Page 20

Chapter

Twenty

BONES

“ P ut her on for me,” Voodoo said from where he stood in the corner. We had maybe thirty minutes before the rendezvous, and should already be moving. Lunchbox was going over the vehicle Voodoo secured for this leg and he’d called Alphabet to check-in.

I checked my watch. The check-in was a good call. The change in plans couldn’t be helped. As long as they were still secure, we wanted to finish this.

“Hey, Firecracker,” Voodoo’s voice dipped. His gaze collided with mine briefly before he turned to pace away. The landing strip at the small Nevada airport didn’t offer much in the way of shade, but he just slid his sunglasses on as he stepped out of the hangar.

I sighed.

“You heard Alphabet,” Lunchbox said, as he closed the trunk. “She’s been up for the past two nights—late. Real late. That means she’s having nightmares.”

“I’m aware.” Just like I was aware that Voodoo had been spending more and more time in her room.

“We should have briefed her.” Not an unfair conclusion or one I wanted to argue with him over.

“While she has a right to information about her and her sister,” I said, willing to concede that much. “This operation has nothing to do with her.”

Once we finished this, it would be done and we could reorient our focus to her.

“I get that,” Lunchbox said, folding his arms before leaning back against the side of the vehicle. “But it’s also bullshit, Cap. Do you get that?”

Voodoo returned, cutting off any response I would have made and tossed the cellphone back at me. “I got shotgun, Cap. You haven’t slept in the last two days. This is at least a two hour drive, get some sleep.”

Tucking the phone into my pocket, I pulled open the back door and slid in. It was an oversized SUV and that left me with room to stretch—some. Like the boys, I was dressed in dark fatigues, a dark shirt, and dark combat boots. It was common enough wear and we didn’t stand out.

I pulled on a dark cap and my own sunglasses even as Lunchbox pulled out of the hangar.

“Two hours there,” Voodoo said. “How long do you think we’ll need for questioning?”

“As long as it takes,” I answered in tandem with Lunchbox, then folded my arms, tilted my chin down, and went to sleep.

“Cap.” One word and I lifted my head. It barely felt like I’d gone to sleep. The lack of grit in my eyes said it had definitely been at least an hour, though not quite two. “We’re ten minutes out.”

Voodoo passed back a takeout cup that smelled of strong black coffee.

“Thanks,” I said, voice a little rough but I took a swallow of the bitter brew. It was strong enough to sheer paint from the walls. Good thing. “Any word?”

“Just a text,” Lunchbox said. “They are there and waiting for us. Didn’t beat us by much.”

I nodded, then took another swallow of the coffee. It was hot, but not really scalding. I definitely wanted to burn off all the cobwebs.

Our destination was a nondescript, dead little town in the middle of nowhere. The roads out here weren’t much to comment on, old state highways that were just two lanes for a hundred miles or more.

The dusty little town boasted a sign that was old, and hanging crookedly by a single chain while the other swung brokenly against it.

Settle Down .

Founded 1889.

Someone had a sense of humor. The town beyond it wasn’t much to speak of. If there was more to it than the main street, I didn’t see it. While it was back from the state highway, the only visible road was a rough gravel and dirt scattered path.

The storefronts were right out of some old Western show, the tired and faded colors a mere echo of what they might have been. There was debris on the porches—or what passed for their porches. Maybe a boardwalk that joined the old storefronts together, and gave people a place to walk that wasn’t the dirt streets.

Since more than one step looked busted in half, I’d go with the idea that they weren’t secure. There were actual fucking tumbleweeds rolling along in what would presumably be a hot breeze.

“What a shithole,” Voodoo said, studying the town a lot like I was. “Probably do ghost tours and shit out here.”

“Probably,” Lunchbox said. “Though I don’t trust the sturdiness of the buildings. The one on the end is starting to lean.”

He wasn’t wrong. Still, he pulled down the main street then around the back to park behind a squat adobe building right next to another SUV. I didn’t wait for Lunchbox to put it in park before I set the empty cup down and slid out. The stifling air that greeted me was every bit as roasting as opening an oven door.

Sweat dotted my face even in the achingly dry air under the relentless sun. Yeah, it was a shithole in the middle of a desert. But it would serve its purpose.

