He looks at my open door, then gets up and checks the hallway for my grandpa. My grandma can’t climb stairs and my grandpa isn’t much better. So they don’t come up here much. But Ford closes the bedroom door just the same and walks back over to me, not taking a seat this time. “Sasha, I’m taking this with me and I’m giving it to Merc. He works for these people. And something is very wrong here. But I’m not the right guy to help you, OK? I’m not the right guy.”

I realize I’ve been holding my breath.

“Merc is the one you need. So you’re gonna stay up here in the middle of who-gives-a-fuckville and keep your head down and your eyes open. If you see anyone, Sasha—and I do mean anyone—you use this phone.”

He hands it over. It’s one of those cheap ones you can buy at Wal-Mart that all the hunters have to keep in touch without the Company knowing.

“There’s only one number on there. You call Merc if you see anything and he’ll tell you what to do. When I leave here I’ll stop off at his place and we’ll have a chat. Then he’ll get in touch with you. But no matter what happens, Sasha”—Ford pauses to make sure I’m listening—“no matter what happens, you do not tell anyone about this drive and you do not tell anyone about me coming here today. Do you understand?”

I nod. “Yes, sir.”

And like it or not. Ford was right. He’s the wrong guy to handle this.

But so is Merc.

Because James… James is the only guy who can handle this.

Chapter Five

James

“Quit that. You’re driving me nuts.”

“What?” I ask as I chew on my thumbnail, wishing I could have a smoke. I ran out forty miles ago and there were no stops on the highway. And now that we’re in Cheyenne, I’m nervous as all hell.

“Just stop for cigarettes, for Pete’s sake. I’m the one who should be nervous. This is my home, not yours.”

I look at her as we stop at the red light. “Why would you be nervous?”

“Well.” She looks out the window. “We’re going to the Roundhouse, right?”

That’s the name of the antique mall her dad sold Company guns out of. “Yeah. You expecting something important to be there, Smurf?”

Because I am. And that’s what’s got me nervous.

“Not exactly.”

I don’t know what that means, but a horn honks behind me and I look up to find the light has turned green. I ease forward and then take the first right past the railroad tracks. The old-timey train station is on the right side of this road and on the left are historical warehouse buildings that have been re-purposed into antique stores.

The Roundhouse is massive and it’s on a corner one street up.

Sasha lets out a deep breath.

Fuck. I hope to hell this is not a mistake. I pull the truck around the back of the building and park next to a giant green dumpster and cut the engine.

“Well,” I say as we sit in silence for a moment. “Ready to go inside?”

I turn my head to look at her and she’s got wide eyes. “Do I need to be ready for something?”

“You tell me.”

“Have you been in here before?”

I shake my head at her. “Never. Never been to this town before, I told you that.”

“I wasn’t sure if that was true or not. It’s seems unlikely that you never stopped by here for something.”

“This depot isn’t that old, Sasha. The gunrunner for the western guys used to be in Arizona.”

“Oh.” She nods and takes a deep breath. “That makes sense, I guess. We used to live out of the RV and just sell at gun shows.”

We open our doors at the same time and get out of the truck. I point to the back door and we head that direction. When we get there I hurry a little to open it for her and she scoots inside without another word.

Please, I pray, don’t let this be a mistake.

We enter into a back room and I have no idea where I’m going. Merc just said to park in back and go through the door.

I don’t need to worry. The Smurf leads the way. There’s aisle after aisle of tall industrial-sized shelving like you see in a big box store, but Sasha goes up two aisles, walks down one until we get to an intersection, and then makes a left. At the end of this aisle is another door. “Where we going?” I ask her as she heads for the door.

“My dad’s booth,” she says, cool as they come.

Of course. Whenever I come to the Roundhouse to meet mercenaries, I always hit the dead father’s booth first.

The door has a lock with one of those silver punch pads above the knob. Sasha punches in a code and sure enough, it opens.

I follow her through and we are in another storeroom. Only this one is filled with weapons.

I hear the tell-tale cock of a shotgun and I’ve got my Five-SeveN out and pointing at Merc’s face before he can laugh.

“You dumbfuck.” He puts his hands up and starts waving the gun around like an idiot. “Don’t shoot me, bro! Don’t shoot me, bro!”

I walk over and grab the gun from his hands. “It’s don’t taze me, you idiot. Not shoot me.”

“Whatever,” he says, taking out a smoke and handing me one. “Same shit.” He pulls out a light and offers it to me. I suck on the cancer stick and let the nic run through my veins. Jesus. Never has a cigarette felt so good.

Merc lights his up too and then takes his own drag of relief. “So, what the fuck?” He’s laughing and puffing at the same time. “You still have this runt with you? Jesus. You have more patience than me.”

Sasha kicks him in the shin. “Asshole.”

Merc bends over and rubs his leg like it hurts and then grabs Sasha by the waist, hoists her over his head, and he’s about to body-slam her on a stack of boxes when I start to freak out.

“Dude!” I yell. “Do not fuck with my Smurf.”

He flips her over, ignoring her screams, and then plops her down on the ground feet first.

“I’m kidding, you assholes. Jesus Christ. Lighten up. I’m the only one with a sense of humor here.”

“OK, what’s the plan?” I’m ready to get this show on the road.

“We’re still waiting. Shouldn’t be too long though.”

“Then what?”