Larabee glanced up as Vin dropped a file folder, battered and yellowed with age on the tabletop in front of him.
"What's this?"
"The seventh man." Vin met his steady gaze, finally twisting open the cap on his beer bottle when Chris reached for the slim file.
The bounty hunter knew the others would be here soon and he wanted his new boss...his friend...to be able to read the file without interruption. Tanner still wasn't sure how he'd gotten talked into allowing everyone to come to his place for a damn barbecue of all things.
Vin still kept the apartment he'd rented in Purgatorio, the worst section of Four Corners, as a rookie at the police academy and later when bounty hunting. It gave him a place to stay in town and contrary to most people's opinion he liked the neighborhood but the cabin....This was his sanctuary. His haven away from people.
Until Larabee, no one except himself and the people from the utility companies had stepped foot across his threshold. Now he was about to be invaded by four other boisterous men with personalities as diverse as selections in a library. Maybe he'd get lucky and they'd get lost. Fat chance! Buck's directional instincts were uncanny. Probably magnified by his pilot's training.
"This is his only arrest?"
He was pulled from his reverie by Chris' question. "Yep."
"He's either good or lucky." Larabee commented.
"He's both." Tanner admitted, then fell silent as Chris read.
*******
Chris studied the handwritten papers in front of him, the folder showing the discoloration of age, faded notes scribbled on the inside cover. Paperclipped to the inside of the folder was an old black and white, grainy photo, obviously taken with a long range lens, showing a handsome young man gazing off into the distance. Larabee was struck by the lost aura which seemed to leach out of the very photo itself.
EZRA STANDISH:
Con Artist. Cardsharp. Gambler. The slim folder contained little personal information other than that provided on the arrest report. Busted when an illegal gambling house had been raided. Chris frowned when he realized that this was someone's personal observations of the man. It almost appeared as if the creator of the file were watching out for the young con man.
Chris glanced at the longhaired Texan, his tone curious. "Where'd ya get this?"
"A friend left it to me." At the man's answer, Chris' gaze jumped to the lone framed photo which graced the mantle.
"You really think this Standish is the type we're looking for." He inquired. The ex Navy SEAL still wasn't totally sold on the idea of having someone on his team who walked the shady side of the law. A part of him balked at including someone who made their livelihood off cons and scams that cost others their hard-earned money. Could he really trust someone like that? His team had to be able to trust and depend on each other, not worry about someone who's only going to be looking out for themselves.
Still...Vin had suggested the idea of having someone on the team who knew how to work the other side of the street. A person who knew how to use the system on both sides to his advantage and Chris trusted Vin.
The sharpshooter seemed to consider his answer for several minutes, his thoughts digressing back over the years.
The quiet Texan had met the smooth talking con man right after partnering with Jamie. The older man had been giving him a lift home, stating he had an errand to run first. They'd stopped by a small run down restaurant on the outskirts of town. Sitting alone in a booth in the back was a young man not much older than Vin, dressed casually in pressed jeans, a starched white shirt and expensive leather jacket. He seemed to be closely examining the glass of wine in front of him but Vin had the distinct feeling, he hadn't missed a thing happening in the restaurant, aware of every detail around him. What struck Tanner most was the overwhelming feeling of loneliness surrounding the man. It was a feeling the young officer recognized all to well.
"Officer Watson." The man spoke with a soft southern accent as he nodded acknowledgment to the two men who slid into the booth across from him.
"Hey Ezra. This is Vin Tanner, my new partner."
"Mr. Tanner." Again the man nodded in acknowledgment. For a long moment green eyes locked with blue, then as if deciding Jamie wouldn't bring someone to the meeting he didn't trust, he seemed to dismiss Tanner and turned his attention back to the older officer.
"How's it been going Ezra?"
"I have no complaints." He waited while the officer ordered coffee, informing them this particular establishment while seemingly in poor disrepair prepared the best cocoa van in the state. He fell silent as the waitress returned with their coffee and moved away then continued on in his soft accent. "Through another acquaintance, I was recently introduced to a gentleman by the name of Paul Graceson. I have since discovered this particular gentleman....and I use that term loosely....finances his many business ventures through the rather disgusting industry of drugs." The man's southern accent thickened. "If an adult chooses to indulge in such a vile and dangerous habit that's their choice and while I myself do not normally find it my place to judge how another makes his fortune it has come to my attention that Mr. Graceson preys on school children and this I find not only most inappropriate but also most reprehensible."
