Fallen Angels by Stormm

Disclaimer: I do not own the Magnificent Seven or the characters. I do not use this forum for profit. I do own the story and it’s premises.

This is a new AU that I have created based on “In the Kingdom of the Blind, the One-eyed man is King”. I saw the movie and was kind of disappointed that Michael Biehn had only a little part in it. But that one part had me really engross and had spawned my imagination into another type of AU.

We all know how dark Larabee’s personality is in the original Mag 7 fandom. But what if he and the others were criminals who were recruited to work for the government against crime. Probably someone else has thought of this also, but I wanted to try my hand at this.

Fandom: Fallen Angel AU

Rating: FRM

Warnings: Some language, some graphic violence.

Chapter: 1

Christopher Michael Larabee

The Archangel Michael

The Angel of Judgment

The Patron Angel of Law Enforcement and the Military

“The first Angel created by God, Michael is the leader of all the Archangels and is in charge of protection, courage, strength, truth and integrity. Michael protects us physically, emotionally and psychically. He also oversees the light-worker's life purpose. His chief function is to rid the earth and its inhabitants of the toxins associated with fear. The Archangel Michael leads the souls of the faithful into the Eternal Light.”

Steli- http://www.steliart.com/angelology.html

The night was cold and the man dressed all in black pulled his long duster closer around his body. He had just come from a long meeting with his last client, a man known for being not so reputable and an elite member of the criminal underworld.

Christopher Michael Larabee, who carried the moniker, Michael, the Archangel, had worked in the business of the expansion of illegal corruption for years now. It was a job that he did not love but thought as necessary to his survival. He was now on his way back to his car and then onward to his silent and empty ranch located in the remotest part of Nevada.

Larabee, quickly walked through the alleyways, his shoulder length blond hair flowed back from under the black Stetson hat. Ever so often, the gold band of the Stetson would reflect the light from the streetlights, the twinkle shattering the darkness surrounding him. His ever-vigil hazel eyes instantly scanned the area, taking in every detail. His parked silver-colored, Shelby Cobra 427 stood like a haven next to the deserted warehouse wall.

Chris had purchased the automobile, as is, from another antique collector for $150,000, which was considered a bargain. He had to acquire some original parts for another $30,000 and now the car was worth the price of $217,000 on the market.

Most of his associates perceived the acquisition of the car as an egotistical action. There was little truth to that. It was his hobby to surround his life with expensive collectible objects. The Cobra, Asmodeus, as he had named it, was a great investment for the future, as well as being one of the fastest cars around. And quite frankly, he did not give a damn what anyone thought.

The car was still in perfect condition. But he had no doubt to the contrary. The criminal element of Las Vegas knew better than to declass something that belonged to him. At least the smart ones knew. Only the ignorant or the suicidal would incur the wrath of Michael, the Archangel. And if the scum of Las Vegas knew nothing of Chris Larabee, they definitely knew of his client, Marco DeCorsia. DeCorsia was well known to all that traveled in the circles of corruption that interred Las Vegas and there was no one who could escape his reach.

DeCorsia was a short man who ruled his organization with an iron-fist and a handgun. His personality included a long memory and a very long arm when it came to revenge.

The fact that DeCorsia’s men were scattered around the area and the knowledge of DeCorsia’s hard-fisted domination gave Chris a lot of confidence that his prized possession was safe. It would not look good for DeCorsia to have one his business associate’s vehicle come to mishap in his own territory.

Chris Larabee smoothly took out his keys. He then turned off the silent alarm and opened the driver’s side door of the car. Without looking back, he got into the car, rotated the ignition key and drove away into the Las Vegas night, happy at the outcome. And why should he not be happy. He was now $500,000 richer and alive.

*********

Chris arrived at his home about an hour and a half later. He liked living far from the city in the nearby Nevada desert. His mid-sized ranch was situated just southeast of Las Vegas, heading towards Indian Springs.

From the outside the house looked small on the large piece of land, but like Chris himself, looks were deceiving. Chris had designed his own house and had it built by a construction company five years ago. The original house, which was situated on the land five years ago, had burned down mysteriously, also taking with it his only reasons for living, his wife, Sarah and his son, Adam, leaving a shell of man who cared nothing for the pleasures of life. His only purpose in life now was “war”. War against any who would stand in his way of getting what he wanted.

