or mogue)
Warnings: Swearing. They are men involved in law enforcement. I'm leaving it at that.
Disclaimer: Magnificent 7 does not belong to me and must give credit to MOG for creating the ATF- it is still shiny.
Notes: Thank you to those who have read, reviewed, followed, read and marked this as a favorite. I am glad you have enjoyed the story.
Part 4
Nate wanted him to sit in the fucking backseat? He didn't fucking think so. Not after being stuck on a goddamn plane so long he'd lost count of the time zones. Nice fucking try. Shit, he had to clean up his language. He hadn't slipped yet, but Nettie would be at Chris's house and she would probably be able to read his mind and those fucking curse words going on in his head.
Six months amongst desert rat military personnel dropped Vin into the habit of using too many colorful words not fit for polite company. He stretched out a bit and positioned the air conditioner so he felt the cool breeze. He was used to the heat, but definitely enjoyed the coolness that was being offered.
The scenery was so different from where he had been, and he recognized how much he had missed Colorado. It was now home. He hadn't been able to afford to be homesick, since he was thrown into the thick almost immediately.
He started in Pakistan because the DOD wanted to get him acclimated, which didn't take long. From his Ranger days, he learned it was always the same shit, different day no matter where he was. He had been placed with a team, and what came along with that with having to prove himself, along with the bit of hazing he expected as a new addition. It had been good working with them from time to time, but then the DOD would pull him away for other jobs, like training the locals.
He rubbed his chin. He had to shave for the military flight, which he had done yesterday. He had gone from Afghanistan to Germany and then was able to grab a hop to Virginia, and finally to Denver on a military transport. For that, he had been required to wear his BDUs, unmarked as they were.
"I would ask what I missed, but JD covered a shitload in his emails." Fuck, this was gonna be hard.
"No one knows you're coming," Nathan commented. "Ezra kept it quiet." He shifted in the backseat for what seemed like the tenth time in the last twenty minutes.
Ezra gave a 'you're welcome' in the form of a two-finger salute off his temple.
Vin's time with the Rangers had showed him the necessity of sleeping when the opportunity was at hand. He had rested on the plane, but was still working a six-month deficit. He trusted these men and could get some sleep knowing they would watch his back, although the highways of Colorado provided safe passage compared to the Khyber Pass.
He awoke when the Jag's tires hit the gravel of the long drive leading up to Chris's house. He wiped a hand over his mouth and craved some water. "How you doing there, Nate?"
"I'll be fine once I get the feeling back in my legs." When the car finally stopped and Vin shifted the front seat forward, Nathan gingerly got out with as many maneuvers as it took to get in. "That backseat isn't fit for company."
Vin stretched and spent a moment taking in the ranch, curling his toes in his boots so he knew he was there. He looked longingly at the barn as he peeled off his BDU jacket, rolled it up and stuffed it into his duffle, since Ezra had the trunk open for him. He was accustomed to 120 degree heat, so while wearing a jacket when it was in the high 80s didn't bother him much; it felt more freeing to have it off.
"Humans first, then the animals," Ezra said, gesturing to the house. He sensed that Vin was tempted to check on Peso and his Harley. Ezra took the duffle, while Vin took care of his rifle case. It was his tool of the trade and he was always the one that handled it, especially since he had a new rifle.
As they walked to the house it really hit Vin that this homecoming would include everyone—the team plus Nettie, Casey, Mary, Billy, Judge Travis and his wife, Evie. He stopped mid-stride, literally dragging his feet. Nathan wrapped an arm around his shoulders, prompting Vin to pick up the pace. "They won't bite."
He had spent hours on rooftops clearing the streets for soldiers to come in, gone into known places of hostiles, and yet being surrounded by family was overwhelming. He never expected to have that; or perhaps it was because they were family and he didn't have an agile weapon on him. He smirked.
Two steps up and he was on the porch, greeted by an unlocked screen door and an open front door. He smelled the meat on the barbeque and through the open doors heard that everyone was in the backyard. Ezra and Nathan slipped past him, wordlessly acknowledging that they knew he didn't want to be the first into the backyard.
"About time," Buck called out when he saw Ezra step through the backdoor. "Chris was getting worried…about Nathan."
Chris, positioned at the grill with his back to the door, didn't turn around but gave Buck the middle finger.
"Ezra likes to take the long way to get here," Nathan replied, coming through the door, while barely holding a poker face.
