anger as a thunderhead. “I swear,” he said as he came up the stairs,
talking to himself as much as to Longarm, “one of these days I’m goin’ to
whup that little son of a bitch-“
“No, you won’t,” Longarm told him. “He’s a lawman, and you are too, Coffin.”
Coffin glared at him. “You never had to go up against a badge-toter in your time, Long?”
“Not an honest one,” Longarm said, remembering a few crooked—not to mention homicidal—lawmen he had run into over the years. A badge didn’t always mean a fella was on the same side as he was, but Longarm was usually willing to give the man the benefit of the doubt until he proved otherwise.
Coffin jerked a thumb at the stairs. “Aw, hell, go get your breakfast. I’ve already et.”
“The sheriff fed you, huh?” Longarm couldn’t resist asking as he started down the stairs. Coffin just glowered darkly at him.
By the time Longarm got back to the hotel, Coffin had already had breakfast sent up to the suites from the kitchen. The little Italian cook wasn’t happy about having to prepare food for such a small number of people, Coffin informed Longarm, but he was doing it.
“You reckon they’ll finish up their jawin’ today?” Coffin asked hopefully.
“I’d be mighty surprised if they did,” said Longarm.
They didn’t. Three more days rolled by, in fact, and although Franklin Barton and Don Alfredo Guiterrez both seemed optimistic that an agreement would be reached soon, Longarm couldn’t tell if they were getting any closer to being finished. Though Barton got along well with Don Alfredo, he was as prickly as ever with Longarm, Coffin, and his assistants, constantly finding fault with nearly everything they did. The meals weren’t right, the hotel beds were uncomfortable, the weather was too hot and dusty—and somehow Barton made all of that seem like Longarm’s fault.
Longarm hoped these meetings wouldn’t go on for too much longer. He would purely hate to have to wire Billy Vail in Denver with the news that he’d punched Franklin Barton right in his obnoxious face.
And then there was Sonia Guiterrez.
Longarm had never been one to be too upset when an attractive woman was interested in him, but Sonia was about to make him go plumb crazy. She seized every opportunity to rub up against him or make low-voiced comments about what she would like to do to him and what she wanted him to do to her. There was never any chance to act on her attempts at seduction, however, and after a while Longarm got the idea that was the way she wanted it. He was about to decide that she was one of those women who liked to get a fella all hot and bothered, all the while knowing that there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.
He wondered if she was doing the same thing to Coffin. From the way he glared at her when she wasn’t looking and muttered under his breath and clenched and unclenched his hands, Longarm figured she was.
But at least there had been no sign of El Aguila. Sheriff Sanderson was convinced that the bandit leader and his gang were still on the other side of the Rio Grande. As far as Longarm was concerned, they could stay there.
On the evening of his fifth full day in Del Rio, Longarm was strolling back across the street toward the hotel after eating dinner at the Red Top when he heard someone call softly from the mouth of an alley, “Senor Long.”
Longarm stopped, recognizing Sonia’s voice. She went on. “Please, Senor Long, I need you.”
Longarm wasn’t in the habit of walking into dark alleys, no matter how seductive the voice summoning him might be. That was a good way to wind up dead. Instead, he asked in a quiet voice, “What is it, Senorita Guiterrez?”
She came out of the alley mouth then, stepping into the light from a window that fell across the gap in the boardwalk. Longarm could see that she was unarmed.
Well, not exactly unarmed, he thought. The long red skirt and the white peasant blouse she wore concealed the real weapons she carried, but just barely. The neckline of the blouse was scandalously low. She looked like the sort of woman who ought to be in a cantina somewhere, dancing sensuously to the music of a guitarist, rather than the daughter of a wealthy, powerful diplomat.
Longarm walked toward her, still cautious, and she came to meet him. She caught hold of his left hand as she stepped up to him. “Senor Long, you have tormented me enough,” she said.
“Tormented you?” said Longarm. “I figured it was the other way around.”
“No! Day after day I have watched you and felt my need for you growing.” She tugged him toward the alley mouth. “I would have you at last. No longer can I stand the tortures of desire.”
She had a high-flown way of talking, that was for sure. Longarm allowed her to lead him into the alley. Maybe the time had finally come. It took only a moment for his eyes to adjust to the gloom of the alley, and he saw that they were alone.
Sonia came into his arms and lifted her mouth to his. Her kiss was searing as her lips pressed hard to his. Longarm put his arms around her and pulled her against him, feeling the soft cushions of her breasts flatten against his chest. He slid one hand down her back to the swell of her hips and caressed her bottom, squeezing hard on each cheek. She thrust her tongue between his lips, the tip of it fencing with his own.
After a moment, Sonia reached down to caress his manhood through his trousers. She broke the kiss and uttered a small cry of delight at the size of him. “Ah, Senor Long, she sighed, “you will fill me so well!”
“You intend for us to have at it right here in the alley?” Longarm asked her.
“Yes! Take me like you would a puta! That is what I am tonight, Senor Long. I am your whore.”
Well, if that was what she wanted, thought Longarm, he supposed he ought to oblige her. It had been his experience that some women, even fancy ladies, liked to act anything but ladylike on occasion.
“Do it to me standing up,” Sonia hissed as she reached down to hike up her long skirt. In the faint light that
