They must’ve wondered who those strange men were. Definitely not local. A pair of rugged, handsome bastards. Confident, worldly, and not at all the type to live in desert bunkers.

  Government agents? Buyers? Horax?

  I pulled back my jacket just a nudge to reveal a pistol in its holster. Not enough to signal a threat, but I wanted to elicit a twitch. An eyebrow raised, a shoulder stiffened.

  My egregious display generated no reaction.

  Odd. Townsfolk here didn’t own guns – a condition of residency. Only outsiders like us and Horax enforcers willfully violated that code (and we damn well weren’t about to surrender our cache). Ship never saw Lumen with anything more lethal than a shock club.

  These road trains ventured everywhere, from safe zones to snake pits. They’d take precautions if they anticipated a threat, especially for the transfer of vast quantities of illegal goods. They must’ve known Desperido’s policy, as they were unarmed.

  Interesting.

  The auditor discussed payment, which Lumen accepted with a firm nod. She planted her endorsement stamp. Routine.

  The figures in white guided all but one rifter to the third hold, where they quietly offloaded the containers. They returned the empty vehicles, jumped inside the hold, and slid shut the door.

  Poof.

  Hold number one opened. An auditor jumped out followed by two men in white coveralls, examined the recyclables on the remaining rifter, and presented Lumen with the inventory. He asked if it met her satisfaction.

  She asked about the auditor’s wife by name.

  He said the surgical procedure went well.

  “Thank you for asking,” he told Lumen. “It’s been a hard year.”

  Damned if it wasn’t a sweet, personal moment.

  The rest was business. The assistants positioned rifters at door number one and loaded fifteen containers of supplies.

  “Until next week, Senora Lumen.”

  “Good health to you, Ignacio.”

  The door closed seventeen minutes after the first one opened.

  “A well-oiled operation,” I said, offering what I considered a genuine compliment.

  Lumen sneered then turned to the volunteers.

  “Take these to the depot, arrange on the shelves. You know the drill. I’ll open the store in an hour.”

  They complied.

  The tumbler roared to life, so I raised my voice to compete.

  “How much did you net for the goods?”

  “By your standards, Raul, not nearly enough.”

  “Be more specific. How about the Motif?”

  Her unibrow twisted. “Silent observers don’t make sounds.”

  “The transaction is complete. I’d enjoy a peek at the numbers.”

  Lumen dropped the tablet to her side and started toward the cantina as the tumbler began its retreat down that long, lonely road to civilization. I felt a slight tremor beneath my feet.

  “Ten minutes,” Lumen said. “Meet me at the bar in ten minutes.”

  More accommodating than I expected.

  “Outstanding. I’ll have a nice baseline for renegotiated terms.”

  She dismissed me with the condescending smirk of a woman who did not fear defeat. Instinct told me why; Moon’s voice amplified it.

  “Partner. Turn around.”

  I should’ve known Lumen wasn’t the type to bide her time.

  The tumbler barreled toward the horizon, but it left passengers behind. Six fine gentlemen in white coveralls stood in the road at the northern edge of town, lined up abreast.

  Their sleek black rifles told me they stuck around to complete an additional transaction.

  “Six,” I said. “Now that seems like overkill.”

  “She’s not taking chances.”

  I shifted my gaze to Lumen, who proceeded to the cantina with a lightness in her step.

  “Nicely played, senora.”

  She didn’t look back. The volunteers had moved safely out of sight.

  Yep. Life wouldn’t be spicy without humans.

  Damn, they were fun.

  “Here we go, my friend.”

  Moon unleashed his gametime grin.

  We took our places in the center of the road. Fifty meters separated us from the six hired guns.

  “Best guess, Moon? I’d say they’re well-trained with limited field experience.”

  “Why? Their numbers?”

  “A top pro wouldn’t need a supporting cast. It’d be an insult.”

  “He might see his way to bringing a partner.”

  “For sure. Someone he trusts with his life. A brother.”

  The six monkeys dangled the rifles at their sides.