A backdoor on the squat adobe building opened and a former FBI agent stepped out to scan us. He was armed, but the gun was secured and clearly visible in his shoulder holster. Since we were similarly attired, I didn’t worry about it.

I crossed the short distance and held out my hand. “Cash,” I said by way of greeting. “Thanks for taking the time.” Though to be fair, I actually hadn’t expected one of the heads of the Network to be our delivery agents.

“Don’t mention it,” the tall man with the light hair, hard eyes, and square jaw stated. “Seriously, don’t. Come on in. It’s fucking miserable out here.”

Though I doubted it was much better in there. A feminine laugh, low and husky, drifted out as I stepped in behind Cash with Voodoo and Lunchbox a few steps behind me.

“You didn’t have to come,” Vienna Drew stated from where she was seated at what was probably once upon a time a desk for the sheriff of the town. Unlike the wood outside, it seemed to still be in good shape.

The lean, athletic blonde woman reclined with her feet on the desk. For all that she had to be over a decade younger than any of us, I would never mistake that for inexperience, much less weakness and vulnerability.

Cash just snorted and turned briefly to greet Voodoo and Lunchbox with handshakes. It definitely wasn’t that much cooler inside the adobe, but the shade afforded some relief.

Swinging her feet down, Vienna rose and held out a hand to me. We’d met on a handful of occasions—four that I could count. More often than not, we spoke to her on the phone or via a message. Since they reorganized things, she seemed to be taking a more active role.

That might make the next few hours trickier.

“It’s good to see you,” she said, shaking my hand once before sliding her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. “Hello boys.”

“Ma’am,” Lunchbox practically drawled the word and she grinned.

“Vienna.” Voodoo just nodded then leaned against the wall closest to the door. The room was a little small for all of us, but as long as we were friends it would be fine.

“Before you try to find a diplomatic way to ask why she’s here,” Cash said, easing a hip onto the desk with a little more confidence than I thought the furniture deserved. “The names you tagged and the info you pulled led right back to one of ours.”

Vienna’s easy expression darkened and her eyes narrowed. “By ours, he means a broker within the Network. We backtracked and confirmed that he was double-dealing.” Oh, she was not happy. “More than that, he’s been actively seeking out jobs where he can bill twice. Not acceptable.”

“Great, so there’s more backstabbing motherfuckers in the Network. Just what we want to hear.” Lunchbox didn’t sound even a little irritated, more just bemused.

“Exactly,” Cash said, spreading his hands. “We’ve been cleaning house the past several months but cockroaches always scatter. Sometimes, you have to kick shit over to get them to come out.”

“Unfortunately,” Vienna said with a slow shake of her head. “I wanted to ask him some questions myself, but I also know you are owed a debt.”

“This wasn’t your fault,” I told her.

“Perhaps not entirely,” she agreed. “But we’ve been making an attempt to clean up the Network. You should be able to trust the people and the information you obtain within it. Just as those of us in it should be able to trust you and yours when you take a job. If either side falls down… It leads to more problems. I’ve had enough of those.”

Ferocity echoed beneath those last five words. “Well, then we appreciate you taking the time to do this.”

“You’re welcome,” she said with a long exhale, then glanced at Cash. A groan rose from somewhere behind her. “Oh, look at that. I win.” She held out a hand to Cash.

He smirked, then pulled out his wallet then retrieved a twenty before he gave it to her. “You win. Fair and square.”

She grinned, then looked at me. “I said he would be awake by the time you got here and that I did not give him too much sedative. Cash didn’t agree, so we made a little wager.”

“What I said was between the concussion and the drugs, it would make getting him lucid a little more challenging.” Still, Cash just tucked his wallet away. “Anyway, we’d like to stay for the questioning. If you don’t mind. Then we can handle body disposal.”

“A body in the desert doesn’t need that much disposal,” Vienna said, strolling down a short hallway to?—

“Is that an actual cell?” I asked as I followed her.

“Yep.” She looked pleased as she motioned to the cell and the man inside it. He sprawled on what was left of a rotted-out cot. The frame had long since given up and I doubted there was anything of a mattress left.

