"The Penalty Train"
Thirteen years later
Twenty-three-year-old Sam pulls up to Guerrero's Car Repair in a 2018 Chevrolet Camaro ZL1 Convertible with a twenty-one-year-old Zoey riding shotgun.
Zoey stared into the visor mirror, spreading lip gloss across her small plump lips.
Turning off the car, Sam reaches over to the glove compartment. He takes out two Colt 1911 pistols and sound suppressors.
Zoey takes one after making sure that her wig is on correctly and her make-up is almost, if not perfect.
Quietly, they screw the suppressors onto the barrels of their guns. After making sure the magazine is full, they look at the garage, counting how many threats were around aside from their target.
"Eight guys," Sam finished counting before Zoey.
One guy was working on a car while the others were just hanging out.
"Can you take them?" Zoey asked.
Sam scoffed, opening his door. "I'm gonna pretend you didn't ask me that."
Zoey smiles, watching him get out out of the car.
After putting his gun in his waistband, Sam puts on his black shades. He goes around the car, opening the door for Zoey.
She steps out in her high open-toe heels, a low-cut tank top, and some high-waisted cheeky shorts.
"Overdoing it this time, aren't we?" Sam groveled as she slipped the pistol in her waistband. He closes the door, their eyes locked on each other.
"Just focus on your task, and I'll focus on mine," Zoey sassed.
Sam refrained from rolling his eyes as he followed her to the garage. It didn't take long for the sweaty old mechanics to notice the young woman.
Even the guy working on the car was practically drooling.
Of course, they didn't say anything because Sam was there. But their faces said it all.
"Hey, boys," Zoey said with a flirtatious smile, and her hip poked out.
"What can we do for you?" asked the one who was working on the car.
He was sweating from the heat. His shoulder-length hair glistening with perspiration like his thick mustache. He cleaned his hands with a dirty, worn towel. "Car trouble?"
"Yeah, actually. My baby's acting up," said Sam. "Think there might be something wrong with the motor. But I don't have the money right now. I was hoping to talk to the owner, work something out before you look at it."
"Guerrero's in the back." the guy tells them, pointing to his office.
"Thanks," Sam nodded.
He swallowed his bubbling agitation as the men watched Zoey strut toward the office. He closely followed behind, hating when men lusted over her. Not only was he protective, but a little jealous.
Zoey loved to see it, though - a little too much at times.
She knocks on the office door as Sam takes off his shades.
The door opens, and they come face to face with their first victim: Guerrero. Tan, short, pretty fit for a man in his sixties. His brown eyes ogled every inch of Zoey's exposed skin.
"Hey, there," he leaned in the doorway, smiling at her.
Unlike his employees, he didn't care that Sam was standing behind her.
