HARDCORE: Storm MC(133)

Gaspar shrugged. “An outlaw hears of such things from one of his unsavory associates, and perhaps he smells the trap after all. But a girl, a civilian, who hears these things from the harmless lady who cuts her hair and passes the information along to her dear brother...”



“Fuck,” Missy snarled. “I can't believe I fell for this shit. I'm so fucking sorry, Hunter.”



“Not your fault,” Hunter said without taking his eyes—or his aim—off Gaspar. “Could've happened to any of us, no matter what this ghoul says.”



“Well,” Gaspar replied, “on that, we can agree to disagree.”



“Maybe,” said Hunter, “but I don't think you'd disagree with the fact that you're still outnumbered.”



“Yes, just as you would no doubt agree that you are still outgunned,” Gaspar answered, holding out a hand to indicate the machine guns trained on the Eagles. “In pulling the trigger, you may as well be flipping a coin. Would you care to take that chance?”



“No,” Hunter conceded, “but it just so happens I ain't too bad at settin' traps myself.”



Suddenly, a siren wailed a short distance away, followed by another, and another. Blue lights flickered against the walls of the motel as a trio of cars from the Dipper County Sheriff's Department pulled up. Hemmick and Condell emerged from two of them, and two more deputies stepped out of the third. All of them wore bulletproof vests, and they were armed with shotguns.



“Got anything to say now, smart guy?” Hunter asked.



“What can I say,” Gaspar said, looking at Hemmick and spreading his arms, “except to welcome my dear friend Sheriff Hemmick and thank him for his punctuality?”



Hunter's eyes flicked over to Hemmick, and he saw that the cops were training their weapons on the Eagles instead of Gaspar's men.



“Hemmick, what the fuck?” Hunter balked. “We had a deal!”



Hemmick shook his head. “I'm afraid our deal was nullified by a 'pre-existing contract,' if you will,” the sheriff said. “Gaspar came to me as soon as he decided to make his move against you. Frankly, I've spent so many years dealing with you white trash clowns and your small-time nonsense that I was happy to help.”



“You idiot!” Hunter yelled. “You're really gonna let this town get turned into a lawless toilet by a bunch of junkies and meth-heads? How the fuck do you expect to get re-elected that way, huh?”



Hemmick smirked. “Do you really think I give a goddamn about re-election, or what happens to this armpit of a town? Gaspar told me that once you goons are gone for good, the Barros Cartel is going to pay me five million dollars, plus a million for each of my deputies. What am I going to need this silly badge for when I'm chilling in a mansion down in the Pearl Islands?”



Christina let out a muffled squawk from behind the duct tape, and Hector smacked the back of her head. Missy glanced over at Christina and saw that she was staring at Missy wide-eyed, shaking her head almost imperceptibly.



For a moment, Missy thought Christina was just panicking and begging for help. But then she had another thought.



Christina had told her a bunch of lies to get the Eagles here because that was what Gaspar had told her to do.



But what if she'd answered at least one question truthfully?



And what if it was a piece of information that would be useful to Missy now, which was why Christina had risked making a sound—and why she was staring at Missy now, as though desperately trying to tell her something?



It was a long shot. It couldn't work. It was impossible.



But dammit, it was all Missy had.



“So, five million for you,” Missy said slowly, “plus another million for Condell, and a million each for Frick and Frack over there. Eight million dollars.”



“Good math skills for a girl,” Hemmick retorted. “Yeah, that's right, eight million.”



“And you really believe the cartel has agreed to pay you that much?” Missy continued, trying to put as much scorn in her voice as possible. “You actually think your help is worth that kind of money to them? I mean, are you seriously that stupid?”



Hemmick frowned. “Of course they agreed to it. Gaspar said he spoke to them, and...”



“Gaspar's making this move on his own, you moron,” Cain chimed in. Missy cheered inwardly at how quickly Cain realized what she was trying to do. “He didn't tell them anything about you, and they didn't agree to pay you jack shit.”



Gaspar's smile had curdled into a sickly sneer. “They're lying, of course, Sheriff,” he said. “They'll say anything to save their worthless hides. You know this. You're an intelligent man.”