The southerner went on to describe in lengthy detail everything he'd learned. Finishing his wine and bidding the two officers good day he had casually sauntered out of the establishment, leaving the two men to exchange looks. Vin's one of confusion and Jamie's of amusement.
"He's a CI?" The rookie asked. "I always pictured-"
"No, Standish may be many things, but a CI he's not." Jamie had laughed, tossing several bills on the table and ushering the younger man out the door. "He's a con artist, and one of the best damn poker players I've ever seen."
Vin frowned, more confused than ever. "Why'd he bring this to you? Shouldn't he have told someone in Vice?"
"That, my young friend, would never happen! It's Ez's way of clearing the slate.....He thinks he owes me." On the drive to Tanner's apartment, Jamie, usually a great talker had been unusually closed mouthed but described the little he knew of Ezra. "The first time I met Ez he was about sixteen or seventeen, surviving by running a shell game. I know I shoulda run his skinny ass in for being a runaway, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. Off duty, I wasn't in uniform and I remember just standing there watching him. He wasn't cheating. He didn't have to. Kid had the fastest damn hands I've ever seen. You shoulda seen him! People were practically begging him to take their money, trying to beat him. And ya ought see him with a deck of cards." He shook his head in amusement as he added. "He knows I'll make sure the information gets into the right hands."
Chris cleared his throat, bringing Vin's thoughts back to the present. Again, he met Larabee's steady gaze. Jamie had never explained why Standish felt indebted to him or why he'd taken to watching over him like a guardian angel but somehow Vin knew. The officer had seen something good, something worthwhile and worthy of saving in the likable young con artist.
Another vague memory stirred of a slender man in a long black coat who had stood far apart from the many mourners gathered at the gravesite to honor Jamie one last time. A lone figure beyond the crowd almost as if visiting another grave. Even through his own grief Vin had recognized the southerner.
He nodded at Chris. "Yes I do."
Any further questions were put on hold as they heard vehicles pull up out front. Vin inwardly cringed as the sound of slamming car doors and outrageous laughter broke through nature's silence. He frowned having second thoughts about this afternoon's plans.
"That is without a doubt the dumbest joke I've ever heard." Buck was admonishing the youngest member of the now almost complete team. "It isn't even funny, it's just dumb." He shoved the kid through the door ahead of him. "Hey, Vin, Chris. Tell them your stupid joke kid. See if they don't agree with me." Buck egged.
"It was too funny and you know it." JD grinned. "You just don't wanna admit it." He turned to the two men. "See there's this...."
"Later, JD, I gotta job for ya." Chris cut in, putting an end to the argument. "Hop on the computer and dig up everything you can find on this person. Usual rules." He handed the computer whiz the single slip of paper which made up the arrest report.
Larabee had made it a point to learn all he could about perspective members and had extensive files on each of the other five men that now comprised his team. Some he'd gotten from the judge, some of the information had been dug up by the young hacker but it was always the same. No one including JD saw the personal information. He was simply to print out the documents and move on. Everyone had something in their past they weren't proud of and Chris considered it no one's business. He had the final say but these men would have to trust each other for this team to work so before he offered a position the others were allowed to offer their opinions, based on the information he alone provided them.
*******
"So how do we find him?" Chris asked quietly, gathering up the last of the printouts and placing them in his briefcase along with the battered file Vin had given him. JD hadn't been able to find much. Standish's tax returns, each year filed from a different city, his birth certificate and credit report. No school records. No doctor's records, other than a hospital stay after being mugged and Chris wasn't interested in bank records.
Larabee found himself failing in his attempt to hide his smile as he saw Tanner glancing around the room in growing discomfort at the men sacked out in various positions on his floor. He'd been surprised to see the shy man allowing himself to be drawn into the boisterous conversation over grilled steaks and plenty of beer, saying more in that one evening than Larabee had heard him say in the previous weeks combined. Now he could see the solitary bounty hunter beginning to feel crowded and grabbing two more beers gently steered him onto the front porch where they could talk further.
"I already did." With a relaxing sigh, the younger man settled onto the swing. "He travels a lot....guess he goes where the money is but keeps an apartment in Denver....as well as a condo in Atlanta....a beach house in L.A.....and a brownstone in New York. At the moment, he's in Denver. Has been for the past few months. Figure his latest mark is here. Thought ya might feel better if we watched him for a couple a days afore ya talked to him."
