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Just as Sheldon had hoped, he'd become the king of the comic book store, or as Ron called it, the king of the nerds.
But none of this mattered to Ron anymore. He was on his way to Max's house, ready to do something healthy. He'd eaten so much junk food the previous night, and if he didn't work off the calories, he might have serious health problems.
So he'd decided to go to Max's house to spend time with Caroline. It was Caroline's suggestion, since Max had a part-time job in the morning, babysitting for a wealthy family in Beverly Hills.
It had to be said, having deep conversations with another woman in her bed was quite thrilling, especially since the two women were close friends.
"Ron, is my dad all right?" Caroline, exhausted, slumped in Ron's arms, playfully tracing circles on his chest with her fingertips.
"Of course, he's doing well in there. You might not know this, but the federal prison he's in has a golf course. I heard he even won a championship in a tournament they held there," Ron said gently, stroking Caroline's hair.
Honestly, if it weren't for the restrictions on freedom, Ron would have wanted to check it out himself. The treatment at this minimum-security facility was incredible. Not only did it have a golf course, but there was also a recreational center, a gym, and a whole host of other amenities.
Sometimes Ron wondered if, after he'd provided Channing with that business idea, the old con man had simply run out of schemes and opted for a quiet retirement. He'd even had the foresight to set aside a fairly generous nest egg for Caroline.
Now he could spend his golden years in a government-protected facility. It was actually perfect.
"Well, my dad has always been a scratch golfer. It's truly his specialty." Caroline finally felt a sense of relief after hearing Ron's description of Mr. Channing's prison life.
Ron hesitated but decided not to tell her about the money Channing had left her. It wasn't that he intended to keep it for himself.
But after recent events, the former warden would undoubtedly fall, and the federal prison system might face a major overhaul. Channing might actually need that money more than Caroline.
Ron playfully slapped Caroline's hip. "I think I've had enough rest. Ready for round two, beautiful?"
"Ron, you truly are insatiable!"
"But first, could you grab me something to drink?" Ron pointed toward the refrigerator. "Dr Pepper would be perfect."
Unexpectedly, this one sentence made Caroline suspicious. After all, a woman's intuition is rarely wrong.
"How did you know there was Dr Pepper in the fridge? And I've noticed, Ron, you seem awfully familiar with this place."
Ron's heart sank. Before he could come up with an excuse, his cell phone suddenly rang, saving him from an awkward explanation. "It's Dom. Let me take this."
Ron silently thanked Dom a thousand times.
"Ron, I need you over here now. Something's happened to Jesse."
"Dom, what's wrong? You don't sound right." Ron's initial relief at escaping Caroline's questioning was instantly replaced by concern at Dom's grave tone.
Dom's words were practically seething with rage.
His instincts told him something terrible had happened, and sure enough—
Dom roared into the phone: "Jesse's dead! Ron, that son of a bitch! We were just about to work on a car together when gunmen showed up and opened fire with automatic weapons. Jesse was killed instantly. Ron, I'm going to kill those bastards!"
Ron remembered there seemed to be a similar scene in the original timeline, but it involved Jesse getting into trouble with a street gang after a race. But none of that had happened yet. Had the timeline changed?
Wait, the gang's boss had just paid protection money this morning and given him information about a new shipment. So... was all this caused by his interference? The gangs were trying to silence them!
"Dom, calm down. Your most important job right now is protecting your surviving family. Take Mia and Letty somewhere safe. I'll be right there."
Ron hung up and quickly got dressed. "I'm sorry, Caroline. Something happened to Dom's crew, and I need to go."
"Be safe," Caroline bit her lip but ultimately said nothing more. She simply helped Ron strap on his shoulder holster and kissed him goodbye. Ron pulled Caroline into his arms and kissed her deeply.
"Don't worry, there's no one in this world who can handle me—at least not outside the bedroom." Without hesitation, Ron pushed through the door and drove Leonard's Camaro to Dom's nearby garage.
Five minutes later.
As he arrived, he saw Dom, his face stone-cold serious, climbing into a supercharged Dodge Challenger.
"Wait, Dom, you should take me with you." Ron parked his car in front of Dom's garage, opened the door, and jumped in.
He noticed a loaded Remington shotgun resting between the seats.
