Chapters (110)
- Cover
- ALSO BY J. TODD SCOTT
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- PROLOGUE
- I
- II
- PART ONE
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- PART TWO
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- PART THREE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- FIFTY-SEVEN
- FIFTY-EIGHT
- FIFTY-NINE
- SIXTY
- SIXTY-ONE
- PART FOUR
- SIXTY-TWO
- SIXTY-THREE
- SIXTY-FOUR
- SIXTY-FIVE
- SIXTY-SIX
- SIXTY-SEVEN
- SIXTY-EIGHT
- SIXTY-NINE
- SEVENTY
- SEVENTY-ONE
- SEVENTY-TWO
- SEVENTY-THREE
- SEVENTY-FOUR
- SEVENTY-FIVE
- SEVENTY-SIX
- SEVENTY-SEVEN
- SEVENTY-EIGHT
- SEVENTY-NINE
- EIGHTY
- EIGHTY-ONE
- EIGHTY-TWO
- EIGHTY-THREE
- EIGHTY-FOUR
- EPILOGUE
- I
- II
- III
- IV
- V
- VI
- VII
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- Excerpt from LOST RIVER
- LITTLE PARIS
- DILLON
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- What’s next onyour reading list?
In the end, it hadn’t been that much of a lie at all.
“I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me why you really need this, are you?” West asked.
Danny laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m not robbing a bank.” He reached into his pocket and took out a folded envelope. He’d pulled a thousand dollars out of his bank account that afternoon, after leaving the Far Six. “Here’s the money we talked about it. Take it. It’s all there. I’ll get this rifle back to you in a week.”
“If all goes well?”
“Yeah,” Danny conceded, “if all goes well.”
West looked at the envelope for a long time. He grabbed it, thumbed out a couple of hundred-dollar bills, and pushed the rest back into Danny’s hands. “I’ll use this to buy something nice for Letty. A good dinner, maybe even get the boys something, too. You owe ’em more than you owe me, for dragging my ass out here tonight on such short notice. But seeing you . . . and talking, really talking . . . well, that’s payment enough for me.”
“Thanks, I appreciate it.”
“Nah, it’s nothing. Don’t thank me. Just don’t let me read about you in the paper. Not like Duran, right?”
“No, not like Duran.”
West looked at him closely one last time, saluted, and then pulled him in for a final, crushing hug. It was like being held by a dozen men, a whole platoon. “But I do feel sorry for the poor bastard on the other end of that scope. Happy hunting, brother.”
Danny hugged him back, then lifted the blanket-wrapped M110 out of the trunk. He walked away, leaving West still standing by the open trunk, watching him go.
Eight hundred yards. About the length of eight football fields, which was kind of funny, given that Sheriff Cherry had been a big-time quarterback. But even the sheriff couldn’t outthrow the M110.
Eight hundred yards.
With the rifle’s Leupold Mk4 3.5-10x40mm illuminated TMR reticle scope and a clear field of vision from the house at the Far Six, Danny would be able to see damn near forever.
All the way to Mexico.
FIFTY-TWO
It was well past midnight, a couple of hours before dawn, when one of Fox Uno’s phones rang.
It was the Mexican Telcel, the phone America had spoken to Gualterio on, out in the desert.
America had been holding on to both of Fox Uno’s phones to make sure no calls or messages came through they weren’t aware of, and when it started beeping, she wasn’t asleep anyway. She was still wide-awake, thinking instead about the talk she’d had earlier with Melissa.
What it had felt like to hold the baby, the furious beat of his tiny heart against her chest.