Page 55 of Domino
I nod vaguely. “I need to think on it for a minute.”
“Of course.”
“Also, if I do it, I’m going to need the intel as soon as you have it. Like the instant. I’ll need to scout the area and find a suitable nest.”
“You’ll have it as soon as we do,” he says.
I nod. “All right. I need to think on it.”
“Fair enough. Until we know more, why don’t you go spend some time with that sexy little number down at the diner?”
“Why are you all so obsessed with who I’m dating?”
He shrugs. “Because it’s the most interesting thing that doesn’t involve people getting shot going on around here.”
I laugh softly. “That’s probably true.”
I’m just about to jump down from the table when Sheriff Singer’s SUV pulls in through the gate. Cosmo and I exchange a glance, then stand up as he pulls into the middle of the compound and shuts off his engine. Prophet and Doc come out of the clubhouse and walk over as the sheriff gets out of his car. Cosmo and I wander over to see what’s going on, a nervous rippling running through my gut.
“Sheriff,” Prophet greets him.
Singer shakes hands with all of us, then leans against his truck, thumbs hooked through his belt loops, furthering the image of a gunfighter in the Old West, I’ve always had of him.
“You boys doin’ all right out here?” he asks.
All of us exchange looks, nodding, acting as if everything is right in the world, and that there isn’t an army of angry Mexican cartel men looking to murder us.
“Yeah, we’re good,” Prophet replies.
Singer spits a mouthful of tobacco juice in the dirt as his feet, his eyes narrowing as he looks at Prophet, who offers him a smile that looks so wooden, it wouldn’t convince a blind person, let alone somebody as sharp as Singer.
“Thought you gave that shit up, Sheriff?” Prophet says.
He chuckles. “I think dealin’ with you boys has made it a hard habit to break. Just don’t tell Kasey. She’ll have my ass.”
“She won’t hear it from me,” Prophet says.
The air is thick with tension and crackling with the weight of everything not being said right now. This isn’t just a friendly social call. Obviously. Things between us and the sheriff have been better, but we’re probably not on his Christmas card list. There’s a reason for this visit, and I, for one, would like to know what it is.
“So, what can we do for you, Sheriff?” Prophet asks as if reading my mind.
Singer works the tobacco in his mouth as he looks at us again, maybe trying to decide whether or not he’s going to get a straight answer out of any of us. He should know better than that by now.”
“Heard a rumor about y’all runnin’ around in town,” Singer says.
Doc scoffs. “And when did you start listenin’ to rumors, Sheriff?”
He shrugs his wide shoulders. “Normally, I don’t. This one though seemed like somethin’ I needed to check on for myself.”
“All right,” Prophet says. “What’s the rumor?”
Singer spits another mouthful of tobacco juice in the dirt. “Heard there was lots of shootin’ out here the other day.”
Prophet shrugs. “You know we all like to go out back of the compound and do some target shootin’. Probably all it was.”
“Uh-huh,” Singer replies, looking thoroughly unconvinced.
“That same day, there was also an unidentified Mexican man, mid-twenties, dumped at the emergency room doors of St. Mary’s by two also unidentified Mexican men, with a single gunshot wound to the neck. Boy bled out on the pavement right there. Probably just a coincidence though, huh?”
