Blackwood

The Men in Sam's Apartment

George raised his hands slowly.

The two men moved into the living room, blocking the door. The taller one had a scar across his cheek. The shorter one was bald, with thick arms and no neck. Both carried guns. Both looked like they'd used them before.

"Mr. Blackwood," the tall one said again. "We were starting to think you weren't coming."

"Who sent you?"

"You know who."

"Vincent."

The tall man smiled. It didn't reach his eyes. "Vincent sends his regards. He also sent a message. He says you have eighteen hours left. After that, he stops being patient."

George looked at Sam. Her face was bruised. Her lip was split. They'd hit her.

"If you hurt her again—"

"You'll what? Call the police?" The bald man laughed. "Your brother owns the police. You know that."

"I know he thinks he does."

The tall man stepped closer. He was taller than George by half a head. "Vincent wants you to come home. Stop digging. Stop talking to the detective. Stop protecting Elizabeth."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then your friend here dies. Then your mother dies. Then the boy dies." The tall man shrugged. "In whatever order Vincent decides."

George's hands clenched into fists. "You're making a mistake."

"Am I?"

"Vincent is desperate. He's scared. That's why he sent you instead of coming himself."

The bald man laughed again. "Vincent isn't scared of anything."

"Then why isn't he here? Why is he hiding behind thugs like you?" George took a step forward. "Because he knows he's losing. He knows the truth is coming out. And he knows there's nothing he can do to stop it."

The tall man raised his gun. "Sit down."

George didn't move.

"I said sit down."

"No."

The room went quiet. Sam held her breath.

The tall man's finger tightened on the trigger.

George stared into his eyes. "You're not going to shoot me."

"Want to bet?"

"Vincent wants me alive. If you kill me, you don't get paid. And Vincent doesn't forgive people who cost him money."

The tall man's jaw tightened. He knew George was right.

"Smart mouth," the bald man said. "Maybe we just break a few bones instead."

He stepped toward George, raising his gun like a club.

George moved fast.

He'd spent five years in Chicago. Five years walking home late at night through bad neighborhoods. He'd learned a few things. Nothing formal. Nothing pretty. Just enough to survive.

He grabbed the bald man's wrist and twisted. The gun fell. George drove his knee into the man's stomach. The man doubled over.

The tall man raised his gun.

George didn't have time to think. He shoved the bald man forward, into the tall man's line of fire.

The gun went off.

The bald man screamed. Blood sprayed from his shoulder.

George grabbed the fallen gun and aimed it at the tall man.

"Drop it."

The tall man hesitated.

"Drop it or I'll put a hole in your face."

The tall man dropped the gun.

George kicked it across the room. "Untie Sam. Now."

The tall man walked to the couch and untied Sam's hands. She rubbed her wrists, wincing.

George kept the gun aimed at the tall man's chest. "Turn around. Face the wall. Hands on your head."

The tall man obeyed.

George looked at Sam. "Are you okay?"

"I've been better." She stood up slowly. Her legs were shaky. "Who are these guys?"

"Vincent's men."

"Your brother Vincent?"

"The same."

Sam looked at the bald man, who was on the floor, clutching his bleeding shoulder. "Your family is insane."

"I know."

George pulled out his phone and dialed 911. "I need police and an ambulance. Apartment 3B, 1427 North Clark."

He hung up. "They'll be here in five minutes."

"What do we tell them?" Sam asked.

"The truth. Two men broke in. They attacked you. I defended myself."

"And your brother?"

George looked at the tall man, still facing the wall. "We don't mention Vincent. Not yet. Not until I have proof."

Sam nodded.

George lowered the gun. His hands were shaking. Adrenaline.

He walked to the window and looked out at the street. Dark. Quiet. No sign of anyone watching.

"Sam, I need you to come back to Rhode Island with me."

"Why?"

"Because you're not safe here. Vincent knows where you live. He knows where you work. He'll try again."