Vin stepped out, back to the sunlight.
"Holy shit," JD said with a big grin, which turned into a grimace when Casey elbowed him for his language.
"Uh, Chris, you got another steak?" Buck winked at Vin and started to walk forward.
"Another? What for?" Chris had a long-handled fork in his hand, and turned toward Buck's voice.
"Medium rare works for me," Vin answered, stepping closer to his friends. Various yells and several high-pitched female voices echoed through the air. He stretched out his arm to Chris who grabbed it in a forearm grip then pulled him forward into a hug.
"Son of a bitch," Chris muttered in his ear. "'Bout fucking time you got home."
Vin accepted the embrace before being tackled by Buck, then Josiah lifting him off his feet in a massive bear hug, and finally a high-five and hug thrown in from JD. He embraced Nettie, who cupped his face with both hands, and accepted warm hugs from the other ladies and a strong handshake from Orin.
Throughout the day, his plate was filled. He didn't have much of an appetite—too accustomed to eating MREs with a main concern of staying hydrated. He did drink water, and nursed a couple of beers. Half of his steak went to Chris's dog. He hoarded the corn on the cob because he couldn't think of the last time he had it. He then snuck a visit to Peso who seemed happy to see him; he wondered if the horse had even missed him.
Vin looked down at his clothes, still in BDUs and hiking boots—where he had spent six months. Then he looked around at his friends—his family—and a little voice from far in his past reminded him that that their lives had gone on without him. He silenced it with an internal curse. Yes, all their lives had continued over the last six months, but they weren't complete. He had proof of that through their letters, e-mails, and care packages. Shit, during his first go 'round with the military he hadn't gotten so much as a postcard.
He suddenly felt the need to be alone, and craved the solitude of a shower. He told Chris where he was going before disappearing.
He turned on the water for it to heat up and stripped, pulling out the elastic in his hair, staring at himself in the mirror. He had been in Germany for a few days, hooking up with a nurse, Hannah, who trimmed his hair for him so that it was at his shoulders once more. He hadn't touched it in six months, and couldn't trust the men he was with for fear they would scalp him, "unintentionally-on purpose".
Hannah had been good company on a chance meeting at the base hospital where he needed to be cleared. Although he hid it from the doctors, his back was bothering him from having to nest in prolonged positions; Hannah had picked up on it and offered to give him a massage. He recalled the awkward few seconds after her proposal when she backpedaled upon realizing how her offer could have been interpreted. The muscles were better, but he would need a run tomorrow to work on the kinks and stiffness.
The shower filled with steam, and he took a step into the warm water. The liquid sluiced down his body and he closed his eyes, feeling the smooth porcelain tub under his feet. More than a few times when he had been in country, when things were especially ugly, he had shut his eyes against everything around him and remembered that morning in the office break room-the smell of the coffee, the hum of the refrigerator. Yep, this time 'round he definitely had had something to come back to.
Once finished with his shower, he dried his hair with a towel before wrapping the thick cotton around his waist. He was thinner, but more muscular than he had been six month ago. From the small kit bag he had brought from his duffle he pulled out some pilfered hotel toiletries. He used the body lotion sample, and the hair gel, though he would deny it if anyone ever asked him.
His eyes lingered momentarily over the tattoo on his ribs, under his right arm. With his latest stint in the military it had helped garner some respect with the variety of men he served with. They saw him as one of them rather than considering him a DOD lackey. When he became a Ranger he wanted a tattoo, but he couldn't get a tattoo while he was a Ranger because it would mark him as American, or worse, a soldier. He already had a small tattoo of a yellow rose on the inside of his left arm for his mom, but he really wanted a Ranger emblem. When he finished with the Rangers he decided to commemorate his time there. He decided on a knife, blade pointing up with two arrows crossing in the middle. Scrolled underneath blade forming a semi-circle was RLTW—Rangers Lead The Way.
He still lived by the creed. He went through the words in his mind, each letter of the word starting one of the principles.
Recognizing that I volunteered as a Ranger, fully knowing the hazards of my chosen profession, I will always endeavor to uphold the prestige, honor, and "esprit de corps" of the Rangers.
Acknowledging the fact that a Ranger is a more elite soldier who arrives at the cutting edge of battle by land, sea, or air, I accept the fact that as a Ranger my country expects me to move farther, faster and fight harder than any other soldier.
