Hunting El Despiadado: A Contemporary Western Mystery Series (Cass Callahan Book 3) by Chris Mullen

Author:Chris Mullen [Mullen, Chris]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Wolfpack Publishing
Published: 2024-05-14T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

“That’s it,” I said. “One security hut, cameras on both the main gate and mounted on a post near the entrance. What did you see?”

“Some place called Café del Zócalo across the street. Let’s stop. All this time in the car is wearing me out. I could use some more coffee.”

Damn it, Ray, I thought as I pulled the pickup to the side of the road. I stopped and looked in the side mirror to watch for oncoming traffic.

“We are going to make another pass. The target will be on your side of the truck. How about you give it a good look as we drive by and see if you can find a way to contribute on this little excursion.”

“Panties in wad, Cass?”

I twisted to look at Ray dead on. “I need your full attention. We can’t afford to miss anything. The smallest of details might mean the difference between success and being strung up on the overpass with our dick in our hands.”

Ray pursed his lips. I glanced in the mirror again waiting for a clear spot in the traffic to pull a U-turn. A beat-up Ford Focus lumbered past, followed by a ritzy G-Wagon. Moments later, a black GMC Trailblazer and a motorcycle sped by. The road was clear behind them. We did an about face and headed back for another look.

“Sorry, Cass. Afternoon funk. I am all eyes from here on out.”

“Good.”

“Just one thing, though.”

My patience was teetering. “What?”

“If we do get caught, make sure you’re holding your own dick.”

I squeezed the steering wheel, but it was not enough to keep an unwanted chuckle from rising.

“There he is,” Ray said.

“Fine. Just stay frosty. The compound is coming up.”

I kept our speed steady, relying on Ray’s oh-so-keen observation. At forty miles per hour, he had just under four seconds to take mental notes on what he saw. I kept my eyes on the road, counting to myself, one-one thousand…two-one thousand…three-one thousand…four-one thousand.

With the compound shrinking in the rearview mirror, I asked Ray what he had seen.

“Well, not that much. Saw the cameras you mentioned, but…”

“Shit! We’re going around again.” I took my foot off the gas and coasted, looking for a safe place to pull over.

“Why?” Ray asked. He held up and wiggled his cell phone in front of me. “Got it all recorded right here.” He gave me that, you still have a lump of coal up your ass, look. “How’s about we head back to the hotel, contact Agent Shithead and Deputy Dog, grab some coffee and have a little watch party, eh?”

“You win, Ray.”

I shook my head, realizing that maybe I was operating too tight in the saddle. Ray knew it, could see, and was the only one who could call me on it. Having him agree to be a part of this mission may be the one ingredient that gets us all out alive.

We arrived back at Hotel Plaza Central and opted to ride the elevator in the back of the lobby to the third floor.

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