Say what you would about him, but Cameron Cotter had damn good taste in automobiles. Simon stepped up the driveway of Cotter's place, a black Benz E 350 that would be his ride for the day gleaming on the pavement. His eyes trailed along the body of the car like he was ogling a particularly beautiful woman. His cheeks puffed out as he shook his head, stepping up to the door. One of Cotter's inner circle of goons opened the door, a fat, track-suited thug named Frankie Carbone stood there, eye-balling the tattooed fighter. "Yeah' **** you want?" Simon's brow quirked slowly, staring right back at the man. He paid him absolutely no respect, slowly glancing around him. "Here to see Mr. Cotter." "Well I ain't heard nuffin" "bout that, chief." The thick, smarmy bastard smirked at him before hardening back up. Simon looked unimpressed. "Then I guess you're a ****in" nobody he wouldn't mind me plantin" in the ground." Suddenly, Carbone grabbed him by the shirt, both of them cocking their fists back ready for a fight. "Oi! You stupid, sodding pricks. Knock it off, yeah?" Cotter's voice interrupted them. The man was built big at 6"1". Though his belly had gone soft and round, he was still built like a brick ****house. A bit of salt and pepper stubble decorating his round face, and what hair was left at the top of his head was slicked back. A grin formed on his face as he descended the staircase. "Simon Toews. Simon. ****in" Toews. If it ain't my favorite little runner." Simon released Carbone and pulled out of his grasp, bumping past him with his shoulder and bowing his head a bit to Cotter. "Mr. Cotter." The man was gaudy, a nylon tracksuit over his stocky frame, a gold chain around his thick neck and rings on every finger. One of those big meathooks clamped down on his shoulders. "The TAZER!" Cotter said, shaking him and mimicking what he thought a tazer sounded like before busting out laughing at himself. "Nah, nah, nah. You piss off with that "Mr" ****. We's mates, yeah' See, Mr Cotter...that was my ol" man. You...uh...you call me Cameron." He gave a toothy grin, showing off a golden canine tooth. "No, Cam. You call me Cam." Simon nodded, watching himself and everything he did. He didn't buy this nice guy act. He knew what Cameron Cotter was. And that was not someone to be ****ed with. He glanced up the stairs then. "She about ready?" "Yeah, you know women. Be late to their own funerals, won't they?" Cotter said, laughing at himself as he slapped a hand around the back of Simon's neck, even the little bit of pressure reminding the slimmer man that his employer could crush the life out of him in an instant. "Lemme give ya a fair bit of warnin", hey?" Cotter said in a hushed tone. "My wife can be a bit of a ****, She'll break your balls, try n" get you into trouble. I seen it before." He narrowed those beady, hazel eyes of his. "She gets into ****...I don't care what you gotta do. You get her back. You need to give her a rap on the bean, you do it, you hear me?" he said, tapping his forehead as if showing what the "bean' was. Simon turned to him and nodded slowly. "Whatever it takes." He heard her before he even saw her. Lyla Cotter. 30 years old, and a drop-dead beauty. Pale, flawless, skin. Big, round, brown eyes. Her brown hair dyed a shade of dark red and cut in stylish bangs across her brow. She was on her phone already, speaking in that posh accent of her's as she walked down the stairs, a skin-tight dress clinging to her curvaceous, toned form. Her heels giving more height to her 5"9" body. Lyla got a lot of stares from the bunch of toughs milling about, but Simon, just glanced her ways with that calm, disinterested look he put on whenever around Cotter or any of his people. The tall beauty looked over at him, a black leather jacket over a tight light grey v-neck and a pair of jeans. The hints of tattoos at his neck creeping out of the collar. With a sigh, she rolled her eyes. Yet another in a long line of her husband's lowlife, criminal flunkies. "You could at least DRESS like you have some class." She said to him in an acidic tone. A small smirk worked its way to his lips as he glanced away, amused. Cameron chuckled and shook his head. "Was I right' Complete ****in" ****." He grabbed ass roughly as she passed. Lyla wheeled on her husband, her eyes at first hard and confrontational...but it melted away into...not affection. But something close enough that she didn't raise a fuss. The woman turned to him, embarrassed a moment before that bravado came roaring back. "Let's go."

Lyla wanted him to make a stop in a dodgy part of town. The kind of place he'd thrived in when he was coming up. How many people he'd robbed here as a teen, how many fights he'd had on these streets was a mystery even to him. Even as they entered the side streets he was on-edge. A car THIS nice in a place like this" They might as well have a giant target painted on their ass. Simon dug out the pack of cigarettes from his pocket and drew one out with his teeth. A quick flip of the zippo and he lit the cherry. His eyes turned back to Lyla as she checked her makeup. The glamourous woman barely spared him a glance. "Come." she demanded as if he was a dog, stepping out of the car. He rose from the vehicle, sliding on a pair of shades as she started down the filthy alley, looking out of place in such a location. A diamond in the rough. He took one long drag and flicked the butt away, following her. He kept his eyes ahead and alert, not distracted by the her swaying hips. At the far end of the alley's intersection, he spotted a car waiting. The doors opened and he recognized the man immediately. Enrique Marquez. Small time gangster and drug runner. The little hispanic man had made a name for himself coming up in the Juarez crime family when he brought a new form of methamphetamine to the streets and gained even more infamy when he killed mobster Vigo Chauchevsi's kid, Iosef in a knife-fight. Marquez stepped out of the vehicle, topping off at 5"6", his hair cropped close. Tattoos crept up his neck and his teeth gleamed golden with the grill. Simon could smell the cheap cologne the man slathered himself immediately. Enrique sucked the air in through his teeth as if seeing Lyla caused him pain. "Oooh...damn, Mami. You lookin" good, girl."

"Jesus, "rique...you take a bath in that ****?" His lips upturned showing off that golden grin, stepping a little too close for Simon's comfort. "Nah, mami, Just like to smell good for the ladies, you know how I do." Lyla's lips quirked up into a smirk. "Well, you smell like a teenager trying to get laid on prom night. Mind taking a few steps back?" He put his hands up and took a couple steps back. Enrique turned his eyes to Simon, looking him over. "Yo. Who's Mr. Serious over here?"

"He's nobody." Lyla said dismissively. "Well, Mr Nobody's making me nervous." Enrique said, stepping toward Simon, puffing himself up a bit. The smell of that cologne, mingled with strong scent of weed was just overbearing. "You think you hard, cabron?" Simon just glanced down at him, eyes hidden behind those glasses, his face stoic, unmoving. "He'll do what he's told." Lyla said, turning to Simon. "Like a good dog." The little gangster sucked his upper lip in, nodding slowly, trying to intimidate..."That's good. That's real good, *puta*." He hit the insult hard in Simon's face, but got no reaction. "We doing this?" Lyla asked opening her arms impatiently as Marquez stepped back. "Or you two going to see whose dick is bigger?" The little man turned to her, all swagger. "Oh, come on, Mami. You know I'm packin" a ****in" Lousiville Slugger." "The deal." She said, sternly. Enrique walked to the back of his car, popping the trunk. Two metallic briefcases sat there. "It's all there. We got your ice, your o, got a little bit of H, some E for those lonely nights, you know what I'm sayin?"" He grinned up at her with that unearned sense of swagger. "Sounds like you've got the whole damn alphabet." She popped the cases looking over the goods, a grin forming. "Nice. Very good work." Finally, she shut the case. Enrique nodded, still eyeing her like a piece of meat. "So, wussup, you got that green for me?" She reached into her purse and pulled out an envelope and dramatically hand it toward him. "Pleasure doing business. Mr. Cotter will be very happy. Dog?" she glanced back to Simon. "Be a good little boy and carry mommy's ball, yes?" Simon knew the smile on her face. That dangerous sort of sensuality that made men do idiotic things. The promise of great things that would leave one penniless, broken and, in the right situation, lifeless. The woman was like a siren. Dangerous and alluring. He grabbed the briefcases and began following her back to the car while Enrique counted his money. If there was one thing he hated it was letting a sawed-off little prick like that get away with talking to him the way he had. In any other situation, Simon would have beaten him black and blue. Enrique pulled the bills out and flipped through...and found half of them to be slips of cut up newspaper. "What the ****!" he heard the tiny drug dealer behind him exclaim. "Yo!" Lyla moved quicker towards the car, talking through grit teeth to Simon. "Keep walking until you get to the car and get us the **** out of here." "HEY, BITCH! You tryin" ta stiff he me here"! What you think, I'm stupid"!" Enrique shouted. "YO! ****! I"M TALKIN" AT YOU!" She quickly ripped open her door and slid inside, taking the briefcases from a less than amused Simon. "HERMANOS! BLAST THIS BITCH AND HER LAPDOG!" He shouted. Simon slammed the car door just as the gunshot rang out. The bulletproof glass cracked right where her head sat right behind its protective armor. Simon's head whipped around, his arm reaching behind him to his waistband and pulled a .45. Quickly, he wheeled around, slowly charging forward, and firing a few rounds in their direction, sending the men scattering for cover. With a glare. He turned back around, quickly running for the car as they opened fire on him from cover. Fortunately, they were terrible shots and the bullets pinged harmlessly off the car. Simon slid across the hood to the driver's side and got in. He started the car and threw it into drive. "What the **** was that?" He exclaimed, slamming on the gas. "Please. That little moron had it coming." She rolled her eyes. "You almost got us killed!" Simon shot back. "Horseshoes and hand grenades, little dog." She smirked at him. Simon ripped off his sunglasses and glared at her in the mirror. Suddenly he slammed on the brakes. Lyla's cool suddenly broke. "What the **** are you DOING"!" She exclaimed. He wheeled around on her. "That is the LAST time you call me your dog, do you understand me?" "DRIVE THE ****ING CAR, YOU IDIOT!" She demanded as their SUV came tearing out of the alleyway. Simon just threw the door open. "Good luck." He told her. "No, wait! Please! Please. Just...just drive. Get us out of here." That shrill voice took on a more concerned tone. Simon watched her a moment, her eyes pleading with him. He glanced back at the cars gaining on them. Quickly he got back in, hit the gas and they took off.

