He's my Tank

Gamer Vocabulary:

Aggro: it's like a short for aggression; it's when the bad guys turn their attention to a specific character.

Guildies: short of guild members, a guild is a band of players that play together on a long term basis.

Grinding: leveling by fighting monsters and doing quests/missions Raid: a group of usually twelve or more people to complete quests/missions.

Port: transported somewhere…usually by a magic spell Noob/newb: a new player. Can be used as an insult stating that the “noob” is someone plays very badly.

Res: resurrect, usually as in spells Slot up: to equip or save space for something Alignment: this is a system that describes the moral ethics of a character, basically if they are good or bad, law abiding or a rebel.

It was Friday evening. Most twenty-somethings prepared for a night of clubbing, parties, dates, and other typical activities. Maggie Kent prepared for something else entirely. As the twenty year old ran on the treadmill her mind ran through all the strategies needed to make the night a success. There was no room for defeat. Maggie only hoped everyone would be there. The mission was far too important for PUG.

“Knock, knock,” a cheery voice rang through the house, snapping Maggie out of her planning. She knew that voice all too well and bit back a sigh of aggravation. “Why do you say knock, knock,” Maggie called out to her, shutting off the treadmill and stepping down off of it. “When you neither knock nor wait for me to answer the door, Hannah?” Taking the towel, hanging over one of the grip bars, she dabbed at the beading sweat on her face and neck.

“I’m letting you know I’m here, Silly,” she said with a ‘well duh’ expression on her face. “Besides knocking is bad for my nails.” A teasing Cheshire grin spread over the woman’s face.

Maggie felt a sudden pang of envy of Hannah’s classic blonde beauty looks. Then rolled her eyes both at herself and at Hannah’s worry for her manicure.

Before she could say anything in reply, her friend just kept on talking. “So any plans for tonight Maggie?”

“Yep and you’re taking away time way from my preparation,” Maggie replied then silently counted. Three...two...one...

Hannah scrunched up her face into an expression of disgust. “That isn't a plan Maggie! That is for losers and kids.”

Right on time, Maggie thought with a sigh, trying to ignore the pang of hurt Hannah’s words sent through her. It didn’t matter if the blonde had said it a hundred times before. It still hurt and made her feel small. “No, it's not. Almost all my guildies are over the age of seventeen,” she insisted.

“I will never understand you, Maggie,” Hannah demanded. She started walking over to the mirror Maggie had on the wall. She looked over herself, touching up her already perfect hair and makeup. “You have great potential, yet you hole yourself up here.”

Maggie felt herself flush as her heart started to hammer in her chest.

“You dress like a bum and spend your time playing silly games,” Hannah complained.

Her throat tightened as she attempted to swallow. Embarrassment and shame made her cringe. It didn’t matter how many times Maggie explained to her, Hannah just didn’t get it.

“You're not even listening to me are you?” Hannah demanded.

Actually it was just the opposite, but Maggie refused to waste her breath explaining yet again, her social phobia to her friend.

“Because you've said it so much Hannah I have it memorized,” Maggie told her with a bravado she didn’t even begin to feel.

“Then why are you not doing anything?” Hannah huffed in a complaint. “Why don't you just once try to have real fun for once? Come with me to the club with Chase and me.”

The mention of Hannah's new boyfriend made Maggie's blood run cold. Her neighbor always had a thing for the bad boys, but Chase was in a whole other field of bad boy. There was something about him that terrified Maggie beyond belief. Ever since their first meeting she outright refused to allow him into her house. “There is no way I am going anywhere with that guy.”

“You are so dull Maggie,” Hannah said, but the teasing pout kept Maggie from feeling more than a twinge of embarrassment. Her expression turned sly as she turned to Maggie, opening her arms wide. “How about a friendly hug between friends and we'll call it even?”

Panic made Maggie gasp and take several steps back away from her. “Hannah,” she complained with a frown. “Remember the bubble. Do not penetrate the bubble!” Maggie waved her arms around her in a demonstration.

