(Beta Melissa)

"I don't care what anyone of you said, I am NOT going too."

"Yes you are."

"Never."

"But, you have to."

"Nope. No one told me I'd have to do that when I took on this job."

"It's not written in stone, but we all had to do it one time. No matter what."

"No way! Sorry. If you want it done, you do it yourself. Leave me out of this."

"Look, if you don't you can't join us. And we can use you."

"Fine. I don't want to join you. You're all pains in the asses anyway."

"Thanks for your confidence in us."

"How can you not do this? We all did.""

"Yeah, you were so gung ho to join in with us, and now not interested?"

"Nothing you say will make me change my mind. You never told me I had to do that."

"For Pete's sake, if you aren't going to do it, then get the fuck out of here before I kill you!"

"Fine I'm leaving! Get the hell out of my way."

Buck Wilmington, an ATF agent from Denver, Colorado, undercover with the four men, ran his hand through his messy hair and started to turn away. He hoped he wouldn't get shot in the back. His tall form was clothed in old jeans, a tee shirt, a jacket and worn tennis shoes. His dark hair looked as if it had been greased and he'd run his fingers through it, leaving the longer strands standing up. His moustache was also greased, but it looked as if drops of food resided in it, his jaw sported several days of beard.

Buck figured three of the men, Tom, Rick, and Max, wouldn't shoot him, but wasn't so sure about the fourth. Jake Trembler, the self-proclaimed boss. The man seemed to have a death wish, from what Buck discovered in the last few weeks working with these men. They'd pulled off a couple of liquor store and store robberies. He, being the new man, was stuck as either the driver of the get-away vehicle or lookout. Now he could have been in on the robbery, not just a standby.

The man called Jake gazed unblinkingly at him from his face, which was covered with the black beard he sported. Buck decided not to turn his back on the big man. He edged backwards towards the door they used to enter the building.

Six men listened to the heated exchange from their hiding places around scattered boxes and equipment

in the old warehouse. Their microphones picked up every word from the five men standing near the

rusted junk heap of what was a rusted-out car in the center of the small building. The listening men's seventh member stood in the open, surrounded by the armed men. They hoped they could get their undercover man out safely.

For a moment, Buck had reservations about being allowed to leave alive. Then he decided something would happen, he knew too much. He'd been with the men for a month and knew their plan to rob the warehouse of the state's inspected liquor. It was to be distributed Friday to the county's liquor stores. He had the time and date, but when Jake insisted that he prove his worth to become a member, he couldn't do it.  

He shuddered, thinking of what they wanted. Kill someone with a car, or do a drive-by shooting and kill a person. They would point out who he had to take down. No way would he even consider doing it.

Buck glanced around him. He hoped the others were there. He didn't have much time. His gaze landed on Jake once more, the man's gaze was hate filled. Jake's hand rested on the gun he wore under his jacket in a shoulder holster. Buck knew Jake wore another one behind his back, stuck in his waist band. He knew the other men were armed. He held his hands out from his body and backed several more steps; he would have to reach behind him to get his gun; time was out.

Just as Trembler's hand moved for his gun, a yell sounded in the confines of the building.

"ATF! Raise your hands! NOW!" Buck sighed in relief upon hearing Chris's voice and raised his hands. But the other four men drew their guns. Buck dropped to the floor. Gunfire rang out all around him. He drew his hideout gun and fired at Jake as the man started to turn around to shoot at someone behind him.

A loud rifle's blast sounded above the noise of the gunfire, and Jake went down. Silence fell as the last two men yelled out and raised their hands. The last man was lying on the floor, groaning and holding his side. Buck rose and smiled as his team moved closer to him. His gaze checked each one as they arrived. They looked fine. Vin came down from the rafters, his sniper rifle slung over his shoulder. He grinned at Buck.

Before anyone could say anything, several police officers arrived. For several minutes, things got hectic as they took charge of the arrest of the three men. An ambulance for the wounded man and one to pick up the dead man were called. The officer in charge stepped up to the seven men and nodded to Buck; then, for the two prisoners benefit as they were being taken out, he said loudly. "I'm Officer Mayfield; you are under arrest, Mr. Long. I will escort you to my vehicle."

The prisoners didn’t even glance back as they went out the door. Mayfield smiled and put out his hand, saying,  "Agent Wilmington, I am glad to see you are all right."

Buck shook the man's hand and said, "I am fine now that you all have arrived to save my butt. Thank you, sir."

Officer Mayfield grinned and headed for the door.

"Sure happy to see you boys. I wasn't sure I would be able to walk away today." Buck said as he turned back to his teammates.

Chris shook his head. "We were here an hour ago, Buck. Glad you decided to show up!"

Buck, happy to be with his team, grabbed Chris in a hug, then Vin, who squirmed to get away. "I'm sure glad to see you all!" Buck exclaimed again and turned to the others around him.

Ezra stepped back, moving fast to get away from him. "Mr. Wilmington, you smell; you need a bath. And I have no idea what that stuff in your hair is all about. You look grotesque. Please do not touch me!"

With a laugh, Buck caught the con man in a hug anyway. Holding him for only a few seconds before turning to his roommate, whom he hadn't seen in a month.

"JD, are you all right? How is the apartment? Any ladies calling for me?  I have sure missed you."

JD laughed and backed up, but was unable to dodge the long arms.

"I'm fine, I didn't touch any of your stuff. The apartment is fine, and the bathroom is cleaned up so you can mess it up again. You really do stink."

Buck laughed. "Let's get out of here, guys. I want a shower and a good meal. I'm starved. Do we have to do reports first?" He looked at Chris, his eyes pleading.

"Yep, we've got to get those done. You can clean up in the gym showers. After reports, we're off to Travis and the police, and then we'll go for dinner. Let's go."

The seven men made their way outside. Pausing long enough to let the police officer in charge know they'd send their reports to Officer Mayfield as soon as they were completed. The seven walked to the two vehicles parked down the block.  

Three hours later, the seven men were at the Saloon. With drinks and plates of food before them. Vin snatched some fries off Buck's plate, stuffing them into his mouth before Buck could react.

"So what was it they wanted you to do?" Vin asked.

Buck ran his hand through his clean hair and across his shaved face, pulling a little at his clean moustache before he answered. "Damn men. It was either a drive-by shooting or killing someone with a vehicle." For a few moments, Buck paused, then glanced at his teammates, saying, "You know, there have been several this last year, year and a half. I think some were guys trying to prove they were good enough to join Trembler's gang. Cops need to question the jailed men about their initiation into the gang. I think it will solve several open cases that are still on the books."

Vin looked at Chris. Then he noticed that Josiah already had his cell phone out and was making the call.

"It will be good to set some families minds to rest." Nathan said as he listened to Josiah talking into the phone.

"Amen to that!" Ezra said, raising his glass.

Seven glasses clinked together; a liquor bust was taken down, some families would be getting closure, the seven were back together, and Buck was cleaned up and fed. All was good.

Fini