Chris loved being out on the ranch where there were no other neighbors for at least 12 miles. The only visitor he ever got from time to time was his associates and friends, who also were of the Archangel organization, an organization he started out of necessity.

Chris, with the help of Chief Orrin Travis, created the Archangel organization, several years ago when he was just a young punk working in the Organization as a bodyguard for one of the top members.

It was then that he realized that other criminal bigwigs would need people to execute very intricate deals between each of the fractions. They needed people who owed no allegiance or loyalty to either fraction and would treat each fraction equally.

In the law business they were known as mediators and Chris considered his organization the mediators of the crime world. After years in the business, he had risen high in the ranks and was respected by all the fractions.

But when the death of his family came about, Chris had changed and had changed his organization’s strategy. No longer did they just try and mediate matters between the different fractions, but now they were actually fulfilling the deals as well instead of hiring out to get them completed. It was Chris’ idea that by doing so they would find the murderer of his wife and child by getting deeply involved into the Organizations’ business.

The others had objected at first, stating their complaints on the fact that it was going against everything they believed in and the fact that it was dangerous to play with fire. But Chris had refused to listen to them, and in the end, he was their leader and they would never think of betraying or deserting him. They had owed him too much. They held onto the hope that one day Chris would open his eyes and see that he was slowly becoming like the men he mediated for, a piece of sludge in the great world of dirt bags.

But time was moving on rapidly and Chris still had not awoken from his four yearlong dark sleep. In fact, it seemed to the others that it was getting worst and even Chris had to admit that he had done things he would never had thought of doing before. His anger and frustration at not finding the ones responsible for the death of his family continued to gnaw at him as his soul fell deeper into darkness.

As Chris pulled up to his two-car garage, he pushed the button on his automated door opener and the garage door came up, disappearing onto to its tracks. He parked the Cobra next to his less expensive black Dodge Durango that he used to prowl the desert area of his land. Once that was done, he opened the side door and quickly walked into the house.

As he passed the side door, he made a left into his moderate kitchen, throwing his keys down upon the counter in their usual spot, and throwing his coat across one of the kitchen chairs at the table. He then grabbed a whiskey glass that was stocked on an open shelf over the sink. With glass in hand, he then bent down to open one of the bottom cabinets and pulled out a now half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels. He poured himself a generous amount and placed the bottle onto the kitchen counter next to the discarded keys.

He walked smoothly into the living room that was just off of the kitchen, carrying the whiskey glass as if it held his salvation and plopped down into the soft downy black couch, at the same time punching the remote that turned on the television. The television came on, but Chris took no notice of what was being said or the goings on of the current television program. He was deep in his own tortured thoughts. Thoughts of his old life. He usually just turned the television on so that the house would not seem so quiet and empty. It was his nightly routine since the death of his family and kept him from thinking too long on the silence that surrounded him.

He was dog-tired and he did not know when the last time he really slept all night. He tried not to let the others see how badly he was spiraling down his own deep abyss, but he was sure that they had their own assumptions about his nightly cruises of the strip and his ranch. He shook his head out of his reverie and downed the whiskey in one gulp. It burned his throat as it went down and he could feel the warmth settling in his stomach and his head. He knew in a few minutes he would probably go back and get some more, but right now, the one was enough.

He had just stood up and was about to go into his bedroom to change his clothes when the phone rang. It was now three o’clock in the morning, and he could not think of who would be calling him at this late hour without probable and good damn cause.

He picked up the cordless phone from the cradle and said, “Larabee, your dime.”

“Hey, Chris! Where ya been?” came the voice over the phone, angrily.

Chris recognized it as the voice of Vin Tanner, also known as the Archangel Gabriel to the Organization. Vin Tanner was his best friend. More than that, he was like a brother to him, as were the others. But at times, Chris also thought of him as a pain in the ass. If he weren’t the best sniper that ever came out of the military, he would have dumped him a long time ago.

“Vin. Why is it that you are calling me so early in the morning? Don’t you have any idea what time it is?” said Chris calmly at the man on the phone.

“I know what time it is! How come ya don’t? We’ve been lookin’ all over for ya.”

