Bounty Hunter: Dig Two Graves

by Rachel Aukes

  “And if they refuse to negotiate?” Kit asked.

  “We run,” Joe answered.

  Rex’s eyes widened. “Wait. Is Sloan taking all of his gold with him?”

  “He’s probably taking everything he can carry,” Kit replied.

  “But that gold’s mine,” Rex whined.

  “And you can chase him down and take it if you want it,” Joe pointed out.

  Rex seemed willing to consider the idea. “I will, but first, I want to see what’s left in that safe room of his.”

  Val looked sullen. “I don’t like it, but I’ll go along with you.”

  Chapter Fifty

  Renzo used the back entrance of Clearwater’s only hotel. His cape covered much of his face and armor, so even if someone saw him, they’d have little information of note to share with others. And they would share—in small towns like this, all you ever heard was rumors and hearsay. Clearwater should’ve been called Backwater, since it was a crude town populated by unenhanced idiots who were lucky to have survived as long as they had.

  He rapped three times on the door of the room he kept for business to be handled in person. Boris opened the door a crack and peeked out. He saw Renzo, and opened the door.

  Renzo stepped inside and glanced around to make sure nothing was out of place. While the room had a camera—that was how Renzo knew Boris was there—he always ran a body heat scan with his artificial eye to make sure no assassins hid behind a door or under a bed.

  Confident it was only the pair of them, he turned to Boris. “Why are you here, Captain?”

  Boris’s hair was ruffled, and he looked stressed. “Sloan’s finished. Darville stepped in, and she’s pulling everyone back.”

  “Yes, I heard. And what does that have to do with me?”

  Boris fidgeted. Renzo had never liked the man. While he was a decent enough soldier, his avarice meant he couldn’t be trusted.

  “Well, with all my squads heading back to MRC Central, I’m worried someone might speak up, and Darville might decide that I should’ve reported Sloan before I did. I could end up in prison or worse. So I was thinking, instead of going back to Central, I could stay back here and work for you.”

  Boris withered under Renzo’s stare.

  “You shouldn’t have ratted Sloan out to Darville in the first place,” Renzo said. “You should’ve left Sloan to his campaign of greed.”

  “But he would’ve destroyed everything the MRC has built in the Midlands.”

  Renzo smiled. “Exactly.”

  The Zenith commander pulled out two short blades from sheaths on his chest and lunged at Boris. The murc had no time to react before Renzo sliced his throat from ear to ear.

  The captain clutched at his throat as he staggered back, then dropped hard onto his knees. Renzo strolled to the bathroom, pulled a towel off the rack, and returned to watch Boris fall forward. He wiped his blades on the towel, streaking the white fabric with crimson.

  “I decline your offer, Captain.”

  He sheathed his blades and disappeared into the night.

  Chapter Fifty-One

  In the silo’s damaged operations room, Joe said, “Looks good,” echoed by Kit.

  “I think you need a comma there,” Rex said, bending over to scrutinize the message.

  Val shot Rex a scowl before turning back to the specialist sitting in front of the screen. “It’s good. You can send it, Lupe.”

  “Fingers crossed President Darville treats the message as a legit offer to negotiate,” Kit said.

  “She will,” Joe said, with as much optimism as he could muster. “There hasn’t been an overt military conflict since she took over the MRC. I have to believe that she’ll prefer the chance to talk over bloodshed.”

  A young woman burst into the room. When her gaze settled on Val, she was visibly relieved. “Sheriff, we saw something in Clearwater.”

  “What is it?” Val asked.

  “Three bounty hunters, in Clearwater’s tavern.” The girl tossed nervous glances at Joe and Rex, both of whom were wearing their exoshields, though they carried their helmets under their arms. She ignored Kit, evidently not realizing that he was a bounty hunter too. “They haven’t started asking questions, so no one knows whom they’re looking for.”

  Val turned to the trio of hunters with her. “Do you think they’ve come here for us?”

  Joe shrugged. “Maybe.”

  Rex grinned. “There’s only one way to find out. We go and ask them.”

