Today’s
excerpt is from Escape From Mexico, a standalone book featuring Jim Scott and
friends. Drug cartel hit man doesn’t
climb trees too well. Enjoy and have a fantastic day.
m.j.
Bob kicked
Maduro’s body in anger, then called Lloyd.
“Okay—safe to come out and play.
Got seven bodies for you to do something with.”
“Well, that’s
sorta anticlimactic, Bob. Here I was
hoping to get shot at this morning.”
“Just get your
butt up here, please.”
“You sound
grumpy.”
“I am. Son-of-a-bitch Maduro was with them—he fell
out of a damned tree, and killed himself.
We wanted to ask him a few questions…like where in the hell we could
find ‘Z’.”
“Oh, yeah—you did mention the guy who sent these
fellas after Wendell was this ‘Z’ clown.
Shame you can’t ask Maduro about him.
Be right up, before I piss you off.”
Bob ignored the
sarcasm as Jim piped up, “Hey, Bob, your comm set is still on. But since it is, tell the deputies not to
shoot an old man and old woman walking up the street with rifles in hand.”
To Lloyd, Bob
grumbled, “You already did—piss me off, that is. By the way, two of our team are walking this
way on the road, rifles in hand. Please
be kind enough to not shoot them.”
“You got
it. Where are you?”
“At the end of
the drive.”
Lloyd hurried to
one of the SUVs, with another deputy following along. When they reached where Bob and Clyde stood
waiting for them, the two deputies got out and walked around, looking at the
three bodies.
Lloyd muttered,
“Nice shooting, I guess. Two in the
head, one in the foot. I guess the one
in the foot is Maduro, and you shot him there to encourage him to get out of
his tree.”
Bob growled,
“Yeah—good guess. We also took time to
shoot the rifle out of his hands, so he wouldn’t get any bright ideas—like
taking a potshot at us. After that, he
opted to give up and started to climb down.
Didn’t go too well, obviously.”
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