“We? Whose we?” asked Chris, now surprised.

“We, as in the boys.”

Chris rolled his eyes in disgust. They would never learn to stay out of his affairs. He was old enough to take care of himself. He had no need to be wet-nursed by a group of incorrigibles like his own men.

“If you must know, I was out taking care of business. Remember business? Money? Pays bills? Feeds your face? Gives you that great apartment you have in the best area of Vegas?”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. But ya can’t keep goin’ off alone on these assignments. Trustin’ those scumbags not to double cross ya is stupid! Just plain stupid, Chris!”

“Are you calling me stupid, Vin?”

“I ain’t talkin’ about ya dog, Cowboy.”

“First of all, leave Ariel out of this. He’s not up for conversation. And second of all, if you call me Cowboy again, I’m gonna come over there and blow your sorry skinny ass all over Vegas!” Chris retorted back.

“Listen, Chris. I’m comin’ out there. We need to talk.”

“Do it in the morning, Tanner. I’m getting ready for bed.”

“Yeah, right. And cows fly. Come on, Chris. Me and the others know ya ain’t slept all night in years. I’m getting’ in my truck right now. Be awake when I get there.”

“Tanner! Tanner, don’t you dare!”

“Bye, Chris. See ya in a little while,” and the phone went dead.

Chris slammed the phone back onto the cradle. “Damn!” he exclaimed out loud. “They just don’t get it!” But Chris knew Vin was serious. He walked back towards his bedroom and decided he was going to change his clothes. Then he was going to make sure that his Glock handgun was loaded. He would be damned if some scruffy looking Texan water rat was going to get the best of him.

*********************************************************************************************

Chapter: 2

The Archangel Gabriel

The Angel of Mercy - Annunciation & Resurrection

The Patron Angel of all who work in the field of Communications

“Gabriel is a powerful and strong archangel, and those who call upon him will find themselves pushed into action that leads to beneficial results. Gabriel can bring messages just as he did to Elizabeth and Mary of the impending births of their sons, John the Baptist and Jesus of Nazareth. Gabriel helps anyone whose life purpose involves the arts or communication. He acts as a coach, inspiring and motivating artists, journalist and communicators and helping them to overcome fear and procrastination.”

Steli- http://www.steliart.com/angelology.html

Vin had arrived at Larabee’s ranch about two hours later. It was now a little after five o’clock in the morning and the Nevada sun was just coming up over the desert. Vin’s and the others’ anger had not subsided since his talk with Chris. He had told the others that he was going to have a conversation with Chris about his latest escapade. Vin’s anger only grew as he got closer and closer to confronting the hardheaded man. He had got out of his truck and walked slowly but deliberately towards the home of his associate and friend.

Chris, on the other hand, was sitting on the black couch, relaxing, sipping his glass of Jack Daniels while staring at the black television set as it played on. During the two hours, he had fed and taken Ariel for his nightly walk, taken a shower, changed out of his black business suit into a pair of jeans and a black shirt, which now hung open and poured himself his fifth glass of Jack Daniels.

He sat there, absently pulling at his left earlobe, playing with the gold earring created in the form of a cross, which hung from it. A pendant of St. Michael, the Archangel, hung loosely from his neck, laying flatly against his bare chest. The pendant, a souvenir from his past life of growing up in streets of Brooklyn, had the words “Saint Michael, Pray for Us” engraved on it. The 100-year old grandfather clock in the hall had just chimed fifteen minutes after the hour, when he heard the doorbell ring. Chris, not moving from his position on the couch, yelled out, “Come in! It’s open!”

The door opened and Vin walked quickly through it, converging onto the still relaxed figure of Chris Larabee, leader of the Archangel Organization. Vin also known as the Archangel, Gabriel, stood directly in front of him, blocking his view of the television. He was seething with anger, but none of it showed on his face as he stood there staring at Chris. The only thing Chris saw that gave him the impression that Vin was angry were the fiery blue eyes of the man glaring at him. Chris glanced up silently and then without further word, moved his head to peer around the form of the angry young man to stare at the television again.

Vin knew what Chris was trying to do, but it was not going to work. He stepped again into his view and said in a calm voice, “Okay, Cowboy. Ya wanna talk about it?”