"Good idea." Chris nodded in agreement, then motioning toward the inner room added quietly. "Ya did good Vin." He knew how hard it had been for the lanky Texan to share his space with four....five counting himself....virtual strangers.
Tanner just nodded. It hadn't been nearly as bad as he'd imagined.
*******
"There he is." Tanner nodded towards the handsome well-dressed young man, who with book in hand, strolled gracefully from the exclusive apartment building. He smiled and exchanged words with the doorman then continued down the walk in no particular hurry, nodding to passersby.
Larabee started the truck, following at a discreet distance. Both men's eyebrows arched in surprise when the object of their scrutiny turned into the nearby park, and settled comfortably on a bench near the playground.
*******
"Ya think he's waitin’ on somebody?" Tanner asked, glancing once more at the con man. They'd been sitting in the park, a hundred yards away for almost two hours. Again, Vin was struck by how lonely the man on the bench appeared, sitting by himself, as the other park visitors passed him by as they walked with friends or chased after their children. The tracker noticed although Standish seemed to be engrossed in the open book he held his eyes more often than not were on the nearby children. The Texan noted a small hint of a smile ghosting on the man's lips at their laughter and he hadn't turned a page in the last half-hour.
"Don't know." Larabee shrugged. He too, couldn't help but notice the cloak of loneliness that enwrapped the man so thickly as to be almost tangible. It was the second day of their surveillance.
The previous day, Standish hadn't even left his apartment until late in the evening, stopping at a French restaurant, where he seemed to be well known, eating dinner alone before taking a seat at a poker table in one of the casinos. As he had the evening, before Chris suppressed a smile noticing that every woman in the area took a second and sometimes third look at Ezra Standish. If he joined them, Buck might find himself with some serious competition for the ladies.
Chris mentally rehashed the information on Standish yet again. Unlike the other team members, his was scant at best. At Larabee's request, JD had managed to pull up information on the man's mother. More in fact than on Ezra, perhaps due to the fact that in her younger days, the woman was well known to the Fraud & Bunco squads of most southern law enforcement agencies.
From what the blond team leader had been able to ascertain from the skimpy records and Jamie's observations, Ezra had spent most of his formative years in the company of con men and petty thieves. They had found no hard evidence of Standish's scams, only speculation and while his mother hadn't seemed particular in choosing her marks as long as they had money, he on the other hand appeared to pick only those who, as far as Chris was concerned, deserved to be fleeced.
"He's movin'" Tanner's words brought his attention back to the now empty bench as the handsome young man casually approached an ice cream truck which had come to a halt near the playground. Grabbing the small binoculars from the seat they watched puzzled as the young southerner spoke with the Good Humor man before handing him several bills and returning to the bench, opening his book once more.
Chris frowned in exasperation at the man's actions. "What the hell was that all about?"
"His bookie?" Vin shrugged.
They continued to watch in awe, seeing the genuine smile of pleasure on Standish's face as the ice cream driver passed out the delectable treat free of charge, making sure that no child was forgotten.
"Please tell me this guy isn't some sicko with a thing for kids." Chris groaned, rubbing his eyes as the truck pulled away.
"We got company."
"What!" Chris jerked his vision to the side view mirror to find the ice cream truck had pulled in and parked behind them.
The vender suddenly appeared at Vin's window, holding out two vanilla cones with sprinkles. "Excuse me gentlemen I was asked to deliver these to you, with Mr. Standish's compliments."
A genuine laugh bubbled out of Chris at Tanner's surprised expression as he hesitantly accepted the treat. "Think he spotted us?"
They glanced to where Standish had closed his book and started to stroll away, giving the men in the truck a two fingered salute as if touching the brim of an imaginary hat.
Chris shook his head with a smile. "Cocky little sonuvabitch ain't he?"
*******
The following evening, having followed their quarry to one of the nicer gambling casinos, Tanner slouched against an open spot on the wall, one arm resting on the slot machine, hearing nothing of the ringing bells of the one arm bandits, the squeals of delight as people collected their winnings or groans as they watched their money disappeared into the coiffures of the casino. His blue eyed gaze was on the occupied poker table a few yards away.