  “Appears they expect us to make the first move, my friend. Let’s accommodate their strategy. Five paces.”

  As we moved forward, they raised their weapons against their chests with military precision. When we halted, they advanced five paces. It wasn’t enough for these assholes to kill; they had to throw in a touch of theater.

  “When we build our army, Moon, I ain’t putting up with nonsense. My philosophy will be: Shoot the sons of bitches ten minutes ago.”

  “Sounds good, partner. Which one lives?”

  From that distance, they bore a strong resemblance to each other. However, I homed in on one distinctive feature.

  “Second to left,” I told Moon.

  “Why him?”

  “Only one wearing a mustache.”

  They advanced another five paces and took aim.

  “I hate that look,” Moon said.

  “Most men with mustaches tend to be squirrelly individuals.” I reached for my pistols. “Or they’re insecure in their manhood.”

  “Let’s fly, partner.”

  We didn’t actually take flight, but it was the next best thing. Moon and I raced at these pretenders almost as fast as the laser bolts discharged from our Skyrex pistols.

  I imagined their eyes ballooned behind those thick sunglasses. They outnumbered us three to one and carried the big guns. Logic said we’d surrender or turn tail. Oops.

  They opened fire, but they missed their targets.

  Badly.

  Their guns sprayed projectiles in all sorts of directions while their bodies danced. Black burn holes and blood splatters ruined their pristine white uniforms. One fella’s sunglasses shattered, which proved a minor inconvenience against the enormous crevasse that displaced his eyes and nose.

  No one screamed as he died, which in retrospect probably disappointed Moon. However, the mustachioed gentleman, whose left leg was in a state of pockmarked disarray and who no longer possessed his trigger hand, whimpered like a dog.

  I stood over him while Moon inspected the other wannabes. His glasses had flown off, so I got a good look. His blue eyes were a rarity among Aztecans. I holstered my pistols and bent down beside him.

  “Tell me, senor. Ain’t there an old superstition that says folks with blue eyes are good luck charms?”

  He seemed reluctant to answer. The pain, I suppose. And he was foaming at the mouth.

  “I’ll take a flier and say you’re the leader of this merry little band.” In lieu of an answer, I continued. “They’re all clean-shaven. You were the only one allowed the dignity of a mustache.”

  Poor sod teared up. Then he talked through the foam.

  “W-who are you?”

  “Nobody special. I keep the peace for this town.”

  “No. No constable. H-how did you …?”

  “Take you down so fast? I ran track at school.”

  “We both did,” Moon added without a hint of snark.

  “They never told us it would come in handy during a gunfight. If you call that a fight.”

  The man spat at me. Point-blank range, and he still missed.

  “Get it over with,” he said.

  “Oh, please. Enough with the tough-guy crap. You’ll need a new hand, and I’m pretty damn sure that leg’s gone to waste. But this, my friend, is not your time to die.”

  I glanced toward the cantina. Our little disturbance had drawn interest. Three people emerged through the front door, none of whom was Lumen. Did she watch the slaughter?

  “You, senor, are coming with us. Time for a sit-down. And truth be told, I think you could use a whiskey or two.”

  I yanked the man by his intact arm, but Moon stopped me.

  “Over here, partner. You need to see this.”

  “Hold the fort, my friend,” I told Senor Mustache. “I’ll be back.” I turned to Moon and whispered, “What you got? I need to question this asshole before he bleeds out.”

  He pointed to a corpse in the middle of the bloodbath.

  “His neck. The tattoo.”

  I saw a faded, plum-sized design resembling a gear.

  “Yep. And?”

  “They all have it. Same tattoo, same location.”

  I confirmed it on the survivor.

  “Eh. We’ve been down this road before, my friend. At least it ain’t a scorpion.” I raised my voice for the leftover to hear. “Just means they’re all playing for the same team. Ain’t that right, senor? Tell you what, let’s get you inside. I’ll order a bottle for the table.”

  I grabbed him by the partial arm and yanked. He howled.