“No,” replied Chris, getting up from his seated position and staggering towards the bottle that was still on the kitchen counter.

Vin’s eyes followed him and saw what attracted Chris’ attention. He moved to intercept him and had barely made in time, coming nose to nose with the blonde-haired man, almost making him drop the whiskey glass that was held loosely in his hand.

“Ya not getting’ off that easily,” said Vin, grabbing the bottle from its perch and putting it behind his back.

“Vin. You are not funny. Now hand me that bottle. I mean to finish it off tonight and I’m not in a mood to play games with you.”

At that comment, the dam suddenly broke in Vin. “And ya think we are?” he yelled. “You listen to me, Chris Larabee! Me and the others are tired of takin’ these kind of chances all the time! Ya tryin’ to get yourself killed and us along in the process.”

“What in hell are you talking about, Vin?” Chris yelled back. “I’m creating a business here and you guys just don’t seem to get it! I didn’t ask you and the others to follow me around like some bitches in heat! Why don’t you just leave me alone?”

“Fuck you, Larabee! Fuck you and the holy horse ya rode on! You don’t think me and the others care about what happened to Sarah and Adam? We care just about as much as you do! They were family to us too, Chris!”

This statement hit Chris like a stone building. He knew the others had felt Sarah’s and Adam’s lost as much as he did. But he did not understand how that had anything to do with what he was doing. He was just trying to keep them surviving, keep them alive. What would stop the murdering bastard that had killed his family from taking them too? He could not chance it and to him the only way out of it was to acquire as much wealth, knowledge and prestige among the fractions to make them too valuable to kill. He knew that some of the heads of the fractions were talking about how important they had become within the organization and saw it as a threat. He knew it would be a matter of time before they would act out their fears on his organization. Chris wanted to tell Vin and the others this, but as long as the fractions had dealt directly with him, it would keep the others safe.

Vin watched as Chris stood there, not saying anything, but gaping at Vin with eyes of torment and apprehension. He knew Chris was thinking, but what, he did not know. He wanted only to get the older man to talk to him, open up to him and the boys. They were his friends, his associates, his brothers and they would never betray or hurt him. They needed him to understand that and to understand that whatever it was they could handle it together.

Chris realized that Vin was waiting for him to say something, but he did not know what to say. Right now his head hurt and his stomach was about to follow from drinking too much Jack Daniels on an empty stomach.

Instead of reassuring Vin that he would talk to him and the others, Chris said in a calm voice, “I’m tired, Vin. I’m going to my room and lay down. Stay if you want. You know where the extra bedding is and the guestrooms. Let’s leave this until later. Okay?” and he started walking towards his bedroom in the back, swaying into the wall as he went.

Vin watched him go and let out a loud sigh of regret. They were never going to get to the bottom of this if Chris did not open up to them. He would call the others and let them know how the conversation had turned out. They were going to be real pissed, but right now there was nothing he could do. Chris was in no shape to make any sense. He would ask the others to come over later and maybe together they could get Chris to open up. At least he hoped so. Damn! That man was going to be the death of them all one day. He then turned and walked over to the phone to make the calls.

***********************************************************************************************

Chapter: 3

Buck Wilmington

The Archangel Chamuel

The Angel of Divine Love

The Patron Angel of all who love God

“Chamuel is said to be one of the seven archangels who stand before God. A gatekeeper of Heaven, Chamuel has charge over twelve thousand fiery Angels of Destruction, all posted there with Chamuel at the portals of the sky. Chamuel governs Heavenly singing and is responsible for holding in check Leviathan, the monster of evil that will swallow the souls of sinners on Judgment Day. The Archangel of pure love, Chamuel can lift you from the depths of sorrow and find love in your heart. Chamuel helps us to renew and improve existing relationships as well as finding our soul mates. He works with us to build strong foundations for our relationships.”

Steli- http://www.steliart.com/angelology.html

Vin awoke to the sound of a truck barreling down the road that led to the Larabee ranch. He looked at the clock that was by the nightstand next to the bed and saw that it was ten o’clock. He turned his head slowly towards the engine’s direction and listened to it for about a second. The truck’s tires screeched to a halt in front of the ranch house and the engine died. He realized that it must be Buck Wilmington, also known as the Archangel, Chamuel, one of their other associates and a known long-time friend of Chris Larabee. He was a friend to Chris before Vin and the others had joined the organization.