"Dom, leave the killing to me. I'm a federal agent with law enforcement authority, but if you pull that trigger, you'll be a fugitive. Is that what you want?"
Dom started the engine and with a single punch of the accelerator, lifted the front wheels almost completely off the ground, sending them rocketing forward like a missile.
"Family can only be avenged by family."
"Okay, then do you know where the shooters went?" Ron asked, watching the buildings blur past them.
"Hector's guys saw them heading east toward the 405. Based on their speed, they shouldn't have left the city yet. We can catch them. In Los Angeles, I am the king!"
Dom's tone was filled with absolute confidence and barely controlled rage.
Indeed, Dom, using his intimate knowledge of LA's streets, drove in an almost straight line, reaching the freeway on-ramp in less than twenty minutes. He could make out the silhouettes of two motorcycles riding side by side ahead.
Dom's eyes blazed with fury, but then the warning bells of the train crossing ahead began to clang. "Damn!" The train whistle blared.
"Stop, Dom! The train's coming! We can wait!" Ron urgently tried to dissuade Dom, who had clearly lost all rational thinking.
However, Dom remained unmoved and instead floored the accelerator.
"You're out of your goddamn mind!" Ron shouted, but wisely refrained from trying to wrestle for the wheel. The car was already doing well over 120 mph, a speed that made the speedometer needle dance wildly.
One wrong move could mean the car would be destroyed and everyone would be dead. Ron had no choice but to trust Dom, while mentally offering up a desperate prayer:
"Dear God, even though I'm not exactly a regular churchgoer, please help me out here, considering my mom never missed Sunday service. I promise to put a twenty in the collection plate next time!"
"Move! Move! Move!" The train engineer noticed the maniac trying to beat the crossing, but a freight train's braking distance was nothing compared to a car's. He could only brake as hard as possible and repeatedly blast the horn, hoping the lunatic would stop.
But it was all in vain. Dom's Challenger accelerated even more, and Ron could feel the car shaking violently from the overpowered engine, as if it might tear itself apart.
"Crash!" The car smashed through the crossing barrier. Ron turned his head and the locomotive loomed larger and larger in his vision. He could even see the engineer's horrified expression!
"Crash!" The car burst through the barrier on the other side of the tracks, with the locomotive missing Ron's door by mere inches.
"Bang!" The car landed hard from its death-defying leap, having barely cleared the train.
"Holy shit!" Ron exhaled, angrily shouting, "I swear, if I ever get in a car with you again, I'll walk everywhere!"
But before he could fully recover, Dom hit the brakes to slow down. He yelled, "Take the wheel!" Without even looking, he grabbed the shotgun from behind the seat and leaned out the window.
Ron had no choice but to grab the steering wheel, stretching his foot over to reach the accelerator pedal, taking control of the speeding car.
This crazy bastard had planned this! He wanted to get his revenge personally! This maneuver left Ron with no hands free to draw his own weapon.
Freed from driving duties, Dom braced his feet against the console and seat, his entire upper body hanging out the door, shotgun aimed at the fleeing gunmen.
Hearing the roaring engine behind them, the two riders drew their Uzis and unleashed another spray of bullets. Dom remained steady, aiming his rifle without flinching as bullets whizzed past him like angry hornets.
"Click-click!" The gunmen's submachine guns finally ran dry. Unable to reload while riding, they immediately dropped their weapons and twisted their throttles wide open.
Meanwhile, Ron, with his exceptional driving skills, had maneuvered the Challenger to within thirty feet of the two riders—well within the Remington's effective range.
"Boom!" Dom squeezed the trigger firmly, and one of the gunmen took the full blast. The powerful shot sent him cartwheeling off his bike.
"Nice shot!" Ron exclaimed. Even if he were shooting from a moving vehicle, he couldn't have done better. He tried to keep the car as steady as possible, giving Dom the best platform possible.
"Ka-chk!"
Dom pumped another shell into the chamber. He aimed again at the remaining gunman, this time with the vehicles even closer, and he aimed for center mass.
"Boom!" The second rider's body jerked violently as the buckshot found its mark, and his motorcycle veered wildly before crashing into the guardrail.
Both gunmen were down.
(End of Chapter)
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