“Really Maggie, you're going to have to deal with your phobias sooner or later. You can't live your whole life here in this house. Too afraid to talk to someone or let them touch you. That's no life,” Hannah said. True worry touching her beautiful face, making her look almost angelic to Maggie.

Why? Maggie wondered. Why couldn’t she just be left alone? She was happy as long as everyone just left her alone. “Not today,” Maggie told her.

Now it was Hannah who sighed. “One day, Maggie. One day I'm going to pop that bubble of yours. That I promise you.”

Maggie shook her head so hard, her coppery ponytail hit her in the face. It would be a cold day in hell before that happened.

Hannah laughed at her, her blue eyes twinkling with a promise of trouble. “You'll see Maggie. Well, I got to go. Try to do something fun tonight please,” she said then left the house as quickly as she came.

Maggie let out a sigh, feeling herself fully relax now that she was alone. Going into the kitchen, she looked at the time on the oven display and cried out, “Crap on toast!” If she didn’t hurry she was going to be late. Grabbing two Red Bulls, some chocolate, and a little tub of cut fruits and veggies, Maggie dashed into the game room.

On the walls were posters of several different games and shelves filled with action figures, bobble heads, and other game paraphilia. Against the wall in front of her stood the massive, solid oak computer desk. The computer itself was a sleek black and green machine with neon green lighting shining from the sides. The flat screen, keyboard, and mouse all had the same lighting and design. All in all, it looked like something straight out of Star Trek. Giddy excitement filled her as she laid everything out on the desk and turned on her computer.

“Damn there you are Styrene,” Bravura said as soon as she logged into the game.

“There is my baby with the magic touch,” TooKool jumped in.

Maggie smiled shaking her head. “Sorry guys, got a little delayed by real life, but I am good to go now. Where are we going?”

“The Caves of Miras Duradam,” Bravura replied. “Hurry up and slot up for shadow and poison defense.”

“Let's hurry up. I need to get the Helm of Lumestre tonight,” LadyLove demanded.

Maggie rolled her eyes. “Lovely as always L.L.”

“I think you should change your name to LadyBitch,” TooKool said snarkily.

“Oh so clever! You such a kid T.K.”

“Should I go pro for fire magic or ice magic?” MageDude asked.

Maggie groaned. “Neither Mage,” She told him with impatience. “This is shadow remember. Go pro for light then second as fire. You want to use the Light of Lumestria as your primary attack spell and your fire spells as secondary.” She had explained this like twenty times already.

“Mage you're such a noob,” TooKool shot taking the words right from Maggie's mouth.

“I am not! I just have a life unlike you T.K.”

“Okay, enough! We going to raid or do you have to get your diapers change?” Bravura demanded cutting off another sarcastic reply from TooKool.

Everyone petulantly mumbled, “Raid.”

Five hours later Maggie logged off the game and yawned. The raid was a success despite MageDude’s total noobish ways. God, they had to get a better mage. She got up from her chair and stretched then smiled with victory. Finally, she got the last piece of her epic armor. This set had some of the best stats in the game and it was hell to get the complete set.

Maggie turned her computer off and did a little victory dance as she cleaned up the desk of food wrappers, cans, and empty containers. “I got my armor! I got my armor,” she chanted as she danced her way to the kitchen to throw away the trash and leave the dishes in the sink.

Just as she started to head to her bedroom, her phone began to ring. After a startled yelp, she glared at the thing from where it sat, gathering dust in the living room. No one ever called her. Especially at one o'clock in the morning. Picking up the receiver she stared at the blue, led display. “Hannah,” she muttered, and answered the phone. “You better have a good reason for calling at this hour.”

She pulled the phone away from her ear surprised when the call ended and her friend hadn’t said a word. Maggie stared at it, wondering whether she should call her back or not. She jumped with another surprised shriek when a loud crash came from the neighboring house. Hannah’s house. Moving the curtain and peering out across the thin strip of lawn sectioned off by a chain link fence, Maggie looked for any signs of what was going on over at her friends.

