The Hunters Series Box Set

by Glenn Trust

  “We don’t use names.” The older of the men, apparently the leader of the group, spoke. “We will only be here a short time, until our business is done, so there will be no need for names.”

  “All right. Any way you want it.” Lonna shot Henry a puzzled look and nodded. “What if I need to call you…contact you?”

  “You won’t, but if you do, contact the man who owns this place.”

  Annoyed by the overabundance of caution and his condescending demeanor, Lonna shrugged. Right, she would call the man who owns this place, Roy fucking Budroe, and let him know what a royal prick this asshole was. “Okay," she said.

  “You have the items we requested?” The man stared into her eyes. He was accustomed to being obeyed.

  “Yes.” Lonna did not intend to disobey him.

  “Show us.”

  Leading the way, Lonna went into the back office and then through the rear door to the outside. Gravel crunched under their feet as they crossed the lot to a small shed. The key Lonna took from a cord hanging around her neck slipped into the padlock and turned easily. With the lock in her hand and the hasp open, she stepped aside.

  Henry led the way in, pulling the string to a light hanging from the rafters in the middle of the shed. Heavy black cases sat in the middle of the floor. Except for them, Lonna and the men, the small building was empty.

  Opening the top case, the leader of the group examined its contents carefully. He nodded at the others and they unstacked the remainder of the cases, opening each one and going through and carefully checking each item inside.

  Lonna, Henry and Luke watched, saying nothing. Budroe had ordered them, to do what they were told, and having met his envoys, they had every intention of carrying out those instructions. They would do whatever the fuck these creepy strangers told them to do.

  When the cases were closed and secured. The leader looked at Lonna. “It is safe to leave them here?”

  She laughed slightly, despite the hard look in his eyes. “Safest place in the county. This is Roy Budroe’s property. Nobody will be fucking with it unless they have a death wish.”

  The man nodded. “Very well.”

  When the shed was locked and the key handed over to the enigmatic leader of the strangers, they walked back to Pete’s Place. Big Luke looked at a couple of bikers and a truck driver at the bar leaning over a couple of working girls trying to see their tits. He jerked his head, sending the signal to move away. They did.

  Returning to her station behind the bar, Lonna regarded the four men seating themselves with Henry and Luke to either side, keeping curious customers away. “Buy you boys a drink?”

  “Yes, that would be nice.” Now that their business was done they seemed almost remotely human, if not friendly. “Could you make a mojito?”

  “A what?”

  He smiled a pleasant smile, Lonna thought.

  “Never mind. What rum do you have?”

  Lonna put three bottles on the bar. One was the well rum, an unknown brand, whatever the liquor distributor had that was cheap. The others were slightly better.

  The leader muttered something in Spanish to the others who laughed and nodded their heads. “I will have this please, in a glass.” He pointed to the best of the three bottles. It was also the most expensive.

  Lonna nodded. “You got it. Rum...and Coke?”

  “No, just the rum with a splash of water…not much water.”

  “Ice?”

  “No. Rum and a splash of water.”

  Lonna raised her eyebrows, shrugged poured the rum. “You boys are definitely not from around here.”

  Raising his glass to her, he smiled the pleasant smile. “No we are not.”

  “So what happens next?” Lonna wiped the bar in front of the smiling man.

  “We wait.”

  34. Undercover

  Fel saw them first and pulled alongside the driveway on the mower, following the county pickup to the house. Hands off the steering wheel as the machine putted along, he removed his straw hat, wiped the inside band out with a handkerchief and pushed it back on his head. By the time he cut the engine, George was coming out of the barn.

  “Sandy, Mike.” George nodded, wiping his hands on his jeans. He saw them watching and smiled. "Just fixing an old tiller. Thought we might have a garden around here...now that I have time on my hands. What’s up?”

  “Yeah, what’s up, Sheriff?” Fel came trotting over, excited at the visit. Things were a lot different with George around now. Used to be that old Fel was alone all day until they got home from work. Having George around felt good. And now, they had company…the sheriff even. That beat the hell out of riding around all day on the mower.