Vin got up quickly and pulled his shirt on. He had not undressed fully during his stay at the Larabee ranch since he figured that it would soon be time for the others to arrive. He then walked out of the bedroom into the hall, towards the kitchen. After last night, he needed coffee and he needed it bad.

As he silently passed Chris’ opened bedroom door and peeked inside he noticed that the man was sprawled across the bed, fully-clothed, asleep. He also noticed that the bottle of Jack Daniels that he had put back into the cabinet earlier this morning, was now empty and lying not two feet from the bed.

“Damn!” thought Vin. “He must have got up after I went to bed and got that damnable bottle again. This has got to stop.”

Just then he heard the front door open and then close loudly with a thud. He heard Ariel barking at the noise and probably would go to greet Buck on his way in. Chris rarely locked his doors once he was home. With Ariel as a guard dog, and Chris usually wandering around all hours of the day and night, there was usually no way a person could break in without it being noticed. Also, due to the fact that Chris was the only place out here for miles around, no one could just drive up to the ranch without noise. Not if they did not want to be heard. Chris had specifically picked this area for that reason.

Vin not wanting to wake Chris up just yet until he spoke to Buck, closed Chris’ bedroom door and continued his journey towards the kitchen to meet up with Buck Wilmington.

When he reached the kitchen, he found Buck Wilmington standing next to the counter, breathing hard and trying to catch his breath.

“Damn dog! Why don’t he put that mutt on a leash?” he exclaimed.

“Buck! What happened to you?”

The tall mustached man just glared at the younger man, his face turning beet red with anger. Vin knew the man was about to blow.

“Buck, take it easy. I’m sure Ariel just thought you were someone that ain’t suppose to be here. Anyhow, Chris is in the bedroom sleep right now. No need to get all bent out of shape,” said Vin, trying to calm the man down.

“Bent out of shape? Bent out of shape?” he screamed. “The fucking mutt almost bites my leg off and that man in there has just taken ten years off of my life and you say don’t get bent out of shape?”

“Buck, lower your voice,” said Vin whispering. “You gonna wake ‘im up.”

“Vin, I don’t give a rat’s ass! I want that mangy polecat awake so I can tell him some things about himself and that horse he calls a dog.”

“Buck, this is not the way to handle it. Let’s wait until the others get here first, okay?”

Buck knew Vin was right, but it still did not make him feel any better about trying to get away from the huge Doberman that chased him into the house and Chris running off on his nightly excursions. Although the dog was trouble, he saw Chris’ predicament as the most dangerous. In the business that they were in, the chances that Chris was taking could be deadly. The Organization was not a two-bit outfit. They were the leaders of the world’s criminal organizations and most people who were not careful usually ended up dead. Even the invincible Archangel Michael.

“Alright, Vin. I’ll back off for now. But as soon as the others get here, I’m going to tear that man a new asshole.”

Vin only smiled and nodded. He knew Buck loved Chris like a brother and would do nothing to hurt him. Right now it was the fear that was talking, as it was with them all. They cared too much about their leader to let him die. Even if it was what he wanted.

“I’m gettin’ ready to fix some coffee. How about I buy ya a cup?”

Buck smiled at Vin and grabbed him by shoulders, squeezing it gently, letting him know that they were all in this together. He then took a seat at the table, while the sharpshooter went about making the fixing for some of his coffee.

It was about 30 minutes later and the coffee was ready to be served. Vin went into Chris’ cabinets and pulled out two cups and poured the hot brew into them. He passed Buck one cup and placed the other at a seating directly across from the tall man and started sipping at the life giving liquid.

“So, tell me, did you get anything out of him last night?” asked Buck, glancing over his cup at Vin.

“Nary a word. He was either too drunk at the time or too exhausted. I decided to call ya’ll over so that we could confront him together.”

“And you think this going to work how?”

“Well, I figured he could just keep stonewallin’ me, but I don’t think he can do it to all of us at the same time. Plus, there’s strength in numbers.”

“You know I love that man. He’s the closest thing I got to family since my own family died years ago.”