The young gambler had been sitting at the table for over three hours and as far as the bounty hunter could tell had lost only five hands, the pile of colorful chips in front of him growing steadily. Vin had watched as the man smiled, laughed and charmed the other players, easing their pain as he took their money. The waitress kept his scotch on the rocks full and fresh but Vin had noticed the gambler rarely took more than a sip of each drink. Totally relaxed the young southerner seemed to be genuinely enjoying himself and the tracker couldn't help but wonder if he wasn't actually playing for the pure pleasure of competition. Jamie had been right. Standish was good. Damn good!
"How's he doin’?" Larabee asked joining the tracker at his post, casually dropping a quarter into the one armed bandit and pulling the handle.
"Winnin'."
Chris quickly glanced at the table, dropping another coin in the machine. "He looks like a king holding court doesn't he?"
"If this place was smart they'd hire him. He's good and the other people are enjoyin' themselves. Probably don't even realize how much they've lost.....Aww hell!" The bounty hunter suddenly straightened, every nerve on alert as leaving his chips on the table, the con man rose and approached the two men who'd been watching him. "Company."
"The odds of winning any worthwhile amount of currency from that machine are astronomical. You would be more astute to invest your meager earnings at the Black Jack or Poker tables." Standish stated, stopping before them, casually holding his fresh drink in his left hand. "Might I inquire why it is you gentlemen feel the desire to observe my daily movements?" His green-eyed gaze raked over Tanner and paused as if searching for an elusive memory.
"Meager earnings?" Chris questioned.
"I assume you gentlemen are with a law enforcement agency although why you would be interested in myself is beyond my comprehension since I haven't broken any laws that I'm aware of." One of the things Ezra knew well was the law, both local and federal. A con man had to know just how close he could step to the line without walking himself into prison.
"We're not cops." Larabee stated, adding silently, 'well not in the general sense.' He pulled a card from his wallet extending it to the gambler. "We do have a proposition for you. Give me a call if you're interested."
Standish frowned slightly in confusion. "And how exactly might I perceive if I would be interested? I haven't the slightest clue as to what this so called proposition entails." He continued to study them over the rim of his glass as he sipped the drink.
"I'll explain it when you call." Chris laid the ignored card on top of the nearby machine. Without another word, he and Tanner moved toward the exit.
"Think he'll call?" Like Larabee, Tanner forced himself not to look back.
"Yep."
*******
Ezra stared at the golden liquid in his brandy snifter. He edged several of the papers scattered on the table aside so he could set the glass down.
The young con artist had been fairly certain the two men who had been following him weren't police officers. He'd spotted them that first evening, within minutes of leaving his apartment. He suppressed a smile. Did they really think they were inconspicuous in that huge black truck? He'd known when he approached them in the casino, if they were officers of the law, they carried no badges. Tired of their game when they'd appeared at the casino the third night, he'd made up his mind to find out who they were and what they wanted.
It had been simple child's play for him. The blond man had tried too hard to remain nonchalant, intent on appearing not to notice him as Ezra passed on his way to the men's room. A light accidental brush against the taller man went unnoticed and the smaller man easily had his wallet. A quick perusal in the men's room stall, the social security numbers easily memorized, another light brush as he passed again and the wallet was safely back in its owner's pocket, that owner none the wiser.
For some puzzling reason, he had picked up the small business card Larabee left behind and taking his winnings had left the casino shortly after the other two men, his curiosity overriding his usual desire to play poker, something that had rarely occurred before.
Arriving home, he had booted up the computer in the spartan office of his apartment, his agile fingers had danced over the keyboard, as he entered the name and social security number he'd memorized.
Giving the device time to do its search, he went to change into something more casual, amazed as always by the wonderful age of computers. He wondered how con men of old had ever managed without them? If worked properly, they allowed one to research his intended mark, spewing forth everything from date of birth to how much money sat in their private piggy bank. The information was all there to be used if one just knew how and what to access. And Ezra Standish knew!
A short time later, cappuccino in hand, dressed only in jeans, his hair still wet from the shower, he gathered the pages of Chris Larabee's life history from the printer basket and settled down at the table to read.
*******
Still it had taken him three days to make the call Chris had been expecting.
*******
For someone who had to be persuaded to come to the ranch rather than meet at a restaurant or other public place, the handsome gambler appeared completely relaxed seated on Chris' couch listening to the older man explain why they had sought him out.
Tanner, slouched against the wall, could see the cautious body language. He easily read the man was tense, alert and ready for any sign of trouble or to run if the need arose. He could also sense the man was puzzled, trying to remember why the bounty hunter seemed familiar.