When she saw nothing, Maggie let the dainty curtain fall back in place. Hannah was probably drunk, or having a Fifty Shades moment, or perhaps both, she thought with irritation and figured her friend had butt dialed her. Maggie turned to head back towards the bedroom when she swore she heard a brief snatch of shouting followed by a loud, quick popping noise and a crash. Freezing on the spot, Maggie stood, barely daring to breathe.

The world fell silent, only the sound of her appliances and stampeding heart could be heard. Maggie bit her lip as she debated what she wanted to do. She could call the cops, but if it was nothing, she’d look like an idiot. Maggie might even get in trouble for calling them for nothing. That sent her insides twisting in a nauseating twist. She could always do nothing. Hannah wasn’t her responsibility, Maggie reasoned, however that was followed by guilt.

Hannah was overbearing, annoyingly cheery, and somewhat of a bully, but she was also the only friend Maggie had in the world. What kind of person would she be if she didn’t go at least check to see if Hannah was alright? She was probably drunk and with what Maggie had heard it was very possible she was hurt too. Maggie stood in place two sides warring inside her. “Damn you, lawful good alignment,” she swore as left her house and into the warm summer evening.

With her hands fisted at her sides, Maggie walked over to Hannah’s determined that as soon as she was sober enough, she was going to give her friend an earful. Maggie was imagining the lecture she was going to give Hannah when the sight of the front door slightly ajar made her and her imaginary lecture halt to a complete stop. “Hannah,” Maggie called and only the soft night sounds of crickets answered.

“Oh hell no, I’ve seen too many movies,” Maggie said, turning towards her house, but guilt stopped her once again. “Damn it,” she swore through gritted teeth, hoping this all wasn’t Hannah getting freaky with her boyfriend. With her index finger, Maggie slowly pushed the front door back. She sucked in a breath as her heart gave a painful thud then stopped. Hannah laid on the floor, half on her side and half on her back.

The honey blonde hair was covering her face so Maggie couldn’t see if she was conscious or not. Maggie sucked in another breath as her heart thudded back to life. Unable to look away from her friend, she walked over to her cautiously. “Hannah,” Maggie called again and again, got no answer. She kneeled by her friend, brushing the hair out of her face. Another steely stab of shock tore through her as she saw the growing red stain on Hannah’s stomach.

“Oh God,” she breathed, placing her hands over wound and pressing against it. That’s what they always did in the movies. Hannah groaned as her eyes opened, looking up at Maggie. The fear in them was almost palpable. She placed her hands over Maggie’s now bloody ones as she tried to say something. “Don't speak. I'll call 911 okay,” Maggie told her, surprised at how calm her voice sounded.

“I wouldn't do that if I were you, Little Mouse,” a man said. The voice all too familiar.

There was only one person that called her Mouse. Maggie looked up to see Chase, Hannah's boyfriend, in the kitchen doorway. Only a second later her eyes narrowed on the gun he held in his right. She make a terrified squeak and her eyes widened. He shot her. He shot Hannah!

“You chose the wrong time to come out of your hole, Little Mouse,” he told her as he lifted the gun.

Time seemed to slow down and, rooted to the spot, she watched him pull the trigger. As the loud crack thundered, time sped up. Maggie screamed as something warm splattered over her. There was no pain. He didn’t shoot her? She cautiously opened her eyes and screamed again, realizing he had shot Hannah again, and this time killed her. No. This was a nightmare. This couldn’t be happening. Not to her. Not to Hannah. Just no!

“Damn nosy bitch,” Chase swore.

Maggie looked up at him. Her ears rang, her heart thudded loudly, and a weird numbness washed over her.

“Should have stayed out of my business,” Chase spat with anger then sighed as if this was all boring him. “Like I said you picked a wrong day to come out of your hole.” He lifted the gun and aimed it at Maggie.

She stared down the dark barrel of the weapon. The numbness still holding onto her. He was going to kill her like he did Hannah. Maggie wasn't ready to die. She had just gotten all the epic armor and the level cap was going to rise up ten levels in two months! Primal instinct slammed into her. She grabbed the vase on the end table next to her and threw it at Chase.