“I know, Buck. But I think Chris is hurting inside and he’s lettin’ it eat at his soul. I don’t know what we’re gonna do, but I know we got to do somethin’. He can’t keep goin’ like this and neither can the rest of us.”

“I know what you mean, Pard. Every time the phone rings late at night, J.D. thinks it’s someone callin’ to tell us that Chris is hurt or worse.”

At the mention of the young boy’s name, Vin smiled softly. “How’s the kid holdin’ up?”

“He’s learning, that’s for sure,” said Buck, chuckling lightly. “The last job we pulled I needed to get into a security system, but J.D. was so good at that type of thing, it took us no time at all to pull the information out of that computerized box of mechanical gadgetry.”

“Yep. That sounds like J.D. alright. What time is he coming over?”

“He had to de-encrypt the information we pulled last night and then send it over to the Big Man by ten so he should be here in about an hour.”

“Okay, so J.D.’ll be here at 11. Have you seen Ezra lately?”

“Yeah. He was at the Flamingo Casino working on that assignment Chris sent him on to look for cardsharpers for Mr. G. He said he would be here around noon after he had gotten him some sleep.” Cardsharpers were professional card players who made a living by cheating at card games.

“Well, if anyone can catch ‘em at it, Ezra can.”

“Did Nathan or Josiah tell you when they would arrive?”

“Well, Nathan is at his clinic doctoring some bodyguard for Mr. J that Chris sent over. Seems the guy tried to stop a bullet for his boss.”

“Well, that was stupid.”

“Yeah, no kidding. Nathan says he should be done around 12:30 or so.”

“And Josiah?”

“Josiah was working at some crooked charity pledge. Chris sent him over to keep an eye on one of the major board members. Seems the guy been skinnin’ off the top and the Organization ain’t havin’ it. They want some proof to take to the other top dogs so that they can justify takin’ him out. He said he be here around 1:30, after the bunch buffet. He figures by then he’d have somethin’ on the guy.”

“And Chris went along with this?” asked Buck, shocked that Chris would get into something like this.

“I told ya, Buck. He’s changed and not for the better. It’s like he’s got no conscience anymore. All he thinks about is the battle, not the war.”

Buck shook his head in resignation. This was not good at all. Chris was going back to his old ways before he met Sarah. Before he found happiness.

“Well, that means we have to keep Chris under control until 1:30.”

“I don’t know how we gonna do that?”

“Well, with Ezra arrivin’ around noon, that will strengthen our numbers. By that time it’ll be J.D., Ezra, you and me to hold the fort down. The four of us can contain him until Nathan and Josiah arrives. I just wish I could get into that head of his and figure out what’s goin’ on in there.”

“I think I know what’s going on with him, Vin,” he said solemnly, waiting for his words to sink in.

“Well, don’t keep it to yourself! Let me in on it.”

“You didn’t know Chris back in the old days. He was a…different man during that time. He and I grew up in the worst neighborhood in Brooklyn and basically we survived because we did whatever needed to be done. At least Chris did. We were young…and foolish, and we did not see that we were going down a path that sooner or later would put us in jail for a long time or get us killed. We were teenagers on the street, no parents, no home. We met this guy, called himself El Lobo. He ran a small drug dealing and prostitution racket back in the neighborhood. It was him, who found Chris and I sleeping on the streets with no money and no food. He took us in, fed us and clothed us and when it was time for us to pay him back, he taught us his trade and led us into his world. While me and Chris never did sell drugs, we did transport them. In fact, because we were so young, the cops never took a second look at us to think we were carrying them and even if we got caught, we were too young to put in jail. At that time, we were not even sixteen.”

“So?”, interrupted Vin.

“Well, as time went on we got higher and higher into El Lobo’s ranks. Especially Chris. He became his number one right hand man. No one messed with us because if they did they’d have Lobo’s men on them in a heartbeat. Chris and I were wild and woolly then and we partied all the time, but of course, you know me and the ladies,” laughed Buck, but then his smile faded and Vin saw his face turn to one of anger.