The Texan knew this was a man who didn't give his trust easily, if at all. He was constantly alert for not only what might be in it for him but for the angle of those he was dealing with. The life he'd led up to this point, had taught him everyone looked out for number one and everyone had an angle which would benefit their best interests. If it screwed the other person...tough.
Chris could almost picture the wheels turning in Standish's head as he searched for the angles, trying to decipher what exactly Larabee wanted from him. It was plain to the older man, the southerner was trying to decide whether this was some kind of a scam aimed at drawing him in, using his skills and then leaving him twisting in the wind. Yet he could also see interest in the man's face. For one split second, he'd seen a flash of excitement replace the cynicism in the guarded emerald eyes. Chris realized recruiting the con man wasn't going to be easy. Unlike the others, he was overly suspicious and wasn't going to impulsively accept anything without studying it carefully first.
Funny, but Larabee had no question in his mind whatsoever that Buck would accept his offer to be on the team. He had known deep in his heart, his oldest friend would do anything he asked and this was something they both loved. JD, young and enthusiastic saw the team as giving him the chance to not only use his mind and talents but to be part of something. Chris couldn't help but think Dunne probably thought of them as some sort of comic book super heroes.
Larabee wasn't really sure why Nathan had accepted when he had approached him about joining. The man had the opportunity to open his own clinic but he seemed to believe he could do more helping Larabee, not just with his medical and military skills but with a good head for figures, he had taken over the mountains of paperwork the judge required and kept the books square as they set about seeking a good location for headquarters, needed equipment and other essentials.
Chris suspected Josiah, the oldest of the team, had joined as a way to atone for real or imagined sins by helping others.
Chris' hazel gaze settled momentarily on Tanner, who had wandered into the kitchen to refill his coffee mug. Why had Vin agreed to join? That was still something of a mystery to the older man but he suspected it had a lot to do with the almost instantaneous connection between the two of them. It was as if Tanner, like himself, had finally found a reason to step back into the world.
He turned his attention once more to the man seated on his couch. Standish's green eyes were bright and inquisitive watching him and Tanner as if attempting to see into their souls. This was a man who thought on his feet but who preferred to examine every aspect of a proposition, and looked for details that others missed. He surprised Chris by not asking about the money to be made. Larabee was ashamed to admit he had thought that would be Ezra's first question. He'd seen the man's tax forms and he'd automatically assumed the con man sitting here in his expensive tailored suit, with his fancy car parked outside, would make salary his number one priority.
The southerner's softly accented words drew him back. "So why contact me when you so obviously have grievous doubts about proffering this proposition?"
Damn! Vin was right, the man was good! Larabee had always been quite proficient at hiding what he was thinking yet the young con man had easily seen behind his mask and cut straight to the heart of the matter. Well Chris never was one for being deceptive.
"You're right I do have doubts. I'm responsible for this team and I have to know the men I recruit are reliable. They need to know they can count on the others to watch their back, not cut and run if a situation gets hot."
"And do you have these concerns about the others or am I the exclusive recipient of such doubts?"
From the corner of his eye, he saw Tanner quickly hide his smile and shrug as if saying, 'you walked into it now answer the man's question.'
Chris hesitated, choosing his next words carefully. "You make your living conning people out of their money, which would indicate you're an unscrupulous unethical cheat who will lie and do anything necessary to get what he wants. Not exactly a glowing recommendation for trustworthiness is it?"
"Yet, Mr. Larabee it is exactly those qualities which prompted you to seek me out with this proposition." Ezra pointed out logically. "The only difference being that you and your team would be the one reaping the benefits of my God given talents."
Only Tanner seemed to hear the touch of bitterness in the words 'my God given talents.'
In the face of such forthrightness, Larabee was suddenly unsure how to continue. Ezra was right. Larabee had not only insulted him, calling him an unscrupulous liar and cheat not worthy of being trusted but had implied he would consider overlooking such traits because the con man could be useful to his team. What did that say about Larabee himself? Ezra was being asked to join for the very talents Chris had just vilified.
"And might I be so bold as to inquire, how you came to select me to become one of this aforementioned very elite team of do-gooders?" His sarcasm wasn't lost on the two men.
"You came highly recommended." Chris' met the steady gaze, aware of the irony in the statement.
