Haunted

CHAPTER 52

ADELITA GRINS AS SHE RAISES THE RIFLE. I GET ready to jump in, but she sights along the barrel like a pro. Did Culebra give her shooting lessons on the walk here?

Luis cowers back in the chair. “No. Wait. What do you want? I can give you anything. Money. More money than you can spend in a lifetime.”

“Don’t need money,” Max says. “What we need is your brother.” He takes the rifle from Adelita and pushes the barrel against Ramon’s forehead. He definitely knows how to fire the rifle. He moves the selector lever off safety and releases the firing handle. “One of the advantages of the AK-47 is that it can be fired at close range; did you know that, Luis? Of course you do. It’s the weapon of choice for every fucking narco.” He turns the rifle this way and that in his hands as though studying it. “It produces a relatively minor wound when the bullet exits the body, like it will your head, and doesn’t have a chance to tumble and fragment. But it’ll do the job. You’ll be dead.”

Luis bites on his lower lip, eyes locked on Max. But I can tell by the hatred in his eyes, he’s not ready to talk.

I take the revolver I’ve been carrying around at my waist and step up to Max. “Wait a minute, Max. Let me show you a trick I learned from Luis himself. Remember this?”

I push the gun into the meaty part of his thigh, make sure I miss that pesky femoral artery by listening closely to the racing of his blood and fire.

Luis comes off the chair like—well, like he’s been shot. He screams and falls over, blood seeping through his jeans in a crimson halo.

Vampire growls and licks her lips.

Luis is wide-eyed with pain and fear. “You are all crazy,” he pants. “I’m going to bleed to death.”

Vampire retreats. The human Anna feigns surprise. “You call us crazy? Really? Isn’t this what you did to those villagers when they didn’t give you the information you wanted? The difference is that they were ignorant about what happened to the girls and couldn’t tell you. You do know. And I’ll just keep shooting until you give it up.”

Luis turns his head toward the floor and I hear what sounds suspiciously like a sob. “Pablo will kill me,” he whispers.

No. We’ll do that, I say. But to myself.

Max grabs Luis and hauls him back into the chair. With his bruised and bloody face now smeared with snot and tears I could almost feel sorry for him. Almost. Adelita’s presence and two corpses in a burned-out truck chase sympathy away. He’s more monstrous than any fanged, clawed or bloodsucking villain I’ve come up against.

Max has the rifle barrel against Luis’ chest—more a prop to keep him upright than a threat. “Where is he?”

Luis raises his eyes. “Reynosa.”

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Max pulls his cell out of the pocket of his jeans and puts the phone to his ear. “Time to call in reinforcements.”

Max speaks for a few minutes into his cell, then powers it off. “The task force will meet us at the hangar in four hours. We’ll go after Pablo together.” He looks at me. “A helicopter will pick us up at a military airstrip outside Reynosa in eight hours. Plenty of time to round up Pablo and get extradition papers just in case your government is not ready to cooperate.”

Luis looks up. “My government will not allow you to take him. He has powerful friends.”

“He has killed Americans, Luis.” He crooks his finger toward Adelita, and she joins him. He puts an arm around her shoulder. “And when Adelita explains how she was kidnapped, raped repeatedly and almost murdered by you and your brother—”

I step up beside them, too. “How she witnessed the murder of two other girls, their throats slit because they resisted. How she was taken from her village by Ramon, a lieutenant in your cartel. How girls as young as twelve are gathered up and sold as whores and worse. All compelling facts, Luis. Facts your government can’t ignore.”

Max nods. “If your government wants to claim any kind of legitimacy, it will have to denounce Pablo. Then he will be ours.”

Luis shakes his head. “Do you think that will stop what we do? There are a hundred ready to take Pablo’s place. You fool yourself if you think you are making a difference.”

“What I think”—Max leans his face close to Luis’—“is that I’m about to take two scumbags off the streets. Maybe more if we get Pablo to make a deal.”

“Never.” Luis spits the word. “Pablo will die before he talks.”

Max looks over at Culebra and me, eyebrows raised. “Isn’t that what Luis said?” he asks us, smiling. “That he’d die before he talked?” He turns back to Luis and presses the rifle butt against the wound on Luis’ leg. “How’d that work out for you?”