Never shall I fail my comrades. I will always keep myself mentally alert, physically strong and morally straight and I will shoulder more than my share of the task whatever it may be. One-hundred-percent and then some.
Gallantly will I show the world that I am a specially selected and well-trained soldier. My courtesy to superior officers, neatness of dress, and care for equipment shall set the example for others to follow.
Energetically will I meet the enemies of my country. I shall defeat them on the field of battle for I am better trained and will fight with all my might. Surrender is not a Ranger word. I will never leave a fallen comrade to fall into the hands of the enemy and under no circumstances will I ever embarrass my country.
Readily will I display the intestinal fortitude required to fight on to the Ranger objective and complete the mission though I be the lone survivor.
The shower made him feel more normal. He had forgotten what it was like to transition back into normalcy since the last time he was in the military. He would need to take some time for himself before going back to the Bureau. He hadn't brought a change of clothes into the bathroom, and looking at his BDUs he couldn't imagine wearing them, or his gilley suit, again for a while.
With the towel secure around him he padded down the hall into the guest room and opened one of the drawers where he suspected he would find a supply of clothes from which he could pilfer. Sure enough, there was a pair of jeans and a t-shirt advertising Absolute. While getting dressed, he became aware that it was quieter; looking out the window he noticed that the guys were clearing the last vestiges of the celebration.
Everyone else was gone. He said silent thanks to his team. They seemed to know his escape to the shower was not simply to get cleaned up. Vin needed some decompression time. They would have convinced the others that goodbyes weren't necessary—they would see him again soon enough, most likely for another barbeque at Mary's or Nettie's.
Vin smiled as he went into the kitchen, grabbed a beer from the refrigerator and made his way to the family room. He dropped onto the sofa and propped his feet on the coffee table, waiting for the team to come inside. He turned on the TV and tried to pay attention to the baseball game. Chris and JD were in first, then Ezra and Buck along with Nathan and Josiah. Eventually, they all joined him.
Nathan paused near Vin's feet, his hands on his hips. "Should you be drinking that? Aren't you on antivirals?"
Vin took another drag on his beer. "I think it's okay, Nate." Five days ago he was in the Sangin District in a firefight—if that didn't kill him, then mixing beer with some meds that were supposed to keep him from getting sick probably wasn't an issue. "So how're my kids doing?" He had asked in his last email and received a generic response that everyone was doing well and he was missed.
"Good," JD answered. "I had to fix the computer in your apartment, and while I was there I installed a program so I can access it remotely." He paused with a dramatic sigh. "I found some porn on it…."
"Figured it would happen eventually with the boys getting older." Vin wiped a hand down his face. He would have to have a conversation with the boys.
JD nodded. "Whoever it was got around the parental locks, so I fixed that too. Buck said I should just leave it alone and let the kids have at it. I had to remind him that what's out there now isn't like the old-school Playboys he remembers."
Buck shrugged his shoulders adding an unapologetic smile. "Couldn't send the kid alone so I went as a bodyguard." He leaned forward. "Your landlord's spending some money there. New ac units, fresh paint—looks downright livable."
"Plus a recreation room," Nathan said, "so I guess the kids won't be using your apartment anymore."
"And there are window boxes and an area cleared for a community garden," Josiah concluded.
Vin was impressed that they had paid a visit to Purgatorio and kept an eye out, but he hadn't expected the changes. "That so?" He glared at Ezra who had gotten up to fetch a bottle of whiskey from the kitchen.
Ezra ignored him and pulled out seven glasses from a small glass-front cupboard. "And a new penthouse, which should be completed shortly."
"Penthouse?" Chris turned around to see what Ezra was doing in the kitchen. "Vin's on the top floor. The only other thing up there is a vacant apartment."
"Which will now be one large apartment befitting the new owner." Ezra brought over the glasses, balancing them all on a cutting board-cum-platter.
"New owner?" Buck grabbed a glass.
"Ezra?" Chris cocked his head with suspicion.
"Lord, no. Vin is the new owner of the building." Ezra picked up a glass for himself.
Chris was sitting on the sofa near him and was taken aback. "Vin? How the hell did that happen?"
Vin had to give Ezra credit, he had kept it quiet, and then gone above and beyond, but Vin figured it was going to cost him his hazard pay and then some. "Ez arranged it. I gave him power of attorney and the son of a bitch went and spent my money."