Almost as unexpected as Vienna and Cash’s presence, was the appearance of the man in question. Roger Edwards was a balding, middle-aged man with a bit of a paunch belly and a sallow complexion. He looked more like an office manager than a broker for mercenaries.

Then again, middle management was middle management.

“You know,” Lunchbox said almost conversationally as the man in question started to sit up, still groaning. He hadn’t even registered our presence yet. “I almost feel bad for the guy.”

“I don’t,” Voodoo said. “He wanted to play with fire, he gets burned.”

“But he’s—dinky-looking.” Lunchbox grimaced. “And he just pissed himself.”

The strong scent of urine hit me at the same moment. The guy stared at us, his mouth moving without sound before he shot a look at Vienna.

“Small doesn’t mean docile or safe,” I reminded them. If nothing else, Grace should have been a powerful example of that. “Do you need anything from him?” I asked Vienna.

“Nope,” she said, leaning back against the wall, arms folded like she was settling in to watch. Cash joined her and held out a bottle of water to her. She made a face but took it anyway.

“This won’t take long,” I said then turned the old iron key that was protruding from the lock. The creak of the hinges was like a shriek of a banshee. That seemed appropriate.

“Look,” the man said, scrambling to his feet and tripping over the debris of wood. “I can pay you…”

“We don’t want your money.” I cracked my knuckles. The man blanched so hard, I was surprised he didn’t just pass out. He did piss again.

I didn’t sigh. This wouldn’t take long and I somehow doubted I’d even have to hit him.

“What do you want? I can totally give it to you. Anything. Name it.” His babble came out on a wave of spittle as he backed all the way up against the wall.

“Roger,” I said. “I want a list of who else you sold our schedule to and whether you hired us because someone wanted to kill us or you arranged for us to take the job then sold the information to someone else.”

“That’s it?” The man stammered.

Yeah. This wasn’t going to even be that interesting. Fuck.

“That’s a start…”

“Then I can go?” He looked from me to Vienna then back again. I didn’t turn around to see their expressions, I just kept mine dead neutral. Beating this guy wouldn’t offer much in the way of satisfaction.

I also didn’t answer his question. “I’m waiting.”

“Look, Bones—you’re the one they call Bones right?” His wobbling voice seemed to find some balance. “Of course, you’re Bones. That’s who agrees or doesn’t agree to a job.”

“Still not an answer.”

The man scrubbed at his face, then seemed to swing his gaze around like some answer was going to just magically dance out of the air for him. Or maybe he thought he had backup that would save him.

“I—” He licked his lips then glanced down. Yeah, no answers down there. “I’m so dead.”

“Probably,” I said. “How you die is still up for grabs though.”

“I didn’t mean to sell you out.” He didn’t look at me. He didn’t look at any of us. “I’m a broker. I connect clients and contractors. Once I have my fee, I’m out.”

He cut a glance up. Fuck me, was he crying ?

“I was good at it. Then one day, I had a job come across that was like the exact opposite of a job I’d just contracted and so… I didn’t think about it, I just gave them the information. Made twice the fee. I told myself, one-time thing, Roger. Just one time.”

“But it wasn’t just one time…” I prompted when he fell silent.

His long, almost mournful sigh did make me want to punch him in pudgy fucking gut.

“No. There were more… It worked out, only one party ever came out the other side so no one knew.”

“I can see how that worked out for you.” I shook my head.

“It did and… you guys are good, you know. I didn’t think it would hurt you. I got paid. You got paid. The other guys? They’d be dead. So no harm?” Pathetic was written all over him.

“No, Roger,” I told him. “Not no harm.”

He deflated once again. “You were hired to take out the Rojas first. Then another client reached out because they wanted the operation and heard that their competitor had hired someone…”

Through a series of fits and starts, Roger spilled his guts. Not literally, I wasn’t going to bother getting my knife dirty for that. It was all a financial transaction for him. We’d been hired to eliminate the Rojas by one organization. Another organization wanted information to take it over themselves.

It was inelegant, stupidly basic and simple and he’d made a hefty profit over the last several years. He also put my men in danger.

That, I wouldn’t forgive.

When he was done, swearing up and down he didn’t know anything else, I broke his neck. Pathetic or not, he’d put a knife in our backs.

No way did he get to live to do it again.