Sol called Mariachiville.
More English than Spanish echoed off the colorfully tiled fountains, while parrots chattered in the surrounding jacaranda trees. Those gorgeous lilac-blur trumpet flowers were blowing in the wind with mariachi band fervor. Scents of hot peppers and cilantro mingled with the perfume of tropical blooms. The waitstaff was young, vibrant, and bilingual. I was ready to book a return trip to Juarez for a romantic getaway with Ric at a five-star hotel.
Over glasses of Negra Modelo beer Ric and Tallgrass were muttering about “rendezvousing” with military “big shots” and “borrowing” some firepower bearing numbers and alphabet letters instead of names.
“Quick and I go along tonight, no matter what?” I inserted into their intense, whispering dialogue.
Tallgrass looked at Ric, who nodded impatiently. “Of course. You and the dog have your built-in defense systems. You’ve proven that time and again. I get to solo head-to-head with El Demonio, though.” His expression relaxed into a grin. “Unless my ass is being whupped. Then, I expect all of you to play some really killer backup.”
The technical talk ended when the waiter wafted platter-size dishes of heavy pottery holding the kind of ammunition I dig—nachos, fresh guacamole, fiery salsa, tomatillos and chipotle sauce, enchiladas, tacos, jalapeño and habanero peppers.
This menu could melt down zombies, not to mention start a hot border war with the digestive system. We finished with smooth, sweetly bland crème caramel all around.
“I can see why tourists won’t give up on this border city.” Ric’s smile lit up the entire area and even the big blue sky above it. “I won’t give it over to the gangs and cartels either,” he added, his glance darkening.
“Softly,” Tallgrass cautioned him. “Enjoy the day,
“
“Wouldn’t mind if I did.” Tallgrass winked at me as I lifted my bubble of a margarita glass in a toast to Ric. “Is her husband involved in the US side of tonight’s action?”
Ric shook his head. “Burnside is really and truly retired. It’s better that way. He never knew why I was enslaved by Torbellino. Discovering my dead-dowsing abilities—or even my civilian efforts to bring down the Torbellino cartel—would bring out the army mule in him.”
“Do you regret he never really knew you?” I asked Ric.
Now that I was starting to wonder who had sired me, I was realizing I needed to find that out as badly as Ric needed to stop his lifelong lethal enemy. My father might be someone I knew and would never suspect, or ever respect. He might already know me and not be willing to admit it.
Ric shook his head. “Why regret it? My foster dad’s a suck-it-up kind of guy. He wouldn’t have wanted any whining.”
I exchanged a glance with Tallgrass. This man was Ric’s soul-father. I could only hope to find one as wise and supportive as he was. I again recalled my brushes with the Perry Mason CinSim, and smiled. Couldn’t ever be for real, but I could always rely on Perry as paternal backup if my freewheeling investigation work got me into any tangles with the law.
I realized that Ric’s resting hand was warm over mine, the hot dappled sunshine sealing our mutual thoughts with the kiss of contact.
“I’ve had way more in the way of parents than you have, Del.” His smile was as healing as my lips and Quicksilver’s tongue could be at times. “Sometimes great, sometimes not so. Remember that.”
What struck me then, with surprise, was that Quick and I shared that oral healing thing. I’d never quite focused on that before. Poison dog lips? And mine? I stared into my dog’s blue eyes, blander and paler than my own.
He laid his snout on my knee and gave me his clearest mountain-lake gaze.
This tableside love fest was getting sweeter than tooth decay. I shook off my mood with Quick’s snout and Ric’s hand.
“What do we do next?” I asked.
“Shopping,” Ric said.
I didn’t think he and Tallgrass had silver and sombreros in mind. Besides drugs heading north and dead bodies, Juarez was most noted for being the busiest illegal weapons purveyor on the south banks of the Rio Grande.
“THIS PLACE IS called the
Night had returned to Juarez, eclipsing its sunny side.
I was back in Tallgrass’s loaned camos and we were back on the ridge where Quicksilver and I had intercepted him and Ric the previous night, smelling creosote bushes and tented by small cold stars and a moon so big it seemed blurry.
“You asked me where our party was gonna make our stand,” Tallgrass said. “All the military intelligence targeted this place southeast of Juarez as the most violent drug-war zone. You have something against the name Guadalupe?”
“No. I just hope that means we have the Virgin of Guadalupe on our side.”
“We all met up last night a bit farther north, but this is that same long ridge where Ric is sure Torbellino’s soldiers will hunker down, ready to mow down escapees from the Juarez and Sinaloa cartels clash up there.”
“And the Mexican-US forces will stay north to capture whoever survives the cartel war too, entirely unaware of this side of the contest farther south?” I wanted to get the combatants and the geography straight.
“Yup. Torbellino will form an unsuspected trap south of the action, offing any rival cartel men who escape the government trap. That’ll make him chief dog in the border smuggling trade.”
“So two guys, a gal, and a dog are going to take out Torbellino’s army?” I asked.
“It was supposed to have been just two guys,” Tallgrass reminded me sternly. “And Ric only wanted me along as backup.”
“Talk about a Lone Ranger. Maybe he has some secret weapon.”
“Maybe you.” Tallgrass chuckled.” I suppose you were too busy using your feminine wiles last night to get all the logistical details out of him.”
“Wiles take time. I prefer truth. I never thought Ric could or would keep something this big secret from me.”
Tallgrass shook his head at Ric’s solo act. “The gal and dog weren’t in our original plans, but we four did pretty well against Torbellino’s Wichita posse. All I know is Ric wanted to wait and take El Demonio down on their common ground where he’d once been a helpless child.”
“Ric’s personal crusade is the source of his greatest personal danger,” I told Tallgrass. “He’ll never allow anyone else to be enslaved as he was, and he’s absolutely fierce and fearless in going after the exploiters. That’s why I
I saluted the night vision goggles casually stationed atop my head where California women wore sunglasses 24/7.
Then I lowered the goggles to focus first on the heat lightning doing a war dance on the night horizon, then far closer and below, on Ric and Quicksilver. Funny, Ric hadn’t been upset about the
Together the hunting pair had reassembled the panicking desert reptile and insect life of last night into a thin silver line down in the sand canyon’s crease. Together, they were belly-crawling up the next ridge, which was the only cover between here and the Valley of Guadalupe.
There the sagebrush stations of hidden weaponry were now shaking with the emergence of a low-profile army of drug-and-zombie smuggling gangs and hitmen.
The silent night was abruptly interrupted by distant automatic gunfire chattering amid the spectacular fireworks of exploding grenades and shoulder-launched missiles. Out of sight to the north the warring cartels were