The big front door creaked ajar, making way for Simon and Lyla. Cotter was standing by the lavish fireplace, cellphone to his ear and a grim expression souring his face. "Yeah Yeah. Let me know." He said before hanging up. Cotter lumbered toward the pair of them, a stern expression on his face as those beady eyes flicked from one to the other."Tell me?" he began before settling his gaze on Lyla. "...love of me life. Tell me. Just what. The ****...you were thinkin??" "That skinny little prick was a lowlife nobody with delusions of grandeur. He had it coming." Simon had expected the woman to shy away, but she looked right back at him. He was impressed. When Cotter grinned, it reminded Simon of a crocodile. There was always something predatory in that smile. A low chuckle left him as he looked away, moving around his wife. "He had it coming." Cotter repeated, tasting the words in his mouth. "Had it coming." Again, followed with a bitter laugh. "Yeah, he did, di"nt he?" Just as the smile formed on Lyla's face he viciously grabbed her by the hair and yanked her head back. Simon reacted on pure impulse, moving to defend her, but Cotter turned one sausage finger at him. "Stand down, boyo! This is a matter between husband n" wife. Innit *sweetheart*?" Simon glanced to Lyla, but the woman was too proud to ask for help. Cotter got his whiskey stinking breath right in her face. "You. Do not. Make decisions like that EVER again. Do you understand me, you arrogant lil" ****?" Lyla swallowed hard, wincing as he yanked again. "Tell me you understand you rotten lil" bitch!" he shouted in her face. "You **** me like this again, and I'll put your ****in" head on the Goddamn postbox, you hear me." She grit her teeth, refusing to make eye contact and forced out, "Yes." "Good." He said letting go. "Get your ass upstairs and clean yourself up." Lyla summoned all the dignity she could muster and headed for the stairs, leaving the men behind. Cotter glared after her before finally turning to Simon with an amused smirk. "Women." He scoffed. "They'll be the death of us all, won't they?" Simon turned his gaze to her, keeping that pocker face on that betrayed nothing. "Yes sir." "You done good, lad. Keep your mobile on. I'll be contactin" ya soon." Cotter assured him. He knew Cameron Cotter was not the sort of man you said no to. If he asked you a question, you generally knew what the answer would end up being, and that it would always favor Cotter. "Right." Cotter said. "Now **** off outta here." "Mr. Cotter." Simon said evenly, nodding to the man before starting away. "Wait." Cotter said, stopping him dead in his tracks. SImon half expected a bullet a gun to pulled when he glanced back. But Cotter just grinned that crocodile smile. "Told you before, lad. Cam." He nodded slowly. "You call me Cam. We's mates now, yeah?" Simon stared at him a long time before finally offering a slow nod. "Cam." Cotter watched the young man turn and walk away, that grin fading. Something about the boy he did NOT like. An arrogance, and a toughness that belonged to a man far above his station in life. Like a dog who didn't know who the alpha was. A dog who would have to be broken.

The next morning, Simon was in the kitchen, pouring himself and Cici bowls of Cap"n Crunch The little one's legs dangled over the edge of her chair as she hummed a little tune. Simon carried the bowls over, sliding one her way.

"Thankya, Daddy." She smiled that toothy cheeseball grin at him, bringing a smirk to his face.

"You're welcome, creeper." He said, settling in and taking in a spoonful of the cereal. Before he could even swallow, the sounds of knuckles rapping on the door echoed throughout the apartment.

Cici leaned backwards in the chair, letting her head dangle over the back curiously. "Whodat?"

Simon's amused expression faded as he stared at the door. The tatted fighter slipped out of his chair. "Wait here, sweetie." He said, tapping her head lightly as he passed. He made it for the door when he saw her try and sneak over.

"Cici. Eat your breakfast." He ordered.

The little girl pouted, then. "Fine."

He waited to make sure she stayed before he opened the door. On the other end was a dark skinned woman. Slim, fit, very officious, her black hair hanging in bouncy curls, kept in a stylish bob-cut. She smiled politely to him.

"Mr. Toews. Just the man I'm looking for." She said, tauntingly.

"Detective Paige. And you found me in my home. Those skills clearly aren't going to waste." He returned that sickeningly sweet smile. "What can I do for you?"

Paige stepped in, eyes scanning the place. Considering he was a working, ex-con single father, the place wasn't as big a wreck as she figured it would be. It could use a solid cleaning, but at least someone was making an effort, she thought. She reached out to the shelf, plucking up a red and pink-haired pony doll. She glanced back at him with a quirked eyebrow. "One of yours?"

"My daughter's." He shot back, with narrowed eyes. He stepped in front of the kitchen doorway as Paige peered in. The protective papa bear. Paige could appreciate that. Not a lot of men like him stuck around, let alone took full responsibility for a child. He was a rarity.

"What was your schedule like yesterday, Mr. Toews?" She asked, looking him in the eye.

"Got called into work at about 9. Was there until about 7:30." He said, that poker face betraying nothing.

"What is it you're doing now, Mr. Toews?" She asked him, propping a hip against the back of his couch.

"Ehrenshraudt Imports. I work on the docks." Thanks to an agreement through Cotter, the foreman at the docks would corroborate under questioning.

"Rough job, is it?" She asked him with that suspicious, smug edge to her tone.

"Can be." he agreed/

"That what happened to your hands?" She asked, giving him a nod.

"No. That's from fighting."

"Which I am certain was all above board." She nodded sarcastically.

"Is fighting illegal now" You might want to tell the duelling guilds and halls, then."

Paige laughed. "Official, sanctioned duels are more than fine. I tend to keep up with the big ones, myself. Funny I haven't seen your name pop up in them."

"Well, maybe you don't go to the right ones." He fired back.

"Hm. Maybe." She nodded slowly. "So, you were at work all day, huh?"

"That's correct." He said.

"Then it might come as a surprise for you to learn there was a high speed chase through the city that resulted in the deaths of 4 men linked to the organized crime in the WestEnd?"

"No, I heard something about that?" Simon bluffed, keeping casual eye contact.

"Did you, now?"

"Not a big town. Word gets around." He responded.

"That it does." He nodded. "Funny thing is, one of the vehicles, a beautiful Mercedes was found a burnt out husk in a scrap yard this morning. It was linked to a known associate of your's." She tilted her head. "One Cameron Francis Cotter. Name ring a bell?"

"Yeah, I knew him back in the day." Simon crossed his arms, resting back against the doorway.

"Rumor has it, you've done a bit of wetwork for the guy." She said, eyeing him. "Simon?" Paige said evenly. "Are you doing something stupid" Something that could land you in trouble?"

He looked less than amused, he just stared in response.

"If you are working for Cameron Cotter, then I have to warn you. The man is dangerous. We like him for 23 different murders. Several of them former low-level associates. If you're doing something desperate, something stupid...you should tell me. It might save you. And that little angel in there." She nodded to Kitchen.

"Detective, do I look like I'm stupid enough to get mixed up with a man like Cameron Cotter?"

"Yes, you absolutely do." she nodded. "You are exactly like the kind of man his ilk goes for. Angry, desperate,history of violence. You show me a man with a criminal record like your's and I'll show you a man who only needs a nudge to fall back into old habits."

