Page 110 of Unleashed
Strict extract. Do not kill.
Romeo and Enzo have arranged a location for us to hold Graves, somewhere off the ranch, somewhere that doesn't trace back to Sterling land. We grab him, we deliver him, and the trail dies in the desert.
By the time we hit Prescott, the sun is high, and the desert is doing what it does, baking everything flat and gold and merciless. I pull off the highway three miles out and park behind a gas station.
I key the comms. "Paulie, talk to me."
Static.
"Ridge is good. Eyes on the property. Two vehicles. Three tangos. One on the porch, two inside through the east window. Target confirmed in the main room, seated."
"Seated?"
"Eating lunch. The man's having a sandwich, Ace. Not close enough to tell you what’s in it."
Colten snorts.
"Copy. Hold position. Jett?"
"East side, staged. Ready on your go."
"Hold until those guards are on the road. Nobody moves early."
I pull back onto the highway. The truck grumbles along at twenty miles an hour, nice and easy, stock trailer swaying behind us. Right now, we’re just two ranchers, lost on a desert road, hauling an empty trailer because the livestock sale fell through, and we're heading home disappointed.
We know Graves is trained, so we had to get creative.
Two hundred yards past the property gate, I pull to the shoulder and kill the engine. Pop the hood. Step out into the sun.
The heat hits like a fist. I tug my hat lower and lean into the engine bay, making a show of checking hoses. Colten gets out the other side, stretches, squints around like he's never seen a desert before.
We ain’t ever taken an acting class before, but we’re pretty good at it.
"Think this is the way back to New Mexico?" he calls, loud enough to carry.
"GPS died about forty miles back," I say.
We wait.
Four minutes. That’s when I hear the crunch of tires on dirt before I see the vehicle, the black sedan pulling out of the gate, rolling toward us.
I don't look up, just keep my hands in the engine.
The sedan stops thirty feet away. One door opens. The first security detail gets out, his gun on display, the second stays in the car with the engine running.
Easy. We can take on two.
"Can we help you?" the first one calls.
Colten pulls off his hat and wipes his forehead. Every inch the lost cowboy. "Yeah, hey, sorry about this. Engine started overheating about ten miles back. You wouldn't know if there's a shop nearby? Trying to get this trailer back to Las Cruces, and this damn truck's been fighting us the whole way."
The Greek walks closer. Eyes sweep the trailer, the truck, Colten, and me. I keep my head down.
"No shop for thirty miles."
"Thirty miles? Shit." Colten rubs the back of his neck. "Mind if we let her cool down? I think we've got coolant in the back."
I key the comms with the mic taped inside my sleeve. Two clicks, and that means Jett moves.
