Hartley's jaw flexes once. "That's the retired-asset speech."
"It's also the truth."
His smile shifts. Less warm now. "Are you taking the offer or aren't you?"
I let the silence sit one more moment, then I turn my head toward Nash. "Partner. I need you to do somethin' for me."
Nash, small. "Okay, Rogue."
"There's a big black truck parked out on the street right out there. You walk out of this buildin' right now. Get in the passenger seat. Buckle in. Close your eyes. Cover your ears with your hands. Hard. Squeeze 'em tight. I'll come get you when it's ready."
Nash looks at Hartley.
Hartley looks at me.
My eyes don't leave Hartley. "Now, partner. Go."
Nash slides off the chair.
He walks across the loading dock floor with his small steps and his small face. He doesn't run. He walks.
He's a kid who has been at the ranch long enough to know what my tone means. Just like when his mother gets a stern tone. He knows there's no room for argument.
He passes me without touching me. Without reaching for me.
He walks out through the roll-up door. The boy is clear.
Hartley watches him go. Then turns back to me.
The smile is gone.
Just a man looking at another man across a loading dock floor.
"Oh, so it's going to be like that."
My hand moves to rest on the grip of my sidearm. "There was no other option, Hartley. There never was."
He breathes out slowly. "You were never going to take the offer."
I shake my head once. "I wasn't."
"You came in with backup."
I don't answer.
He laughs once. Dry. Like a man recognizing a move he taught somebody. "Of course you did. I'd have done the same."
His hand starts to move toward his sidearm.
Two shots from the back of the loading dock.
Bullseye drops the north operator. Longhorn drops the south. Two suppressed rounds and two bodies hitting the concrete dock floor.
Hartley standing in the middle of the loading dock with his pistol still in his hand at his side.
He didn't raise it.
My pistol on him. His hand on his pistol but not raising it.