  “Are they still in the tavern?” Val asked.

  The girl nodded. “They were just settling in and reading menus. Looked like they’d be there for a while.”

  “Good. Then we’ll go,” Val said, and turned to leave.

  Joe caught her arm. “Wait. You should stay here. Sloan still thinks you’re dead.”

  Val cocked her chin. “That doesn’t matter anymore, does it, since we’re no longer going after him?” She pulled away, walked over to a weapons locker, and loaded up more gear.

  Kit followed her lead.

  “You should be in bed. You’re still recovering,” Joe said.

  “I’ve spent enough time in bed,” Kit said, and pulled out a charged blaster.

  Joe shared a worried look with Rex before they followed the others outside. Four heavily armed people squeezed into Val’s cutter, and she drove to town and parked behind the tavern. She reached to open the service door, but Rex pulled her back.

  “Let us go first. You can’t trust bounty hunters,” he said glibly and took lead.

  “We’ll go first because we’re wearing shields,” Joe clarified.

  Val relented and went in behind them. Kit’s color had returned, though he still moved slowly, and he covered their rear. Joe still wished that Kit had stayed behind—his friend wasn’t even close to full strength.

  As soon as they entered, Rex whipped out his blaster and pointed it at a table in the corner. Joe saw what Rex had seen, and drew his own blaster, moving to find a better angle.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Kit muttered.

  Cat, owner of the Iron Guild, sat between two hunters in exoshields. Joe recognized both. Wilco, in her highly polished armor, was the young hunter Cat had poached from the Haft Agency, while Lobo, his armor well-worn, had been with Cat for as long as Joe remembered. All three had weapons leveled at the newcomers. Since Cat wore only leather pants and a leather tank top, Joe pointed his blaster at her. Exoshields prevented kill shots, and Joe needed only one shot to put Cat down. It was a tempting thought, especially since killing her would end her vendetta once and for all.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Joe noticed that the rest of the bar had cleared out, and for that, he was glad. He didn’t need innocents getting shot, or worse, someone with an itchy trigger finger trying to play the hero.

  Cat’s tribal tattoos almost looked like whiskers when she sneered. “Well, if it isn’t my three least favorite people in this godforsaken world. I knew it was too good to be true to think that you were dead. Tell me why I shouldn’t shoot you in the heads right now and have you out of my life forever.”

  “Because then my ghost would come back and haunt you,” Rex growled.

  “And because we’d kill you, too,” Joe said.

  “Enough.” Val pushed past Joe and Rex, holstering her blaster. “We’re not here to shoot anyone today. Put your weapons away, and my people won’t shoot you. I give you my word.”

  Cat eyed Val. “And why should I believe you?”

  “Because I’m the sheriff in this town, and when I give my word, I keep it.”

  “Ah, you might, but what about them?” Cat nodded in the direction of the three men.

  Val looked directly into the eyes of each hunter with her before turning back to Cat. “They’ll listen to me.”

  After a length, Cat jerked her chin at her bodyguards, and they holstered their weapons. Cat put her blaster down on the table, the barrel pointed at Val. Val looked over her shoulder, and Kit, Jo
e, and Rex holstered their weapons.

  Val took a step closer to the table, as though to flaunt danger. “I’m Sheriff Vane. Welcome to Clearwater.”

  Cat looked Val up and down, and her eyes narrowed. “Do you also happen to be the same Vane that was a Zenith commander during the Revolution?”

  Val blinked before answering. “I am.”

  A hint of emotion flashed across Cat’s face, but Joe couldn’t make it out. “My brother served under you. His name was Manuel Mamani.”

  Val’s features softened. “I remember Manny.” She gestured at her cheek. “He had the same tribal markings. He was a good man.”

  “He was. He trusted you, so I’ll trust you,” Cat decided. Then her expression morphed into anger, and she glared at Kit. “He was killed by a Raven.”