"You don't know me." Simon responded. "And nobody"*nobody* threatens my daughter." He leveled that stare at her. Paige watched the man a long moment before pursing her lips. FInally, she reached into the liner pocket of her black leather jacket.

"Alright." She said, drawing a business card. "You think of anything, want to talk...you've got my number."

Simon took it without looking and pocketed it.

"Mr. Toews?" She asked, drawing his attention. She moved in close so only he would hear. "You **** with me on this" I find out you're lying" You hinder my investigation in any way' There is no measure to how fast and hard I will bring this all crashing down around your head."

The pair of them stared each other down a long moment before she smiled again. "Have a nice day."

The bass from the club could be felt even as they parked nearby. A line of clubrats waited in vain, wrapped around the block to get into a club they'd never see the inside to. Lyla walked up front to the door like she owned the place, acting like the bouncer wasn't even there. There was no question about who she was, he just let them through. The crowd was dense, the music bumping. As Simon looked around, he found that he hated pretty much everyone in the damn building. The pair of them ascended the stairs to the mezzanine, catching Cotter surrounded by a kiss-ass chorus of sycophants. The stocky crime lord was bent over a table, snorting a line of white powder. He rose up, eyes wide and dilated, letting out a whoop. "God DAMN!" He bellowed. When his eyes met Simon, he opened his arms. "Heh-heh-heeeey! Look at this mother ****er!" He pushed through, completely ignoring his wife (not that she could have cared less) roughly throwing his arm around Simon's shoulder. "How you doin" kid" Come on, do a bump with me." Simon fought the urge to punch him in the face, moving through the crowd. "Nah. I'm good." "Ahhhh ya pussy!" Cotter chuckled. "Get this prick a drink!" As soon as he could, Simon broke away, glass of bourbon in hand. Lyla was already 3 or 4 shots and a few pills in, surrounded by a gaggle of low lives. That was a woman sprinting towards an early grave if he ever saw one. He didn't like this place. Too many bodies, flashing strobes. It made it difficult to watch for an attack. Plus, finding someone acting suspicious in place where 80% of the inhabitants were high as kites and trying desperately to get laid was no easy task. He leaned forward upon the railing overlooking the crowd when a figure sidled up beside him. Lyla stared at him, her hip pressed against the railing and her arms crossed in front of her. A disapproving look on that perfect little face. "Are you going to just stand here looking miserable all night?" Simon turned to face her. "Not my scene." he responded, taking a sip from his glass and glancing over to the crowd. "Besides. Not paying me to have a good time." She rolled her eyes. "You always this ****ing dire" Or only when you're drinking top shelf liquor on my husband's dime?" He wanted to say so much. That working for her husband was as much fun as a forced colonoscopy. That this wasn't a vacation for him. That he could care less if the scumbag and his entire organization burned. That if he had the choice between this club and having his balls jabbed with red hot pokers, he'd go with the pokers. Instead he just grinned and turned back to the crowd. "Dance with me." Lyla demanded. Simon furrowed his brow, glancing her way. "Don't stare at me like I just asked you a rudimentary math problem, I said dance with me." Lyla shot at him, grabbing the man by the arm and tugging him away. But Simon didn't budge. He just looked at her under his brows. "I've seen what happens to men who flirt with Cameron Cotter's wife. No thanks." He said. Lyla's teeth clenched hard, the muscle in her jaw rolling beneath the skin. "What if I told him you touched me in the car" "I begged him to stop, Cammy, but he kept on going!?" She said putting on a sweet innocent voice. "You really think I'm gonna let you blackmail me?" He asked her, that unreadable thousand yard stare on his face that gave even her the chills. She sighed, the smart-assed game dropping. "Look. Just one dance. He's not gonna care about a dance, alright?" He remained silent for a moment. "Please?" Her tone seemed genuine, despite the drugs and liquor in her system. Simon glanced Cotter's way and the man raised a glass, grinning that golden toothed grin. He sighed and turned to her. "Fine. One." She grinned big "Yay!" Suddenly, she grabbed him by the arm and lead him down the stairs and through the crowd onto the dance floor. Her arms rose and hips swayed seductively to the music. The woman had a natural grace to her even now. Her arms reached out, grabbing Simon by the open jacket as she worked her way toward him. For a moment, he was lost. Only aware of the bass seemingly coursing through his body, the way he moved in rhythm to the beat, and the proximity of Lyla Cotter to himself. He snapped back to reality as he caught the glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye. A man in an immaculately tailored suit was watching them *very* intently. He looked to one side and found another. And then another toward the back exit. Finally, he and the first man caught each other's eyes. The two reading each other for what felt like hours, but was actually seconds. It almost happened in slow motion, what came next. The man reached behind him, drew a .45 1911 and pointed it at them. "DOWN!" Simon yelled out, pulling Lyla close and dropping low just as the weapon was fired. The bullet missed Lyla's head by millimeters, but burst through the skull of a bystander behind them. Even as the bystander's head burst in a mist of red, Simon pulled a glock from his waisband and opened fire, but the hitman was already diving for cover. Immediately the place was in a panic. Simon used the crowd, yanking the inebriated woman to her feet and disappearing in the throng. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Cotter's kiss asses smuggling him out a side door upstairs. The cowardly son of a bitch didn't even put up a fight. The hit men were shoving through the crowd looking for their targets. Simon kept his head low and Lyla behind him until the nearest thug was within arm's reach. He lashed out quickly, redirecting the gun upwards and lunging forth. His forehead slammed into the man's nose, snapping his head back. Simon wasted no time, putting two to his chest and one to his head. His weapon empty, he threw away the gun, protectively covering a panicking, INCREDIBLY high Lyla as they pushed on. Suddenly a pair of hands grabbed him from behind. Simon spun himself around , the hitman's grip remaining on his suit coat. Simon just put his arms out, slipping out of the jacket and roundhouse kicked the man in the chest. Before the man could recover, he grabbed him by the back of the head and simultaneously pulled him down and drove his knee into his face. The men at the back turned their automatic weapons on the crowd and just opened fire, indiscriminate of who they hit. Simon immediately tackled Lyla to the ground, his lips going to her ear. "Stay still. Do not move." He ordered her, sliding her underneath two already dead bodies. He play dead, keeping eye contact with her. The fear he saw there was something he never thought he'd see in the woman. Maybe it was the drugs, but any facade she usually carried around was gone, and he saw her for who she really was. Footsteps approached as he clutched an object tightly in his hand. "This is him. This is the son of a bitch." he heard a voice say. A strong hand gripped his shoulder and rolled him. Immediately, he flicked out his switchblade and stabbed, backhanded right in the jugular of the thug hovering over him. Blood burst from the man's lips as he gasped, coating Simon's face in a spray of arterial crimson. He withdrew the knife roughly and shut the man's mouth permanently, driving the blade through the bottom of his jaw and up through the roof of his mouth. One hand gripped the gun as the other pulled him down, using the body as cover. The last hitman opened fire, the bullets absorbed by his musclebound former friend. Simon pulled the trigger, but one handed, the bullets weren't well aimed, but the spray managed to catch him, ripping through the hitman's clothing and torso in a bloody, violent series of bursts. Lyla lay there on the ground hidden beneath the bodies of innocents who were killed by bullets meant for her. Tears rolled down her face, marring that perfect make-up. As the bodies were pulled off of her, she let out a scream and started lashing out like a feral creature until Simon grabbed her wrists. "HEY! HEY! It's me!" Eventually she calmed, clinging to him tightly as she struggled to control her breathing. "Come on. We need to get out of here.? He told her. Lyla stared up at him wide-eyed, a look of appreciation and admiration...actual warmth on her face toward him. And right then, in their perfect moment together...the cops burst into the club.

Simon was lead out of the station by Garvey. If looks could kill, Simon would burst into flames as he passed Paige. Her usual antagonistic sarcastic facade dropped completely, replaced by burning rage.

He gave her a grave nod as he passed. Somehow the fact that the son of a bitch didn't even have the decency to act all smug about his victory made Paige even madder.

"I'm going to bury that mother ****er." He heard her mutter to the officer beside her.

A black sedan idled outside and Garvey opened the door. Cotter sat in the back, patting the seat beside him. "Get in, boyo. Take a seat."

Simon hesitated a second but climbed inside. A sense of dread hung so thick, he thought he could cut it with a knife. "I think, lad, I might have underestimated you. " Cotter said, lighting a cigar.

All he could think of was Lyla dancing close the night before. So forceful, so aggressive right in front of her husband. This was it. He was just waiting for the pistol in that shoulder holster to get drawn and fired. Would they leave a body to be buried" Would Cici know he had not abandoned her" The thought made his stomach ache, but he would not give this bloated **** the satisfaction.

