Adrenaline rolled through him on a tide of unease.
This did not fit for Esteban.
Would his friend shoot him or give Sam a chance to talk? Sam repeated, “Sure could use a cold one.”
He opened the door slowly and listened.
Graveyard quiet.
Lifting his HK 416, he led the way through the small foyer, pausing to glance in the living room. A half-eaten sandwich sat on a plate next to an open beer can.
Sam swallowed hard.
Where was Esteban?
He kept moving on soft steps. The living area was one bedroom with a bathroom, a small kitchen, and his television room with a recliner.
Three-quarters of the place was an armory, so it didn’t take long to reach the steel door to his weapon storage. Nitro and Blade would be following four steps behind.
Seeing the two-inch-thick steel door ajar chilled Sam’s skin.
Light spilled through the opening.
Nitro put a hand on Sam’s shoulder, letting him know he was close.
Sam glanced around at Nitro whose mouth had flattened into grim determination. Blade wore his standard stoic look.
Every tense movement felt as if the air had turned into thick pudding. Sam stepped to one side of the door and used the barrel of his rifle to nudge it wider.
No one shot at him.
He risked a peek inside.
Weapons filled every free wall of the room. Others had been stored in a steel cabinet normally used for tools. This didn’t appear to be a theft.
Esteban sat in a chair with his head down on his crossed arms.
“Esteban?”
Sam drew a deep breath. A coppery stink hit him.
“Ah, fuck.” He walked into the room and over to the table where he lifted Esteban up and leaned his back against the chair back. His head flopped to the left, exposing his throat that had been cut from side to side.
Nitro appeared next to him. “Who would kill him and leave all his weapons?”
“Makes no sense,” Sam agreed.
“Sorry about Esteban, Sam, but we need to get all the intel we can and head out.”
“Copy that, Cuz.” Sam swallowed hard. He had so few friends. Losing even one left a huge hole.
As Blade and Nitro moved around hunting for any intel of use, Sam sucked up a gut of pain and started searching around Esteban. When he leaned to look on the other side of his friend’s body, a folded piece of paper stuck out from where it was trapped under Esteban’s right arm. He pulled out a switchblade and eased enough paper out until he could open it with his fingernails. Maybe Logan’s tech people could pull DNA, fingerprints, or both from it. Doubtful, but he would not leave any evidence that might help.
His breath caught when he read:One down then the final delivery.
What the hell did that mean? Then Sam saw a photo clutched in Esteban’s hand. He pulled it free.
An attractive woman in her thirties with long black hair. Next to her, a small boy with her nose and eyes held her hand. They stood in front of a building with a sign on top sayingEscuela de Sueños.