  “Wondered if we could talk to you, George. Run something by you.”

  “Sure, you can. Come on up to the front porch. I’ll get the chairs out.” Fel started to jog around the house.

  “Mr. Tobin, this is kind of private. We should probably talk to George, alone.”

  With the look of someone who had taken a kick in the gut from a mule, Fel stopped in his tracks. “Oh.” Shoulders slumping he moved back to the mower. “I’ll be out in the yard. You boys can use the porch.” He climbed on the old John Deere.

  “Fel, I was thinking it’s time for a little beer break, how about it. You go get ‘em set up on the porch and I’ll be right along.”

  “Really? You think we should?” He grinned. “Sharon ain’t gonna like it, you and me sneakin’ beers during the day when she ain’t around.”

  “Well, she won’t be finding out from me. Only way she’ll know is if you have loose lips.”

  “Oh no, not me.” Energized again, Fel started for the front porch. “I kinda like the new rules around here, George.”

  “I’ve been knowin’ old Fel since I was a little boy,” Mike said, watching him disappear around the front of the house. “He seems happier than I’ve seen him in years.”

  George nodded. “He is. Hope he stays that way.” He moved out of the sun into the shade of an old oak and looked at them. “What’s on your mind?”

  “There’s something going on, George.” Sandy picked up a wormy acorn, peeling the hull away with a thumbnail.

  “Well, you got that right, for sure.” George smiled. “But I don’t suppose you’re talking about my situation.”

  “No, sorry George. Wish we could do something about that.” Sandy tossed the acorn. “This is different.”

  “What?”

  “You hear about the killing out on the Southland Lumber tract?”

  “Heard something, not much. Don’t really know anything about it.”

  “Man was killed. Shot in the forehead with a small caliber weapon, a .32.”

  George nodded and waited for Sandy to continue.

  “Mike here has done some work following up. Turns out the dead man was a drug courier working out of central Florida.”

  “Budroe.” George shook his head as he said the name.

  “Yeah, that’s what we said.” Mike leaned against the tree looking out across the yard. “Fits him. Kill a courier that wanders into his territory, take over. Budroe is back, or at least pushing things along from somewhere.”

  “Yep.” Sandy agreed with a nod. “And then yesterday, Mike and I see some strangers in Everett, meeting a couple of Budroe’s boys.”

  “Who were the boys.”

  Luke McCrory and another fella,” Mike said. “Seen him around, but I don’t know his name.”

  “What’s he look like?”

  “About five-eleven, stocky, drives a big pickup. Brown hair, thin on top.”

  “Could be a lot of people.”

  “Yeah, not much to go on?” Sandy agreed.

  “Bet he’s one of Budroe’s boys, though.”

  “Hunch?” Sandy grinned at Mike. "They seem to be going around."

  Mike mouthed the words 'kiss my ass'.

  “No hunch. Just Budroe,” George said. “If he’s killing drug couriers in Pickham County,
he’s probably called in troops from outside…people we wouldn’t know here.”

  “No argument from us.” Sandy nodded. “That brings us to the point of our visit.”

  “I’m listening.” George folded his arms, waiting.

  “Something’s going on. We know it. You know it. Hell, everyone knows it. I don’t think Budroe is even too worried that we do know it. Wherever he is, he knows we can’t get our hands on him.”

  “Agreed.”

  “We could go in and throw everyone out, roust the place, make a lot of noise. We’ve done it before, but it apparently hasn’t stopped Budroe.” He looked George in the eye. “There’s one way find out what he’s got planned, what he’s up to.”

  George nodded. “Undercover.”

  “That’s right. We need someone inside, at least hanging out at Pete’s Place letting us know about movements, people coming and going, that kind of thing. If we get lucky, maybe they find out more, see something Budroe doesn't want us to see.”

  “Yeah, and it can’t be anyone from around here.” George watched the ants crawling up the trunk of the oak, thinking. “They’d be spotted in a second. Got to be a real undercover who won’t raise any suspicions, not some plainclothes cop in a Ford.”