  “I know. I lost my entire squad the night he was killed,” Val said, and Joe was thankful she didn’t feel the same way about Ravens. “I lost my brother, too,” she confided. “Not in the Revolution. He was too young to fight. I lost him afterward when he found himself on the wrong side of a criminal. But rather than dwelling on those we’ve lost, let’s talk about those who are still living. Do you mind telling me who you’re here for, Ms. Mamani?”

  “Call me Cat, and that’s none of your business.”

  “It is my business if you’re after me or any of my friends,” Val countered.

  “Friends?” Cat laughed. “So you three misfits are running with the law now? Can’t say I saw that one coming, especially with open tickets on two of you. How’d you squeak by without getting a ticket on your head, Rex?”

  “Because my record is as sparkling as my personality,” he replied.

  “Right,” she said sarcastically.

  “Plus, unlike you, my friends and I have these nasty habits called scruples,” Rex said. “We don’t sell out to the highest bidder, regardless of which side of the law they stand on.”

  Cat laughed harder this time. “You’re bounty hunters. That’s what we do for a living.”

  “Not when it means declaring war on another guild and giving its members the choice of signing or dying,” Joe said, glancing at Wilco. She fidgeted in her seat.

  Cat brushed off the accusation. “War? That was just a little friendly competition. Too bad the Haft Agency couldn’t handle it and decided to roll over and go belly up.”

  “Wrong. The Haft Agency is still very much in business,” Rex said. “And you’re going to have to up your game if you think you can take it down.”

  Cat snarled. “I’ll shred your guild, even if I have to kill you to do it.”

  “You kill me, and I promise I’ll take you right along with me.”

  “Then I’ll see you in hell!”

  “Nah, you won’t. Because from what I hear, the road to hell is paved with good intentions, and I’ve never been afflicted with those things.”

  Joe could hear the amusement in Rex’s voice. His friend was clearly goading Cat into a gunfight. Her fingers inched toward the blaster.

  “Don’t do it,” Val said, her hand on her own holster.

  Cat made a show of pulling her hand back. “Sorry. It’s just so hard not to shoot someone when two Ravens and Harry’s ghoul are lined up in front of me. But alas, I’m not here for them today. Tomorrow’s a different story.”

  “Then who are you here for?” Val asked.

  Cat eyed Rex before turning back to Val. “If I told you, that beast might try to steal the ticket out from under me.”

  “I haven’t seen tickets for anyone in Clearwater,” Rex said.

  “You mean any tickets besides the ones for the two Ravens with you?” Cat countered.

  “I don’t know of any Ravens. I’m just hanging out with a couple of old buddies,” Rex replied.

  Cat’s lips curved up, but there was no kindness in her smile. “Well, how about I make you a deal? I’ll let those two tickets slide, for now. In return, you stay away from my target.”

  “I have to know who the target is, so I know whom I’m staying away from,” Rex said reasonably.

  Cat stared him down.

  “All right,” Rex relented. “You have my word. I won’t squeeze in on your ticket, and you’ll leave my pals alone for a year.”

  She laughed. “A year? That’s rich. I was thinking more along the lines of one week.”

  “A month. Nothing less,” Rex said.

  Cat nodded. “I’ll set aside Havoc and Turbo’s tickets for one month,” she said, using Joe and Kit’s callsigns.

  Rex held up a finger. “And that goes for the entire Iron Guild.”

  She pouted. “Fine. No Guildsman will work their tickets for a one-month period, beginning now. After that, all bets are off. Do we have a deal?”

  “Deal,” Rex said. “Who’s your target?”

  Cat beamed. “Roderick Sloan.”

  Joe was dismayed, and Val’s lips pursed.

  “Who issued the ticket?” Joe asked.

  Cat’s smile remained. “It hasn’t been issued yet, but I have it on good authority that one is being issued soon, and I intend to be within a hundred feet of him when that happens.”

  “Sloan’s in the Midlands. What’s a Salt Flats guild doing going for that ticket?” Joe asked.

  “Well, since the Haft Agency seems to be offline, my guild is the closest,” Cat replied coolly.

  “Huh, I guess that means you’re done working exclusively for the Sloan brothers now,” Rex said.