"And I'll be safer in Rhode Island?"

"You'll be safer with me. And I need your help. Vincent has been moving money for years. I need you to trace it. Find out where it's going. Who's helping him."

Sam looked at the two men. At the blood on her floor. At the gun in George's hand.

"Okay," she said. "But you're buying me a new couch."

George almost smiled.

---

The police arrived four minutes later.

Three squad cars. Six officers. They took the two men into custody. An ambulance took the bald man to the hospital.

George gave his statement. Sam gave hers. The officers asked a lot of questions. George answered as few as possible.

By the time they finished, the sun was rising.

George and Sam sat on the steps outside her apartment building. The street was waking up. People walking dogs. Getting coffee. Living normal lives.

"What's the plan?" Sam asked.

"We drive back to Rhode Island. Fourteen hours. I'll fill you in on the way."

"Fourteen hours in a car with you? I'd rather get shot again."

"You weren't shot."

"Close enough."

George stood up. "Come on. We need to go."

They walked to the car. George had left it parked on the street. It was still there. No tickets. No damage.

Sam got in the passenger seat. She was quiet for a long time.

Then: "George. Are we going to make it through this?"

George started the engine. "I don't know."

"That's not very reassuring."

"I'm not a reassuring person."

Sam laughed. It was a tired sound. "No. You're not."

They drove.

---

The trip back to Rhode Island was different from the trip to Chicago.

George was exhausted. Running on fumes. But he couldn't stop. Couldn't rest. Vincent was still out there. Evelyn was still at the police station. Elizabeth and Christopher and Eleanor were still in danger.

Sam slept for most of the drive. George didn't wake her. She needed the rest.

He used the time to think.

Vincent had leverage. Evidence that their mother tried to kill their father. Real or fake, it didn't matter. If Vincent released it, Eleanor would be destroyed. The family would be destroyed.

But Vincent had also made mistakes.

He'd sent two men to Chicago. Men who were now in police custody. Men who might talk.

He'd threatened Sam. Given George a reason to fight harder.

And he'd underestimated George. Again.

George's phone buzzed. A text from Elizabeth.

*Evelyn is gone. She left the station an hour ago. No one knows where.*

George's stomach tightened. Evelyn was Vincent's partner. If she was gone, she was probably with him.

He typed back: *Stay inside. Don't leave with anyone. I'll be there soon.*

Elizabeth replied: *Hurry.*

George pressed the accelerator.

---

They arrived in Providence at 9:00 PM.

George drove straight to the police station. Sam was awake now, alert.

"Stay in the car," George said.

"Not a chance."

"Sam—"

"I've been shot at. Tied up. Threatened. I'm not sitting in a parking lot while you have all the fun."

George didn't argue. He didn't have the energy.

They walked into the station together.

The front desk officer recognized George. "Mr. Blackwood. Detective Reid has been looking for you."

"She's not a detective," George said. "She's a criminal."

The officer's face went blank. "What?"

"Evelyn Reid is working for my brother Vincent. She's been feeding him information. Helping him cover up his crimes."

"That's a serious accusation."

"I know. That's why I'm making it."

The officer picked up his phone. "I need to call my supervisor."

"Call whoever you want. Just keep Evelyn away from my family."

George walked past the desk and down the hall. He found the interview room where he'd left Elizabeth and Christopher.

They weren't there.

His heart pounded. He grabbed a passing officer. "Where are the people from this room? The woman and the boy?"

The officer shook his head. "I don't know. I just came on shift."

George ran to the front desk. "Where's Elizabeth Vale? She was in an interview room this morning."

The front desk officer checked his computer. "She was released two hours ago. Signed out by Detective Reid."

George's blood ran cold. "Released? She was a witness. She needed protection."

"The detective said she was taking them to a safe house."

"Evelyn is the one they need protection from."

The officer's face went pale. "I didn't know."

"Where's the safe house?"

"I don't know. The detective didn't say."

