Page 43 of Vaquero
“Both dead.”
“Good,” Julio replied with a heartfelt sigh. “ButSenhor, rest easy. Domingo Zapata cannot hurt you anymore. I’ve already apprehended him.”
Susana looked up from where she knelt with her tablet, her eyes bright and hard. “Is he dead? Are you sure? Did you see him die when you killed him?”
“No, but he’s in an American high-security prison from which there is no escape. He won’t be back.”
It irked Julio to no end that Domingo was still alive. He breathed, ate, and slept on the American taxpayer’s dime. Did that bastard know yet that his baby brother had died in a ball of fire? Would he ever know? Had someone told him? Had he cried for his baby brother? Had he ranted and raved and scratched his face until his tattoos bled with the news of his brother’s violent passing? Was his heart broken yet? Would it ever be?
No, because this mission was so top-secret that no word of it would ever hit American networks. Domingo would never realize all he’d lost—if he even cared about Orlando. In the end, he’d spend the rest of his days in relative peace and safety, in ignorance. Confined, but never truly punished for his crimes against humanity. Against women and helpless children. Little boys...
Where was the justice in that? Julio wanted to be the man who told him. Who watched him suffer until he went insane with grief. Until it ate him from the inside. Like Julio’s loss ate at him. Every. Day!
But that was where he and the Zapatas were different. Julio adored hisfamilia.But he doubted they even knew what the word meant.
Rafael’s big, warm hand squeezed Julio’s shoulder, bringing him back from the weary world of revenge. “I’m glad to hear Domingo is in your American prison, my friend. But we can move these munitions to our village. We will make a safe place for them, and for you, too. Please come with us. Let the fire take this pit back to hell. You are worth much; the Zapata brothers were not. They have been nothing but a blight on our land, but you…” Rafael cocked his head, his rich brown eyes speaking straight to Julio’s soul. “I think you have seen too much death,SenhorJuarez. Come. Be my guest for a while. I do not have much, but my wife will open our home, and you will find rest.”
Julio grunted, then regretted his careless response to such a kind offer. But he’d been homeless so long, and the thought of being in this generous man’s house with a kind woman who honestly cared for her husband, galled Julio to his core. It’d been hard enough sitting in Chance Sinclair’s Montana hideaway with Suede, all those months ago. The love for her man had shone so brightly in her eyes, that Julio had felt the warmth. Chance and Suede were happily married now. Paloma and Pagan would either marry soon, or at least, she’d be with child. Pagan would make sure of that. They were destined for that same kind of bliss and the unconditional adoration Julio had only found in the eyes of his sweet son.
And Meg…
The picture of her hanging off that Blackhawk with Charlie Brown obliterated any foolish notion Julio might have held onto. He hadn’t been born lucky like the Sinclair brothers. They’d had a mother who’d adored them. Who’d provided and sacrificed for them. But his and Paloma’s parents had always acted like teenagers on a crime spree instead of adults with parental responsibilities. They’d lived for the thrill, for the adrenaline rush. Not for their children. That was what had gotten them killed.
Julio drew in a deep breath that did nothing to assuage the pain in his heart. Not even the tiniest bit. The sad truth was that Meg was as lost to him as Bianca and Tomas.
Ironically, the only thing he’d ever wanted besides his ownfamiliawas to be a SEAL. In a way, he was now the same as all those courageous men who hadn’t rung out, their success made complete by the overwhelming divorce rate stacked against them. SEALs didn’t stay married long. Like him, they were condemned to walk alone. Which was why they stayed in the Navy as long as they could. It was all they had.
A donkey brayed then. A lonely sound. A sad sound. It’s loud asthmatic hee-haw jolted Julio back to the world of hard truths and harder facts. Back to his reality. Back to solitude.
Below, the fire still growled, crackled, and burned. Angry black clouds filled the sky. Zapata’s enemies and competitors, every lowlife he’d ever stepped on, would arrive soon. They’d crow at the chance to rob their now dead enemy. These weapons could not fall into the wrong hands. Minas Gerais didn’t need more bloodshed.
“I am tired,” Julio admitted, humbled by the mayor’s offer.
“You cannot stop those missiles from exploding,” Rafael murmured. “I am not a wealthy man, Agent Juarez, but you are one against the world. Let the rich and the powerful have what they think is so important. Come with me where you’ll be safe, brother. Before it is too late.”
Rafael didn’t understand. It was already too late, and Julio would never be safe.
“Thank you for your kind offer, but no,” Julio said quietly. “I have a job to do,SenhorVelasquez. It is you and your son, your people, who must leave. Trust me. I know what I’m doing, and I must finish my work.” He stuck his hand out. “Take what weapons you want and need, then go. I cannot do what needs to be done until you and your friends are out of harm’s way.”
Rafael’s eyes glistened. “You intend to die here.”
Julio’s shoulders lifted, but he said nothing. Death would be welcome when it came.
With a soft command, Mayor Velasquez passed Julio’s offer to his friends. In short order, several crates and ammunition were loaded back onto the donkeys. Every villager took what they could carry. Susana took one of the Kalashnikovs, a good choice. Even Pepe brandished an empty rocket launcher like a trophy. Which made Julio morose all over again. A world in which little children were well-acquainted with death and killing was a dismal world indeed.
“Goodbye, my friend,” Rafael called out as he and the villagers wound their way through the trees and back to their homes. “Until we meet again.”
“Goodbye,” Julio replied evenly. There would be no meeting again. Rafael hadn’t told the people Julio wasn’t joining them. Even Pepe had gone ahead with the villagers, thinking all was well.
Which it soon would be. Julio had the motive and means. It wouldn’t take much to set a few traps in the pit below. When he was done, Brazil would be rid of more than just Orlando Zapata.