"Not all of it. In fact, your mortgage payment is the same amount you were paying for rent," Ezra explained, being nonchalant.
"How did you manage that?" Nathan sputtered, and Vin was interested too.
Ezra dropped into an overstuffed leather chair and reclined back, clearly enjoying the positive attention. "Our Mister Tanner is a veteran, living in an economically disadvantaged area with a former landlord that owed back taxes. The city, the state and federal government were all willing to pitch in along with the U of D's agriculture and sociology departments. Apparently, they want to study the effects of gardens on violence."
"And you did this when you were undercover?" Chris held his glass of whiskey, but had yet to drink it.
Ezra didn't flinch at the stare directed at him. "I believe that in the end, Douglas Veder did get apprehended."
"What's your take?" Nathan asked, his eyebrow rose in skepticism.
"A five-percent property management fee. Inconsequential." Ezra took a sip of whiskey. "And with Vin's remaining hazard pay I was able to place a down payment on a few acres of land that he'd been interested in."
Vin stared at him for a view seconds and Ezra's brows rose. "You did still want it, didn't you? The acreage you spoke of while we were on surveillance during the Bluewater case…and the Highline assignment."
"Uh…yeah, of course." What did you say to someone who found you a place to call home? "Thanks, Ez. Never thought that would happen." He had mentioned the land he had admired after finding it, but never thought about actually owning it, or the building in Purgatorio. Never thought much about owning anything. He had lived most of his life with a sense of impermanence. It was something that he knew the undercover operative understood.
"Unfortunately, you don't have enough money to build a house on said land, but in time it should be possible."
"Shit, that don't matter none. I just need a spot clear enough to camp on." The idea of being able to build something with his own hands overwhelmed him.
Josiah raised his glass in toast and the others followed suit. "Congratulations, Vin, nice to see something good come from all this."
Chris gave Vin a pat on the back and a nod to Ezra.
"Junior, you're a regular land baron." Standing beside Vin, Buck tossed back his shot of alcohol and put out his hand to congratulate his friend.
Vin accepted the hand, but then pulled Buck downward and off balance. "Bucklin, me and you are gonna have to have a chat," he hissed. "I don't appreciate being called Junior by a fuckin' squad. Before your slip up, they were calling me Tex or ATF, suddenly a friggin' wet-behind-the-ears kid is calling me Junior." When you were working in teams you wanted a cool nickname, which he had had for a few months. "You wanna explain that to me? And you thought I was engaged, too?"
Buck tried to pull his hand back, but Vin kept his grip secure. "Uh…sorry? Got a little excited getting word from you, and you sent it with a pretty lady…."
JD interrupted. "Sounds like you're making it Vin's fault. It also kinda sounds like you're heading up shit creek."
"Kid, you're not helping." With the hand that still held the whiskey glass, Buck reached for JD and smacked him in the leg with the tumbler. "And you thought Vin was engaged too!"
"And you're trying to take me down with you. Leave me out of it," JD replied.
"That's okay, JD." Vin let go and Buck caught himself on the edge of the chair. Vin relaxed back and winked at the younger agent. "Could have been worse, like being called Bogiggles."
Buck's face registered total shock. His head whipped toward Chris. "Did you…? You promised never to tell anyone."
Chris coughed, trying to get gain control from laughing. "Not me. I kept that secret. I was so embarrassed for you that I wouldn't share that."
Buck's focus shot back to Vin. "How did you-?"
Laughter from the others, with a few snorts for good measure, made it clear that they had figured out what was being talked about. Buck took it in stride, but didn't laugh.
Vin crossed his arms. He would never say how he found out about Buck's old nickname. Nathan and Josiah began to prod Buck about how he got the moniker, but the mustached agent was not sharing.
Vin caught the frown that Nathan sent him as he sipped the whiskey. DOD contractors and U.S. soldiers could not buy alcohol or drink alcoholic beverages. Thankfully, the rest of the coalition could and was willing to purchase liquor and beer. He wouldn't press his luck any further with Nathan though. He owed these men. Ezra had gone above and beyond for him, as had Chris. The others had kept him sane with their packages, emails and letters.
His friends knew some of his story like Mama dying when he was five, then in foster care for the rest of the years, but he still had his secrets. He was a runner from the foster care system. Never wanted to stay where he wasn't wanted—the occasional abuse situations and neglect. He was flirting with a gang by the time he was a teenager and was looking at time in jail or an early death.
