A Cinnabar Sky - Page 57

Adan pointed, “That way. It will be a little farther and off to the side, then we can turn and come in to the truck from a different direction.”

“Lead the way, Dances with Wolves.”

Adan grinned, half embarrassed, half pleased, and took off across the hill top. Hunter checked the terrain behind them, scanning all the hilltops but not worrying about the draws because of the cactus, and then gave a quick look to the direction they were going. She saw no one and felt a bit of relief, then trotted after Adan.

She caught up with him on the next hill, and they continued toward the area where the hills ended and the flats began and went all the way to the highway. Both saw the pickup in the distance and angled toward it.

Adan said, “I will feel safer when we reach Terlingua.”

“Me, too.”

The two slowed as they reached the Dodge Ram, walking the last forty yards to it. When they reached the front of the big vehicle, Hunter spotted a shadow that seemed out of place.

The black man, John Factor, rose from the edge of a large creosote bush and aimed his silenced pistol at Hunter’s face. When Hunter ran at him, Factor instantly turned the pistol on Adan.

She stopped in her tracks. Adan’s face looked as if he’s seen a monster. His mouth formed a small o, and he froze.

“You two are a lot of trouble, you know that? Back there, when you changed direction, I lost you for a good bit. Only found you again when I spotted your heads above the brush.”

Hunter motioned Adan to come over and stand behind her.

“Uh-uh. Kid, move to her side, not behind her.” He wiggled the silencer to move him to where the kid presented a clear shot. Factor tossed him a pair of old Peerless steel handcuffs. “I’m out of plastic cuffs. Put one bracelet on her, and one on you.”

Hunter said, “You need to let us go. It would be in your best interest.”

John Factor smiled, “Probably would, but I already took the money. You two are going with me.”

“Where are you taking us?”

“A quiet place, out of the way.”

Hunter studied him a second. “Mexico.”

Factor nodded, “Some friends want to meet you two over there.” He pointed, “Leave your truck here, we’re going in mine.” He used the pistol again to point where they were to walk.

Hunter’s mind raced, but came up with no easy answers. Factor’s vehicle was only a hundred yards away, hidden in a shallow wash with brush along both sides, and just wide enough for the pickup to fit.

Factor nudged the two with the barrel of his pistol, “get going.” Hunter pushed through the brush to reach the door, then opened it and let Adan go in first before following. Factor followed, getting behind the wheel, saying, “I’ve got my pistol pointed under my arm at you. Start anything funny and I empty the pistol in you both.”

They sat back, with Hunter telling Adan to put on his seat belt.

As Factor backed out of the draw and turned the wheel in an open space to go out the gate, a man stepped to his window. It was Raymond. Hunter yelled as Factor shot Raymond in the chest as fast as he could pull the trigger.

Raymond went down, and Hunter beat on the back of John Factor’s head, until he shot through the seat and the bullet grazed her side. He yelled, “I missed on purpose! I won’t miss again. Sit back and shut up!”

Hunter’s ribs burned from the bullet, like a hot branding iron touching her skin.

He drove out of the pasture and on the road to race toward Terlingua.

Adan’s heart beat like a frightened rabbit’s, and he whispered to Hunter, “Let me help.”

He lifted her shirt, revealing a raw, red groove in her flesh that seeped blood down to her waistband, staining them along the beltline.

Adan had nothing to doctor it with, so he put his hand on the wound and pressed firmly. Hunter winced, but thanked him with a head nod.

Factor drove fast, calling on his phone as he did so to tell someone he was coming with prisoners. “I’ll be at the crossing in an hour, yes, by Lajitas. have somebody there in case I get stuck.”

Hunter fought not to cry, and listened as the man told the person on the phone, “I dropped some guy who walked up to my truck. Don’t know who he was, but I drilled him dead center.” He listened to the voice on the phone and replied, “Am I sure? Hell yes, I’m sure. Nobody survives six in the chest.”

Tags: Billy Kring Mystery
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