She’d do that.
Because Jack Baddalach was waiting for her.
Counting on her.
Baddalach. . Man oh man, but that pug sure knew how to kiss.
And maybe
Yeah. She’d bail the boxer’s ass out of trouble, tune in that oldies station, steal another kiss. .
Maybe two. .
Yeah.
Kate got up.
Something battered the door. Once. . twice. . but the deadbolt held firm.
Gunfire exploded outside. Jack sidestepped as a bullet whipped past his ear, missing him by inches.
The door flew open.
Wyetta Earp stepped into the room, her pistol held high. Jack’s empty hands rose automatically.
Wyetta took one look at him and started to laugh.
“What the hell happened to your hair, cowboy?”
Jack shrugged. “It’s kind of a long story.”
“Then we don’t have time for it.” She stepped toward him, the pistol steady in her hand. “Where’s Komoko’s money?”
Jack had no place to hide and he knew it. The room didn’t have a back door, and Wyetta had a gun. But instinct told him he had to move, so he backed up.
“Stand still.” Wyetta cocked her pistol. “You give me an answer, or you’re dead.”
“I don’t know,” Jack said. “You think I’d be here if I did?”
Wyetta smiled. “C’mon now, cowboy. Don’t treat me like an idiot. You and your girlfriend came here tonight for a reason. And I’ve got the feeling it wasn’t just because you wanted to get into a gunfight with me and my deputy. I know what you came for, same way as you know what I came for. Just hand it over, and I promise that the end will come quick.”
“Okay,” Jack said, “you’ve got me.”
“That’s smart, cowboy. Let’s get this thing done.”
“The money’s in Benteen’s room.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No,” Jack said. “Really. It’s under her bed. .”
Kate’s foot found the brake pedal just in time to prevent the bullet-riddled truck from crashing into the side of the Saguaro Riptide Motel.
She dropped the stick into neutral and set the emergency brake. So far, so good. She still felt kind of woozy, but she was going to be okay.
Because she was thinking straight. She’d known, standing in the junkyard, that it was a long walk to the motel. So she’d climbed behind the wheel and driven there instead.
And here she was, ready to come to Jack Baddalach’s rescue.
She stepped out of the truck, the Benelli shotgun in her hands, her eyes scanning the darkness for a sign of Wyetta Earp or her deputy.
She saw the deputy soon enough.
The deputy was dead.
Kate had parked the truck on top of the woman.
Oh, man. She’d never run over a cop before.
Nothing she could do about it now, though.
She stepped over the deputy and started around the side of the motel.
Her foot struck something hard.
She looked down and spotted the Heckler lying there on the ground.
That meant that Baddalach didn’t have a gun.
That meant that he was in real trouble.
“The money’s in room 23,” Jack said.
“This is unreal.” Wyetta shook her head. “Money hidden under a bed … I don’t believe it.”
“Believe it. Sheriff. Because it’s the truth.”
The space was tight on the landing. Wyetta was behind Jack, her pistol at his back. He knew he’d only have one chance, and if he blew it-
“Here we are,” he said.
“Open the door.”
“I don’t have the key.”
“Oh, man,” Wyetta said.
“Maybe you should shoot the lock,” Jack suggested.
She smiled, “I’ll kick it in, cowboy.”
“You sure? I mean, you had to shoot off the lock to get in the other room.”
“Step aside. . but don’t try anything funny.”
Jack pressed his back against the railing.
Wyetta holstered her pistol.
She sprang forward, her heel smacking the door.
It shuddered but didn’t give.
She kicked it again. . and again.
The fourth kick did the trick.
And that was when Jack moved. He slammed against Wyetta’s shoulder while her leg was still in the air, and his shove coupled with her forward momentum tumbled her into the room.
Jack landed on top of Wyetta, his right hand scrambling for her bolstered gun. His fingers found the grip, and he started to pull it, and he noticed that the perfume she was wearing was really kind of nice-
And her elbow cracked against his cheek.
Jack toppled to the side, feeling like he’d been whacked with a sledgehammer.
But that was okay. Because he had the sheriff’s pistol in his hand.
But Jesus, he couldn’t make his hand work.
And Wyetta was up. Her boot slammed his wrist and the pistol flew across the room. Jack watched it go and then saw her boot coming back from the other direction.
Instinct made him move. He leaned back, and her left foot sailed past his nose, missing him by less than an inch, and his hand lashed out and grabbed her right leg and he jerked her off balance.
She crashed ass-first to the floor.
And now Jack was up.
But he had to get past Wyetta to get to the gun.
He made a jump for it.
Her foot lashed out.
Caught him in the crotch as he sailed over her head.
He slammed the floor hard. Tried to get up.
The ref was counting. Five. . Six. . Seven. .
He had to get up soon.
Eight. . Nine. .
Because Wyetta was up.
And she had the gun.
She smiled at him. “Cowboy,” she said, “you can kiss your ass good-”
Gunfire erupted from the doorway.