A gunshot rang out, but again no pain. Maggie got up and ran out of the house. She dashed around the house, hearing Chase yell at her. Maggie jumped the wooden fence of her other neighbor and into his yard, silently thanking God, the one extracurricular activity she’d done in high school was field and track. Another gunshot ripped through the calm night and part of the wooden fence where she had just been, shattered into a million splintered pieces.

Maggie squeaked in fear running across the yard to jump the fence again into yet another yard. She kept running, jumping fences, and avoiding chained dogs with no destination in mind. Her instinct just pushed her to keep running. Out of breath, her chest painfully constricted as she tried to gulp down enough air, Maggie slowed to a stop. Her hands resting on her knees. She hand no idea where she was, it she was surrounded by strip malls and people giving her the stink eye.

“Ma'am, are you alright?” someone asked her.

Maggie turned to see two patrol officers looking at her with concern. She shook her head and tried to tell them what had happened, but only a mass of stuttered syllables left her mouth.

“Calm down Miss. Just take deep breaths,” The older one suggested. He tried to place a comforting hand on her shoulder, but Maggie jumped back with a shriek. “Alright, alright, take it easy,” he said, holding up his hands. “Miss, are you hurt?”

Maggie shook her head no. She didn't think so at least. Maggie didn't feel like she'd been shot. She took a deep breath trying to calm herself, but a crowd had started to gather. Looking around at them, surrounding her, Maggie began to panic. They thought she was crazy or psychotic. Embarrassment tainted her panic. God, one of them could be Chase. He could shoot her in a crowd and no one would ever know he did it.

Maggie’s heartbeat kicked up into high gear, and her breathing quickened to short pants. The older officer was still talking to her, but she couldn't seem to hear anything. Her ears buzzed, and she felt faint. Was the crowd getting closer? Suddenly her world tilted and everything went black.

Brian Hunter took off the dirty, grubby clothing and bulletproof vest, and stepped into an empty shower stall. A tired sigh escaped him as the warm water rushed over him cleaning away the sweat, grime, and some of his bad mood. He knew he should feel satisfied. The drug raid confiscated several million dollars’ worth of narcotics, yet disappointment tainted the victory. Chase Hancock was supposed to be there.

Hancock was supposed to be closing the deal tonight, but he wasn’t there. Where the hell was he? Brian wondered as he mentally went through all the surveillance that blatantly said Hancock was going to be closing this deal tonight. He let out a rumble of frustration running a hand over his wet, short blonde hair and continued his shower. Next time, he promised himself. Next time that piece of crap wouldn’t get away.

Chase Hancock was the city’s most powerful crime boss, specializing in narcotics and drugs. Despite being the head of the power house, Chase was always in the streets. It was his way of ensuring that everyone in his operation knew who he was and knew exactly what he was capable of if you pissed him off or double crossed him. It was so bad potential informants would rather spend a life in jail or kill themselves before telling the police anything on Hancock.

Hancock, also wasn’t frugal. He bought the loyalty of bums or politicians like a girl buys shoes. So every time Brian thought he finally gotten something on Chase something always happened to get him off. Evidence always became misplaced and lost, and the witnesses had ‘accidents’ or disappeared. Brian lost two good friends to Hancock. One to the drugs he put out on the streets and the other was an undercover who’d been compromised.

Brian scowled once more as he stepped out of the shower and dried off. One day, he promised himself again. One day, he’d bring in Hancock and lock him away for good. Leaving the locker room, dressed in a clean tee and jeans he walked over to the coffee pot. Hopefully caffeine would at least help chase away the exhaustion from a night without sleep. Rubbing his tense shoulder, he took a drink and scrunched his nose up in disgust.

The coffee tasted at least a week old. Figured, he thought sourly. He was out all night busting his ass and no one here bothered to spend one minute making a fresh pot.

“Hunter, get over here,” Steve Larson, his boss and mentor, demanded. The nearly sixty-five year old walked out of his office with an excited smile on his face.

