Page 43 of Making His Bones

“No!” snapped Santiago. “Try half an hour, cabrón! I could not unlock from her for fear of tearing her flesh!”

“And your flesh as well,” noted Wolf.

“Indeed! I picked her up and put her legs around my waist and set her down on the sink. We had a conversation about her cat.”

Fox smiled. “Her cat?”

What the fracas? Even Wolf Glaser had apparently completely forgotten his angst in order to kowtow to this flamboyant playboy!

“Yes,” Santiago whatever-his-name-was said suavely, one eyebrow raised, “during our amorous excursion, her cat had gotten outside. He was an indoor cat, but we could not uncouple and go get him, so we could only watch him outside eating grass.”

“Eating grass?” Wolf guffawed, actually slapping his knee. “A cat eating grass?”

“Cats enjoy grass too,” explained Santiago.

I’d had enough. I shouldered my way past Lytton and confronted the buffoon. “Excuse me, sir. But I’ve got a crisis involving my old man.” I turned to the patch holders, who seemed rooted to the spot because I’d been so brave. “My old man Gray Whaley seems to have been shot down by a corrupt member of society, and you’re just all standing around goofing about some butt-to-butt action.”

Santiago put his hand on his abdomen, as if about to bow. “Excuse me, miss. Not butt-to-butt action. Enormous penis to pussy action.”

“Listen,” said Fox, “we know you’re the one who busted Kneecap. We have absolutely no reason to help—“

“Wait,” said Lytton, raising a calming hand to his brother. “She has a right to be freaked. And we don’t necessarily have to help her, but we should be thinking about helping our brother. We can’t rely on fucking Tobiah and Galileo to run down there and extract him. Who knows what those loony moonshiners are doing to him? We need a plan.”

“Loony moonshiners?” repeated Santiago. “What town is this in?”

I was the first to say, “Seeker.”

Santiago held up an illustrative forefinger. “I think I might know these loony moonshiners. And I know just the sexy, busty woman to tell us a back way into their property.”

“The Pitchfork family?” I gaped.

“Yes, exactly!” Santiago whipped out his phone and rapidly texted someone with his thumbs. “I was supposed to, ah, administer to one of those moonshiners because he got my woman’s nephew drunk.”

I said, “And sent him out into the desert to die?”

Santiago’s eyes flashed, and for the first time I saw he was a man to be reckoned with. “Exactly! How do you know this? Did they do that to your nephew too?”

Lytton tried to say, “She thinks they’re taking drug mules and—“

“I think they know who killed my daughter,” I interrupted loudly. I didn’t give a butt what that fucking club thought of me. I appreciated they’d taken Gray in when he was down and out, but that was the extent of it. They were getting in the way of my quest, and I didn’t give a jingle-shit about anything else.

“Your daughter?” Santiago said in a hushed, reverent tone. In a flash, he became very heated, as though a director had shouted “action!” “You know, I wouldn’t put it past these Pitchfork pendejos to be in on something like that. That Upton Pitchfork gilipollas wasn’t paying these boys to bring drugs over the border. Instead, he got them high on his horrible homemade rotgut and drove them into the desert to leave them.”

“Yes!” I cried. “And used hagfish slime to stop anyone from following them.” I had a personal connection with that slime. In more than one way.

I was surprised when Santiago said, “Yes, I have used hagfish slime for many things. But it is very effective for coating a vehicle in such a cocoon they cannot continue following anyone.”

Then double doors slammed open then, hitting Santiago in the butt. He spun about in a defensive position, but it was only little Tiago, smiling.

“I heard Santiago Slayer was here!” he chirped. “I see that it is you!”

Santiago patted the kid on the head. “Aw. It is most heartening to know that I have fans among the younger set.” He made an exaggerated face of surprise when his phone buzzed, and he stepped away to look at it.

“Tiago,” I lectured, “you must stay here, no matter what happens. Santiago is helping me with something.”

“Helping the club,” corrected Wolf. “And I’m coming with you. I want to beat Tobiah’s ass in finding Gray.”

“I’m coming too,” said Lytton, “just to make sure the two of you don’t blow everything by fighting. Fox, you stay here and make sure Tiago is all right.”