All it took was a couple calls to the local police station. Things had been fairly slow, even with the new business from the gangsters in Las Vegas but Michael had needed something to jumpstart the business and bounty hunting didn't seem all that difficult. Some guy posts bail and then disappears, it was practically his job description to find guys like this already. Abbey didn't seem as thrilled to have to carry a gun, but if she still insisted on joining him for jobs like this, he wasn't going to let her follow unarmed. A couple of small revolvers was enough to put his mind at ease that if worse came to worse they wouldn't be at the mercy of a gun toting madman.

Matteo Guliani was wanted on multiple burglary charges and had warrants out for his arrest all over Nevada. The cops wanted him so much that the reward money could pay for their office rent for three whole months! Michael had taken on the bounty and he and Abbey started casing every method of transportation out of the city. They'd given pictures to the local buses, the airport was on the lookout, even friendly patrolmen that Michael had gotten to know were willing to let the couple have first dibs on the guy. Nothing hit.

As they sat inside of a small diner near Summerlin, Michael absentmindedly stirred his coffee with a spoon as Abbey poked at some eggs she'd ordered.

"Hey, I've just had a thought," Michael said, halting the twirling of his spoon, "we've got people watching out for this guy all over the place, and no one has seen him trying to leave the city. What if he's not trying to leave?" He went over the implications in his head, "He's gotta have someone here in town putting him up!"

He spun around and spotted a pay phone in the corner of the diner, as he turned back around in the booth to look at Abbey he saw that she was already ahead of him, standing from the booth to search through the phonebook crammed beneath the phone.

"Guliani!" he called after her, "G-U-L-" she waved him off with her hand as she flipped through the pages.

There were four Gulianis listed, and Abbey hit pay dirt on the third. Pretending to be a blue-chip stamp distributor, she claimed that one 'Agnes Guliani' was one of ten winners of a booklet giveaway. If other members of her family were there in attendance, they were eligible for their own free booklet as well. 

Agnes, of course, was ecstatic. Having never won anything in her life beyond a dead-beat husband and a son who enjoyed flirting with the wrong side of the law, she made sure that Matteo would be there with her at home for the 4PM delivery. Abbey scribbled down her address, double checked it to verify, and hung up. Turning, she nearly ran into Michael, who was right behind her and had overhead everything.

"Okay! Four o'clock. That gives us two hours," she said, looking at her watch. "I assume we're as ready as we'll ever be. So we just...go get him? I mean, I guess I can pass for a blue-chip girl," she said, glancing down at her off-the-rack wool skirt suit. "But that gun, Michael...I can't carry it on me! I'll meet you halfway, keep it in my purse. Agreed?"

After some quiet back and forth that had them leaving enough cash on their table to cover their mostly untouched breakfast, the two left the diner. Returning to their office to gather the bond papers, they reread them carefully, making sure that everything they were about to do fell well within the legal rights of what amounted to a citizen's arrest.

At 3:30, they flipped the sign, locked up shop, and got in the car. Next stop, the Guliani residence.

The drive up was spent discussing the tactical approach to capturing Matteo. Abbey was going to approach the door as Michael wheeled around the house and looked for another way in. While the two were distracted by Abbey, Michael would slip in and take Matteo unaware. Though they didn't have much experience, the plan seemed fairly safe and manageable.

Finally they arrived in a small neighborhood of quaint single family homes, where a small white washed home displayed the address number they'd been searching for. Michael parked the car and as they stepped out, looked at his wife, "It's in your purse, right?" Abbey opened up her bag obligingly and showed him the revolver inside. Satisfied, he slipped his own in the back of his waistband and followed her across the street to the front gate of the house. As Abbey made her way up the front steps, Michael ducked off towards the corner of the house.

From the side of the house, Michael could hear the doorbell ring and the shuffle of movement inside. When he heard the door open, he began quietly checking the windows. The first few he tried were locked in place, but as he moved around to the back of the home, he found one in the kitchen partly cracked open. Thrusting it upwards with a slap against the wooden frame, Michael hoisted himself up and over. Going head first into the home, he practically fell into the kitchen sending a pan crashing onto the floor which brought a distressed yelp from the front door. As he scrambled to his feet, he could see a young man who he assumed was Matteo approaching from the front door.