“Yes Sir, what’s going down?” Brian asked, following him only to see none other than Chase Hancock being marched through the main office and in cuffs. Excitement and confusion flared up in him as he watched two officers escort him towards booking.

“We’ve got him on murder charges,” Steve explained. “I would’ve let you have the pleasure of bringing him in custody, but you were still out on the drug bust.”

Chase stopped in front of them with a smug smile. “I hear you got yourself a new pet mouse,” he sneered.

Mouse? Brian thought, but kept the confusion off his face.

“You should be careful, though. Mice are fragile things and so prone to getting hurt,” Chase sneered again.

“Didn't know you were such a soft heart, Hancock,” Brian shot back. “I think you should worry more about yourself. I’m eager to see how you’ll get yourself out of this one.” Brian nodded to the officers holding him and they pulled the scowling Hancock back into motion. He waited until the crime boss was out of the room before turning to Larson. “How did we get him and what the hell was that mouse thing about?”

“In my office,” Steve told him with a wave of his hand. They turned and walked into the decent sized office. Larson closed the door and went around his desk. He sat down and tossed a photograph on the desk towards Brain. A beautiful blonde was smiling at the camera man. It was the kind of smile that any straight man would sit up and take notice. Maybe even a few not so straight men.

“Hannah Hall. Chase’s latest girl,” Larson explained then tossed another picture on his desk. This time of the blonde bloodied and quite dead. “She must have pissed him off because last night he decided to take her out. He shot the damn girl four times! We haven’t found the firearm yet, but it looks like a standard nine-millimeter semiautomatic. Unfortunately, Mss. Hall has a bad boy fetish. All her exes have varied criminal backgrounds.”

“Which means Chase will try to push this off on one of them,” Brian said with a frown. It would be near impossible to get a conviction on Chase with only that as evidence. So why did Larson look so damn excited.

“Exactly but we lucked out on this one,” he replied as if he knew what Brian was thinking. Larson handed him another photograph, this time of a woman with dark auburn hair and pale skin that looked like it hadn’t seen the sun in years. She was pretty, but nothing that would stand out in a crowd.

“Maggie Kent. Our one and only hope at getting Chase behind bars. Ms. Kent saw him make the kill shot on his girl. He also tried to kill her, but she somehow managed to get away,” Larson explained.

Brian’s smile grew. This was it! This is what they needed to get that bastard off the streets. He frowned remembering Hancock’s comment. “That is if she stays alive long enough to testify,” Brian replied, tossing the photograph with the others.

“Chase is already making moves to see that she doesn’t. There's talk of a possible hit on someone known only as the mouse.”

Then it’s only a matter of time, Brian thought and told his boss so.

“He can’t kill what he can’t find,” Larson said, looking like a child who peaked at their Christmas present. “Officially Mss. Kent is going into the Witness Protection, but we both know Chase has people there. So I’ll be sending an undercover in Mss. Kent’s place while the real one goes to ground. The undercover should be able to identify whose giving Chase information and our witness will remain safe until the trial.”

“Hancock has people everywhere. Where could you possible take the woman to ground without him finding out and who could we even trust to guard her and not sell out when Hancock starts throwing out money?” Brian asked, frowning as he leaned back in his chair.

“I only know of one man I can trust fully,” Larson said. “As far as the where, I’m sure you’ll figure something out. It’s best if I don’t know where you squirrel her away.”

Brian stood there for a moment. He wasn’t exactly sure if he had heard Larson right. “Me?” Oh no. He hated bodyguard duty with a passion and besides that he was too good of a detective to be placed on babysitting detail. “You can’t be serious?”

“Of course, I am. I know it’s not exactly the ideal job, but you’re the only one I trust to do it,” Larson told him. “Chase is going to be offering a lot of money for her. Can you honestly suggest me someone you trust with her beyond any doubt?”

He scowled, gritting his teeth so he wouldn’t shout all the obscenities running through his head. “Fine,” he finally spat out.

Larson’s aged face split in a confident, victorious grin. Good thing they were such good friends or Brian would seriously consider knocking it right off his face. “When can you be ready to leave?”

