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Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Fantasy · #2320059
Having started a new life, Sam gets dragged back into her old one. Word Count: 1,499
Sam woke up early and began focusing on the case at hand.

They'd been hired to defend a man being tried for first degree murder. Thanks to being a psychologist, her wife, Amber, was able to discern that he wasn't a killer.

Sam didn't need to be told that, though. He didn't look like a killer to her, and Sam knew her killers.

She spent a few hours joting down notes for the trial. Partly because she hated not giving something her all, but mostly because she'd planed to leave for a more personal case that she refused to drag her family into. Something from the old days.

The air shifted, something changed, then there was the slightest noise of footsteps. "Morning Amber."

"How'd you know it was me?" She asked with amusement.

She folded the paper she was writing on. "Dorian may be heavy, but he's light on his feet."

Sam gave her the paper and explained how it was a list of details they should look out for.

"Are you OK? You're more withdrawn than normal."

She stopped at those words. There were few people in her life she was truly open with. She hated when Amber psycho-analysed her, but could never bring herself to be angry.

"I'm good, just a personal project."

She nodded, understanding the meaning.

Sam left soon after. She had a schedule to keep, and someone she may have to kill.

She waited in the bad part of Polis. Criminals could talk openly, she was skilled at noticing those that paid her too much interest, and there wasn't anyone here willing to cross her.

20 minutes after the agreed upon time, a man walked up to her. He was clearly nervous and was fidgeting a fair bit.

It took Sam a second to recognise him, but she realised who he was when she saw the birthmark.

"You're late, Lizzy."

"Sorry, I wasn't sure if this was a mistake. Considering our past."

She opened the car door and waited for him to get in before getting into the driver's seat.

They sat there for nearly an hour as he caught her up on his life and why he'd contacted her after all this time.

"So to summarise," she said when he was done, "you borrowed money from some big named loan shark and, after changing your face and name, tried to escape your debt. They found you and kidnapped your wife, whom they'll kill if you don't pay them more than you can afford?"

"Yes." He said like a kicked puppy. "I know we didn't have the best breakup, but I'll do anything if you save her."

"You cheated on me but never tried to make excuses, that's why I'm here. Despite what you believe Marcus, I'm not angry. Now, give me a minute to think." She closed her eyes and began thinking about the loan shark.

It only took a few minutes to recall where he lived.

"How do you know he still lives there?"

"We'll find out soon." She said, driving off.

On the drive over, she kept thinking about what she knew. It kept bugging her was that she couldn't recall anything about him after a few years ago.

If Orson hasn't been working, she thought to herself, then how'd he find out where Marcus was?
When they got there, they found that he wasn't home. So they sat in the car, waiting for the him to arrive.

Sam noticed he kept glancing at her and realised he wanted to ask something.

"Marcus, if you want to ask something, then ask."

He looked down at his hand, unable to look at her. "Do you think we could have been good together?"

She decided to be honest. "No. Lizzie was a bitch, always blaming others for her discomfort. No matter what I did to help her, it was never enough."

She then looked right at him before continuing. "I don't know when you found yourself, but by then it would have been too late."

He felt guilty at hearing the truth.

"Besides," she said with a smile, "if we did work out, you wouldn't have found your wife. Are you really saying you'd prefer me to her?"

He thought about it for a second before smiling himself. "No, I don't think I would."

After 3 hours, a car drove into the Orson's driveway.

"That's him!" Marcus exclaimed. "That's Orson Tenant!"

"Stay behind me."

He did what she said as she walked up behind Orson and shoved him through the door just as he opened it.

Marcus was on him as Sam closed the door. "Where is she?! Where's my wife?!"

"How am I supposed to know? I don't even know you!"

"You son-"

"He's telling the truth." She said before he continued. "Look around, this isn't exactly the place a big loan shark would live."

Looking around, he noticed how cheap and broke everything was.

"I'm willing to bet after you ran away, he fell into dept and lost his reputation. It explains why I haven't heard of him in a while."

"Wait." Orson looked at Marcus, anger raising in his voice. "You? You're that whore-!"

Sam ripped him from Marcus's grasp and slammed him into the wall. "Do you know who I am?"

He stared at her defiantly. "Samantha Hyde."

"Do you know what I'm capable of?"

Her eyes turned dead cold, like looking into a pitch darkness and feeling it look back. His defiance left him as he realised the rumours surrounding her weren't exaggerated.

"Yes." He was quiet and full of dread.

"Good. Then tell me who you sold the debt off to."

Getting the information, they made their way back to the car.

"So who's Alex Whitlock?"

She closed her eyes to think. "There are 18 Alex Whitlocks living in Polis. Four of them aren't here right. Six of them are women. Three are business heads. Two aren't smart enough. One of them is in a coma. That just leaves a construction worker and a dirty cop."

Marcus started getting scared again. "A cop?! How are we supposed to save her from a cop?"

"Simple. There's only one place he'd be able to keep her."

She drove to a boarded up house on a street that lost its sign.

"Stay here." Was all she said as she went inside.

As expected, there was a scared woman sitting on a chair by one of the boarded up windows. Beside her was Alex.

"Well, well. Samantha Hyde. What the hell do you think you're doing here?"

She noticed an engraved knife on the glass table. "I'm here to talk about her release."

"Oh? Well, if you know the situation, you know how much it'll cost."

She moved confidently, keeping eye contact. "I know. But I'm going to take her anyway, and you won't stop me."

He pointed his gun at her, exactly what she wanted. He was focused on her and not the knife. "You may be skilled, but even you won't be able to survive a shot to the head."

"You're right. Except..." she leaned down and picked up the knife. Without looking away from him, she carved "AW" into her arm. "Won't be able to explain that."

He got angry and tried to think of ways to cover for his knife cutting her.

"I can see you thinking a way out, so let me help. You can either kill me and hope they buy whatever BS you come up with, or you can let her go and have a favour from me."

He kept thinking, but eventually gave up. In less than a minute, she was able to take control of the situation. And he hated her for it.

She drove Marcus and his wife home, where he invited her in.

"Thanks, but I've got a family to get home to. And you've got a therapist to make an appointment with."

He looked at his wife again, seeing how traumatised she was. "Yea, I do. How can I make it up to you?"

"Simple, don't contact me again."

She sounded hurt when she said it, but she had to. Despite how much she cared about him, they lived in two very different worlds now.

Having got home, she noticed Amber and Dorian watching TV. Court must have finished early.

Amber greeted her first, "Afternoon. So, is your project done?"

"Yep. A lot simpler than as I thought."

Dorian piped up. "Any problems?"

He didn't like when she went off on "personal projects," and she knew what he was really asking.

"None that I can't handle, promise."

That seemed to satisfy him.

"So, our client get the all clear?"

"No." He said in that straight-to-the-point way he liked to talk.

Sam took a breath, calming herself. She hated when things went awry. "Evidence or witness?"

He turned the TV off. "Witness."

She sat with them, knowing she needed a new plan of attack. "Why don't you fill me in?"
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