"By whom?" Ezra frowned then schooled his features as he questioned. "It's quite obvious, we don't travel in the same social circles, so just who might we have in common who would recommend me for so prestigious a position?"
"Jamie Watson." Tanner spoke the name softly, seeing recognition flare in the green eyes, before Ezra quickly put his poker face back in place.
Uncomfortable, the three men sat in silence studying one another, each occupied with his own thoughts.
In the quiet, they heard a vehicle pull to a stop, a door slam and someone come in through the back porch. "Man, that smells good! How long till supper?" Buck came bursting into the living area, his mouth going as usual. "Hey Chris, you finally break down and buy that classic sports car ya...." He trailed off as he saw the well-dressed stranger. "Sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt. Didn't know ya had company." He reached out and playfully slugged Vin in the shoulder. "And I don't mean you Cowboy."
"No problem." Larabee nodded. "Ezra Standish, Buck Wilmington."
"How do." Buck extended his hand, his dark eyes appraising the slender man who gained his feet and offered a well-manicured hand.
"I do just fine, thank you." Ezra smiled, shaking the other man's hand firmly. With a nod to Vin, he started for the door. "Mr. Larabee I will give your offer the serious consideration it deserves and get back with you when I have reached a decision."
"Hey Chris, this that con man ya was tellin' us about?" For an instant, Standish froze at Buck's words before turning to face the man who stood at least four inches taller and probably outweighed him by a good thirty pounds.
"Sir, I take umbrage at that unflattering remark. I believe you would find I'm no con man." He spoke the words slowly and distinctly. "I am an artist at my craft. I do not prey on hapless little widows or bilk unknowing souls out of their life savings with stupid scams which even a bumbling fool like yourself could mastermind."
"Who the hell you callin' bumbling?" Buck grabbed the smaller man's shoulder stopping him as he again started for the door.
"Actually, I think he was callin' ya a fool." Vin pointed out bluntly, laughing at Buck's expression.
Ezra's green eyes flashed fire. "Please remove your hand from my person." The words were spoken with a deadly calm. "Your sweaty palm is staining my Armani jacket."
"Talks fancy don't he?" Buck laughed.
Chris silently watched the two men. He had purposely asked his old friend to stop by at this particular time. The good natured-Navy pilot with his perpetual cheerfulness and teasing could be more than slightly overbearing and was more than a little protective of his friends. Like JD, more often than not, what came into his mind, came out his mouth without any detours or censors. However, once Wilmington was a friend, he was a friend for life standing by that person unconditionally and like the quiet Texan he was a good judge of character. If the gambler could handle Buck he'd be able to deal with anything the others threw at him...If he accepted Chris' offer.
Something deep inside him led Larabee to believe this team was exactly what Standish needed. Chris wasn't sure what it was but just as his deceased partner had, Vin saw something good in the con artist. Something Standish did his damnedest to keep hidden. Maybe if he accepted their offer the gambler would discover those qualities and let them develop.
Damn Larabee! Buck's right, you can't resist a stray! This team isn't about saving lost souls! His little inner voice castigated. Just as it had done for him, giving him purpose and life again, perhaps it could do the same for the others as well.
The icy demand brought Chris' attention back to the scene before him. "I will not ask you again, sir. If you don't remove that five fingered appendage from my body, I shall see fit to remove it for you." The honeyed southern drawl dripped from the softly uttered words.
Buck smirked, his smile irritating. "Think so?" He knew what Chris expected of him. Knew his job was to see if the smaller man would back down or erupt.
Before anyone realized what had happened, Wilmington found himself flat on his back staring up into the derringer Standish now held. Even Vin hadn't seen the gun which seemed to materialize out of thin air.
"Perhaps," Ezra smiled coolly, "I should consider accepting Mr. Larabee's proposition if only to teach you proper manners." Stopping at the door, he glanced back at Chris who quickly wiped away his own grin. "And, Mr. Larabee for what it's worth, I only cut and run if that is the best solution to the situation." With that said, he again gave Larabee and Tanner an imaginary tip of his hat and casually exited the older man's home.
Buck pushed to his feet, dusting himself off. "Ya know, Chris," He draped an arm about his old friend's shoulders, "I'm gettin' real tired of your friends pullin' guns on me." The pilot groaned, his brown eyes twinkling merrily.
Chris shook his head hopelessly and the two men moved into the kitchen. As they did Vin felt himself drawn to the window. He watched as the well-dressed young con man slipped into the driver's seat. As he started the engine and put the car into gear, he looked back. For a brief instant, green eyes locked with blue.