At seventeen, he was placed in a foster home, a last ditch effort by his new advocate who had brought birthday cake on that day. He had bitten his lip the whole time she had cut and served the chocolate dessert. He hadn't been able to remember the last time someone had gotten him a birthday cake.
She told him he had to stick this home out, make it through high school and then decide between community college, vocational school or the military. It was a wake up that he had choices and that someone was in his corner.
He stayed at the last placement, which wasn't that bad, and finished school. He told his advocate his decision and she took him to sign up to be an Army Ranger. After that, he lived off some of the signing bonus until boot camp. It was during boot camp that he met Chanu, who was also heading towards being a Ranger. Vin's shooting skills were recognized and he was put through sniper school after Ranger School.
Sniper school was about the science of shooting, about being observant and patient, and stalking. He excelled at it, and then was sent overseas to do his job. He enjoyed doing what he was trained for and protecting his fellow soldiers from those that would do them harm.
When Chanu got out on a medical discharge, Vin felt the loss of a friend, but was still committed to his job. It was when he was on one particular mission that everything changed. He had had to take out a kid who had a grenade. He had to take the close range shot, was ordered to do so, and if he hadn't then the kid would have killed others. He took the shot.
Although he didn't have any regrets about his job, he didn't know if he wanted to be in that situation again, and he knew it would happen again. When it came time to re-enlist he decided it was time to find another direction so he was honorably discharged and went to stay with Chanu and his family in Four Corners in the Ute Nation.
While there, he needed work, and one of Chanu's friend recommended bounty hunting. He found he was good at it, and was pulling in some money. During his time in the military he had completed his associate's degree in Criminal Justice. He wanted to go into law enforcement and prepared to take the ATF exam.
While waiting for test results, and possible placement, he had felt he was overstaying his welcome with Chanu and found a cheap apartment in Purgatorio. It fit what he needed—a place to sleep. For some reason, when people needed help in the building they came to him, and he did the best he could for them.
It felt nice when others did their best for him. Vin got up and went to his duffle, which still sat near the front door. He found the package he'd been looking for and opened the box as he walked back. "Cuban cigars from Germany. Figured I had to bring ya'll a present."
"This is a fitting present," Ezra said. "Nathan, I don't suppose you have a cutter on you?"
"Yep." Nathan pulled his keychain from his pocket and began snipping the tips from the seven cigars Vin had laid out.
"I just want ya'll to know that I owe you more than some good smokes," Vin said. "I figure you probably have questions about the last six months. So if you want, you can ask, and I'll answer what I can. 'Cause after tonight, it's in the past. Ain't gonna talk about it."
Nathan took a few starter puffs of his cigar. "I noticed the cuts on your arms. Anything else?"
"This is just from shrapnel. Already scabbed over." He brushed his hand over some of the marks. "I'm fine. That body armor that Chris arranged did its job." The Dragon Skin was packed carefully in his duffle along with a Rhodesian rig. The latter vest allowed him to attach pouches and gear. He would be using both in the future.
"Glad to know you used it, and that Chris found the money in the ATF budget," Nathan toasted Chris with his cigar.
Ezra mirrored the toast. His gaze shifted downward. "Did you want to come back?"
"It was hard to leave when you see the newbies and they ain't got a clue as to what they signed up for 'cept they were filled with getting revenge for their country." Vin raked a hand through his hair. Chris had told him he couldn't save everyone, and he accepted that at some level. "The DOD wanted me to stay. Would have given you more money to spend." He showed a tiny grin to Ezra. "But the team I was with said they would get me home and they did." They knew how important it was to him to return to his team.
"Glad they did because I didn't want to come get you." Chris slapped him on the leg.
"Don't let him fool you, his bags were packed," Buck interrupted. "So where's Osama Bin Laden? Thought you would have been the one to take him out."
Vin shook his head. He expected that was a question he would probably be asked. "Not in Afghanistan. Probably in Pakistan and that's a whole other problem." He thought of the times the Pakistani military was supposed to be providing backup and then they would disappear or make an excuse. "Ya feel like ya can't trust the Afghanis that say they're our friends, and the Pakistanis are looking the other way." He took a sip from the whiskey he nursed. "The Afghanis that were supposed to be working with us would disappear and usually within twelve hours our position would be hit."