“Within the hour,” Brian replied, keeping his tone sour. While Larson may have a point, Brain refused to pretend to be happy about it. His mind already running through the possible places he could take the woman to ground.

“Good. Get what you need and meet me at Mercy’s Hospital. I hope by now the officers there have been able to get her statement.”

Guilt hit Brian like a mac truck. She was hurt, probably scared out of his mind and he was here acting like some entitled dick. “How bad is she?”

Larson made a dry laugh. “From what I hear, pretty bad,” he said and looked almost sly now. “Mss. Kent wasn’t physically harmed, but she’s, well, when the officers tried to get her statement she spoke in a garbled mess.”

Great. This is just fantastic. Brian wondered if this could get any better.

An hour later Brian arrived at the hospital. He finally came up with the perfect place. It was secluded enough to keep them out of sight, yet only a day’s drive away. So if they needed to get back into the city in a hurry they could. Best part is, there was nothing that could connect him or the witness to the place. As he entered the large lobby of the hospital he spied Larson waiting for him. His boss handed him a manila folder.

“Take a moment to read this,” Larson said as he led Brian down one of the many identical halls of the hospital. “It’s what we know about Maggie Kent.” Inside were a few official documents like a copy of her id and school records and report. Though Brian didn’t think half a page could really be called a report.

Margaret Cody Kent, age, twenty two, was daughter of William and Ella Kent. William Kent was the founder and CEO of Kent Technologies, multi-million dollar company. William and Ella Kent died in a car accident when Maggie was only thirteen. Maggie was owner of her father’s company, but it appeared that it was actually being run by her father’s partner Henry Wilson who deposited her father’s share of the profits into her account.

Maggie’s foster parents were a Richard and Charlene Lawrence, but on the very day of her eighteenth birthday Maggie moved out and not spoken with them since. That same year she enrolled into the local University, but after two years she was suspended out for lack of attendance. Since then Maggie had no job history or legal issues, and she didn’t have any known relationships, platonic or otherwise, besides the deceased Hannah Hall.

Brian read over the page again then frowned. “Well making her disappear isn’t going to be hard. She’s almost done all the work for us.”

“Agreed,” Larson replied and stopped at a room where two officers stood guard. The door opened, and a nurse came out with a disgusted look on her face.

Brian decided to give her a charming smile in return. Nurses were the real power behind a hospital. They could make your life heaven or hell. He always did his best to stay on their good side. “How’s the patient doing?”

The nurse’s face went back to an expression of disgust. “Fine as far as I can tell since she refuses to let me get near her,” she complained then glared at Larson. “I’d rather spend my time taking care of patients that need and accept my help!” She gave Brian a flirty smile before rushing off.

“Why does she give you a sexy smile and chews me out,” Steve complained.

Brian gave his friend a nasty smile. He couldn’t help but feel karma was biting his friend right in the ass as payback for this babysitting job. “Because you’re obviously the boss. Well, that and I just have that effect on women,” he replied.

“Well let’s see how your ‘effect’ works on our witness.”

When they entered the room, the witness sat on the bed cross-legged. She wore dull blue scrubs that all the nurses and doctors wore. Her red hair messily pulled back away from her slightly squarish face. Her brown eyes eyed everyone in the room with a wary distrust as her pink lips pressed in a fine line.

“How are you doing Ms. Kent?” Larson asked as he walked up to her.

She visibly cringed and scooted back a few inches. Brian stopped by the door, deciding there was no need to make her any more nervous than she already was. Maggie started to speak, but as Larson had mentioned earlier nothing but squeaky jumbled mess came out. If that wasn’t odd enough, the woman held up her index finger, looking down at her lap. She took a few deep breaths before mumbling something about Newton’s laws of motion in a weak, stuttering voice.

When finished Maggie looked up. “I am fine,” she said with a slow, purposeful tone. As if she had to think about each word before speaking them. “I want to go home.”

“I understand, and I would like nothing more to send you home,” Larson told her in a calm voice. “However, your friend’s boyfriend is a very dangerous man. Chase Hancock will want to make sure you tell no one about what happened last night. So until he goes to jail and stays there, I’m afraid you can’t go back.”

