The Relic Runner Origin Story Box Set by Ernest Dempsey (non fiction books to read TXT) 📕

She stalked over to him, crossing the twenty feet with long strides. The door closed slowly behind her as she approached. The untucked shirt, flapped at her hips. The long v at the neck stretched down to the very top of her breasts, revealing nothing, and promising the same.

She stopped short of Dak's table and crossed her arms. "Enjoying the reposado?" she asked in a heavy, exotic accent.

He looked down at the glass, letting his gaze linger on it for a few dramatic seconds, then diverted his eyes to meet hers. They pulled him in like twin vortexes, their gravity stronger than a thousand black holes. He wondered if her soul was as dark, but didn't push himself to find out.

The stunning young cantina owner stood out in the dusty bar like an orchid in the Sahara, an impossible bloom in an otherwise desolate wasteland.

Stupid pickup lines bubbled to mind. Not as much as I'm enjoying the view, he thought, but he knew better than to say something so trite. She was a businesswoman. Attractive, no question, but she wasn't here to be hit on or complimented. If they'd been two strangers at someone else's bar, he might have taken a chance, though he knew deep down it could go nowhere. His heart was still in Istanbul with a woman who would never take him back.

"It's excellent," he said, opting for focused honesty on the drink.

"I should hope so. I make it."

He tilted his head to the side and questioned her with raised eyebrows. "Yeah?"

"Yep," she said with a twitch of the head. "Family secret."

She slid into the seat across from him and folded her hands atop the table.

"Well, your secret is certainly safe with me," he offered.

"I hope so. I wouldn't want it slipping out."

Was she flirting? He was off his game. It had been a long time since he'd flirted with anyone. Nicky was the last woman he'd engaged with romantically. A few memories flittered in and out of his mind, but only sparse recollections of flirting appeared.

"I don't have any friends and I can't speak to my family. So, I'd say it's safer with me than in Fort Knox."

There was the cliche he was trying to avoid.

"Why do you think I agreed to meet you?" she asked. "My clients are one hundred percent referral only. Will vouched for you. While he didn't give me many details about your situation, he did say you were on your own and trying to keep a low profile." She held up a dismissive hand. "Don't bother telling me your story. I don't want to know. Will said you're good. That means you're good. So, what brings you to Guadalajara to my," she twirled a hand in the air, "fine establishment?"

Dak reached under the table toward his pocket. She shifted cautiously at the suspicious movement.

"Just a picture," he said, and produced an image slightly larger than a business card. He slid the picture across the table and spun it around, then withdrew his hand. "Luis Martinez," he said. "I need to find him."

She looked at the image for all of three seconds. When she lifted her head, she looked aghast.

A tentative chuckle escaped her lungs. "You need to find Luis Martinez? Why? You got a death wish or something?"

"No," Dak said. "I have something for him."

Surprise stretched across her face. Her wide, disbelieving eyes glowered back at him. "You're not a drug dealer. And you're not with the American government. What could you possibly have for Luis?"

"How do you know I'm not a Federale?" Dak joked.

She snorted. "Right."

"You're correct. I'm not a drug dealer. Luis Martinez tried to kill me. He and some of my…coworkers left me for dead in a cave on the other side of the world. I intend to repay that kindness."

The astonishment melted from her expression, replaced by incredulity. "You think you're going to kill Luis Martinez?" She said it as if he was trying to fly a cardboard box to the moon. "If you're a friend of Will, I assume that means you're skilled in some form of combat. Maybe you're ex-military."

He gave no hint of truth to the last.

"The fact is, it doesn't matter." She leaned in close. She didn't need to look over her shoulder. If someone was listening, her newest patron would have cautioned her. "Luis Martinez is the head of security for Giovani Mendoza. You know who he is?"

Dak nodded. "Head of the Dorado Aguila cartel."

"That's right," she confirmed. "And do you know who they are?"

"You don't have to fill me in on the danger," Dak informed. "I know who they are, what they are, and how they deal with enemies. The way they deal with innocents, apparently, isn't much different. I'm here for Luis. He owes a debt and he's going to pay it in blood. If they kill me, so be it." He slumped back, twisting the the tequila glass with forefinger and thumb. His eyes glazed over as he stared at the contents. "Doesn't matter. I'm dead anyway."

A stout man walked through the front door and sauntered over to the bar. His belly protruded over his belt, barely held back by a dirty red T-shirt that was easily one size too small. His jeans bore patches of dust and his cowboy boots should have been replaced years ago. Somehow, he still had money for booze.

The bartender, a skinny young man with a black handlebar mustache, stepped to the counter to serve the newcomer.

Dak watched the exchange for a second and then returned to the conversation. "All I need from you is his location. I can handle the rest."

"You can't. That much I can promise you. But if you're looking to die, who am I to stop you?" She stood up and pushed the picture across the table, stopping near the glass.

He wasn't sure what that meant. Was she going to help him or was that the end of the conversation?"

"So, does that mean you'll help me?"

She took a deep breath.