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“We can leave?” he croaked through tears.
“Now would be the time. He’s gone and wouldn’t know what happened. I would say that you and the men you trust, the men who had families in that building as well, should get in your vehicles and leave. Go to another town for the time being, and I’ll call when this is done.”
“He had them in that building. It was just a few miles from here. All this time, all these weeks and months of worrying about them, and they were within reach. I’m ashamed. I’m ashamed of the man that I’ve become,” he said, shaking his head.
“John, I need you to stay focused,” said East, gripping his arm. “Sutton had the most precious thing in the world to you. That’s a powerful motivator to do whatever someone asks of you. Right now, I need your help. Where are the drugs and the weapons?”
“The weapons are in a storage bunker below a church on Tularosa. I think he thought that no one would break into a church, and maybe even God would protect his weapons,” frowned John.
“We read,” said Eazee into his comms device. “Headed that way now.”
“And the drugs?” asked East.
“I’m not sure. That’s the truth. I’d tell you if I really knew, but I don’t know. They bring a big stash to the house every few days for the men to either sell or use themselves.”
“Who is they?” asked East. John looked around, up and down the street to see the two men he wanted.
“The two men standing by the old Impala. I don’t even know their names, but they’re the ones that bring the drugs. They’re supposed to be picking up a big stash to bring to the house. Sutton wants to impress Rivera.” East nodded.
“Here’s what I want you to do. Once I’m gone, tell the men what I’ve told you. Only the ones you trust. Then I want you all to get in your cars and leave. Don’t say anything to anyone, don’t tell anyone, don’t stop for anyone. Just drive.” John nodded.
“Will we see you again?” he asked.
“I’ll see you again,” he said, nodding. “When I’ve taken care of Sutton, I’ll text you and let you know where your families are.”
“We’ll never be able to repay you,” said John. “Never.”
“No repayment necessary, other than for you all to find very different jobs in a very different city,” he smirked.
“Why are you here?” asked one of the men in the blue hat.
“None of your fucking business,” said East, staring at the other man. John stepped back, moving toward his friends as East stood his ground.
“Jefe’s not here to protect you. I don’t care what he wants. I’ll gut you right here on his pretty front lawn.” East laughed out loud, throwing his head back as the man pulled a knife on him.
“You’re going to gut me with that?” he smirked. “Bring it on, little man.”
Suddenly nervous, the man bounced from one foot to the other, then back again. He gripped the knife, twisting it in his hand as East stood solid, just watching. Down the street, he could see John and the other men getting into their cars, leaving the area as planned.
The man jabbed at East as he turned, twisting out of his way. He backhanded him, knocking him to the ground, laughing as he fell.
“That’s one shot,” said East. “I’ll give you one more. Then I come for you. Fair fight.”
He quickly stood, realizing his reputation was at stake as his friends watched. Thrusting the knife at him once more, East gripped his wrist, twisting the knife out of his grasp. He threw the weapon into a tree, thirty feet in the air, where no one could reach it.
“Now it’s my turn,” said East, pulling the massive Bowie knife from inside his boot. The eyes of all the men went wide as they backed up. “See, my father and grandfather taught me how to use this knife. They knew exactly how to make it sing. But the real master was a friend of my grandfather’s. A man who understands knives better than anyone in the world. Let’s see if I was a good pupil.”
By the time East left Sutton’s home, there were eleven men dead on the front lawn. None were left, other than those in the tunnels who hadn’t seen a thing. Sutton was going to have a surprise when he got home.
“East? We got the weapons. And the drugs.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Eazee and Tanner entered the old Catholic church, their boot heels clicking on the tiled floor. There was a priest standing at the altar, walking back and forth, repeating words that were written on a sheet of paper.
“Oh, good morning,” he said, raising his head in surprise. “I get lost when I’m practicing my liturgy. How can I help you?”
“Father, you don’t know us, but we have reason to believe that there are weapons being stored beneath this church.”