"See...I thought you was just a scrapper. Ain't no good for nothin" but usin" your fists. But you?" a grin formed on his round face. "You are a stone cold killer."

Simon's brow creased in concern as Cotter leaned forward through a cloud of smoke, looking like the devil himself. "How would you like a more" substantial role in my organization?"

It seemed like his pulse was beating like a war drum in his ears. There was no desire in him to play hitman for a lowlife like Cameron Cotter. Slowly, he shook his head, and the smile on Cotter's face faded.

"You should think about your answer, Simon, me lad." He said, eyes locked on the tattooed man. "You think about what this could mean for you."

Simon got the feeling it wasn't an offer he could refuse outright.

"And that little girl you got waitin" for you."

Somewhere deep inside a fire just started raging. He slowly turned his eyes up to Cotter. The stocky criminal bringing back that toothy grin.

"I'm going out of town for a week. Take some time. Think it over." Cotter told him. "But when I get back, I expect an answer. And I hope you make the right choice."

He heard them talking before he entered the room. Those husky, rough, boisterous voices, bragging about what nefarious activities they'd gotten into. This beautiful, expensive home, the kind of home he'd never be able to afford if he worked a lifetime...and it was occupied by these lowlives.

"I bend the bitch over a pool table, grab "er by the hair and she's squealin" for me to drop the 8 ball, if ya know what I'm sayin"!" Cotter growled, laughing along with his sycophants. Already it was obvious he wasn't talking about Lyla. Simon pushed open the door, entering in silence.

Cotter looked up from the bar, sneering and slapping the countertop. "Well, there he is! The man of the hour! The V I ****in" P!" He announced.

Simon said nothing. Just walked in and stood with a bit of distance between him and the gathering.

"You made up your mind yet, kid?" Cotter asked jovially.

"No. not yet."

Cotter's grin faded slowly. "That's disappointin". Time's runnin" out, Toews. I ain't gonna wait forever for you to grow a brain."

Again, silence from Simon. The sound of the doors opening behind him drew the attention of the room. Lyla stood there, back in her familiar state. Tight, sleek white sleeveless dress, stiletto heels. Big, round sunglasses covering her eyes, and her hair immaculate.

"Ahhh...there she is. Love of me ****in" life." Cotter said, pushing off the bar and ambling toward them. "I tell you what she done yesterday?"

Simon just kept his eyes on Lyla. She stood stock still and quiet as Cotter approached. "This lil" cuss sneaks outta here. Nobody ta" watch "er. Don't tell nobody. Just thinks she can go out whenever she ****in" feels like it. Di"nt ya, love?" Cotter said, smiling at her.

He grabbed her roughly by the jaw and glanced back at Simon. "I don't think I need to tell ya...I don't like my things doin" **** I don't know about. Do I, love?" He looked to her with those beady eyes. "Show 'im. Show 'im how bad you hurt me."

Simon controlled his breathing as best as possible, something acidic building within him as he looked into those big sunglasses. Lyla reached up slowly and slid them off her face. Though her left eye was swollen shut, she still held that strong, defiant expression upon her face.

"If you think I like hurtin" this pretty little face...you're dead wrong." Cotter said as if he was the one sacrificing. "Cover tha' **** up."

Cotter turned his beady-eyed gaze to Simon. "I don' like my property sneakin" around behind my back. Y"hear?"

Simon wanted to hit him. No. Not hit. Kill. He wanted to smash that face in until it was a bloody pulp. Wrap his hands around that thick throat and squeeze until the light left those beady little eyes and that black heart stopped beating. He wanted to hear the son of a bitch beg. But he was outnumbered, and worse, he had something to lose. So, instead, he just nodded.

"Get outta here." Cotter said to the two of them. Simon walked beside her toward the door.

"And Simon?" Cotter said, drawing his gaze. "Tomorrow. I want an answer by tomorrow."

He just nodded and followed Lyla out the door.

The next day, Simon did two things. He accepted Cotter's offer and picked up a burner phone. The first job would be in service as a lookout on a deal with some of Cotter's overseas contacts.

And Detective Paige received a text from an unknown number giving the date and time of the meeting. Biltmore Docks. Dockside. 12 AM. With that, he dropped the phone into a dumpster.

Simon sat in the driver's seat of a brand new Charger, tucked neatly in an alleyway between two warehouses. The cherry on his cigarette glowing orange as he inhaled. He checked the clock. 12:30. Pleasantries would be getting exchanged right now.

Paige would probably be getting ready to strike. Then all hell would break loose.

"Toews. How's it looking out there?" A voice chimed out through his FRS radio. Blue eyes glanced down before he took it up to respond.

"Coast is clear."

"Roger that."

Down by the dock, Cotter was smoking a big fat stogie, yacking away with Mirovelli, the man in a finely tailored suit, flanked by armed men.

"Let's get to brass tacks, shall we?" Cotter said through a plume of smoke.

"Let's. I have fifteen crates here ready for purchase. But I have come here at great risk to myself and my organization. I expect compensation for my troubles."

Cotter narrowed those beady, dark eyes. "That was never part of our deal, mate."

"I've travelled far to get to this hell hole. If you're not willing to work with me, then perhaps I shall take my business elsewhere."

"Now you wait one sodding second-"

"And make no mistake, I will see to it nobody in my contacts trades with you ever again." Mirovelli said shrewdly.

Cotter fumed, staring a hole through the man. "You ain't ****in" me like that, boy."

Mirovellis men drew their weapons and so did Cotter's. The finely suited man just smiled a toothy grin. "Now, now, gentlemen. No need to turn nasty. We are businessmen. I'm sir Mr Cotter and I can come to an agreement. Isn't that right, my friend."

Cotter eyed him a moment. "15,000. Plus another 2 when I get my crates."

Mirovelli's eyebrows lifted. "17" I believe we have a deal, Mr. Cotter."

Suddenly lights burst out over the area. "Nobody move! You are all under arrest!" A voice echoed out from a loudspeaker.

And all hell broke loose.

Mirovelli's men opened fire first, and Cotter's returned it, pulling their stocky boss out of the fray. Red and blue lights swarmed the area. Swat Vans rolled in and armored men and women hopped out. Orders and calls to cease fire were drowned out by weapons fire and soon the cops were involved as well.

That was his sign. Simon slapped the car into gear and peeled out, pedal to the metal, the Charger tearing out of the narrow alleyway.

Cotter was in the midst of the vicious, three way gunfight. Ducking behind a shipping container, he drew his .45 and plugged one of Mirovelli's men square in the face.

"Cam!" One of his lieutenants yelled. "Go!" He was then peppered with automatic gunfire, his stomach and chest bursting with every bloody impact before he fell, lifeless, to the ground. Cotter stared a moment down at the body. The sparking ricochets of bullets brought him back to the moment and he ran.

Simon expertly maneuvered the car through the maze of containers and combatants, tires screeching as he made hair pin turns around a cop car in his way. Little battles raged all around him, but he just kept driving. He had one goal tonight.

Cotter ran as far as his lungs would allow before he had to stop and catch his breath. Panting there. He held himself up with one arm. Suddenly, he was tackled from the side, the wind leaving his body all too quickly. The man might have been out of shape, but he was still strong as a bear. Through the vicious blows to his gut, he managed to climb up on top of the thug attacking him, grab him by the hair and hit him with a vicious right. The man was out cold, but Cotter didn't stop. He grabbed his attacker's head and smashed it against the concrete again and again and again until he heard bone crack and the sickening squishy sound against the pavement.

Cotter panted heavily, struggling to find his breath again, spitting upon the fresh corpse he'd just made. His .45 lay within reach, he noted. With a groan he started to reach out for it.

Click-clack!

Cotter turned slowly to find one of Mirovelli's top men standing there with a Desert eagle pistol leveled at him. There was no way he'd get his own weapon up in time before his head was blown off.

He squared himself, looking the man in the eye. If he was going out he wasn't going out like a punk, his hand still reached out for that pistol. "Do it. Do it, you piece a" ****."

The man took aim for his head, ready to pull the trigger.

Simon spotted him, for a moment considering letting it happen. All it would take was less than a pound of pressure and Cotter would be gone forever. But now was not the time.

He slammed on the gas, the man caught completely unaware. His body slammed against the bumper, and his head left a bloody crack on the windshield. The car screeched to a halt, launching the body from the hood, and Simon threw it into reverse.

Cotter watched breathlessly as the window lowered revealed Simon.

"Get in! We need to get the **** outta here!"

A grin crowded it's way onto Cotter's round face. He clambered on into the vehicle and slammed the door. As soon as he was in Simon threw the car into reverse, jerking the wheel to bring them about face. It was a war zone all around them. SWAT and mobsters trading fire while Mirovelli and some of his men hopped into speedboats and took off. The damage would most certainly be done, and with this act of altruism, Cotter wouldn't look too hard at the real man behind it all.

