Page 51 of Making His Bones

Santiago held up a palm. “Wait.” He made a high-pitched whistle out into the wasteland. Immediately little heads peeked out from behind sandstone hillocks. “Venga, venga!” urged Santiago.

“Wait,” Wolf said darkly. “What the fuck is going—“

“Where are we taking these kids?” asked Lytton as the kids started jumping into the bed of Wolf’s truck like swarming ants. There must’ve been a dozen kids, some not even wearing a shirt. Santiago just held his arms open, a bright smile on his handsome mug, like he was posing for a head shot.

Santiago said through grinning teeth, “I and the Bare Bones MC will take them back to Mexico. We will get ahold of their relatives on the other side and make sure they don’t make any more drug runs.”

Wolf protested. “But we don’t have any spare people—“

“Good idea, Slayer,” said Lytton. “No problem. We’d be glad to help.”

Santiago said, “They know what was happening to their friends. They vowed not to drink any moonshine. But they heard some boys were forced to drink.”

Forced to drink. Gray and I shared a look, and I knew we shared the same thought. Delilah had been forced to take a large quantity of Xanax before her murder. Xanax doesn’t start taking effect for a week or more, leading me to conclude this murderer was a mental midget with the IQ of a fencepost. And now I knew this family all enjoyed force-feeding children with poison.

“Ah!” uttered Santiago, closing his door as the last kid leaped in. “Sometimes I get a thorough enjoyment out of my profession.”

Lytton said, “But this isn’t normally part of your profession.”

“Oh, yes it is. Oh, yes it is.”

R