  “That’s right.”

  He looked at them. “OSI.”

  They nodded.

  “Right. Let’s get hold of Sharon.”

  35. Partners

  Live oaks crowded the small yard of the old farmhouse. Tall grass swayed in the pasture to the side and behind. A chestnut quarter horse grazing by the wire fence looked up as the pickup and motorcycle pulled down the dirt drive.

  Bucolic and peaceful, the scene was far different from the small house in Valdosta. Situated in the panhandle of Florida, near the junction of the Georgia and Alabama state lines with Florida it was a few miles off of I-10, but not too many.

  The house was different. The scenery was different. The people living here were very different. The mission was the same.

  As the vehicles stopped under the trees, a woman in jeans and a work shirt came out on the porch, wiping her hands on a dishtowel.

  “Help you boys with somethin’”

  “I believe you can.” Henry walked from the pickup to the porch and stood respectfully at the bottom of the steps, smiling. “Leroy around?”

  “No. He’s at work in Cottondale.”

  “Actually I knew that.” Henry smiled and put a foot up on the bottom step, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knee. “He works in Cottondale at the A-1 Garage. Fixes everything. I hear he’s pretty good.”

  “Who are you?” The woman took a step back towards the door. Her eyes followed the tall man in blue jeans and a leather vest walking lazily from the motorcycle to the pasture fence, kicking his boots in the high grass. He had an apple in his hand and held it out to Sally the chestnut grazing, her head extended over the top strand of wire. She turned back to face Henry. "Who are you? Some kind of law?”

  Henry laughed. “No. No kind of law.”

  Laughter erupted from the three men who had been in the pickup. They leaned against the truck, waiting. “Definitely not the law,” one of them said.

  “Then what…”

  The woman’s words were choked off in her throat. Henry took the .32 from his pocket, pointing it indifferently in her direction.

  “No ma’am, we are not the law. We are your new partners.”

  “But…I don’t understand.”

  “Sure, you do. You and Leroy got a sweet set up here.” He waved the pistol around at the house and yard. “Raise and board horses, he works in town fixin’ shit at the garage, and…” He pointed the handgun at the barn. “Sell dope out of that barn right there.”

  The woman said nothing, eyes fixed on the .32.

  “So…” Henry smiled at her. “We’re your new partners.”

  “But Leroy…”

  “Oh, I don’t think Leroy is gonna argue much about it. We’re not takin’ it away from you, just partnerin’ up.” He held the pistol casually at his waist, but there was no mistaking that it was pointed directly at the woman's center body mass, as the cops called it. “What’s your name?”

  “Peggy.”

  “Peggy. That sounds like a name for a woman like you, livin’ on a farm, raisin’ horses. So Peggy, here it is. Leroy is gonna take our deal. You know why?”

  She shook her head, afraid to speak, still watching the muzzle of the pistol, pointed at her chest.

  “He’ll take the deal, you’ll both take the deal, because we’re not gonna take everything from you, just a cut. You still get to keep a share. If your inventory runs low, you know, supply problems, we can fix that. That’s how you should think of us…as your problem solvers. Understand, Peggy?”

  She nodded.

  “One other thing, the main reason you and Leroy are gonna take our deal that we’re offering today. It’s a one-time deal, bargain basement closeout you might say. Know what it is?”

  She shook her head.

  “It’s simple. You take the deal, and we let you live. You don’t, we kill you now and Leroy when he pulls up in that nice new pickup he bought from money he made boarding horses and working’ at the garage and sellin’ dope. Understand?”

  She nodded.

  “Say it.” For the first time since their arrival, Henry’s voice lost its friendly, chattiness. His face and tone became hard.

  Staring into his eyes, she saw the grim, serious look. It was a warning. Accept the deal, say it, or die here and now. There would be no second chances.

  “I understand.”

  The smile was back. He looked towards the pasture and called out. “Luke!”