Cotter lurched forward as Simon slammed on the brakes, a squad car heading directly for them. Corrine Paige sat in the passenger seat. "Ram him! Make sure he doesn't get away!"

The darkness hid him enough that he couldn't be ID'd but Simon wasn't about to test the theory. The shifter clacked into reverse and he gunned it. She was dogging him hard, staying right on his front bumper.

"Toews! TOEWS! GO!" Cotter bellowed. But Simon was entirely focused. One of Mirovelli's stragglers got caught by the rear bumper and was sent careening off to one side. "Lose the bitch!" Cotter ordered.

Suddenly, Simon jerked the wheel, the Charger going into a reverse hairpin turn between two buildings. The alley was narrow and the rear view mirrors ripped right off the door. Paige's car skidded to a halt just short of the gap. The car came out the other end in a shower of sparks, twin scrapes up the entire side of the vehicle, spinning wildly and facing forward.

"Go around! LET"S GO! " Paige shouted to her partner.

A few more squad cars showed up in the only remaining rearview. The car lurched forward and took off with them in pursuit. He glanced behind him, noting one coming up at his 4 o?clock. His boot slammed on the brakes before he could pit him. Simon jerked the wheel and hit the gas, putting the squad car into a concrete pole, leaving him behind in burst of shattered glass and flying debris.

Simon locked his eyes onto the on-ramp for the highway, pushing the car as fast as it would go. Before he could exit another cop pulled out of in front of him. While Cotter lost his mind, Simon was cool, collected. The wheel turned and the brakes hit, he slid sideways, clipping the front end and sending the charger into a spin to the other side of the squad car. Simon checked on Cotter then cut the wheel heading out onto the highway. The pursuing officers were slowed by their downed comrade, but it wouldn't last. But Simon had a plan.

The Charger left the highway, weaving through the streets into an underground parking garage. He pulled up next to an inconspicuous looking Soccer Mom van. Quickly, he exited his car and surveyed his handy work. The Charger was beat to ****. It took Cotter two tries to push the door open, his overweight form spilling out onto the concrete.

Simon barely hid the grin when he looked up. After pulling the man to his feet, they entered the van and took off into the night.

After that night, Simon became one of Cotter's most trusted men. The gangster was absolutely furious, but he wasn't looking at Simon. Over the next few weeks, every move Cotter made, he found he was thwarted.

A bank job' The cops were waiting. A massive drug deal" Even men sent down to muscle out protection money would find at least one uniformed officer waiting there. Simon was going through burner phones like a pack of cigarettes, and every message sent to one person. Corrine Paige.

The mood around the Cotter house had turned sour. Cameron began suspecting everyone of betraying him. Everyone but Simon. Cotter paced around the table, fuming as they awaited a phone call. Simon leaned against the wall, lighting a cigarette and watching, looking bored.

The phone rang, and Simon knew who was on the other end and what they were going to say. The hijacking of a cargo ship arriving from somewhere called New York was met with heavy resistance. If any of the mooks sent out there were still alive, he would be surprised.

Cotter slammed the phone down. "****!" he bellowed, storming over to the wall and repeatedly smashing it with his hand until he punched straight through the drywall. Those beady eyes were thick with malice and suspicion as he turned around. His chest heaved as he looked at each person in the room. "One of you is a ****in" rat!"

Everyone in the room tensed, except for Simon. He was above suspicion in Cotter's eyes.

"Whoa, whoa, Cam?" Liam Halliwell, one of his top lieutenants said, holding up his hands.

"Shut the **** up! Shut your mouth!" Cotter said, pointing at him, moving toward the man like a charging bull. "Where the **** was ya/ Huh' Last night! Seems I don't exactly remember seein" you "round here."

"I was with Stephanie last night, Cam, I told you that!"

Cameron drew a pistol and put it to Liam's head. "Are you ****in" me, Liam"!"

Liam recoiled, desperate to get away from the gun.

"Tell me you ain't ****in" me, mate, or I'll go over there and put a bullet in that gutter slut's ****in" head!" He pressed that gun against Liam's temple.

"I swear! Cam! I known you all my life! Please! I ain't a ****in" rat!" He pleaded.

"Cam." Simon said calmly.

Cotter looked up at him a moment. Simon just shook his head. Liam was not his man. The boss eased a bit, then. His attention returned to his men, eyeing them one by one. "I'm gonna find out who's screwin" with me. And I swear to God, I'll it last. I'll beat you until you're a ???"in" puddle on the ground!"

"Now get the **** outta here!" He shouted.

Simon stayed where he was until everyone had gone. Cotter was hunched over, propped up on the table by his arms. "These ****in" jackals"I swear to God, kid...I'll kill every last one a" them. I wanna know who's talking."

Simon smiled inwardly, but the exterior was stone cold. "You need to relax. Keep working. You do that, and whoever the son of a bitch is will reveal himself. I swear.?

And he would. It was all a part of the plan. When Cotter was alone, no friends and burning empire, he would tell him. Leave him broken. Kill the man if he had to. But Cotter would know it was Simon.

Simon sat in his living room, Cici sitting between his legs while he brushed her hair, completely wrapped up in her TV show. "Damn, kid...do you knot up your hair on purpose or what?"

"You're just jealous your hair doesn't look this good." She said with an annoyed glance back at her father, hair a complete and utter mess.

"Well, that's true." He snickered. "I've always woke up and said "You know what would complete this look" A blown out rat's nest."

Cici giggled, eyes still forward. Simon's attention was pulled away as a knocking came at his door, his smile dropping. He glanced down to her, placing a kiss at the top of her head. "Daddy'll be right back."

He pushed up off the ground, leaving the little one behind. As he walked to the door of their apartment, he made a quick stop at the closet, pulling a pistol down from the top shelf and concealing it in the back of his waistband.

He steeled himself as the knock came again, more insistent. Hand upon the grip of pistol, he cracked the door to find Cotter. The man stood there with that toothy grin. Like an alligator, Simon decided. What the hell was he doing here" This was his home. His escape from this man.

"Mr. Cotter...what, uh...what are you doin" here?" He asked, trying not to make it suspicious.

Cotter put on a hurt expression. "What' You ain't happy to see your ol" pal Cam?"

Simon stammered a moment. "No. No, it's...not that, I just?"

Cotter burst out laughing and pushed his way in. "I'm ****in" with ya, kid. An" I thought I told you t' call me Cam."

Simon forced a smile. "Right, right, Sorry. Cam. What, uh...what can I do for you."

Cameron looked at the small apartment, contemplating a moment. "This is a real **** hole."

Simon didn't respond to that, but then he didn't need to.

"We'll get you some better digs soon as we can, yeah?" Cameron offered.

Again, Simon forced a smile. "That...that would be great. Thank you."

Cameron moved to his fridge without even so much as a gesture asking permission.

"Can...is there somethin" I can do for you today?" Simon asked, watching him, praying he remained here and nowhere near Cici.

"Got a job comin" up." Cam said, stealing a beer. Because why not drink at 9 AM' "I got word that a load a" green is going to be leaving Rhydin National tomorrow. Three armored cars" worth. Puttin" together the A-team on this, Toews. Need me some solid muscle n" you fit the bill."

Simon watched him, reading his every tick and movement. "Sounds fun." He said quietly.

"All goes well, we make a boatload. You can move out of this dingy li"l rathole, yeah' Get you some respectable clothes and-"

"Daddy, what?s taking so long" My-" Cici came around the corner, catching a glimpse of the man. Simon's heart dropped, his hand itching to draw his weapon and put one between Cameron's eyes.

"Well, well, well. And who's this pretty li"l lady?" Cotter asked, bending forward. It would be so easy. Just put the barrel to the back of his head and squeeze. Over. Done.

"Cici." she said shyly, not making eye contact.

"Cici?" He said in the sweetest voice he could muster. "You're the famous Cici I always here your pop bangin" on about?"

Simon tried to put on an encouraging smile as the little girl looked to him.

"You know. Your daddy' He's reeeeeeeeeeeal proud a" you,yeah?" Cotter said giving her nose the lightest of pinches.

Cici giggled, her smile spreading across her face. "Yeah, I know."

"Cici." Simon said then, struggling to sound casual. "Go watch your show. Daddy's gotta talk to Mr. Cotter, okay?"

"But daaaaaaaad...the rat's nest!" she whined.

He couldn't help the laugh that escaped him. "I'll...be right there to comb it out."

"Okay?"She said, putting a whole show of being dejected. "Bye Mr. Cotter."

