Sure enough, a pretty young woman holding a young child in her arms and holding the hand of the other came outside. She loaded the children in the car, and her husband kissed her, then waved as she drove away.
While the others waited along the side of the house, Ham knocked on the door. It was slightly ajar, and he nodded to the others, pulling his weapon.
“Yea, she just left. I know, I know. She was supposed to leave yesterday, but she was feeling clingy again. I know, baby. I want you, too. We’ll be together soon, I promise you.” Myer heard something behind and turned quickly, lowering the phone to his hip.
“Hang up,” said Ham.
“Who the fuck are you? Do you have any clue who I am? Do you know what I do for a living?”
“Hang up the fucking phone,” said Jazz.
“Hey, baby, I’ll call you back.” He hung up the phone and looked toward his weapon sitting on the counter.
“Go ahead,” smirked Ham. “I’d love for you to go for it.”
“You have no idea what you’ve done,” smirked Myer. “You’ll all be in jail by the end of the day.”
“I don’t think so, sunshine,” smirked Wes. “You see, you have no fucking idea who you’re dealing with and what you did to one of our own.”
“What are you talking about? I’ve never met any of you.”
“Sadie Jordan,” frowned Ham. “Does that ring a bell?” He looked frightened at first, then shook his head.
“Sadie and I were in an adult relationship.”
“While you were married with two children at home, all of which you neglected to tell her,” said Marc. “What a piece of shit you are.”
“What do you want?” he asked again, staring at them.
“Sadie’s always been good at hiding her true identity. Let’s try this again,” said Wes. “Does the name Angel Jordan ring a bell?”
Myer swallowed, his face paling somewhat.
“How about REAPER-Patriots? Does that ring a bell?” asked Ham. Myer looked as though he were going to be sick. “Yea, that’s right, you son-of-a-bitch. We’re her family, and you fucked with the wrong woman. You left her devastated, pregnant with twins, and alone.”
“She wanted it!” Ham’s fist slammed into his abdomen, knocking the wind out of him as he crumbled to the floor.
“You’re still doing it. Who was the little honey you were on the phone with this time? Someone else you’re working with? Or maybe this one you met at a bar? How many times have you fucked around on your wife?”
“Yes, how many times?” came the meek voice behind them. Ham turned, almost feeling sorry for the woman, but he just couldn’t. “Did he sleep with your wife?”
“No. He slept with a woman he worked with, left her pregnant and alone, and she went through hell. I’m sorry, ma’am, but he’s going to pay for this.” She nodded, looking down at him on the floor.
“Something told me to just drop the kids at Mom’s and come back, make an excuse of why I needed to be here.”
“Corinne, honey, it wasn’t anything,” he said, standing next to the table. This time Wes slammed a fist into his jaw, blood and a tooth flying across the room. Corinne didn’t even move.
“I’m sure that young woman didn’t feel the same,” she said calmly. “You didn’t even tell her you were married, did you? Never mind, don’t answer that. I know your M.O. I forgave you once, but I won’t do it again.”
“She meant nothing! She was nothing!” This time, Jazz planted his boot into his side. He fell to the floor, gasping for air.
“I’m going to gather our things and leave. I’ll have Mom and Dad come back and pack up the rest of my things and the kids’ things. I’ll be filing for divorce in the morning.” She turned to look at the men in the room. “I’m sorry for your friend. I’m sorry she fell in with him. If you don’t mind, I need to get my things out of here. Would you make sure he doesn’t move?”
“We’ll make sure, ma’am,” said Marc.
It took her about an hour to get all their bags into her mini-van. Standing in front of her husband, she set her wedding rings on the table. She slapped him so hard, Wes thought he might hit the floor. She turned and headed to the front door, then stopped and walked to the back of the house. A few minutes later, she came back with a box filled with items.
“I don’t know what these are, but I’m pretty certain he shouldn’t have them. He claimed that they were just trinkets he bought at the airport. But I’m not as stupid as he believes. I think they’re archaeological or historical objects. Can you make certain they get to their rightful owners?”
