“Well, he pushed the button that called me. I came with my Glock.”
Gideon said, “Right. See what I mean? He still needs to be saved by someone. Prospects need to save themselves, and then some. We’ll see. Time will tell. Dingo didn’t look like anyone who’d succeed in the club, either. He was more suited for Dr. Who marathons, helpful if you need to plant a bug or tracker on someone. But he’s proven his mettle in a few situations. He’s a hell of a shot, actually. I’m about ready to give him his top rocker. Let me ask you. If you open this martial arts studio, would you be living down here? It’s too far to commute.”
I folded my arms and sighed heavily. “I’ve thought of it. At least until the studio gets on its feet and I find someone I trust to take over. To be honest, I’m getting burnt out on the escort biz. I’m thirty. That’s the upper limit of old in that biz. Course, I’m not going to put anyone out on the street. My assistant Brody can easily take over. He knows the ropes.”
Gideon folded his arms too, facing me head on. “I’ll be blunt. We need men. We don’t have enough guys to make a quorum. I had to recruit one of the riding club guys, and he’s like sixty-five and ready to retire. I had to rope in a longtime hang-around who’s got a PhD from Stanford. He’s running my mine and he’s the club secretary, and he went to the mat for me when that warped fundy Allred Chiles kidnapped my old lady and went fruit on everyone. But in a serious shoot-out situation? Let’s just say these guys have yet to prove their starch.”
I nodded. “Send ’em all to my studio,” I said, half-serious and half-joking.
“For sure. But sometimes, no amount of martial arts or shooting lessons will make a good outlaw. And I need one tomorrow. Someone with proven grit using firearms in a stressful situation. Like you, coming to the aid of your men. And I heard you used to be proficient as a stickup man.”
“It’s not my favorite thing in the world. I only use it if I feel someone’s safety is being threatened.”
“Exactly. I don’t expect that’ll happen tomorrow. I just need someone to deliver a load inside Cornucopia. We had a deal with Allred Chiles and we’re continuing it with Parley Pipkin and the new heir apparent to the throne, a guy named Verlan Turley. You know him?”
“Pipkin was always Chiles’ right-hand man, but this Turley must’ve been after my time.”
“There’s been a huge power play up there since Chiles left a void, as you can imagine.”
“And the void was left by…” I trailed off, waiting for Gideon to finish my sentence.
His reply was sharp and swift. “An ATF agent who saved the asses of myself and my old lady. Now that guy was fast with a weapon, and he knew how to use it. It might not happen that often, but when it does, you need a guy who’s prepared.”
“And you can’t do it?”
Gideon sighed. “I’m dealing with some first wives who want to claim the bodies of their husbands out at my mine.”
“What—”
“Don’t ask. Can you do it?”
“Drive a truck? Make a delivery while armed? Sure. Just tell me how to get in, who to see, all that shit.”
Gideon bro-hugged it out with me, thumping me on the back once. “Good man. I’ve got to take this,” he said, indicating his phone. He went out front to join the realtor.
With hands entwined behind my back, I walked the floorboards like a proper owner. It felt good to be branching out, doing something new. High windows would let in light without allowing anyone to see in or out. Just some new sheetrock and paint and the basic shell of the space would be done. Gideon knew more than me about plumbing and foundations, and he assured me the whole space was solid.
Just to be sure, I went into the back and checked the sinks and toilets. Everything ran smoothly with no sign of rust. No signs of dry rot or leaky roof, and the window was well sealed. I was just exiting the bathroom when a sinister shadow moved in the hallway, someone wearing a ten gallon hat. Not knowing where the light switch was, I was stupidly feeling along the wall when the fat silhouette pressed in on me.
“Who’s that?” I barked, holding my forearm in front of my face as I circled around the form.
“Well, well.” I recognized the smarmy, hayseed voice right off. Ladell Pratt. “Last time I saw you I had my mouth around your sweet slave prick. Now you’re trying to branch out into my town? My, my. You must be looking forward to all kinds of cocksucking to get your business shipshape.”
I may have been in “his” town, but the twisted fundy had gotten on my last nerve. All the rage that had propelled me down to Avalanche in the first place surged through my cells. Before I knew it, my fist landed a sharp right cross to the twatwaffle’s alcoholic nose. He went spinning down the hallway toward the back storage area. Only the corner of the hallway prevented him from crashing into the storage shelves. He stood propped in the corner like a zombie, arms out stiffly in front of himself.