Page 70 of Kings Fear No One
Either way, I’m here to find out.
I’m strapped, my Glock and an assortment of knives a quick draw away if needed.
I’d prefer today stay as a recon mission, but you can never be too safe in situations like this. There’s a reason Xavier gave up this address—I just need to figure out why.
The neighborhood seems typical enough. Small single-story houses sit cramped on either side of the street along with plenty of trees, bushes and even a mini market at the corner of the block.
I wander down the sidewalk doing my best to seem inconspicuous. Though if I lived here, I’d be wary of me too.
But the real question is, why would the Chosen Saints have a compound in some nondescript neighborhood in Portales?
I slip between a row of hedges and disappear off the main street. The path leads me between two homes with chain-link fences and clothes hanging out to dry. In heat like this, the t-shirts, shorts and undies are all already stiff cloths of fabric flapping in the hot air.
Pressing on, I come out on the other side, glancing around for the exact address. Where the fuck has Xavier led us, and why does this feel a lot more like a red herring than the real thing?
Maybe Silver and Mace were right that we needed to be careful about following up on what info we were given.
The house belonging to the address resembles many of the others—squat, small, single-story, painted a lemon yellow that’s faded and lost its luster over time. The windows are open, the blinds up, affording a decent view inside.
I duck low and creep over toward the house, surveying the area to make sure I’m still alone. Coming up under the open window, I stay crouched and rely on my ears to pick up the sounds from inside.
Some man and a woman are in the middle of a conversation.
But not in English.
In Spanish.
I scowl, wishing I’d either paid attention in high school Spanish class or I’d brought Tito with me for translation. I’m able to sort out bits and pieces.
“Por favor, Juan, ¿estarás aquí para la familia?” the woman asks.
“Te he dicho. Me han ordenado. No puedo alejarme.”
“Pero ¿por qué tú?”
He slams what sounds like a cabinet before answering. “Los pedidos son pedidos. No me prejuntes más.”
His footsteps thud as he leaves the room. The woman remains where she is, sniveling out a soft cry. I chance it by rising up enough that I’m peeking into the window. She doesn’t notice as she’s wiping her eyes with a tissue.
What the fuck is going on and why do things feel more confusing than when I arrived? Why would Xavier provide this address of all places? Was he fucking with us? But if he was, then why were this guy and his girl talking about orders? Orders from who?
At least, that’s if my limited translation skills are correct.
Before I can figure any of this out, the back door slams shut. The man suddenly appears at the side of the house with a bag of trash.
My eyes snap from him to the aluminum bins only a few feet away from where I’m crouched. Caught point blank peering into his window.
His eyes widen and he releases an angry scream. The bag of trash he’s holding drops to the ground. He reaches for the piece strapped to his hip.
“Fuck!” I growl, making a split-second decision.
Recon mission over, I break out in a sprint toward the fence. I’m heaving myself over it as he’s squeezing the trigger and shooting. I’m able to bolt through more hedges, ducking around a neighbor’s home, hoping like hell he doesn’t follow.
A couple more gunshots ring out as I’m already a block down, racing toward my Super Glide. I hop on, starting up the engine with a bumbling rev before I take off and don’t look back.
I’m still not sure what the fuck Xavier’s reason was for giving us this place as the location of Abraham and the Chosen Saints, but it damn sure won’t go unaddressed.
Teysha beams when I walk through the door. She’s sitting crisscross style on the sofa, a book propped open in her lap. But I’m much more distracted by the fact that she’s got no pants on. The door almost slams shut on my fingers, I’m so damn distracted by the sight.
