Free Stand Down by J. A. Jance Page A

day. The one he considered to be the best of the lot, he hid away inside his wallet, congratulating himself on the fact that his day was off to such a great start. In the course of the morning, he located several geodes. The best of those was a bowling-­ball-­sized treasure that would fetch a pretty penny once it joined the growing collection of goods that he and his foster son, John Lassiter, would offer for sale at the next available gem and mineral show.
    Assuming, of course, that John ever spoke to him again, Amos thought ruefully. The knock-­down, drag-­out fight the two men had gotten into the night before had been a doozy, and recalling it had cast a pall over Amos’s entire day. He had known John Lassiter for decades, and this was the first time he had ever raised a hand to the younger man. The fact that they had duked it out over a girl, of all things, only added to Amos’s chagrin.
    Ava Martin, Amos thought, what a conniving little whore! She was good-­looking and knew it. She was a tiny-­blond-­bombshell type with just the right curves where they counted. Amos didn’t trust the bitch any further than he could throw her.
    His next thought was all about John. The poor guy was crazy about Ava—­absolutely crazy. As far as John was concerned, Ava was the greatest thing since sliced bread. In fact, he was even talking about buying an engagement ring, for God’s sake!
    As for Amos? He knew exactly who Ava was and what she was all about. She wasn’t anything close to decent marriage material. He had noticed the wicked little two-­timer batting her eyes and flirting with John’s best friend, Ken—­all behind John’s back, of course. And two days ago, when John had been out of town, she’d gone so far as to come by his house—­forty-­five minutes from town—­where she had tried putting the moves on Amos.
    That was the last straw. Amos was decades older than Ava. He had no illusions about his actually being physically attractive to her. No, she wasn’t looking to get laid; Ava was after the main chance.
    She knew John and Amos were partners who split everything fifty-­fifty. She probably understood that, for the most part, Amos was the brains of the outfit while John was the brawn. Amos was the one who knew where to go searching and find the hidden treasures the unyielding desert would reveal to only the most patient of searchers. He knew what was worth taking home and what wasn’t. John was the packhorse who carried the stuff and loaded it into the back of the truck and carried it into the storage unit.
    When it came to selling their finds, Amos had years’ worth of contacts at his disposal, all of them listed in his little black book. He had collected a whole catalogue of gem and mineral dealers and artifact dealers, some aboveboard and others not so much. He also knew which items might interest individual dealers. He did the behind-­the-­scenes selling while John handled direct sales at booths in the various venues. John was a good-­looking young hunk, and that was always a good thing when it came to face-­to-­face sales.
    Amos suspected that John had gotten into his cups and talked too much about what they did and how much money they brought in—­something Amos regarded as nobody’s business but their own. He was convinced that was what Ava Martin was really after—­the shortest route to the money. Amos had sent the little witch packing, and he’d had no intention of telling John about it, but Ava had gotten the drop on him. She had told John all about their little set-­to. The problem was, in Ava’s version of the story, Amos had been the one putting the make on her. With predictable results.
    The previous evening, Amos had gone to El Barrio, a run-­down bar on Speedway just east of I-­10. When he’d lived in town, El Barrio had been within walking distance of the