  Cat shrugged. “I decided diversification is good for longevity.”

  “Is it going to be a kill order?” Val asked.

  Cat shook her head. “No. From what I hear, the upper tier at MRC Central wishes to make an example out of him. Seems he’s been a very naughty boy.”

  Val didn’t seem to like that answer.

  Unease crept into Joe’s conscience, and he spoke up before Val could jeopardize the fragile parley Rex had just established. “Sloan’s all yours, but you should know we’ll be in the area for a while. We have some unfinished business to take care of.”

  “As long as you stay out of my way, I’ll stay out of yours,” Cat said.

  “Gladly,” Joe said.

  “We’ll see you around,” Val said, and turned and strode out of the bar.

  The other three backed out, not trusting Cat wouldn’t shoot them in the back if they turned.

  Once safely in Val’s cutter, Joe said, “Rex, you hate Cat more than any of us. I never thought I’d see the day you’d make a deal with her.”

  He removed his helmet, and Joe saw him grin. “Who says I plan to keep my end of the bargain?”

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Kit waited outside in the dark, leaning against Val’s cutter. The night air had grown cool, and Clearwater’s gigantic mosquitos pecked away at him. If he had his exoshield, it would protect him from temperature changes and annoying bugs. But he had no money to buy another suit, and he wouldn’t consider contracting ten years of service with another guild to have one given to him…not that he could even try, given that Cat had paid for his arrest warrant.

  He really disliked that woman, though he couldn’t kill her. He’d already killed one member of the Mamani family, and that was enough.

  He was about to give up dealing with the bugs and head back into the silo for some much-needed sleep when he heard the sound of gravel crunching under a boot. He peered into the night and made out Val’s familiar figure in the moonlight. He stepped away from the cutter, and she jumped.

  “Kit, is that you?” she asked.

  “Yep, it’s me.”

  “What are you doing out here?” She sounded impatient.

  He took a step closer and noticed the all-black, form-fitting clothes she wore, along with more weapons than usual. Someone was going hunting. “I was going to ask the same of you.”

  “I—I need to go check out something on the other side of Clearwater.”

  Wow, she was a bad liar. “I can go with you,” he offered.

  �
��Not this time,” she said. “Besides, you should be resting.”

  “I should be resting, and you should be staying in the silo instead of going after Sloan by yourself.”

  “Who said…? I never said anything about going after Sloan. Where did you get that preposterous idea?”

  “I’m not a fool, Val. I saw that look in your eyes today. You made up your mind to go after him as soon as Joe offered up the plan to leave him alone.”

  Her chin jutted out. “I won’t let Sloan get away without paying for what he’s done.”

  “He won’t. Cat will see to it that he’s brought to justice. In case you forgot, we made a deal with Cat today.”

  “Rex made a deal with Cat. I did no such thing.”

  She pulled out a blaster and leveled it at Kit.

  He held up his hands. “So you’re going to shoot me so you can carry out this vendetta? Trust me, Val. Sloan isn’t worth it.”

  She looked sad. “Sorry, Kit.”

  Then she shot him.

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Val felt bad shooting Kit, but in her defense, she’d switched her blaster to the stun setting. She checked his vitals before leaving him. Still, she suspected he wouldn’t want to have that dinner with her now.

  She drove without headlights, taking backtrails to avoid being seen by any murc patrols. She parked her cutter in the same place she’d parked the night she brought Joe to the farm to kill Sloan and free all the slaves Sloan called “indentured servants.” So many lives would have been saved had they been successful that night. At first, she’d blamed Joe for not following through on their plan to kill the administrator, but she’d had to admit she’d freed the farm’s workers too soon, ruining Joe’s chance.

  She walked the final mile to the farm, careful to keep to the shadows. She came up to the farm on the side where the livestock was housed. The murcs preferred to avoid the smellier side of the property, and the cattle and hogs stank. She skirted the hog lot. She’d seen slaves fed to the pigs when they became too sick or injured to work. It was horrific—not a way anyone would want to die. She stayed low and used the fence lines for cover, working her way closer to the mansion.