Page 42 of Law Maker

Francisco Cantú. A pretty standard name for a walking dead Mexican.

But then, the guy introducing himself to Lawless didn’t know he was slurping his last few thousand breaths.

It sucked to be him.

In broken English he said. “You want to come outside where it’s quiet?”

Lawless rose, following behind with smaller strides to compensate for their considerable height difference. It was gonna be no fun offing this guy.

But then, he wasn’t here for recreational fun, was he?

Bad maggot had a debt to pay.

Outside, the bar music faded.

The guy checked over his shoulder, a nervous twitch to his whole body. Lawless wished this was an ambush to rob an American.

Alas not and he was so disappointed there would be no fight. He wouldn’t have minded having a play first.

Francisco Cantú led him into a corrugated steel shack some fifty yards from the bar and it was Lawless who closed the door behind them after ducking his head to get inside. Only a single bulb hanging from the ceiling cast a dim light.

“You want three, yes?”

“Yeah.”

At that, the guy dipped his hand into a brown chest on the floor and came out with three bricks of cocaine. Lawless took them automatically, though they were not what he was here for.

The guy named the price.

Mexico made cheap fucking coke.

If Lawless had been here to buy his former hobby he would have been laughing all the way home.

He didn’t make mistakes.

He knew more about this guy then he probably did about himself. Like what Francisco Cantú did for his main source of business and it had nothing to do with pushing powder up his nose. He was a family man, with teen daughters. That somehow sickened Lawless more knowing this guy trafficked girls the same age.

It would have been nice to fuck him up in so many bad ways before he went in for the kill. But with a full bar steps away, time was of the essence. And he still had one place left to visit before he could go home.

His knife work was swift.

Francisco Cantú didn’t even see the blade in Lawless’ palm when he took it across his throat.

He grinned seeing the look of shock on his face. His hand automatically lifted to his throat to keep all that gushing blood on the inside of his body.

To be a spiteful cunt, Lawless slashed the three bricks and dropped them at the guys feet. Ruined by his plasma dripping out like rain.

Francisco Cantú fell to his knees.

Gurgling blood out of his pitiful mouth.

It was a shame he couldn’t have given him a slower death.

“Your debt is three years in the making. Consider it paid.” He told him in perfect Spanish.

He closed the door over when he left. Casual as you like he walked around the front of the bar and headed to his next destination.

It didn’t take him long and when he arrived at a row of low income housing, he went with his plan and found the back entrance.

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