"Bye bye, Cici." Cotter said, flashing that predatory grin of his. Those beady eyes turned to Simon, the grin remaining. "Sweet kid."

"Yeah." Simon nodded, driven on immediately changing the subject..."I'm in."

Cotter nodded. "Smart lad. We'll be seein" ya, mate." He said giving Simon a slap on the shoulder.

Simon watched him leave the apartment. The moment the door shut he went in the other room. "Cici...we're going on a little trip.?

Lyla came calling for a ride the next morning. Simon pulling up in front of the house, the beauty exiting in those big old bug-eyed sunglasses, her purse kept in the crook of her arm as she approached the car, slipping into the passenger seat.

"Mrs. Cotter." Simon said with a nod.

"Enough of that ****." She said, impatiently slamming the door. "Whatever it is you've been doing, it's working. Things are coming to a head with him."

Simon pulled off the driveway and onto the street. "I'd imagine so. I moved my daughter to a safe location just in case. Does he suspect anything?"

Lyla sighed, fishing a pack of cigarettes from her bag. "He suspects everything. He's cracking, and it's going to get ugly before it gets better. Whatever we're going to do, we need to stop ****ing around and do it."

Simon produced his zippo from his pocket flicking the flame to life. Lyla leaned forward, the cherry glowing as she breathed in. The hum of the car's engine, the tires on pavement mingled with the sound of her breath exhaling smoke. Simon thumbed the passenger window down a crack "Is he still hitting you?"

"He's *always* hitting me." her voice was a dispassionate monotone as she stared out the window, the hint of a bruise peering out from beneath her collar.

Simon caught a glimpse of it and his blood boiled. "There's one last job coming up. Then it's done."

She pulled the glasses off, turning her head to him. Her eye had mostly healed, but the remnants of the beating he'd given her still remained. "What job?"

"Rhydin National. Armored cars will be rolling in to transfer cash from the vault. We overtake them, get the cash...then it's 3 separate check points with 3 separate cars. Switch out the bags, move the cash and lose the cops. That's the plan anyway." He said. "You don't know about this?"

"He beats the **** out of me almost daily...you think he's gonna trust me" He doesn't even trust the guys in his crew. " She took a drag and looked away. "I never know what he's doing anymore unless it's to me."

"I'm going to stop it." Simon told her. "You just have to hold out a bit longer."

Lyla breathed twin jets of smoke from her nostrils. "You be more worried about you. I can handle myself. Just do what you need to and we'll put his fat ass in the ground."

Simon nodded, eyes on the road.

"How is she?" Lyla asked. "Your daughter."

"She's good. Has no idea what?s going on...but she's good. Your husband came to my apartment the other day." Simon informed her.

Lyla turned to him, a horrified expression on her face. "Oh, Jesus...I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Yeah. That's why I left her with an old friend. He's seen her...acted like I told him all about her, but I've never said a word."

"He doesn't do business with people he can't exploit." Lyla frowned, scratching above her brow with a thumbnail before taking another deep drag.

That, he could believe. Again, the two sat in silence before Simon spoke again. "What are you gonna do' When he's gone?"

Lyla's jaw tightened, a little laugh breathed through her nose. "You know...I have no idea."

She chuckled, smiling for the first time in what felt like months. "I might leave Rhydin...might find myself a little place out in the country and try to live in peace."

Simon laughed. "What, like a farm?"

"Yeah! Why not' I think I could pull off some Daisy Dukes, don't you?" She grinned to him.

"Oh, you got the proportions for it, but somehow I can't see you out milkin" cows and tillin" wheat." Simon eyed her with a smirk. "I think without clubs to hit up, men to swindle...you'd be bored as ****."

"You're probably right?".Lyla nodded and took one last drag and tossed the butt out the window, blowing smoke out the corner of her mouth. "What about you?"

"Me?" Simon side-eyed her.

"Yeah. What's your life like after he's dead?"

Simon stared ahead, a little smile crossing his lips. "I take my daughter home...I find a real job. Try to live the normal life and watch her grow up...Just be with her."

Lyla smiled warmly at him. "And you think you can do "normal??" She gave him a knowing smirk.

"For her, I can do anything."

Lyla's expression faded a bit as she lowered her eyes. "You're a good father. You know that?"

"No. I'm not. " He said softly. "But god damn it, I will be."

Simon stood outside the rendezvous point, a cigarette between his lips as he waited for Cotter to get there. The doughy, increasingly haggard looking man rolled up in his mercedes, bright and early, the cool of the morning still in the air, a black leather jacket on his person.

He stepped out of the car and looked over at his drivers and gunmen. "Right, lads. Ya look "ungry. Ya look tough. Ya look ready for ****in" action!"

Murmurs and cheers rose up as Cotter walked amongst his people. Simon eyeing him as he sent a plume of smoke out from between his lips.

"We're gonna roll up there, take the bastards for everything they got! Put "em away and make em' remember why they fear Cameron Cotter!" He sneered and nodded. "Anybody gets in your way, you put a bullet between their ****in" eyes! PUT "EM IN THE ****IN" GROUND!"

The image in his head of Cotter laid low, handcuffed and thrown in the back of Paige's car carried Simon through the little speech.

"LET"S ROLL!" Cameron shouted.

Simon took one last heavy drag and threw his cigarette on the ground, stomping it out with his bullet and blowing out a lungful of smoke.

==One Hour Later== The trucks arrived right on time, the movement of the money well underway as he sat inside the Charger, hands on the wheel waiting for the sign.

The trucks were loaded and ready to move, heading out in a convoy, escorted by a single squad car. Street after street, they rode on uneventful. It was not to last. A massive dump truck came careening down the intersection, plowing into the squad car, blindsiding it and sending the vehicle rolling. A black Escalade skidded to a stop, armed men jumping out and moving on the Armored trucks.

One of the drivers decided to be a hero and drew a weapon, earning a burst to the chest from one of Cotter's men. Lots of screaming and yelling followed as they forced the other drivers to comply, unlocking their doors, aware now of what sort they were dealing with. The bags removed and the remaining drivers loaded and locked into the back of the trucks.

"Packages secure. Go now." Came Cotter's voice over the radio.

Simon slapped the car into gear, his boot stomping on the gas as he tore out into the streets. Weaving through the back alleys he came out, slamming on the breaks, the car sliding to a stop right beside the trucks, two other cars following suit. The gunmen opened the back door, throwing in the duffel bag loaded with cash onto the seat. The moment the door shut, he hit the accelerator, burning rubber as he jetted away.

The other cars, loaded up and hot on his tail, he lead them through the back alleys and side streets out onto the main stretch, keeping an eye out for the trap that Paige, no doubt would have set and was just waiting to spring.

With a jerk of the wheel, he lead them off the main road and down into a aqueduct, tearing through the wet concrete until they reached the first checkpoint, the cars screeching to a halt. Simon immediately got out of his car, shouldering the bag and throwing the incendiary grenade into the charger. He loaded up the bag into the waiting Camaro, sliding into the driver's seat, deadly focus in his eyes as the grenade let out a massive boom, the interior now burning.

The three new cars rolled out into the aqueduct, Simon leading them again back up onto the road, three burning husks of a car left behind. As they were about to cross an intersection, they were suddenly cut off. An unmarked Crown Vic pulling immediately in front of them.

Simon slammed on the brakes, barely avoiding a collision. In the Driver's seat, Paige made eye contact with him, corner of his mouth upturning. Several other squad cars were approaching from behind. The gearshift cracked back into reverse, Simon pressing the pedal down hard. The cars all scattered, Simon going in reverse down a residential street with Paige on his nose. He spied an opening big enough for him to fit through, only a wooden fence in his way.

The Camaro burst through, sending wood splinters and fragments flying all over, the car off its wheels for a moment before slamming back down, bouncing with the impact before he threw himself into a complete 180.

SImon hit the car into drive and gunned it away from the pursuing Paige. The others all had their backup routes. They were not his concern at the moment. Weaving in and out of traffic, he lead Paige on a wild chase, jerking the wheel into a wild drifting turn before straightening himself out and rocketing forward. Paige was barely able to keep up, losing a bit of ground as she struggled to negotiate the turn at high speed, lights flashing, sirens blaring.

Simon glanced in his rearview, a smirk on his face. The wheel cut left and he went down another back alley, absolutely decimating a plastic garbage can, sending trash flying everywhere in his wake.

A quick glance at his clock brought a bit of urgency to him. They had backup plans within back up plans. If he timed it right, it would work perfectly. His eyes focused ahead on the rapidly approaching train tracks".and the train that was on its way.

