Page 96 of Close Quarters

“What sort of things?” I asked warily, alarm bells going off in my head.

“Well, having witnesses is kind of an issue. We weren’t expecting anyone to be out here this time of year. Normally, that ranch of yours reserves its little outings for the summer. And instead of no one, we happen to see a campfire while we’re making our way through, checking things out,” Edgar explained.

“Can’t have people seeing us move through here with our goods,” Keith said with a snort. “That wouldn’t look too good.”

“Shut up,” Edgar told him sharply, but it was too late. That conversation alone was enough to tell me we had accidentally been found by a scouting party, even though they hadn’t expected anyone to be out here. Which probably meant they had been trying to move something through tonight as a test run, and if they were here, that meant we’d camped right along their scheduled path. “And from the looks of our hero here, he’s figured some things out. Good going, Keith.”

“Sorry,” Keith muttered.

“Dammit,” I muttered, wishing I had more control over my facial expressions. Normally, scowling and anger were enough to put people off trying to read me, but somehow I didn’t think that would work on this group.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Edgar said with a shrug. “But you can see my problem.”

“Oh, we aren’t telling anyone anything,” Elliot insisted, his eyes going wide. “We have no reason to.”

“See, I’d like to believe that, but in this business?” Edgar began, standing up slowly. “You can’t take any chances.”

The muscles in my shoulders tightened as I felt the energy in the group shift noticeably. I had hung onto the faint hope that if we played along and kept our cool, there might be a way out. But that had been a fool’s hope, obviously, and I really wasn’t ready to get executed in the middle of the desert.

Keith grinned, his hand finally tightening on his gun. “The big one looks like he’s ready to fight. Kinda stupid if you ask me…I like it.”

“What was the point of twenty questions if you’re just going to get rid of us anyway?” I asked behind gritted teeth, trying to keep an eye on them all to see which might act first. Not that I was some action hero who could take them down, but hell, maybe I could at least distract them enough that Elliot might have a chance to escape. “Fun and games?”

“When I get the chance, I like to get to know the people I might have to kill,” Edgar said.

“Might?” I repeated warily.

“See, my problem is I can’t have you two going back and saying anything about what you’ve seen. Just like I couldn’t risk you two seeing something tonight you weren’t supposed to see. Which could’ve happened if we moved through.”

That logic didn’t quite track, but it didn’t feel like the moment to argue. He was the only one standing between us and a bullet in our brains, so I needed to keep my eyes on him and hopefully keep on his good side.

“Well, you said ‘might have to kill,’ so does that mean you’ve decided which side of the ‘might’ you’re on?” I asked him calmly.

“That depends.”

“On?”

“How long are you two supposed to be out here?”

“Uh, until we find the sheep,” I said, glancing at Elliot in confusion, though Elliot continued to stare at Edgar with a thoughtful expression on his face. “Or at least something we can come back with to say they’re dead or long gone.”

“And how long were you given?”

“A few days,” Elliot answered immediately before I could tell him it was supposed to be only a day at most. “The sheep were out long before anyone noticed the herd was smaller and the fence was broken. I wanted to find them as fast as possible. They’re?—”

“Stupid,” I finished with a scowl, wondering why Elliot was lying to them. “Very stupid.”

“That’s not their fault,” Elliot muttered, looking down at his feet.

“So, no one will expect you for a few days then?” Edgar said thoughtfully and I swore I could have kicked Elliot right then and there. We might have had a chance of making it through this if they thought someone would come looking for us relatively soon, but a few days gave them ample time to do whatever they wanted, both with their delivery and us.

“I guess,” Elliot said with a wince. “Don’t like it when you put it like that.”

Edgar let out a soft chuckle, looking over at our bags. “Julio.”

One of the men with a rifle stepped forward, picking up our bags and dragging them over. A light flashed on in his hand, and they swept through the bags, not taking their time but not hurried.

Edgar looked up from the bags. “This is a decent place for a site.”

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