“But then there came a time for us to get our hands real dirty. El Lobo needed a competitor taken out of the picture. The man was working his territory and Lobo knew that if he didn’t put a stop to it, he’d lose his business and every two-bit hood would then consider him weak and try to make a move on him. He had asked me to do it, as he wanted me to prove I had the guts to do what needed to be done. I had yet to prove myself to him, unlike Chris. Chris volunteered to go, but Lobo said no. He said I would have to show him that I was deserving of being one of his men. To tell you the truth, I think he wanted to show me up to Chris, to show him I was weak, to break up our friendship. Chris told me later that Lobo had said to him privately that I was pulling him down and that he needed to dump me and fast. But you know, Chris. He got angry. He wouldn’t listen to that kind of talk.”

“I’m sorry, Buck,” said Vin quietly.

“Don’t be. It was a long time ago. Anyway, to make a story short, Chris took out the competitor without Lobo knowing about it. When we got back to Lobo’s hole, Chris told him that I did the deed. But it wasn’t true. Chris did it. He did it without even flinching. When I asked him how could he, he said it was a matter of survival. He wouldn’t talk to me about it after that. Then about a day later, someone snuffed Lobo anyway. Chris then took over as head of the organization. It was around this time that Chris met Sarah. Sarah Connelly was a sweet girl from Nebraska. Didn’t know anything about the ways of the city and came from a home of a long dead mother and a drunken father. She met Chris at a nightclub where she worked and from that moment on, Chris was head over heels in love with that woman. But Sarah was no fool. Oh, no, siree. She told Chris she knew what he was and that she would never be with a man that was in his line of business. So Chris one day, up and quick the organization, handed it over to Miguel who was next in line, moved out here to Nevada and started a new business. The business of mediating criminal fractions. He told Sarah it was no different than what corporate lawyers did. The only difference was that what we did and what those lawyers did was that we were honest with ourselves about the clients we served. Sarah was fine with it, as long as Chris did not get personally involved, didn’t bring it home and stayed on the outside of the organization. And he did, Pard, for as long as Sarah was alive.”

“But what has that got to do with the way he’s actin’ now?”

“Vin, he’s acting the same way he did back in New York. Before he met Sarah.”

Vin now understood what Buck was getting at.

“So you think Chris is revertin’ back to his old ways?”

“I know he is,” said Buck, holding Vin’s stare with his own brown eyes.

“And it’s all because of how he lost Sarah and Adam?” asked Vin thoughtfully, looking into his now empty cup. He was about to go refill it when Buck suddenly grabbed his hand to prevent him.

“Yeah. And there’s something else, Vin.”

At this, Vin’s heart started to beat faster. It did not sound good and Vin knew it was going to be trouble.

“Remember I told you that Lobo died a day later?”

All Vin could do is nod. He did not like where this was heading.

“Well, it was Chris who killed him.”

The statement floored Vin. He sat back down hard into his seat, never taking his eyes off of Buck.

“But, that can’t be true, Buck. Chris wouldn’t kill someone without…”

“I’ve said the same thing to myself over these many years, Vin, but he did. There’s no question about it. He told me so himself.”

“Did he say why he did it?”

“Nope. Never has and he says he never will.”

“Then ya don’t know if he had good cause or not.”

“No, I don’t, but you didn’t know Chris back then. You didn’t see the craziness in his eyes when he told me. He wasn’t right in the head back then. This was Chris before he got a heart. Now that his heart’s been torn out, he’s acting just like he was before he even heard the name of Sarah Connelly or Adam Larabee.”

Buck’s words had stunned Vin into silence. He did not know what to think at this point. Chris was turning into a cold-blooded killer? Vin could not believe what Buck was saying. He had seen the pain in this man’s eyes at the lost of his family. He had seen the concern on his face, as he sent them out on assignments he was not sure they would return from. Those were not the emotions of a man without a heart.

“Buck, it ain’t possible that Chris…”

“It ain’t possible that Chris what?” came Chris voice from behind them.

They both turned and found the blonde-haired man standing off to the side. He looked like death warmed over. He was leaning against the wall from the living room, holding his head in one hand and staring at them, waiting for an answer.

Buck turned to eye Vin cautiously and then looked down at his coffee cup. Vin then got up from the table and went to the cabinet to search for another cup. “Hey, Cowboy, how about some coffee? I just made it.”