Free Against the Edge (The Raines of Wind Canyon) by Kat Martin Page A

chrome wheels and wide tires. Tyler Brodie spotted Ben, stepped down from the cab and walked over.
    “Nice ride,” Ben said. Ty was wearing the same scuffed cowboy boots and jeans Ben remembered, but his baseball cap was dark blue today with a gold Lakers emblem on the front.
    “I just bought it. I was driving a little Toyota Tundra, same red as what you’re driving. It drew too damned much attention.”
    Ben’s mouth edged up. “Yeah, I’m sure no one notices those fancy chrome wheels.”
    Ty grinned.
    Ben tipped his head toward the Accord. “This is Claire’s car.”
    Brodie shoved his bill cap back, eyed the car with interest. “A red-car woman? I wouldn’t have figured.”
    Ben couldn’t stop a smile. “I guess you never know.” He was starting to like Tyler Brodie. He might have a youthful, pretty-boy face, but he took his work seriously. “You think they’re here?”
    “Some of them will be. Not Gonzales. He’ll be waiting for word we’re here first.” Brodie caught a glimpse of what could only be a weapon in Ben’s waistband beneath his black T-shirt.
    “Nighthawk .45,” Ben told him.
    Brodie opened the flowered sport shirt he was wearing, exposing the shoulder harness underneath. “Beretta M-9. Old habits, you know.”
    Standard-issue military weapon. Once a marine, always a marine. “Let’s go.”
    Ty caught his arm. “Just one thing...I got a hunch you’d rather shoot these guys than pay them. I don’t like these lowlifes any better than you do, but keep in mind this is how Johnnie and I make our living. We can do a lot more good, help more people, if we keep our information channels open.”
    Ben flicked a glance toward the bar, thought of the boy, thought Brodie was about half-right about taking these assholes out. “I’ll try to restrain myself.”
    “Just so you know, Gonzales is pretty low on the food chain. He deals, but he isn’t into trafficking...at least not that I know of. You got the money?”
    Ben tapped the envelope stuffed into the back pocket of his jeans. “They get it if they’ve got my kid.”
    Following Brodie, he made his way in through the front door. La Fiesta was a restaurant as well as a bar and the place was busy with the lunch crowd. The smell of tortillas, meat and cheese made Ben’s stomach growl. Bagels and cream cheese wasn’t bacon and eggs.
    Mexican pop music played in the background. Ty slowed as a beefy Hispanic with stringy black hair down to his shoulders approached them.
    “This way, amigos. ”
    There was no one in the bar except more of Gonzales’s men. They didn’t come forward to pat them down, didn’t need to, since it looked like all of them were armed.
    Ben’s conceal carry wasn’t valid in California. At the moment, he didn’t care.
    The others moved a little away, leaving their leader to handle the exchange.
    “Señor Brodie. I see you have brought your friend.” Rueben Gonzales was lean and hard, his skin as brown as old oak. A scar ran from the corner of his mouth to his ear, making him look like one badass son of a bitch.
    “Where’s the boy?” Ty asked.
    Gonzales tipped his head toward a door at the rear of the bar and an instant later, in walked a short, fat banger pushing a black-haired boy in front of him.
    For several heartbeats, Ben stood frozen. Then the kid stepped into the light and looked at Ben, and he knew the boy wasn’t his son.
    Ty said nothing, just stood there waiting for Ben’s decision. Ben kept staring at the kid. He was older than nine, maybe ten or eleven. There was a bruise on his cheek and his lip was split. He had a shiner that was turning purple. His blue eyes looked resigned and yet there was a spark of defiance there.
    The fat man moved forward and tipped the kid’s chin up so Ben could get a better look. The fat guy grinned. “This one—he is a virgin. He is too much trouble so you get him cheap.”
    Ben’s stomach knotted. He looked at the kid and blind rage struck him. His jaw turned