“Don’t shoot it,” Gail said.
A moment later I realized the black animal was a German shepherd. The dog ran toward us and I had to wonder if it was attacking or rushing to greet us.
“What the hell is a dog doing in here? Is it a guard dog?” I asked.
“No, damnit, I’d rather have a guard dog. Keep your eyes open, he isn’t alone.”
I looked past the dog, but the aisle remained empty.
The dog slid to a stop not five feet from the gate. It bared its teeth and growled.
“Bruno, hey buddy, where’s the love?” Gail asked.
“You know him?” I asked.
“Sure, Bruno’s an old friend. It’s his owners I don’t get along with.” She stepped closer to the chain-link gate and knelt. The dog growled deeper and stepped back a little.
“Damn, what’s gotten into him?” Gail said.
“Company,” I said as two people entered the far end of the aisle and walked toward us. They held shotguns, barrels down, and carried themselves as if they were confident in their abilities with the weapons.
I started when I saw the second person was a dark-haired, curvaceous woman in her early thirties. She was a couple of inches shorter than Gail’s five foot ten. Her buttoned blouse was tight across her bosom and enough buttons were undone to show a generous cleavage. Her hips were wider than Gail’s, but they balanced her body nicely. Her skin was olive and smooth except for the puckering of her left cheek where the plastic surgeons hadn’t been able to completely hide the bullet scar. I moved the shotgun’s stock from my shoulder to my hip and took my finger off the trigger. I could still bring the barrel around at a moment’s notice.
Gail stopped trying to make friends with Bruno. She stood erect and moved a little to my left.
“Hola, Javier, Marta. What are the Morenos hunting tonight?” Gail asked.
The Morenos came to a stop alongside the dog. Marta stared at me for a moment and I saw the questions in her gaze. She nodded in my direction. The corner of her mouth curved upwards and she said something to her brother in Spanish.
Javier glanced my way and gave a brief dip of his head before facing Gail. “We were wondering the same thing about you.” He cocked his head toward me. “This is your new partner?”
“For now,” Gail said.
I nodded toward the Morenos. I’d taken numerous shocks over the last few days, but seeing Marta was right up there with ghouls and werewolves. What weird combination of circumstances had brought the two of us back together after a separation that was painful, sudden, and damn near bloody? I kept my index finger along the side of the Mossberg’s trigger and the barrel pointed toward the ceiling. The Morenos were clothed similarly to us, boots, jeans, shirts, and light jackets. Bulges hid obvious weapons. In Marta’s case, I was willing to bet she carried a Beretta identical to the one she carried in Afghanistan. She’d loved that pistol with a passion bordering on the obsessive.
Bruno growled again and Javier rested a hand on the dog’s head.
“What’s with your dog, Javier? He was always the most likable of the three of you,” Gail said.
Javier was Marta’s younger brother and about her height although of a slightly heavier build. She’d talked about him enough over many long nights, but Gail knowing both of them was just damned weird. I hadn’t seen Marta in three years, she’d mustered out the year before me and had tried to get me to request an early out and leave with her. Was this why she was in such a hurry to get out after nearly twelve years in the Army? Hunting? With her brother?
Javier kept stroking the dog’s head. “He’s pretty good at picking up spooks. I guess he’s located what we’re looking for.”
“And what would that be?” Gail asked.
“You must know or you wouldn’t be here,” Javier said. “These professors are dying and it started with a new dig. They’ve awakened some old Indian spook and we’re going to dispel it before it gets the rest of them. So do you want to handle it together or leave it to us?”
Gail laughed roughly. “You guys haven’t changed. You still think you’re the best hunters who ever spilled a creature’s blood. We were here first and we aren’t leaving. Besides, there’s not enough work for two teams on this hunt.”
Javier shook his head, minute little movements that were barely noticeable. “Now don’t be that way, Gail. We offered to help you and your dad last year and you turned us down then too, look what that got you.”
Gail shifted her stance and slipped her jacket back from her Colt. “You bastard, you knew what we were going up against and deliberately failed to warn us. Dad would still be alive if you’d had the decency to tell us what you knew.”
“There’s that I guess,” Javier said with a slight nod. “But we offered to share the hunt, you could have partnered with us and then your daddy might still be alive.”
I eased the shotgun’s barrel a little lower, not enough to be aiming at either of the Morenos, but plenty to let them see the motion.
Marta definitely noticed and she cocked her head to the side. I had seen that response on many occasions, usually just before she went ballistic on someone. She smiled. “Jesse, how you been, amoroso?”
Gail’s head flinched a half degree toward me and stopped.
“I’ve been good, inamorata, or at least I’ve been staying out of trouble.”
Marta chuckled. “I doubt you’ll be out of trouble much longer with the company you’re keeping. Gail is …” She paused and took an appraising look at Gail. “Jesse is this ‘the’ Gail?”
That time Gail’s head snapped nearly half way around. I could see her eyes narrowing.
I shrugged. “Yeah, I know, weird coincidence, right?
