do if he tried. “If you do, then you’re signing our family’s death warrant. As soon as Eddie finds out I’ve made contact with you, they’re all dead.”
“What do you plan on doing?” Bob was seething.
“I’m going to kill Eddie first.”
“You’re a murderer, too?”
No point in beating around the bush. “Bob, I shot three Chechens and tortured a fourth one to death before I ate breakfast this morning. What do you think?” I answered, hard and low.
He was taken a back. “That was you? I saw the bulletin about the SAM and the bodies. ICE nailed some more coming over at dawn with missiles because of an anonymous tip. The report said that one of them had been cut to ribbons, bullets in the other one’s heads, execution style. . . . I can’t imagine my little brother doing that.” Bob slowly sat back down. “What have you become?”
“I’m a monster,” I answered truthfully. “But I’m still your brother. Protect them, Bob. It’s up to you.” I turned and walked for the back door. I’m sure this was a lot to take in.
“Hector.”
I stopped, hand on the doorknob. He sounded broken. It tore my heart open. “Yeah, Bob?”
“Be careful, little bro.”
“You, too,” I answered as I slipped out the door and into the night. I had to pause to wipe my eyes before scaling the back fence.
Chapter 26:
Qagmire
VALENTINE
Quagmire, Nevada
June 28
0500
The sun wouldn’t be up for a while, but the little diner where Jill worked opened at five. The place opened at oh-dark-thirty so the local ranchers could get their breakfast and coffee. She was on early shift today and was probably getting ready for the early birds. At this hour, she’d be the only one there, doing both the cooking and the serving. The regular cooks and waitresses came in later in the morning.
I hadn’t planned on being up that early, but I still had terrible nightmares sometimes. Once I woke up from one of those, I was up for the day. Hell, I didn’t want to go back to sleep anyway. I was hungry, too, so off I went to the only place in town where I could get breakfast at that hour without cooking it myself.
A few days earlier, Hawk and I had pulled my Mustang out of his shed and dusted it off. He’d taken very good care of it. The oil had been changed, the tank was full, and the registration fee had been paid for me. I’d missed my car, and it was nice to have it back.
The diner Jill worked at was called Shifty’s
Really, I was in the same situation. After being gone for months, I was back in the United States, home sweet home. Nothing had changed. The fall of Zubara had been pretty big news while it was happening, but the press had no idea there was direct American involvement. The only ones that even suspected that were conspiracy nuts like Roger Geonoy and the kooky guests on
Anyway, I was in an interesting situation. It was as if the last six of months of my life had never happened. Save for the scars on my body and the ache in my heart, it would’ve been easy to pretend that all was well and that everything was normal.
And let me tell you, it was tempting. Back at the Exodus base I had been so filled with rage that I was ready to track Gordon Willis down and murder him. That had been my primary motivation for returning home, after all. But now that I was here . . . well, let’s just say that reality had sunk in a little bit.
Having a quiet life and working on Hawk’s ranch had done me a lot of good. My mom used to say that taking care of animals, especially horses, was good for the soul. She was onto something, I think. Hawk wouldn’t come out and say it, but I think he really enjoyed having Jill and me around. He was old enough to be our father, and had lived alone since his wife, Elaine, died.
Seeing Jill every day had been nice, too. The girl was an absolute sweetheart, and she was beautiful too. After losing Sarah, I was completely disinterested in any kind of romantic pursuits, but . . . well, Jill was easy on the eyes, especially in the little cutoffs and tank top she wore when working in the garden. If things had been different . . . But they weren’t.
In any case, I wasn’t ready for anything like that, and Jill was still going on and on about how dreamy Lorenzo was. I felt bad for the girl. She was young and, despite everything she’d been through, naive. Lorenzo wasn’t coming back for her, period, end of story. I don’t care if he did save my life; it was plain to see what was going on. I just didn’t have the heart to tell her. She’d figure it out eventually. Probably better that she came to the realization on her own.
The question remained, though: What in the hell was
I had thousands of dollars stashed away, so I wasn’t hurting for money at the moment. I wasn’t about to try to access my old Las Vegas Federal Credit Union account, and I doubted I’d ever been paid a dime for my service in Zubara. But I still had access to my old offshore account with the Bank of Grand Cayman. As far as I knew, my former employers had never found out about it. They probably didn’t look real hard, considering they were planning on killing me anyway.
But I couldn’t stay in Quagmire forever. It was a small town in the middle of nowhere, which seems like a good place to hide, but it’s really not. People noticed a new face in Quagmire, especially one as scarred up as mine. Sooner or later somebody would notice me, and being noticed could get me killed. Not just me, either, but Hawk and Jill also.
Besides, I wasn’t about to just stay in Hawk’s spare bedroom, mooching off his hospitality until my savings ran out. I was determined not to be a burden on him or put him at risk. I had to leave Quagmire, and soon. But where would I go? My original plan of hunting down Gordon Willis seemed, as Ling suggested it would, silly now. The injustice of what that man had done still burned a pit in my stomach, and I hated him all the more for being powerless to change it, but what could I do? Even if I could get to him without getting picked up, would killing him