  “Damn right it hurts. Only gonna get worse if you keep playing tough guy. Just remember that old saying about the darkness before the dawn.” I dragged him behind me. “At the very least, you’ll have a fun story to tell your kids when they’re grown.”

  “F-fucking malgado!”

  “How old are they?”

  That broke him. He understood my implication and responded like a blubbering fool.

  “Leave my children out of it.”

  “Huh. Had kids and chose this profession? If I was a father, I might’ve gone for something with a little more stability. Maybe a job with perks and retirement benefits. Got a name?”

  “No. Never.”

  “You might as well confess because I’ll find out anyway. I’ll start with the woman who hired you and follow the trail. I’ll hunt down those kids and shoot them in the head. Nothing personal, of course. We’re in the same line of work. You know how these things play out sometimes. Cooperation will save your children from an early departure. Again, I politely ask: You got a name?”

  He didn’t have to think long. This guy understood he’d more than met his match.

  “Vash,” he moaned.

  “Progress. Well done.” I told Moon, “Go on ahead. Clear the cantina but situate the senora in a prime location. Set us up with a bottle of whiskey. Glasses all around.”

  “Will do.” He pointed behind us. “What about them?”

  “I’ll leave the bodies to you, but wait until sundown.”

  Moon licked his lips. Oh, yeah. His creative juices were flowing. A bonfire in the offing?

  While he took care of business inside the cantina, I dragged my prisoner past stunned onlookers, the newest of which was Ship.

  “Raul, what happened? What are you doing to this man?”

  “My job, kid: Protecting your interests.” I addressed the crowd, which grew to twenty. “Six unfortunate and misguided individuals took money from someone who wishes to exploit the people of Desperido. They came here with an eye to kill me and my partner before we renegotiated a better deal on your behalf.

  “Rather than dispense with their ringleader, I decided to, uh, drag out the process.” I stifled my laughter. “I will end any further threat to this town. Go on home now and pass the word: You’re in no danger. Raul and Ilan will make sure of it.”

  I never stopped dragging my prisoner during my little speech. When I finished, the motley locals stood slack-jawed in silence.

  One finally asked:

  “Will the depot open on schedule?”

  I studied my bloody prisoner and thought about what waited inside.

  “Ship, I hereby promote you to manager of the supply depot. The keys are yours!”

  19

  L UMEN CAUGHT ME BY SURPRISE. She sat next to Moon, his pistol on the table pointed her direction. Yet that all-star defiance I saw from the moment I first walked into the cantina had vanished. Lumen wiped considerable tears and twisted her fingers into knots while I plopped my prisoner into a chair at the nearest table and poured two glasses of whiskey. She wasn’t heartbroken because her plan failed. Nah. Lumen knew this man, and she was terrified for him.

  This went deeper than basic shock and horror.

  Vash couldn’t avoid latching onto the senora, though he tried hard to look away. He washed down his pain with a healthy drink and buried his eyes, but I felt it. So did Moon, and my partner pretty much flew blind in matters of the heart.

  Rule Number One in the assassination business: Don’t make it personal. Rule Number Two: Don’t farm out the dirty work to friends and loved ones. It never goes down the way you expect.

  I threw back my drink and slammed the glass on the table.

  “Let’s jump to it, Vash. Any words for the senora? She led your team to a most disagreeable end.”

  The fella never lifted his head.

  “Don’t know her.”

  “I beg to differ. How about you take a gander?” When he resisted, I added: “Now, you promised to be cooperative for the sake of your offspring. I insist.”

  When he complied, Lumen folded her arms against her chest and bowed her head. Was it shame? Embarrassment? She was twenty years his senior. Whatever the bond, I doubted it was sexual.

  “Don’t know her,” he repeated.

  “I see. Tell you what, Vash. We’ll swing back around to the truth soon enough. Why don’t you tell me about the plan. Your team was supposed to take down my partner and me. Then what? You got no ride, and the tumbler won’t return for a week. What was the plan?”

  Vash sneered. I reckon he tried to restore his tough-guy persona.

  “What do you think? Bury your bodies in the desert.”