For a fleeting moment, Vin saw beyond the fine imported tailored clothes and flashy car. For that instant he saw the overwhelming need in the depths of those sad emerald eyes. The need to be accepted, to be wanted,...to be needed.
A shiver coursed down the lanky Texan's spine. He knew that look. Until he had met Chris Larabee that haunted lonely expression had stared at him every morning...on the face reflected back to him from his bathroom mirror.
The Texan nodded slightly as the con man hesitated, then with another tip of his imaginary hat and a cocky smile, Standish drove away.
*******
Ezra tilted the bottle filling the shot glass with whiskey and leaned back, settling more comfortably into the sofa. He had to admit, Larabee's offer had stunned him but it had also intrigued him.
Larabee, he had learned from his research, was a man with an excellent military record, his courage being rewarded with more than a dozen awards and honors. A loving husband and father who according to the papers had resigned and for all intents and purposes disappeared after his wife and small son died in a fire.
Ezra studied the glass in his hand. Why would this paragon of virtue want someone like him on the elite team he was now putting together?
The one answer jumped at him, it's clarity glaring like a neon sign. With Ezra as a member, the other men wouldn't have to get their hands dirty. They would have good ol' Ezra to handle the baser elements, letting him be the one to crawl in the dirt of the gutter. Well, if that was the case....
He paused that train of thought, for some unexplainable reason not yet ready to say to hell with Larabee and his offer. His eyes flickered once more over the papers, stacked next to the whiskey bottle, in his mind's eye seeing the hazel eyes alight with excitement, as he made the pitch for Ezra to be apart of something bigger than either of them. The man had freely offered him a chance to put his God given talents to work in an effort to help others without having to hide those efforts behind anonymous donations and false names.
What had amazed and impressed Ezra the most was the man had been honest with him, a fact the con man wasn't used to. Larabee had plainly let him know he didn't approve of the way Standish supported his lifestyle. Of course the man was basing his views on the facts he had at hand. Ezra couldn't help but wonder why he hadn't informed Larabee he hadn't pulled a con in almost three years?
Because it was none of the man's damn business! At least that's what he tried to tell himself.
"You're an unscrupulous, unethical cheat." It was amazing how much those five words had hurt.
He had looked into those eyes and hadn't seen the disgust or condemnation he usually met when people knew of his occupation. Larabee seemed to accept the qualities that made him a good con man as part of his nature. It was the same with the blue eyes of the young man he'd last seen standing over Jamie Watson's grave.
Ezra had seen the tears streaming unashamedly down the young rookie's cheeks as he openly grieved for a man Ezra too had considered a friend. Jamie...who had offered him friendship without asking anything in return.
Jamie Watson. Talk about a blast from the past. The moment he heard Tanner utter that name the ever elusive memory he'd been chasing since first seeing the longhaired man flared full blown in his mind. Tanner had been that rookie police officer. Jamie's new partner. He remembered studying the man during that one and only meeting. He remembered reading an honesty in his sapphire eyes and feeling something he'd never experienced before. A kinship. It had unnerved him and left him shaken although he'd fallen back on his trade and not let it show.
Now, these two men had sought him out offering him a chance at a different life. An honest life. All he had to do was say yes. Why was he still hesitating? Was an honest life what he truly wanted? Ezra may not always be honest with others but he was unfailingly honest with himself. Yes it was indeed a life he wanted. He wanted this....desperately. He'd already proved that by giving up the con. It was something he'd wanted all his life. Why hadn't he just said 'Yes, I'd be happy to be part of your team.'
A shudder of disgust raced through his slender frame at the answer. He was afraid. Plain and simple. As a matter of fact, he was terrified. Without giving names Larabee had described each member of the team and their specialties. These were good men. Honest men. Men he didn't fit in with, by any stretch of his imagination. Men, he somehow felt, he wasn't worthy to be associated with.
He looked toward the ceiling. God, what would Maude think if she knew he was giving even more than two seconds worth of thought to making an honest living? She'd have a stroke! He'd never hear the end of it if she learned his income was now based on the investments he made in the stock market. His gambling paid well....very well in fact but that was for entertainment, nothing but pure enjoyment of the game now.
