Outlaws by Matt Rogers (phonics books TXT) 📕

He had unmistakable nihilism in his eyes. As if he was silently telling her, See what I told you? I don’t want this. I never did. And now here we are.

King said, ‘Damien, what’s going to happen to me if I put a bullet in you?’

Álvaro looked at the floor.

King said, ‘Now’s your chance. Tell tales of your family’s power. Tell me everything.’

María opened her mouth.

King aimed the Glock at her face.

She quietened.

Damien just slowly shook his head, his eyes squeezed shut, his face pale.

King thought, They still think I’m a monster.

They don’t know this is Judgment Day.

He turned to María and said, ‘I’m here for the container that just got dropped off. I’m willing to let you all go if you look the other way. There’s some valuable goddamn women in there. I could get a pretty penny for them. How’d you pull that deal off?’

María leered, sensing opportunity. ‘Wouldn’t you like to know?’

‘Don’t push your luck.’

She shrugged, opening back up, seizing the moment. ‘Damien here doesn’t think it’s savoury. But it’s good for business. And it gives this one—’ she pinched Damien’s cheek, ‘—a solid rep. Doesn’t it?’

She spoke to him like someone spoke to their pet.

King realised what he needed to do.

He raised an eyebrow, and half-smiled, embracing the malevolence. ‘I knew it. I could see in his eyes he was a pussy.’

Damien kept looking at the floor.

María laughed, keeping her leg draped over him. ‘You’re smart. It’s okay. I’m bringing him round. He’ll get there eventually. But, yes, take the container. There’s a lot more where that came from. I think that’s a fair trade, don’t you?’

King nodded. ‘Yeah.’

Then he turned to the fat guy with the red cheeks. ‘What about you? You going to miss the supply?’

The red cheeks brightened as the little psychopath smiled.

‘Nah, man,’ the kid said. ‘I can go a few weeks without. Been a wild ride for the last year, though. You’d better enjoy yourself when you run with what’s inside. Prime eye candy.’

King laughed.

The fat guy laughed.

María joined in.

Damien looked at the floor.

King stood up, wiped the smile off his face, and shot both María and the fat guy once each in the forehead.

84

Neither had the chance to react. They slammed back against the sofa and froze in seated positions, their wide eyes glassed over.

Damien finally looked up.

Genuine surprise on his face.

King said, ‘You can disappear. They’ll chalk it up to an abduction if everyone else in this compound is dead. They won’t look for you for very long. They’ll assume you were taken and tortured and killed and then buried.’

Damien stared blankly.

King said, ‘Or you can run back to Daddy, and he’ll give you a new gig like this, and the same thing will happen eventually. It might be someone like me, or it might be a rival cartel. The outcome’s the same.’

Damien managed an imperceptible jerk of the chin — it might have been a nod.

King said, ‘I didn’t need to ask you a thing. I can read people. You never wanted this life but you felt trapped in it. Your girlfriend made the decisions for you, and you were slowly getting desensitised to it all. You were coaxed toward a cliff edge. You nearly went over it. This is your out. Take it or leave it.’

Damien said, ‘How can you be sure I’ll make the right decision?’

The first time he’d uttered a word since King had arrived.

He barely had an accent. His English was impeccable.

‘Because if you weren’t going to,’ King said, ‘you never would have asked that question.’

Then King looked around, morose. He added, ‘And I’ve killed enough people tonight.’

He walked out.

85

A vicious gust of desert wind blew in through the open doors and shattered windows as he made for the entrance.

The house’s foundations creaked, protesting the elements.

At least it wouldn’t bear the burden of caring for new residents for quite some time.

King stepped outside and surveyed the scene of destruction. There were bodies everywhere — scattered across the dirt, resting against bullet-riddled vehicles. Violetta was by the truck, her gun still raised, ever vigilant. Her face was flustered but her eyes were focused. She saw him emerge, and palpable relief washed over her. He nodded to her — it’s done — and she lowered the weapon.

Banks was on the other side of the truck, still in the zone, rolling corpses onto their backs with the toe of his combat boot and checking for signs of life. As King stepped down off the porch, he looked up and nodded with satisfaction.

Compound cleared.

King approached. ‘Well, now I feel stupid.’

Violetta said, ‘Why?’

‘I kept the container in the trailer because I thought we’d have to present it long before we shot up the place. Then our cover got blown way early, and we still pulled it off. So it was an unnecessary risk all along.’

Violetta looked at Coombs’ body. ‘Speaking of cover being blown … who the hell is that?’

‘The guy who sent me to Moscow,’ King said. ‘Slater’s old instructor.’

Violetta stared at the dead man, and then at King. ‘That’s why I pressured you not to take civilian gigs.’

‘I’m sorry I didn’t listen.’

She stopped, taken aback. She must have been expecting an argument.

Clarity cleared his head as he looked at her. ‘What? You want me to put up a fight? I made a bad judgment call. End of story.’

She nodded, somewhat reserved. ‘So we’re done? This is finished?’

King regarded the trailer. ‘We’ll take the container to a police station. Somewhere commercial. Somewhere well-known. Laguna Beach, maybe. There’s no way the cartel owns cops in good neighbourhoods. Out here, that’s where they have control. In the places most people don’t have the nerve to stick their noses.’

‘People live out here,’ Violetta said.

‘This place is as obvious as it gets,’ he said. ‘Anyone who’s seen it hasn’t had the backbone to do a thing about it.’

He surveyed the dead, and added, ‘Just one of many problems I’m looking at.’

‘Problems you solved,’ Violetta said.

Banks had been lackadaisically sauntering up