Page 54 of Lure

Cash just snorted and turned briefly to greet Voodoo and Lunchbox with handshakes. It definitely wasn’t that much cooler inside the adobe, but the shade afforded some relief.

Swinging her feet down, Vienna rose and held out a hand to me. We’d met on a handful of occasions—four that I could count. More often than not, we spoke to her on the phone or via a message. Since they reorganized things, she seemed to be taking a more active role.

That might make the next few hours trickier.

“It’s good to see you,” she said, shaking my hand once before sliding her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. “Hello boys.”

“Ma’am,” Lunchbox practically drawled the word and she grinned.

“Vienna.” Voodoo just nodded then leaned against the wall closest to the door. The room was a little small for all of us, but as long as we were friends it would be fine.

“Before you try to find a diplomatic way to ask why she’s here,” Cash said, easing a hip onto the desk with a little more confidence than I thought the furniture deserved. “The names you tagged and the info you pulled led right back to one of ours.”

Vienna’s easy expression darkened and her eyes narrowed. “By ours, he means a broker within the Network. We backtracked and confirmed that he was double-dealing.” Oh, she was not happy. “More than that, he’s been actively seeking out jobs where he can bill twice. Not acceptable.”

“Great, so there’s more backstabbing motherfuckers in the Network. Just what we want to hear.” Lunchbox didn’t sound even a little irritated, more just bemused.

“Exactly,” Cash said, spreading his hands. “We’ve been cleaning house the past several months but cockroaches always scatter. Sometimes, you have to kick shit over to get them to come out.”

“Unfortunately,” Vienna said with a slow shake of her head. “I wanted to ask him some questions myself, but I also know you are owed a debt.”

“This wasn’t your fault,” I told her.

“Perhaps not entirely,” she agreed. “But we’ve been making an attempt to clean up the Network. You should be able to trust the people and the information you obtain within it. Just as those of us in it should be able to trust you and yours when you take a job. If either side falls down… It leads to more problems. I’ve had enough of those.”

Ferocity echoed beneath those last five words. “Well, then we appreciate you taking the time to do this.”

“You’re welcome,” she said with a long exhale, then glanced at Cash. A groan rose from somewhere behind her. “Oh, look at that. I win.” She held out a hand to Cash.

He smirked, then pulled out his wallet then retrieved a twenty before he gave it to her. “You win. Fair and square.”

She grinned, then looked at me. “I said he would be awake by the time you got here and that I didnotgive him too much sedative. Cash didn’t agree, so we made a little wager.”

“What I said was between the concussion and the drugs, it would make getting him lucid a little more challenging.” Still, Cash just tucked his wallet away. “Anyway, we’d like to stay for the questioning. If you don’t mind. Then we can handle body disposal.”

“A body in the desert doesn’t need that much disposal,” Vienna said, strolling down a short hallway to?—

“Is that an actual cell?” I asked as I followed her.

“Yep.” She looked pleased as she motioned to the cell and the man inside it. He sprawled on what was left of a rotted-out cot. The frame had long since given up and I doubted there was anything of a mattress left.

Almost as unexpected as Vienna and Cash’s presence, was the appearance of the man in question. Roger Edwards was a balding, middle-aged man with a bit of a paunch belly and a sallow complexion. He looked more like an office manager than a broker for mercenaries.

Then again, middle management was middle management.

“You know,” Lunchbox said almost conversationally as the man in question started to sit up, still groaning. He hadn’t even registered our presence yet. “I almost feel bad for the guy.”

“I don’t,” Voodoo said. “He wanted to play with fire, he gets burned.”

“But he’s—dinky-looking.” Lunchbox grimaced. “And he just pissed himself.”

The strong scent of urine hit me at the same moment. The guy stared at us, his mouth moving without sound before he shot a look at Vienna.

“Small doesn’t mean docile or safe,” I reminded them. If nothing else, Grace should have been a powerful example of that. “Do you need anything from him?” I asked Vienna.

“Nope,” she said, leaning back against the wall, arms folded like she was settling in to watch. Cash joined her and held out a bottle of water to her. She made a face but took it anyway.

“This won’t take long,” I said then turned the old iron key that was protruding from the lock. The creak of the hinges was like a shriek of a banshee. That seemed appropriate.

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