She visibly swallowed as she gave him a deer in headlights stare. “W-what?” Maggie squeaked and when she spoke again it came out as mess of jumbled words and sounds. Brian watch with curiosity as Maggie shut her eyes tight and her chin dropped to her chest. Not looking at either of them she said softly, “The Uncertaint-ty P-principle states that the measurement of any ob-bject affects that ob-bject. That is it is impossib-ble to get a p-perfect measurement. This applies to all ob-bjects but-t is only significant at the at-tomic or sub-batomic level.”

She took a few more deep slow breaths. “Where am I going to go, if not home?”

“We’ve already taken care of that Ms. Kent. I would like you to meet Brian Hunter,” Larson said and Brian walked over to stand next to his boss. “He’s our top narcotics detective. He’ll take you somewhere safe and makes sure no harm comes to you.”

“Nice to meet you, Ms. Kent,” Brian told her and held out his hand when she looked up at him.

Her brow furrowed as she looked at him then down at his hand. She did this a couple of times before scooting back away from them, not uttering a word.

“Right,” Brian said and lowered his hand. “You have nothing to worry about. I’ll keep you safe”

“You still d-didn’t answer my q-question. Where am I going to go?”

“It’s in your best interest that particular information remains classified for the moment,” Brian replied.

Her lips pressed together even tighter. “What ab-bout my stuff? My clothes, my comp-puter?”

“It’ll still be there,” Larson explained.

“B-but I can’t go anywhere w-without my st-tuff.”

“If there is something important you need, we can have someone drop by your house and get it,” Larson told her, sounding as if he was starting to run out of patience.

Maggie’s eyes widened with horror. “No,” she gasped. “N-no, please. D-don’t send someone t-to my house.”

“It’s not safe for you to go to your home,” Brian told her.

“W-we can be q-quick,” she offered and when Larson started to tell her that wasn’t possible her jaw locked. “Then I won’t t-testify. C-chase won’t come after me t-then.”

Was she crazy? As Brian stared at her, he was seriously doubting her sanity. There was a price on her head and she wanted to stop by her house. And for what? Clothes? They could get her clothes anywhere. He took a breath to tell her that it was out of the question, but faltered at the lost look in Maggie’s brown eyes, filled with unshed tears. “Fine, I’ll take you home,” Brian said sourly.

Maggie let out a breath, her shoulders slumping as her head fell to her chest.

“Whatever. So here is the plan,” Larson said, irritation still a little visible in his expression. “We’ve got an undercover ready to leave out the main entrance when I give the word. She’ll go with the Witness Protection people. They don’t know she isn’t the real Maggie. Hunter you’ll take Ms. Kent out a service exit. Call me when you can. I will do whatever I can to get the court date set as soon as possible. I’ll send out the call now. Are you ready Ms. Kent?”

When she nodded, Brian moved to help her down off the bed. She shrunk away from him as if he had the plague. What the hell, he thought holding up his hands and taking a step back. As she slid off the bed, Brian wondered how the hell he was going to get through this. Right now he’d rather be locked in a cell with criminals then in a house alone with her.

Larson smirk at him as he hung up his cell. “It’s done the undercover is on her way out. Time for you two to get out of here as well.”

Larson led them out of the hospital room and through the maze of halls into the back parking lot. They stopped by a brand new black mustang. Brian opened the passenger side door for Maggie. He got another suspicious look as she got in the car in such a way that there wasn’t a chance that she might accidently brush against him.

“What was that you were saying earlier about your effect on women?” Larson joked in a hushed voice once the passenger door closed.

“Apparently, it doesn’t work on the weird ones.”

Larson started to laugh. “Apparently so. Call me when you’ve reached your destination. Keep your cool Hunter. Weird or not, she's our ticket to nailing Chase.”

Brian shook his head and got into the driver’s seat. He knew his friend was right. “So off to your place,” Brian stated as he started the car but was only greeted with silence. This was going to be great, he thought as he started the car.