Read Saint Death - John Milton #3 for Free Online Page B

said. “Good job.”
    Beau took the envelope and opened it a little. He ran his finger against the thick bundle of notes inside. “Thank you.” He folded the envelope and slipped it into the inside pocket of his jacket. “I hope you got what you wanted from our friend.”
    “We did. How did you find him?”
    “What difference does it make?”
    “I’m curious.”
    “You don’t have to worry about that. That’s why you pay me.”
    “A trade secret, Baxter?”
    “Something like that.” Beau smiled at him. “Alright, then. You said you had something else?”
    “Yes. But it’s not easy.”
    “Ain’t never easy, else anyone could do it. Who is it?”
    Carlo took out his phone and scrolled through his pictures to the one that he wanted. He gave the phone to Beau. “You know him?”
    He whistled through his teeth. “You ain’t kidding this ain’t going to be easy.”
    “You know him?”
    “Unless I’m much mistaken, that’s Adolfo González. Correct?”
    “Correct. Know him by sight?”
    “I believe so.”
    “Have you come across him before?”
    “Now and again. Not directly.”
    “But you know his reputation?”
    “I do.”
    “Is that a problem?”
    “Not for me, maybe for you. A man like that’s going to be mighty expensive.”
    “Go on.”
    Beau sucked air through his teeth as he thought. “Well, then, there’s how difficult it’ll be to get to him, and with the connections he has, I got to set a price that takes into account how dangerous it’ll be for me both now and in the future if they ever find out it was me who went after him. That being said––I’d say we’re looking at an even fifty, all in. Half now, half later.”
    Beau found his eye drawn to the scruffy bush of chest hair that escaped from between the buttons of Carlo’s patterned shirt. “Fifty?”
    “Plus expenses.”
    “Fine.”
    “As easy as that?”
    “You think you should have asked for more?”
    “The price is the price.”
    “You can have the first twenty-five by two-thirty.”
    “You got a hurry-up going on for this fellow, then?”
    “How well do you know him?”
    “I knew him when he was younger. Busted him coming over the border this one time.”
    “And what do you think?”
    “If he was bad then, he’s worse now.”
    “How bad?”
    “I’d say he’s a mean, psychopathic bastard. Want to tell me what he’s done so that you want him so bad?”
    “We had an arrangement with his old man––the buying and selling of certain merchandise. But then we had a problem: he changed the terms, made it uneconomic. We went to discuss it and Señor González murdered six of my colleagues.”
    Beau remembered. “That thing down south of Juárez?”
    Carlo spread his hands wide. “Let’s say we would like to discuss that with him.”
    “Alive, then?”
    “If you can. There’ll be a bonus.”
    “Understood.” Beau didn’t need to enquire any more than that. He’d been working bounties long enough to reckon that revenge came in a lot of different flavours.
    “Do you need anything else?”
    “No sir,” Beau said. “That’s plenty good enough.”
    “Then we’re done.” He rose. “Happy trails.”
    Beau followed him to his feet and collected his Stetson from the table. “You know what they call our boy over the border?”
    Carlo shook his head.
    Beau brushed the dust from his hat. “Oh yeah, this man, on account of his reputation, he’s made quite the impression. Last time I heard anything about him they were calling him Santa Muerte.”
    “The wetbacks are superstitious fucks, Baxter.”
    “Maybe so. Fifty thousand? For a man like that, my friend, I’d say you’ve got yourself a bargain.”

 
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    9.
    THE BORDER. They called it The Reaper’s Line. Beau Baxter edged forward in the Cherokee. The checkpoint was busy today, in both directions: trucks and cars and motorbikes heading south and a longer, denser line coming north. He looked at the trucks coming out of Juárez with a