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"Let's try that with more words," Evelyn said. "Which cartel do you work for?" When he still said nothing, she switched to Spanish. Jack gave him about two seconds to reply before a kick had the guy whimpering in pain.
"I--I do not know," the man said, his voice halting and heavily accented. "I was hired. Me and my . . ." He weakly turned his head. "My brother. He is dead?"
I would have pretended that his brother may have survived his injuries, but Jack said, "Yeah. So you were hired. By who?"
"I do not know. They went through my brother. He took the orders. Go there. Do this. Come here. Do that." The man let out a slow hiss. "I need help. Now. Or I will--"
"Help's coming," Jack said. "They told you to come here. And do what?"
"Find the woman. Others had followed her. They did not report back, and so we were to come and see what had happened. See if she was still here." He glanced my way and his eyes narrowed as he said, "She was," as if I'd caused his brother's death by not jumping up sooner to announce my presence.
"They're holding someone else hostage," I said. "A man. He's around my age, about six-two, big guy." I didn't add more, not knowing what disguise Quinn might have been wearing. "Do you know anything about that?"
Jack's hands flexed on his gun. He eased back, just a half inch, but I got the message. He didn't really care where they were holding Quinn. Well, yes, he'd have gotten to that part eventually, but right now, knowing what these guys had in store for me was more important to him. I understood that. I appreciated that. But I wasn't in danger right now. Quinn was.
"Answer," Jack said, in a quasi-reluctant growl when the guy glanced up, as if checking for the go-ahead to respond, because, you know, it was just the chick asking, so it probably wasn't important.
"He is in a building," the man said.
"Really?" Evelyn said. "I thought they'd hold him hostage in the middle of the damned highway. Do better."
Again, he glanced at Jack, ignoring the fact that the old lady asking was the one who'd shot him in the chest.
"He is alive," the man said. "I had to take him food. He did not eat. He talked to me. En Espanol. My brother heard and he was angry, said the man was trying to get information about our employer, but he was not. He only talked, asking about me."
Getting to know the low man on the totem pole. Forming a relationship. Which meant Quinn was fine, just sitting tight and trying to figure a way out. Exactly as I'd expect.
The man grimaced. "I really need--"
"It's coming," Jack said. "This building. Where is it?"
The guy didn't know--they'd been taken to and from it in the back of a van. They really were only hired muscle. Jack did manage to get details about the building and the immediate vicinity. That was as far as he got before the guy started going into shock and when he did speak, it was incoherent babble about his mother and his brother and his girlfriend.
"Dee?" Jack said. "Can you head out? See if any help's arrived?"
Evelyn frowned, not comprehending. I nodded and turned away. I'd gone about a half-dozen steps when a suppressed shot fired behind me. One through the side of the head. An instant kill.
Jack didn't send me away so the guy would think I was bringing help. I'm sure the guy had thought I was, which was good--one last moment of hope before everything went dark.
Having me turn away was partly Jack saying, "I don't want you to watch me do this." But it was also, by projection, "I'd rather not do this." He couldn't turn away, so he asked me to. Jack didn't promise the guy would be fine. He didn't promise we'd save him. He said he'd help. Which he had--in the only way he could, by administering a merciful and quick death.
When the shot came, I turned back quickly, because hesitating would say that I needed a moment to collect myself and slap on an "it's okay" face. I didn't. I said, "We should get going. They'll send more as soon as these guys don't call in."
Jack nodded. Then he looked around, saying, "The other guys . . ."
"I've cleaned them out."
Another nod. "Good." He walked over and put his arm around my waist, supporting me. I said, "I'm fine," but he said, "Humor me," so I did, leaning on him.
As I turned, I caught a blur in the forest. Jack did too, at the same moment, his hand going to my back, shoving me down. I stumbled, caught off guard, but his mouth opened in an oath, and there was a near-comical moment of Jack trying to steady me and then remembering why he'd pushed me down and mouthing another "Fuck!" By that time, I was already halfway to the ground of my own accord--and yanking the leg of his jeans to get him down beside me.
That's when I remembered Evelyn, who could not drop nearly so easily. I saw she'd swung against a tree, her gun out. I looked at Jack. He nodded, saying she was fine. Through the trees we could make out two men heading toward us. Two men in suits.
I whispered "Contrapasso," to Jack, who nodded. Like the cartel thugs, when Diaz didn't check in, his boss would have sent reinforcements to his last known location.
The two men continued forward, guns leveled in our general direction, but well over our heads. They'd seen or heard something but been too far out to actually spot us.
"Stop," Jack said.