"Did you go after Bin Laden, or other members of Al Qaeda?" JD's drink was finished and he was using the glass as an ashtray.
"Can't answer that one, JD." Vin immediately saw that the younger man felt like he had been admonished so he tried to turn the question. "I can tell you that from day to day things changed. One day I was making sure Marines could get through the Khyber Pass and another day I was storming a house 'cause we heard there were insurgents there. For a time, I was training some Afghanis to be their own security force." Vin purposely left out the sniper missions. He couldn't say anything about that. "Can't describe it so you'd really understand…it's different from the stuff we do with the ATF—more intense, faster, more people, more variables. I can just give you an idea of what it's like, 'kay?"
"Whatever you did, it's enough that the Army is talking about medals," JD said, puffing his cigar.
Vin frowned slightly. "Is that so? And how would you know?" There had been talk, but Vin didn't expect anything, and he wondered what JD had done to find out.
JD shrugged. "I just know."
"As long as you don't get caught." Chris shot his agent a hard stare but only received an innocent look in return.
"What I want to know," Josiah said, "is what did you learn in a place half a world away?"
Vin gestured to the rifle case with the cigar. "Got myself a new rifle, picked up some words in Farsi and Pashto that could come in useful. Oh, and they've got these flatbread pastries called gosh feel—elephant ear kinda things…goddamn. Beats anything I ever had at the fairs in Texas.
"In the downtime, I got to know some good people from the coalition forces. And the locals, they're just trying to live. Some don't want any of this stuff. People are the same wherever you go. 'Course, there are some hateful people too."
"Everywhere in the world, Brother." Josiah drained his whiskey. "Glad there are good men in the world to stop them."
Vin would tell Josiah later that the prayer card his friend had given him was now part of his sniper ritual, in the same pocket as his med kit, which is where it would always be. Snipers were a superstitious lot, and once you had a formula you repeated it for luck.
That left one person who hadn't asked him anything. "No questions, Cowboy?
Chris answered with a small shake of his head. "Just glad you're home." The team leader was relaxed; he had lost the tenseness that Vin had heard during the couple of phone calls he had been able to make home. "I take that back…when are you coming back to work?"
Vin finished his whiskey, put down the glass and started with his cigar, which Nathan had cut for him. "I'd like to check out my penthouse." He chuckled at the thought and absurdity of having more room. "And my land."
"So I'll see you on Monday." Chris puffed his cigar.
"Expect so," Vin replied, looking forward to getting back to the ATF and the team.
…
Eventually, the team went home, but Vin was staying with Chris until his place in Purgatorio was ready. His friend was in the kitchen, loading the dishwasher. "You don't have to do that."
Vin shrugged. "Have to do something." He locked the dishwasher and hit the ON button. The washer responded with a whoosh.
Chris sat at the breakfast island. It was late, but seeing his friend return, hanging out with his team, had energized him. He also knew that there was more to Vin. He wasn't worried about PTSD, although Nathan had reminded him of signs to watch for. "Do you want to talk?"
Vin shook his head, then looked past Chris, out the window. "I may head out early tomorrow, take Peso out for a bit."
"You want company?" The team had a long weekend with July Fourth being on a Thursday. Chris didn't have any plans except catch up on paperwork and take care of the horses.
"Not yet," Vin said with a grin, which said he appreciated the offer. "Is that okay?"
"It's fine. You take your time." Chris would be there for Vin if he was needed, and was willing to give the sharpshooter as much space as he needed.
Vin opened the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of water. He opened the cap and took a swig. "A lot changed."
"Not really," Chris answered. Everything was the same as Vin had left it. His desk hadn't been touched; his horse and bike were at the farm, his Jeep at the federal building. He still had a job and a team that wanted him back where he belonged.
"I changed." Vin rubbed his eyes, showing that he was tired, a bit worn around the edges.
"Not really," Chris answered again. "Still the same man I know, but now you have property."
Vin gave a quick grin. "Ezra just ran with that one, didn't he?"
Chris had been surprised at the undercover agent and his actions to help Vin. It showed the markings of a team player. "It's good. Gives you roots." It was a guarantee that Vin would remain in Denver, and maybe that had been Ezra's plan all along too.
"I'm staying," Vin said, acknowledging that he knew what it all meant. "You need someone to watch your back."
"Not just anyone, someone I can trust."
The end