Out of breath, breathing heavily, Patton turned around. “Do you think,” he sucked in more air, “we lost—” he stood straight, his eyes staring down the black hole of a 1911 muzzle.
“Drop it. Drop the gun...now.”
His chest heaving, he cracked a thin smile. “Are you serious?” He poked his chin at the trees beyond her shoulder. “I just saved your life back there.”
Her face void of emotion, she lined up the Colt’s sights on his nose. “I won’t tell you twice.”
He chortled under his breath, “You have some trust issues, Marshal Devlin...” before flipping the forty-caliber onto the hardpan earth. “...big, fat ones.”
After glancing at the discarded Glock, Devlin kept her eyes on Patton while stooping to grab the gun. She slid the pistol into the waistband at the back of her jeans, “Get going,” and waved her forty-five, “that way.”
“Something tells me you weren’t nursed at the breast, were you?” Patton pushed a low-hanging limb and bypassed the obstacle. “Studies have shown that breastfeeding really bonds a mother and child. And, if I’m not mistaken, it also helps children later in life...to play nice with others...to become well-adjusted to societal norms and customs...” he half turned his upper body and shot a sideways glance at Devlin, “and to be more trustworthy of others.”
Devlin slipped by the swaying branch, her ears hearing his prattle while her mind processed the last half hour. Military hardware, tactical and coordinated maneuvers...those men couldn’t have been roadside bandits. They had to be professionals.
Two minutes of hiking and one-way jabbering passed.
“I sense you’re not much of a talker, Marshal Devlin.” Patton bobbed his head. “That’s okay. I don’t mind.” He paused. “However, at some point, we’re going to have to address the elephant in the room.” He lifted his hands until his restraints were stretched to their limit. “Excuse me...the elephant in the great outdoors.”
Why were they waiting for us? How’d they know we’d be coming that way? Devlin recalled the accident outside of Villa Mainero. Was that one staged too? She saw the map of the area in her head. We were cut off from MEX-85. The only other route back to the highway was through San Fernando...and the ambush point.
Patton glimpsed the deputy marshal out of the corner of his eye. “You know...I bet you’d be great at giving someone the ‘silent treatment.’”
Who was the target though? She gave him a nudge. “Turn right.”
The duo followed a faint path in the same direction.
“So do you have a plan or are we just making random turns,” he scanned the area, “strolling through nature?”
Alternating between taking backward looks and gaping at Patton, she pondered her question. It had to be him. She squinted at the back of her prisoner’s head. He was the target. They wanted him. Why? What’s so special about Simon Patton? She stuck out her chin. “Go left.”
He veered left, stepped over a log, and trotted down a slope before hoofing it up an incline. “This is fun. Makes me wish I had brought my step counter with me.” He ducked under a large branch. “I know. Let’s play a game. I’ll guess which way we’re going next. If I’m right, then you have to tell me one thing about you. If I’m wrong, I promise to stop talking.”
Devlin eyeballed him. Now, there’s a wager worth taking. She chuckled to herself. If Hawk were here, he’d have already shot this g—her mind drifted to her partner. If Hawk were here. She trudged along, wiping sweat from her brow. Simple words everyone says...if so and so were here. She rubbed the heel of one hand against her chest, hoping to dislodge the dull ache inside. Her shoulders slouching, the soles of her boots thumping off the ground, she fought to put one foot in front of the other. If Hawk were here. Devlin filled her lungs and stood straight. But he won’t be...ever again.
“I’m...going...to say,” Patton wagged his finger back and forth, “right. We’re going to hang a right up here somewhere.”
Five minutes later, Devlin spotted an opening. “Take a right...through that gap.”
“Yes.” Patton pumped a fist. “Nailed it.”
They emerged from the tree line and stepped into a clearing. The beginning of more forest—hundreds of yards away—waited for them at the end of a stretch of farmland.
“I win. Time to tell me one thing about Marshal Dev—”
“You win?” Devlin grabbed a handful of his shirt and spun him around to face her.
Noticing red in her eyes, he was unsure if she had been crying or was angry.
“You think this is some damn game?” She thrust a finger behind her. “Three agents were killed back there, protecting you.”
He followed her finger before coming back to her. She’s definitely pissed.
Her voice grew louder. “One was a close friend of mine. He leaves behind a wife and newborn baby. He did his job, he gave everything, so that...” she jammed her finger into Patton’s chest.
He took a quick step backward to keep from falling.
“...you could live.”
“Look...Marshal,” his demeanor was subdued, “I—”
“Shut...” she closed the distance and leveled the finger at his nose, “up.”
Patton arched his body away from her.
“I’m not done talking.”
He swallowed.
“Deputy Marshal Blake Hawkins is not going to die in vain. I’m going to get you back to the States where you will stand trial...where you will be judged by a jury of your peers.” She waved a dismissive hand. “Whatever the hell happens to you from there...I don’t really give a damn. Now, just keep your mouth shut,” she aimed the digit at an old house near the opposite tree line, “and head for that structure.”
Patton pursed his lips, glimpsed the shack, and regarded her.
“How was that? You’ve been bellyaching to get to know me better. Did you enjoy our little...heart-to-heart time?”
After studying her for a few moments, seeing pain and rage in her eyes and spread over her face, he made his way toward the building.
Devlin let out a heavy breath and