"No way." Paige said, watching as Simon sped up. "He's gonna try to race the ****in" train! " She sped up, trying to match him and maybe hit him with a pit maneuver. But he was too quick, nearer and nearer that train came to him. And at the last moment, he threaded the needle, missing the train by inches.

Corrine slammed on her brakes, barely able to keep from blasting into the train.

"Ain't he supposed to be helpin" us, C?" Stanton asked, gripping white-knuckled to the oh-**** handle.

She glared ahead. "They'll be heading for the third Checkpoint. We get there before them." She responded. "This mother ****er better not screw us."

Simon turned down the main stretch to checkpoint two, the other two cars converging and coming to a stop under an overpass. Cameron stood waiting outside one of the three waiting SUV's as they pulled up. He eyed Simon a moment, nodding to him. Something in his eyes, the tatted driver didn't particularly feel comfortable with.

Simon switched out his bag into his SUV, dropping another grenade into the Camaro and pulled his way up into the vehicle and started the engine, watching as Cotter boarded another. Foot met accelerator, Simon once again taking point. He took them down the route, not a cop car in sight.

Once the convoy passed three unmarked squads came screaming around a corner in pursuit. Simon edged the SUV up to its top speed, barreling down a side street toward an old fenced-off factory. The vehicle made short work of that chain link fence, bringing the cars through the buildings and unused stacks as more squad cars joined the chase.

He turned a corner as one of them came up alongside him. The cop tried to sideswipe him, metal shrieking and banging as they collided. Simon jerked the wheel hard, putting the cop car's left wheels onto a loading ramp and sending the vehicle careening through the air, crashing down on its passenger side in shower of sparks and broken glass.

The SUV tore through the other fence as he got right back on the main road. The convoy, having scattered pulling up beside him. He glanced out his window catching Cotter eyeing him, offering a nod. Simon returned it and hit the gas, taking point once again.

The engine revved loudly as Simon's SUV roared down the angled wall of another section of aqueduct...but this time, the three cars waiting for them were surrounded by cops, Corrine Paige at the front, vest strapped on and an AR shouldered. Any other time, he might be worried. But this was part of his plan.

He spotted the spike strips almost too late, jerking his wheel to the right to avoid it.

Paige stared down the barrel of her rifle, eyes on the approaching convoy. "Come on...make this easy, Toews?" She muttered to herself.

One of the SUVs" tires suddenly exploded, the wheel whipped right wildly,, slamming into the one beside it. But Simon just gunned it, as the bare rims sparked and scraped on the ground. They were Paige's problem now. Good luck, Cotter, you son of a bitch.

His focus turned then to Paige...the SUV never slowing as he approached. Someone behind her opened fire, which just started a chain reaction, bullets pinging off the front of the car and tearing through the windshield. Simon had to duck out of the way as one ripped through his headrest and into the backseat. He set his jaw, glancing back and yanked the wheel to the left, the car continuing to take fire as it climbed up the angled wall and burst through the fence at the top, leaving Paige, Cotter and the others to each other.

Paige stared wide-eyed after the car until her attention was redirected to Cotter's men exiting their vehicles with assault rifles and opened fire. Corrine ducked behind her car for cover, pulling her radio up. "We're under fire! Requesting immediate back-up!" She shouted into it. "Toews is still on the run. Black Ford Escape heading Northbound!? She dropped the mic and returned fire.

Plans within plans. You didn't piss in the the Devil's eye if you didn't have an escape in-place. Simon pulled into an underground parking garage, the car creaking to a stop. Parked and waiting was the mini-van. Simon grabbed the duffel of cash and loaded it into the back of the van, sliding the door shut. Leaving the bullet-ridden SUV behind, he joined the hustle and bustle of daily life.

The minivan pulled up in front of Cotter's place, Simon immediately hopping out. He pounded on the door until he heard the click.

For a moment, he could see the panic and terror in Lyla's eyes...but it faded into a big smile. A little laugh left her, building more and more until her body shook. The brunette threw her arms around him, clutching tight as the laughter turned to tears.

Simon truly felt for her. Years of abuse, physical and mental had taken their toll, and now it just poured out of her. But he knew they couldn't linger.

He managed to get her into the car with her bags, and off on the road they went. The car ambled down the highway, Lyla's head leaned against the window as she watched the cars whip by. A content smile on her lips, she lolled her gaze to Simon. "Tell me something. About you."

Blue eyes flicked her way. "What do you want to know?"

"I don't know. Family' You got a family?"

"Just Cici." He said, a hint of warmth in his voice.

"Where's her mom?"

"No clue." He responded. "I woke up one morning and she's out on my doorstep in one of those...what do you call them?"

"Bassinets?" Lyla offered.

"Yeah. Note telling me she's mine from some chick I'd had a one nighter with." He went on. "I tried to find a way out. But, something about that little girl made me want to stay. Every time she opened her eyes" those were *my* eyes."

Lyla smiled. It was rare to see a tough guy like him vulnerable. She kinda liked it.

"Best thing that ever happened to me." He stated quietly.

That sat well with the mobster's wife. "What about your parents?"

"Which ones?" He chuckled. "Mom died having me, dad got himself killed not long after. Robbing a liquor store."

Simon leaned, taking his cigarettes out. "Went into the system at 3, so they told me." He said, dragging one out with his teeth.

"I got sent to this family...Ingrams. The old man was nice enough when he was sober?" he lit the cigarette and took the smoke in. "Which wasn't too often."

He exhaled out the opened window. "Used to get liquored up and beat the **** out of the wife. And when I tried to stop him, turned on me. Sweet lady. Real little...quiet. Her name was Diane."

He took another drag, eyes forward. "Went on 8 years." He said before blowing out the smoke. "One night, I hear it. She's screaming and he's wailing on her with a belt..begging him to stop and he just called her every name in the book and carried on. "

Lyla stared, all of this coming too close to home.

"I couldn't take it anymore. I went to my closet, got a big wooden baseball bat." The expression on his face put him there again, watching it play out like he was a spectator. "I snuck up behind him...and I hit him. Right in the back of the knees, as hard as I could."

A little smile twitched onto Lyla's face.

"And then I hit him again, across the back of the head. And then again. And again. And again until I'd split his skull. I was 11 years old." Simon said darkly, his voice a low rasp. He brought the cigarette up to his lips, hands shaking. "I ran after that. Found out later, he survived. Had a bit of brain damage, but he lived. Strong enough that he ended up strangling her and put a gun in his mouth."

Lyla stared with tears in her eyes, watching him coolly eyeing the road ahead. "I'm sorry. That's...awful." Suddenly so much about him made sense. Why he did all of this, why he was willing to go so far to protect her, even after how terribly she treated him. Somehow, some way, she'd repay him for his kindness.

Simon turned the corner to Briana's place and slammed on the brakes. Lyla was thrown forward against the seatbelt and let out a little scream. "What the HELL, man"!" She yelled at him.

Simon's eyes were wide and fearful, his chest suddenly rising with a heavy, rapid trembling breath. Lyla's brows knit. "Simon' What is it?"

She turned her head slowly, landing on a house on the side of the street...Briana's house...and the door was hanging open.

Paige stood in her office, head in her hands. Stanton sat, a cigarette dangling between his lips as her leaned over a stack of papers that represented Cotter's records.

"How the **** haven't we been able to nail this son of a bitch to the wall yet?" He muttered with a shake of the head.

"Friends in high places." Corrine responded bitterly. "CSI turned up nothing at his house. He's not going there. Look into properties he owns."

"What about Toews?" Stanton asked, ashing into a tray.

"Sent a black and white over there. Empty, too. Neighbor said he took off yesterday, ain't been back since." She said.

"Must have been a quick vacation. Pop out, roll back in for a major heist...usually I like to take a few days to decompress. ****er's a go-getter." He joked.

Paige eyed him. "Does this look like my "time-to-****-around" face, Evs?"

He glanced up at the stone-cold, strict expression and shook his head. "Sorry."

"We find Cotter, and I'm betting we find Toews, Cotter's wife, and the girl." She sighed.

A knock came at the doorway as she turned. "Detective?" The officer said, beckoning her attention. "We got a report from out north in riverdale. Forced entry, signs of a struggle and a body, 29 year old female. Did a bit of digging and guess who's among her known accomplices?"

Lyla didn't need to be told, her eyes sliding shut. "Anything else?"

"CSI is on-site now...but they have evidence that there was someone with her. Young from the looks of it." The officer said, a hint of disgust in his voice.

"Cici Toews." Corrine nodded to herself. "Thank you."

She turned to Stanton, leaning forward and propping herself up on the table. "Evs...find Cotter. If what I think is about to happen DOES happen...there's going to be a bloodbath."

