The second, who couldn’t have been any larger than five-six, was dressed a little more professionally. He wore a pair of black slacks and a white buttondown shirt. He, too, wore a light jacket over his stocky frame. He probably had Kevlar underneath too, but it was hard to tell. Both were clean-shaven with shortcropped, military-style haircuts. Both were armed. While I couldn’t see their guns, I could tell by the way they walked they were carrying. There’s a certain swagger men affect when they’ve got the reassurance of a firearm and the will to put it to use. These guys had it in spades.

I held my breath as they walked toward the office and looked about, scanning the gloom. After a minute or so, the short one called to someone still outside where I couldn’t see.

Seconds later, an older man entered the warehouse, his cowboy boots clicking as he walked. He had long, wild gray hair with a matching beard, which rested heavily on his chest. I couldn’t help but picture Santa Claus. I caught myself looking for reindeer. He wore a loose-fitting earth-tone shirt and blue jeans that did little to hide his bulk. At about six feet, he easily weighed two hundred eighty pounds, but it was clear by how he moved it wasn’t fat lurking beneath his country couture. He had that big, bad biker look to him. The kind of guy you just don’t want to fuck with. And there I was.

He walked casually up to the other two, his narrow eyes taking in the scene. He started to say something, then went silent. His eyes widened. Right then, I felt the almost imperceptible tingle of a magical scan.

He knew I was there.

Without hesitation, he pointed me out, shouting to his goons to get me. I felt so unloved. It took them but an instant to orient on me, each fanning out with his gun drawn.

Since there was no point waiting to get shot, I popped up, letting the manacles drop to the floor as I drew my own guns. I didn’t wait for a clear shot, I simply started blasting. Stuck in the back end of a warehouse with no cover, I wanted them on the defensive. It worked. The little guy ducked behind the office without firing a shot. The wiry one snapped off a couple quickies as he scrambled to find shelter in the darkening warehouse. He wasn’t even close to hitting me.