Lord knew he'd had little enjoyment in his life. Ezra had grown up on the move, self educated since Maude hadn't worried about enrolling the boy in school. Constantly following or seeking her marks, they never seemed to settle in one place long enough. Instead she wheedled the petty thieves and con men that seemed to worship her, following her from town to town like dogs in heat, into teaching her son to read and write. Of course that is when she wasn't farming him out to relatives because he wasn't needed for one of her scams. The boy always suspected many of the people he was left with weren't actually his aunts or uncles. Nobody had that damn many relatives.
With a quick mind and nearly photographic memory, Ezra not only learned to read and write at a very young age but he also watched and practiced, learning the specialties of each of his supposed teachers wanting to please his mother in hopes she'd let him to stay with her.
By the age of five, he could out play most of his mother's companions at the poker tables and spot a cheat from across the room. At seven, he could short change the man at the corner drug store and pick the pocket of someone passing on the street. Her cohorts tolerated him to please her, sometimes he thought they even liked him but mostly they ignored him.
. Back then, and even now, nothing he did seemed good enough for Maude. Even the times she relented and allowed him on the road to assist her in some con, he was alone. The only time she ever seemed truly pleased was when his natural talents proved useful.
Books and a deck of cards were his constant companions. It became his habit to find the local library as soon they moved to a new town. He read and learned about wine, gourmet foods, the stock market, art, music and anything else he thought might interest the rich because to con the wealthy they had to believe you were one of them. He didn't have to learn about etiquette or manners, his mother insisted on them at all times. As Maude was so fond of reminding him, appearances were everything.
He had been surprised to find he truly enjoyed the arts, music and classical literature. Discovering a thirst for knowledge he buried himself in all matters that interested him, philosophy, religion, history, astronomy and a multitude of other subjects.
Of all his lessons the ones he learned from his mother were the hardest but had served him in good steed for years.
Lesson number one and most important, NEVER let anyone close. If you let someone get close, trusted anyone but yourself, they'd use you, hurt you and toss you aside. Maude herself had proven that to him time and time again.
Lesson number two: never let anyone see your true feelings. It left you vulnerable
At fifteen, he'd had enough and Ezra had hit the road going out on his own. If he was going to be alone anyway, what did he need her for?
Although she had lamented loud and long at his leaving, even Maude had to admit, Ezra was an excellent con man. He rarely made a mistake and always walked away with a bundle of money and his victim feeling as sorry for him as for themselves.
Unlike his mother, who had begun using her trade to charm wealthy men into marriage without a prenuptial agreement, Ezra's marks were always people who made their money preying on the less fortunate. Somehow, to him, it seemed just punishment.
As a child, the young gambler had learned, most con men met their demise alone and penniless. Well, he would more than likely die alone but he sure as hell wasn't going to be broke. He saved and always invested at least half of the money from his takes. As he did with his intended marks, he researched every angle before he invested, leaving nothing to chance. He could read the market almost as well as he could read people. He knew when to buy and when to sell. Three years earlier, he was making enough money from those investments to live in the lifestyle he loved.
He glanced around the elegant apartment. Tastefully decorated it would do justice to any magazine layout but like the other places he leased, except for his books and computers, there were no personal items displayed. No momentos. No family pictures.
Unbidden, the warmth of Larabee's old farmhouse flashed in his mind. With a twinge of something which might have been wistfulness, he recalled the mouthwatering aroma which had filled the house. Hadn't Wilmington said something about supper? He'd seen the old maple table with its six chairs. Had the men gathered about the table after he'd left, enjoying dinner, sharing talk, laughter, and closeness? Of their own volition, his green eyes moved to the functional glass topped table which graced his dining room, the microwaved remains of restaurant leftovers still in place at one end. Ezra closed his eyes.
Again he saw the old wooden table and the six chairs. His heart ached as he wondered would...could it be possible they'd crowd closer together, making room for a seventh? With a deep sigh, he tossed back his drink but the fiery warmth of the alcohol did little to warm his lonely heart.
Larabee's farmhouse had held the warmth of family, friendship and treasured memories.
Maybe someday.
Setting the glass aside, he moved to gather the printouts and tossed them into the fireplace, refilling the glass as they burned. As the last paper turned to ash, Ezra suddenly recalled the legend of the Phoenix, which was reborn from ashes and reached for the phone.
*******
"Larabee."
A dimpled smile flitted across the con man's face at the tone of the older man's voice. If he didn't know better, he would have believed the man was pleased.
THE END