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“Yeah? Then why did you bring the helmet?”
Brianna tossed it to him. “In case you fall off.”
Edilio had trouble running in the sand. But maybe that wasn’t why he couldn’t seem to catch up with Drake.
Maybe he didn’t want to catch up with Drake. Maybe he was scared to death of Drake. Orc had fought Drake to a draw once. Sam had fought him and come out on the losing end.
Caine had killed him.
And yet, there was Drake. Alive. As Sam had known he was. As Sam had feared. The psychopath lived.
Edilio stumbled and tripped in the sand. His automatic rifle hit muzzle first and fired, BAM BAM BAM into the sand as Edilio accidentally squeezed the trigger.
Edilio stayed on his knees. Get up, he told himself. Get up, this is what you do. Get up.
He got up. He started running again. Heart pounding like it would tear itself loose.
Drake wasn’t far away now, just a hundred feet, maybe, not far. Whipping some poor kid who’d run too slowly.
Edilio had seen the results of that terrible whip. It had broken something in Sam, the pain of that whip.
But Edilio moved closer. The trick would be to get close enough…not too close.
Drake still had not seen him. Edilio raised the rifle into firing position. Fifty feet. He could hit Drake from here, but there were a dozen other kids in range just beyond him. Bullets didn’t always go exactly where you aimed them. He could kill Drake. He might also kill the fleeing children.
He had to stall until the kids got out of range.
He lined Drake up in the sights. Aiming was hard with the weapon on automatic. The kick would be ferocious. You could aim the first shot, but after that it would be like spraying a fire hose.
Had to get Drake to stop. Had to let the kids get away.
“Drake,” Edilio said. But his mouth was as dry as the sand. What came out was a barely audible rasp.
“Drake!” Edilio yelled. “Drake!”
Drake froze. He turned, not in a hurry, slow. Languid.
Drake smiled his feral smile. His eyes were blue and empty of anything but amusement. His dark hair was matted and filthy. His skin seemed to be smeared with mud. There was dirt in his teeth.
“Why, Edilio,” Drake said. “Long time, wetback.”
“Drake,” Edilio said, his voice failing him again.
“Yes, Edilio?” Drake said with exaggerated politeness. “Something you wanted to say?”
Edilio’s stomach heaved. Drake was dead. Dead.
“You…you’re under arrest.”
Drake barked a surprised laugh. “Under arrest?”
“That’s right,” Edilio said.
Drake took a step toward him.
“Stop. Stop right there!” Edilio warned.
Drake kept moving. “But I’m coming to surrender, Edilio. Slap the cuffs on me, officer.”