  “Eh. Public execution in broad daylight? Personally, I’d have gone for a nighttime attack. Real quiet. In and out. No witnesses. This job was just plain sloppy. Went big on theatrics. So, perhaps somebody wanted witnesses.” I turned to Lumen. “Somebody needed to remind the townsfolk who’s in charge.”

  I expected to draw out Lumen, but she played the victim, wiping those puppy dog tears. I found them unsuitable for a woman of her age and stature.

  “Let me solve the puzzle, Vash,” I continued. “You lot would’ve stayed for a week acting as security on the senora’s behalf. Hence, your numbers. You’d peruse our weapons stash and add it into next week’s product manifest. Sound like a fair assessment?”

  He grabbed the bottle with his useful hand and binged straightaway. While the liquor dribbled off his chin, Vash glared at me with a slack jaw. He knew I was ten steps ahead.

  “Makes no difference now.”

  “On the contrary, my friend. Your team took heavy losses. At the very least, your boss will want an explanation for the debacle and seek retribution. What happened today cannot simply be buried in the desert and forgotten. Who will she blame? The unfortunate survivor and his family? The senora over there? How about the poor, defenseless locals?”

  Vash narrowed his eyes.

  “She who?”

  “Senora Cardinale, naturally.”

  The liquor must’ve done wonders for his extraordinary pain because damned if he didn’t laugh at me.

  “Cardinale? You think she …?”

  He waved me off like I was a clueless son of a bitch.

  “What’s her next move?” I switched between Vash and Lumen. “You’re both on her leash. How do you think she’ll play it?”

  Vash reached for the bottle, but I pulled it away.

  “I don’t work for that cunt,” he said. “I’m not Horax.”

  Good. He confirmed what I predicted. She didn’t order the hit through Cardinale.

  “Ah. So, you’re what? An independent contractor?”

  “I’m not cartel. That’s all you’ll ever know.”

  I shifted my chair toward the cantina’s proprietor.

  “Either this man is a liar, or you are a far more interesting and creative woman than I imagined. I’ll be straight, senora. I hate being wrong, and worse yet, I got no patience for being called out on it.”

  I grabbed a pistol and aimed at Vash.

  “No point keeping him around. You have the answers I need.”

  Lumen sat up straight and offered a feeble plea.

  “Wait.”

  “Why?”

  “Raul. Please. Put it down. He needs triage.”

  “Or he’ll bleed out. What of it?”

  She closed her eyes and took a long, deep breath.

  “You win. Allow me to help him, and I’ll tell you everything.”

  Vash interjected.

  “No. Not a word.”

  “It’s not your decision,” she said.

  “Oh, Vash. I told you we’d swing back around to the truth. I sensed a swell of emotional backstory when we entered the room.”

  Shit. Why didn’t I see the resemblance right off? Sometimes, my self-indulgence lent itself to blind spots.

  “Five seconds,” I told Lumen. “You got five seconds to tell me why I should not kill this man.”

  “I’m sorry,” she told Vash. “Raul, he’s my son.”

  I holstered my pistol, and Moon put his away, too. Leverage was the name of the game, and we had more than I thought possible.

  “Now that is one hell of a bloodline. What do you think, Ilan? The senora sent her own son to kill us.”

  “Cold blooded. I’m impressed.”

  “Agreed, although not so much for the skillset we saw outside. Did we kill any brothers?”

  “He’s my only child, Raul. He needs help. Now. Please. We have a phasic trauma pod adjacent to the supply depot.”

  “So I heard. That’s expensive equipment for a little ol’ desert town. It oughta tide him over for the short term. In exchange for his treatment, you will unburden your soul. Yes?”

  Vash tried to stand but forgot about his new debit. He fell to the floor yelling:

  “Tell this filthy malgado nothing.”

  “Honestly, Vash. You’re making a mess of your mother’s cantina. You should appreciate the beauty of living. You, sir, had a five-in-six chance of a quick death. If not for the patch of hair above your lip, Lumen would be childless.”