Excerpts: Rough Justice

Thirty-five minutes later, Union brought two men with him to the back door in the alley off the restaurant and the apartment. Lincoln watched them easily break into the alley door, then, as Samter had anticipated, they left one man guarding the closed back door. The giant, Union, led the second man carefully upstairs to the apartment.

Lincoln waited until they reached the door upstairs, then came behind the man below with a chloroform covered towel that he silently pressed over the man’s nose and mouth as he held a gun to his head. As the man passed out, he could hear the two men at the top of the stairs work to open the front door to the apartment. Lincoln carried the unconscious man into the kitchen where he cuffed him on the floor to the cast iron stove then gagged him securely. Lincoln was back on the landing as he heard the door upstairs open and close.

Upstairs, soon after the front door closed, Cash came out of the bedroom softly. He had a short barrel shotgun out when he turned on the light. Union reached for his gun as Samter came out of the closet, firing a shot above Union’s head. Cash covered both of them with the shotgun. “Put your guns down and your hands above your head,” Samter ordered. “This is the Seattle Police. You’re under arrest.” As he talked, Lincoln came through the door, stepped to the far side of the room, his gun drawn.

That’s when Union charged at the door with surprising speed. Lincoln put a bullet in his shoulder. It didn’t even slow him down. As he tore out the door, Cash fired both barrels of the shotgun into Union’s legs, blowing off most of his calves and his lower thighs. The big man fell down the stairs unable to use his torn legs. Cash and Lincoln followed behind him. Cash held him down with the shotgun at his head while Lincoln cuffed his hands behind his back. Quickly and ably, they used towels and tourniquets on both legs to limit the bleeding. Samter cuffed the man upstairs, then they went down the stairs, called the police, and ordered an ambulance.

“A shotgun?” Lincoln eventually asked.

Samter answered. “I told you about this guy. Didn’t I?”

“It’s worse than what you said.”

Samter just glared at Cash.

“Did it work?” Cash asked.

Both men nodded, yes. Lincoln added, “I could have put two more slugs in this giant, and he’d still be long gone. You did the right thing.”

And that was that.

More from Rough Justice

Cash took another helping. “My suggestion—go slow. Take your time. Baby steps are fine. If it’s what you hope it is, it will only get better, get easier.”

“I’m not sure that slow is in my repertoire.”

“Then it’s about time you tried it. This man has become very important for you, and you’ve only met him once. Make him confirm those feelings you have, when it isn’t easy, under pressure. . .over and over, again and again. When you know that you can rely on him, thick or thin, period, you can go as fast as you’d like.”

“I’m guessing that should take me about ten minutes, max.”

“Yes, who am I with?. . .okay then. . .understanding that, it’s all the more reason to slow it down, make an exception on this. Especially now, when you’re already overwhelmed. Time is your ally. You won’t lose anything by slowing down. In fact, if what you hope is right, your feelings will only deepen as you go slowly. If you pay attention, you’ll see that, feel it happening.”

She finished her plate. “Huh, you really think that?”

“I do.”

“Maybe, but before I try that, I gotta ask this. . .Are you mostly talking about sex?”

“… I do love that you’re not timid… The answer is no. Sex is only a piece of it, and you can try that whenever you’re ready. It’s mostly deep feelings, commitment, that I’m talking about.”

“The sex part is good news. . .” She smiled. “The rest feels forced. . .unnatural. . .not like me.”

They paused as the suckling pig arrived and the waiter sliced it beside the table. He added new plates, then helped prep each person’s plate.

They began eating, raving about the pig, then Cash asked, “Have you ever been in love?”

“I loved my mother, but I never really loved a man, a partner. . .”

“That makes what I’m saying even more important.”

“How long before you knew and trusted your feelings for Callie?”

“More than three years.”

“Wow, when you say go slow, you mean like glacier speed, maybe taking steroids then inching like a tortoise. . .what happened?”

Cash laughed, swallowed another bite. “Truthfully, until just before we got together, it never occurred to me that she might be a romantic interest.”

She cut another piece of pig. “That’s different from me. . .What happened to wake you up?”

“She kept surprising me.”

“Like what?” She leaned closer, liking talking about this.

“Well she demanded more from me than any woman I’d ever known. 

At first that irritated me, but I found myself rising to the occasion, and by the end, we both started liking those conversations.”

Another swallow, a pleased sigh, then, “I’m not sure I understand.”

“Fair enough. It took me a long while to understand it myself. I’ll try to explain. . .Here’s what I was eventually able to figure out. Okay. . .I was always pretty good at pleasing women, but there was some part of myself I always held back. Over time, I realized that it wasn’t a part—like a piece—but rather a portion of my unusual intensity. In other words, I only offered as much as a woman looked for—some essential emotional minimum—to sustain the relationship. I came to understand that it wasn’t something I did consciously, but rather it was a strong, keenly sensitive person’s way of unnecessarily protecting a partner from unwanted, possibly unsettling intensity. It’s who I was—everything I did, I did well, but sparingly. So in some way I didn’t understand, before Callie, I was choosing women who were less intense than I was.” He took another sip of his beer.

Sara watched him, waiting.

Cash went on, vibrant, he understood this. “Callie was the first woman I’d ever been around—and this was even before we were together—who demanded one hundred percent from me at all times. At first, it wasn’t often, and it was simply annoying. Over time, I tried not to hold anything back from her—still, she always wanted an explanation, an elaboration, an argument, or an answer to a difficult question. She was relentless and even when she wasn’t aware of it, every bit as intense as I was. The out-of-the-blue way that this steadily progressed between us, the strength of it as we finally got together, was something entirely new and constantly surprising for me. Along with this, almost unnoticed, she kept stepping up, unexpectedly, under pressure. Between both of those things, I came to think about her differently. It took me a long time to understand that this careful, often anxious, occasionally inflexible woman, when faced with new, difficult things, was working very hard to respond thoughtfully, helpfully, while being true to herself. And as I got that, I realized that, especially when it got too hard, and it did, she had an exceptional, strong, fine heart.” He nodded, done, then went back to eating.

Sara finished, set down her fork and knife. “At every turn, you’re this unexpected thinker, and that’s quite an unusual, lovely story you just told. Still, you have to admit, I think I’m way ahead of where you were when you started.”

“Maybe, certainly in some ways, but I stand by my advice.”

“I’ll think about what you said. . .Talk with Alvaro about it.”

“That’s a good start.”