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“He can barely stand up right now,” I pointed out. “You have him so hopped up on whatever the hell you’re giving him, I doubt he even knows his name.”
“Much less knows anything about your operation,” Santiago added.
The man in the hat seemed to consider this for a moment. Apologetically, he slowly shook his head.
“That’s not a chance I’m willing to take,” he stated simply.
My teeth gnashed together as they always did when the shit was about to hit the fan. Reflexively, I began tightening my fingers around the grip on my Desert Eagle.
“In fact,” the man added, “maybe we should take all of you with us? Leaving you here seems like a bad business move.”
I’d counted them three times already. Now I began sorting them according to distance, angle, and armament. My brain began treating them like targets. Assigning each of them a different threat level, so I knew who to hit first.
The cartel boss shrugged and sighed. “Please, make no mistake, thisisabout business. That’s all it ever is, really. I appreciate your help, I truly do. But I look at you now, and all I can see are five loose ends.”
Santiago tilted his head to both sides, cracking his neck loudly. If it was some kind of a signal, I had no idea what it meant.
Then, from out of nowhere, six red beams pierced the blackness.
“Maybe not as loose as you think,” Santiago shrugged.
The laser sights angled in through the upper windows, painting six red dots on the floor. They milled in slow circles, dancing around the man’s feet.
“Impressive,” the man in the hat chuckled.
Santiago folded his arms as another half-dozen beams sprang into existence. There were twelve dots now, all moving on their own, swarming like angry red bees.
“Those dots are on the floor and not on your chest as a sign of respect,” Santiago said gravely. “But respect only goes so far. Respect needs to be a two-way street.”
I could sense the cartel’s henchmen getting more nervous with each second that ticked by. They weren’t sure what to do, but they definitely wanted to dosomething. And that part of the equation — if left unchecked — could get us all killed.
“You’re forgetting we’re mercenaries,” said Santiago. “And not just us, but other companies as well. Just like your own family, we tend to stick together. Which means if you screw with one…”
“You get the rest of us,” Silas finished for him.
The man in the hat had little choice but to widen his smile. He lifted his arms as non-threateningly as possible, then motioned for his men to back off.
“Surely someone running a cartel understands the value of safety in numbers,” Santiago added.
The man in the hat glanced at each of us in turn, then squinted shrewdly. “I do,” he confirmed. And certainly someone running a mercenary company understands the meaning of discretion.”
We nodded, one by one. Brynne even joined us.
“Fine,” the cartel boss sighed. He had the look of a man being forced to compromise. A manveryused to getting his way.
But also a man who understood when he’d been beaten.
“Let’s part ways then,” the man in the hat said cheerfully. “For good, I hope.”
He stared at us for another moment as his men began fading back. The Lozanos were gone now. Disappeared, along with Lucas Almon.
“As far as I’m concerned,” the man finished as he turned away, “tonight never happened.”
He waited an extra moment while Santiago cleared his throat.
“None of us have any idea what you’re talking about.”
Fifty-Three