  The tall biker turned his head and nodded. Reaching under the leather vest took a nickel plated .357 magnum revolver from his waistband, pointed it at the forehead of the chestnut and pulled the trigger. The thud of a thousand pounds of horse dropping suddenly to the ground could be felt through the floor of the porch.

  “No!” Peggy slumped against the doorframe and slid down to the weathered planks.

  “Yes, Peggy. Just a little demonstration. You should know that we could have killed you and Leroy. We still might. We would for sure if you weren’t our partners.”

  He turned and walked to the pickup. “Better have Leroy get the backhoe out when he gets home, dig a big hole and put Sally in it. Wouldn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea about how you take care of your horses around here.”

  36. The Shit Pool

  “You get them settled in like I told you?”

  “I did.” Blunt and even more aggressively obnoxious than ever, Budroe was becoming harder to take each day. Lonna choked back her annoyance. “Bought them a drink too.”

  “Good, that’s good.”

  The loud clanking of pots and rattling dishes caused her to pull the phone away from her ear while Roy did whatever he did in the mornings. Barefoot and in his underwear, Budroe poured coffee in the kitchen, then paced through the empty house, cigar clamped in his teeth. Peña and his men were not yet stirring.

  The glass door to the little concrete patio slid open with a squeal that was audible over the phone. Grunting, he lowered himself into a chair, took a loud sip of coffee and lit the cigar. Lonna waited patiently. Better for her to be longsuffering, put up with his bullshit, than to suffer his irritation. Budroe’s displeasure usually had dangerous consequences.

  Settled in for his coffee and morning smoke, Budroe looked down the sloping yard to the bay. He wondered if Guzman was out early, wandering around the water. Probably not. There was no sign of Peña’s men and they would not let him far from their sight.

  “You alone?”

  “All alone. Early still. Just cleaning things up before we get busy.” Lonna sat at the bar sipping her own coffee and wishing the boss would get to the point of the call.

  “Good. Something I want you to do.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s big…imp
ortant.”

  “Okay.” Lonna leaned forward, elbows on the bar, phone tight against her ear as if that would make the conversation more private.

  “You know that thing we were doin’ last year?”

  “Yeah.” There was only one thing they had been doing last year and it had caused Budroe to flee the country, take up residence God knows where.

  “We’re gonna do it again. I’m making the arrangements.”

  “Okay.” Lonna closed her eyes, afraid of where this was going.

  “I want you to head it up there.”

  “Well…do you think that’s such a good idea, Roy? I mean you had to leave and all, and…”

  “Yeah, I think it’s a fucking good idea!”

  Lonna winced as his voice rose in volume by several decibels. Way to go, you went and pissed him off, now make it better.

  “Sorry, Roy. Wasn’t arguin’ about it. Just worried a little. You know we had Mackey and them OSI people down on us pretty hard.”

  “Yeah, I know. I’m takin’ care of that too.”

  “Okay, Roy. Whatever you say.” At least he wasn’t shouting at her anymore.

  “I do say. Time for you to earn your keep. Henry works drugs. You run the whores already. Adding this is right up your alley. The girls will come through, get cleaned up and fed until we move them south. You take care of them while they’re there. Keep things in line. Make sure the supply lines are open and the inventory is up.”

  “If that’s what you want Roy, you know I’ll do it.”

  “Well, don’t sound so fucking happy, Lonna. This is a big deal…a promotion. You know I’ll make it worth your time.”

  There was really nothing to say. Roy wanted it so she would do it. He would make it worth her time. He was good about that, but if things turned to shit and she spent the rest of her life in prison, it wouldn’t matter. Shit.

  The sex slave thing had always made her uncomfortable. It wasn’t the sex that bothered Lonna. She’d been turning tricks on the streets of Atlanta and around the southeast since she was sixteen. It was the drugging the girls and making them slaves thing that pierced what was left of her conscience. At the time, she hadn’t been in on it so it was of no great concern. Now he was throwing her smack in the middle of the shit pool.