"Matteo Guliani!" Michael cried out at him as he reached into his waistband for his revolver. The young man's eyes grew wide and he turned tail and sprinted back towards the door. As Michael rounded the corner after him, he was shocked at what he saw...

A very long, very sharp blade was being held tightly against Mrs. Guliani's neck. As Michael watched, a thin stream of blood oozed down the neck of the mother whose son was now holding her hostage. Abbey still stood at the front door beyond them, pale as a sheet but ever-so-slowly  reaching into her bag while Michael drew down on an area just to the side of Matteo's head. The shot wasn't nearly clean enough for an inexperienced shooter, much less for a man who hadn't made it to the shooting range yet. Abbey's gun was now out and she raised it, but Matteo wasn't expecting that, he was paying most of his attention to Michael, the more obvious threat ahead of him. His mother whimpered but knew better than to struggle or beg; this one was far too much like his self-serving father, and wouldn't hesitate to slice her open if it meant a chance at escape.

To Michael's horror, Abbey soundlessly approached, her aim centered on the back of Matteo's head. She tilted her head at Matteo, indicating Michael should engage him. Talk to him, convince him to put down the knife if you'll put down your gun.

It sounded good in theory, but Michael wasn't receiving what she was trying to deliver. The silent standoff continued for another few moments before it appeared as though Mrs. Guliani's system had had enough and she slumped into a faint. Unable to support his unconscious hostage and meat shield, Matteo dropped her like a sack of potatoes and bolted through the archway and into what one would assume was one of the bedrooms. Not bothering with unlocking and lifting, the sound of glass shattering told them that Matteo had simply thrown himself through it. Michael gave chase, and Abbey knelt next to the neglected mother, making sure that her son hadn't indeed sliced her open in his hasty retreat. Finding the woman breathing evenly, Abbey stood and ran back through the front door, looking left and right down the street and hoping to catch a glimpse of running figures as she hustled to the car.

It took Michael a couple precious seconds to open the back door, and he was just able to catch a glimpse of Matteo rounding the corner towards the front of the house when he got outside. He immediately gave chase, crunching the broken glass under his shoes as he crossed over the back patio. Matteo lunged headlong into the street as Michael pursued with no care for safety, causing more than one angry motorist to express their displeasure audibly.

Matteo led him down an alley on the other side of the road that was used for garbage pickup. At one point, Michael nearly reached out and caught him by the shirt, only to have him duck around a corner and Michael lose two steps of momentum trying to change direction. After a good minute or two, it became apparent that Matteo was outpacing him. He was headed down a long straightaway side street and Michael was losing step after step as the fugitive gained ground.

Just as Michael as debating opening up fire on the fleeing man, Matteo met a cross street, and the cavalry arrived...

CRACK

Abbey screamed and slammed on the brakes as Matteo flew over the hood of the car and smashed into her windshield. Chunks of buckling spider web cracks fell inward as the man flailed weakly in an attempt to get off the car and away. Unable to do anything but stare, she watched as Michael came running up the side street. He grabbed the driver's door frame first, leaning in to check on Abbey quickly before returning to the front of the car, where Matteo was now sliding off. Michael took the liberty of catching his breath, hands on hips as he waited for Matteo to get to his feet his own self...why waste the energy? Once he'd gained wobbly legs, Michael scruffed him and pushed him towards the rear passenger door, opening it and pushing the bail jumper inside. Matteo landed face-first on the backseat and never attempted another struggle.

Settling himself into the passenger seat, he looked at his wife. "Straight shot to the police department from here, then we're done," he said, patting her knee. Abbey simply continued to stare through the ruined windshield.

"Abbey, he's not dead, he got up and everything. Probably not a single broken bone. It's okay, let's go before he snaps out of it and tries to run again."

Abbey was somewhere else. Somewhere where she didn't point a gun at someone's head, or hit him with a car. Somewhere where boys didn't threaten to open their own mother's arterial vein. Somewhere where spouses kept their fucking pants on unless they were taking them off for their very own spouse. 

Michael exited the car and came around the front, gently helping her out of the driver's seat and into the passenger's. Snugging her seatbelt on, he knocked out a hanging piece of windshield so that it wouldn't blow into her face on the slow trip to the police department.