Page 43 of Reno

“We’re going to go into Manos’ place like the two combat experienced veterans we are,” I explained. “If things go to hell, we’ll kill every one of those motherfuckers and call your cop buddy to clean up the mess.”

Pee Bee alternated glances between us. “What’s wrong with that plan?”

“Don’t know the layout of the home, don’t know who’s there, and don’t know who—if any of them—are armed,” Crip responded. “It’d be difficult to plan and orchestrate.”

“I think my plan will work fine,” I said.

“What is it?” Pee Bee asked.

“I wagghed my index finger at Goose,” I said. “I’m having him set up in that grassy area on the edge of that cliff with a sniper rifle. The entire back of that place is glass. Whatever we do, we need to keep them in front of those windows, so Goose can see everything. If things go to shit, he’ll take Alacrán out. I’ll take Manos, you take Mister Mustache.”

“I doubt Alacrán came alone,” Crip said.

“We’ll deal with it when the time comes.”

Crip shifted his gaze to Goose. “Where’d you serve?”

“I didn’t.”

Crip looked at me, and then at Goose. His eyes narrowed. “It’s three hundred yards from that grass to the back of that house.”

“That’s what I heard,” Goose said.

“What makes you think you can take a three-hundred-yard shot?” Crip asked.

I chuckled a laugh. Goose could shoot a can of beer out of Crip’s hand at a thousand yards or more. He may not have been trained in the military, but he was as good as any sniper I’d ever served with. There weren’t many people I trusted my life with.

He was one of them.

“Take ‘em all the time,” Goose replied. “I could make the shot at four times that distance. Maybe more.”

Crip looked at me with disbelief in his eyes.

I nodded. “Believe me, he can.”

“Hopefully it won’t come to that,” Crip said. “If it does, sounds like we’re in good hands.”

“Manos is easy to spot,” I explained. “Bald head, goatee, and only his hands are tattooed. His brother has a two-inch thick caterpillar on his lip. I don’t know if his cousin will be there, but he’s the most average-looking fucker I’ve ever seen. Black hair, dark skin, no tattoos. You’ve seen pictures of Alacrán, so you know what he looks like. Any of them point a gun at us, take ‘em out.”

“I’ll do it,” Goose said with a nod.

“Far as I’m concerned,” Crip added. “If any of them look like they’re arguing with us, take ‘em out. Shit can go to hell quick with people like this. Most of the time, there isn’t much warning.”

“I’ll do it,” Goose assured him.

“What the fuck am I going to do?” Pee Bee asked.

“Stay here and entertain the women,” Crip replied.

Pee Bee gave him a shitty look. “Entertain the women? So, I’m basically a clown?” He raked his long hair away from his face and held it in a ponytail. “Want me to tell them jokes and make some geese out of those weenie balloons?”

“Just keep everyone at ease,” Crip said. “And, they’re swans, not geese.”

“Don’t matter what they are.” Pee Bee released his hair and gave Crip a look. “I ain’t makin’ ‘em.”

“Just do what you do,” Crip said. “Tell them stories and help them lose track of time. We’ll be back as soon as we can.”

Pee Bee shoved his hands into his pockets and gazed at the toes of his boots. After a moment of thought, he looked up. “Feel like I should be a part of this.”