Page 27 of Rough Choice

“Yeah,” Kye repeated. “I thought we were making the safe choice skipping Mexico City and sending the vehicles on a separate route, but maybe it drew more attention to us.”

“If there are bounty hunters after us, it won’t matter what route we take. They’re going to eventually find us. You weren’t exactly low on the totem pole when it came to high mark hits. I know for a fact the Red Riders have had it out for you since you fucked over their opioid trade in Virginia.”

“That’s one of many, but I think they’ll be top of the list. We need to keep an eye out for the Ace Jackets too. Peter and his old man tried to patch over in the summer, and I was instrumental in making sure that didn’t happen,” Kye admitted.

“Why did you do that?” Grier asked. The Ace Jackets were a mercenary club in Ohio that was notorious for the facial scars they left their enemies with.

“They had an in with Riggs. The last thing I wanted was him having more supporters if there was going to be any question who Max willed the club to when he died.” Kye couldn’t see him, but Grier nodded.

“Speaking of Max…” Grier trailed off, but Kye knew what he was asking.

“I’m still kicking myself for not checking for a pulse,” Kye said sighing. “I’ve replayed the fight a million times in my mind, and I just can’t come to an understanding. I don’t know how he could have survived the cut to the eye, but I also know it wasn’t fatally deep. I don’t know why I held back. Max wouldn’t have held back. He would have killed me had he gotten a better chance.”

“Well, you’re not Max,” Grier said shortly. “You spent a lot of years trying to be him, to be just like him, but you’ve always been better. Whether he was trying to kill you or not, I think you still saw a sick and dying old man, and you couldn’t bring yourself to murder him with a piece of broken glass.”

“Maybe I did,” Kye said, looking over at him. The full moon peeked out from behind a cloud, and he could just make out the side of Grier’s face which seemed expressionless in the dark.

“Maybe you did; if we’re lucky he’s dead.”

“What if he’s not?”

“Then,” Grier began as he shifted his backpack from one shoulder to the other, “you walked out of the club without being granted the blood price from the presiding president and shot one of his chief officers in the process.”

“So, if he's not dead, we’re completely fucked?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

* * *

“We’re fucked,” Grier repeated as he stepped into the cantina and slid into the seat next to Eliana.

“What, you can’t find us a car?” she asked, knowing he’d just spent the last two hours trying to track one down for them.

“Oh no,” he said, grabbing Kye’s margarita and downing the rest of it. “Found plenty of cars, just no car services that will take us into Belize. It’s too far.”

“I’d like to say I’m surprised, but I’m not,” Kye said, crossing his arms. “We’ve got almost thirty hours of road between us and there.”

“So maybe we don’t go to Belize,” Eliana suggested. Kye and Grier both glared at her. “Just a suggestion…”

“Not a bad one,” he said, taking her hand and kissing the back of it as a form of apology for his stern look. “But everything we need is there. It’s one of the only safe houses I put a big stock of money into. The next closest one is just outside Belfast.”

“That won’t be an option then,” she said, sighing. “We could fly,” she offered. “Or take a boat?”

“A boat would take too long, and the waters are notorious for piracy. I don’t think we can risk open water.”

“So, we fly,” she concluded.

“International airlines aren’t an option,” Grier said, exchanging the now empty margarita for Eliana’s almost full one and sipping on it. “The moment we get into TSA territory we are looking at facial recognition technology. Kye and I have managed to stay off of the FBI radar, but any entry-level hacker looking for us would be able to get access.”

“Not to mention we’re traveling with eight guns and half a million pesos,” Kye added. “None of that is getting through airport security. What about the private sector?”

“As it happens, I looked into that,” Grier said, wincing as the cheap tequila burned the back of his throat. “One of the drivers I spoke to suggested using his cousin’s charter plane.”

“You don’t sound too confident,” Eliana noted.

“I’m not,” Grier confessed as he looked around for a waitress he could order another drink from. “I don’t know shit about the guy and have no way to look into his credentials before we’d have to leave.”

“What do you mean?” Kye asked, confused.