George slammed his hand on the desk. "Find out. Now."

The officer started making calls.

George turned to Sam. "Vincent has them. Elizabeth, Christopher, my mother. All of them."

"Then we find Vincent."

"How? He could be anywhere."

Sam pulled out her phone. "You said he's been moving money. I can trace the transactions. See where he's been spending. Maybe he left a trail."

"Do it."

Sam started typing. Her fingers moved fast. She was good at this. Better than George.

George paced. The station was busy. Officers coming and going. Phones ringing. Normal noise. Normal chaos.

None of it mattered.

His family was out there. In danger. And he couldn't do anything.

"Got something," Sam said.

George walked over. "What?"

"Vincent bought a property six months ago. A farmhouse in Western Massachusetts. Near the Vermont border."

"How do you know?"

"The purchase went through a shell company. But the shell company paid taxes. I traced the tax records." Sam showed him her phone. "This is the address."

George memorized it. "That's where he's keeping them."

"Probably."

George turned to the front desk officer. "I need the address of every safe house the department uses. Now."

"I can't give you that information. It's confidential."

"Evelyn Reid kidnapped three people. If you don't help me, they're going to die."

The officer hesitated. Then he pulled up a list and wrote down three addresses.

"These are the safe houses in the state. All of them."

George took the paper. Two were in Providence. One was in a small town near the Connecticut border.

"Which one did Evelyn sign out?"

The officer checked. "None. She didn't sign out a safe house. She just signed out the prisoners."

"So she took them somewhere else. Somewhere Vincent owns."

George looked at the address Sam had found. Western Massachusetts. Two hours from Providence.

"We need to go," George said.

"I'm coming with you," Sam said.

"Sam—"

"I'm coming."

George didn't argue.

They ran to the car.

---

The drive to Massachusetts was dark and winding.

George pushed the car as fast as he dared. The roads were empty. Trees pressed in on both sides.

Sam navigated. "Turn left in two miles."

George turned.

The road narrowed. Became gravel. Then dirt.

Headlights appeared in the rearview mirror.

"Someone's behind us," George said.

Sam looked back. "Police?"

"No lights. No siren." George's hands tightened on the wheel. "Vincent's men."

The headlights got closer.

George pressed the accelerator. The car fishtailed on the gravel.

"I see the farmhouse," Sam said. "Up ahead. On the right."

George turned into a long driveway. The farmhouse was dark. No lights. No cars.

But the gate was open.

The headlights behind them turned into the driveway too.

"They're following us," Sam said.

"I know."

George stopped the car in front of the farmhouse. He grabbed the gun from the glove compartment. The same gun he'd taken from Vincent's man in Chicago.

"Stay behind me," George said.

"Not a chance."

They got out of the car.

The headlights behind them stopped. The engine cut off. Doors opened.

Two men got out. Not the same men from Chicago. Different ones. Bigger. Meaner.

"Mr. Blackwood," one of them called out. "We've been waiting for you."

"Where's my family?"

"Inside. Waiting for you too."

George walked toward the farmhouse. Sam followed.

The two men didn't stop them.

The front door was unlocked.

George pushed it open.

The farmhouse was dark. Cold. It smelled like dust and decay.

A single lamp burned in the corner.

And sitting in the middle of the room, tied to chairs, were Elizabeth, Eleanor, and Christopher.

Vincent stood behind them. A gun in his hand.

"Welcome, George," Vincent said. "I was starting to think you weren't coming."

George raised his gun. "Let them go."

Vincent smiled. "No."

"Then I'll shoot you."

"You won't. Because if you do, you'll never find out where your father is."

George's heart stopped. "What?"

"Dad isn't at the police station. He escaped. And I'm the only one who knows where he went." Vincent tilted his head. "So put down the gun. And let's talk like brothers."

George didn't move.

Vincent sighed. "Fine. Have it your way."

He raised his gun.

And aimed it at Christopher.

"Last chance, George."