Corrine Paige sat hunched over her computer, ticking through Cotter's records. He owned or had a stake in several properties throughout the city that he could have retreated to. The man knew how to cover his tracks. She'd stared at that screen so long her eyes ached. With a yawn, she rubbed her eyelids and fell back against her chair. With a quick sip of coffee, she returned her eyes to the screen.

The detective's brow furrowed as she stared at the next result. Adamant Steel Works. Remote local...limited police presence...And the place was built like a fortress. It wasn't exactly science, but if there was one thing Corrine had learned in her time, it was that her gut was rarely ever wrong.

She stepped out of her office, finding Stanton at his desk with a mountain of papers, running on pure caffeine. "Evs. I got a lead."

The exhausted looking detective looked up from his paperwork. "Well, don't keep me in suspense, boss."

"We're goin" on a field trip. You strapped?"

Stanton patted the pistol that sat upon his hip with a grin.

Moments later, the pair piled into their car, Stanton riding shotgun. "Should we get back up?" He asked.

Paige turned the key, the engine revving to life. "No. It might turn out to be nothing. Things get hot, we'll call it in.? She threw the car into gear and set off.

The harsh, familiar slap of skin on concrete echoed throughout the room as they threw the broken, battered fighter to the ground. Those pretty blue eyes red with blood with a burst vessel as he stared off into nothing, breath ragged on the damp floor.

Why hadn't they just gone ahead and killed him' Why keep him around but to torture him more" Simon didn't see the filthy warehouse storeroom. Nor the piled crates or scattering rats. The only thing Simon saw was her face and the terror within her eyes as she was taken in agony from this world while he lay helpless to do anything about it.

As the car continued to burn long after she was gone, Cotter had grimly stared down at him, a note of disappointment in his voice as they told his men to drag him away.

Fine.

Let them do what they will. He didn't care. No physical pain they inflicted could compare with the hurt deep down in his soul at that moment. Cut him, beat him, shoot him, burn him as they had Cici. Nothing mattered.

Simon didn't know how long he'd laid there on the grimy floor before the door opened again. Footsteps approached from behind. Slow. Heavy. He didn't need to see him to know who it was.

"Y"know, mate...You take all the fun out of it when you mope like this. I wanted tears. I wanted screams. I wanted rage. But you?" Cotter gestured to the man. "You just lay there like a slug, staring off like an someone gave ya a lobotomy or somethin"."

Simon didn't react. Aside from breathing, he might have been dead.

"You are a disappointment, mate. Get up! Crawl for me!" He clapped his hands. "Come try and rip out me throat, yeah?"

Again, only stillness.

"No?" Cotter said dully. "Then, maybe you can gimme a scream."

The cage door opened and second pair of footsteps entered, larger, heavier than Cotter's. The huge shadow crawled over Simon's curled body. Those bloodied, blue eyes slid shut as he prepared himself.

Don't scream. Don't give him the satisfaction.

When the boot connected with him, a grunt was all he allowed. Even as the blows rained down on him, his ribs cracking, his skin breaking and bleeding, he didn't scream. Even when fists and feet connected with his face, he didn't scream.

No. **** him. He didn't have any power in this situation, but that. Just one thing. But God damn it, it was his and he clung to it with everything he had until the big bruiser was panting and covered in Simon's blood.

"He's a tough son of a bitch, boss." The man said.

"Keep at it. But don't kill him. Understood" I'll be back later." Cotter nodded to the man, one arm propped upon the bars of the cage. Cotter lumbered out of the room, anger clear in his disposition as he shoved through the door.

Simon watched the stocky mob boss disappear out the door and something inside snapped. No. He might die, but if he did...he was taking as many of these mother ****ers with as possible.

The bruiser took a moment to catch his breath, but immediately regretted it. A chain wrapped around his throat from behind as the full weight of Simon brought him down. The pair of them struggled as Simon pulled with all of his might, digging that rusty old chain into the man's neck as hard as he could. The bruiser clawed frantically, gasping for air as trickles of blood came from where the it cut into his flesh.

Simon's cold, dead-eyed stare glared forth unseen as the man's struggling turned into quick, last ditch jerks...and then faded to stillness as the life left his body. He rolled the corpse to one side and tried to stand, before that dislocated knee simply gave out. His body crumpled in a heap...he'd have to do something about that if he was to go on. Quickly, he eyed the bars, a plan forming. This would not be pleasant.

The dead mobster's wallet between his teeth, he slipped his damaged leg through the bars into the opposite cell, his foot caught between and opening on other side. This was going to hurt, he thought as kicked with his good foot with all his might, his body jerking upwards as a loud pop and searing pain came from his leg.

He was barely aware of the blood running down his face or hitch in his step as he made his way down the hall. His focus belonged to one, singular purpose. Carefully, Simon,ambled down the hall, eyes alert and cold.

As one door opened, he quickly slipped into a maintenance closet, pressing his body flat against a wall. As the footsteps approached, he looked around the room in front of him, finding a broom and a flathead screwdriver.

Well, he decided. Better than nothing.

As the goon approached, Simon lunged. The man was caught completely off guard, both he and Simon hitting the ground. But the tatted fighter wasted no time, the screwdriver stabbed downward again and again into the face and neck of his struggling target until finally it penetrated deep into the man's throat, holding it there until the body went limp.

Simon glared coldly as blood sprayed up into his face with one last gasp of air. Quickly, he checked the man's body for weapons, coming up with a .45. After checking the weapon he rose. The pistol would have to be a last resort. The second gunfire erupted the entire place would be on him.

The other weapons pocketed, he moved to the broom handle and unscrewed it from the brush, disappearing into the hall.

Cotter's people were roaming the halls as he stood in his office,hunched over his desk with a glass of scotch before him and a cigar between his fingers. Those beady, brown eyes upturned, staring out the window at the darkening sky. A tiny bit of movement from the yard below caught his attention, those eyes narrowing. Stanton stood at the driver's door, talking into the microphone of the car's radio.

Cotter picked up his own and brought it to his lips. "Looks like we've got a little company. East entrance."

Calls came in acknowledging the order and he switched channels. "Byers, do you copy?" He called to his man patrolling the main warehouse that was little Cici Toews" final resting place. "Byers, do you copy??

Silence followed.

Cotter's fist slammed down onto the desk as he shouted out a swear.

Toews looked like death. Corrine couldn't be certain what had happened in the fight or what they had done to him after...after Cici. Simon glanced to the firearm laying on the floor beside the detective and then back to her.

"You here to arrest me, Detective?"

Her eyes flicked down to the weapon for a long moment before kicking it over to him, the gun stopping right before his hand. "No. I'm here to help."

His hand covered over the pistol as she stepped up, offering her hand to him. Simon grabbed her hand and was pulled to his feet.

"You got a plan?" She asked as he checked the weapon.

"It look like I got a plan?" He looked up, his face battered and streaked with blood.

"No, it looks like you're about to pass out." She observed.

"It looks worse than it is." Toews was obviously running on pure rage at this point. He brushed past her, moving toward the door, ready for more. Paige started after him.

"Wait!" She called, but he didn't respond. "God damn it, Toews, I said wait!" she grabbed him by the arm, wheeling the traumatized man around. He had the wide-eyed, frenzied look of a man with nothing left to lose. "You're going to get yourself killed."

"Do i look like I care?" He asked her.

"I have backup on the way. We can take him down together. Getting yourself killed isn't going to bring her back." She pleaded.

"No." He said simply. "Nothing will. But, I can sure as hell take him with me."

He started away, Paige gritting her teeth. "Toews"." She called after him to no avail. "TOEWS!"

But he was gone. "****!" she cursed to herself and started off after him. One hand on her weapon, the other on her mic, she called out. "Evs, it's Corrine."

"What the **** is going on in there, Cor" I heard shots." came his voice.

"Ran into some trouble. I found Toews. He's going after Cotter himself. I'm going after him." She informed her partner, rushing down the corridor after Simon.

"Cor, backup is only a few minutes out! Hold back!" he said.

"Just tell them to hurry!" She ordered and thumbed off the radio. "Can't take your own ****in" advice, Corrine"." she muttered to herself.

Simon climbed down to the warehouse floor, the adrenaline completely worn off and the cost of all the abuse he'd taken flooding in. His entire being was filled with a dull, throbbing pain, but still he made it to Paige.

The detective lay there, her arm smashed almost clear off beneath the container. She was passed out from shock, but she was still breathing. Corrine was still alive.

Quickly, he tore his shirt and went to work trying to tie off and stem the blood flow from her wound. He didn't seem to hear the door open. Didn't seem to notice the cops swarming in, weapons drawn and shouting at him.

Simon was barely aware as they cuffed and dragged him away. Everything was numb. Even the hate. All that was left was grief. Cotter was right. Cici was gone.