Illegal

EIGHTY-NINE

Payne watched each man's body language. Cardenas stood stiffly, locked into a two-handed grip. Rutledge appeared relaxed, his limbs loose, even with his right hand hovering above the holstered. 45.

"When you get down to it, Javie, your old man was weak." Rutledge pinched a nostril and blew out a clot of blood, soiling his mustache. "If he'd come to me first thing and told me to stay the hell away from your mother, I'd have respected that. But he just let it go on. Then, with everything I own on the table, he melts down."

"So you killed him? A man who gave you everything. Even his wife."

"You're goddamn right I killed him! And now that I think about it, you're sure as hell Hector's son and not mine. A gelding's got more balls than either one of you."

Cardenas's jaw muscles danced and his eyes narrowed.

Now Payne was certain. The chief was going to shoot the old bastard. But there would be three witnesses.

Just what will Cardenas do to us?

Again, Payne glanced toward the ground. Still one knife, one baseball bat. And two men with guns.