Shadows Reel (Joe Pickett #22)(27)

“Take a photo,” Nate said. Geronimo did.

Nate tossed both the wallet and the ID aside and leaned down and said, “Cole of Cherry Creek, I know where you live. I’ve got your parents’ address. If you’re lying to me, I’ll come back for you. I’ll find you and tear you apart piece by piece until you’re begging me to end it all. Got that?”

“Got it,” Cole said. His face was ashen.

Nate stood over the three men. Cole was sobbing. Nate thought about kicking them all before he left, but he had never liked kicking a man when he was down. He didn’t mind hurting them in other ways, but kicking was so . . . cheap.

Geronimo stepped into the scrum, but not to kick anyone, either. He bent down over Tristan and hauled him up to his feet by the collar.

“We’re taking this one with us,” he said.

“Why?”

“I got questions I need answered,” Geronimo said.

Tristan protested, “Don’t you dare put your hands on me.”

Geronimo slapped the side of his helmet so hard it sounded like a gunshot. Tristan wobbled, but he didn’t collapse. When Tristan raised his hands to plead his case, Geronimo raised his triple-barrel shotgun and aimed it with one hand at Tristan’s chest.

“You have no right to do this,” Tristan said.

Geronimo ignored him. He guided Tristan away from his group and pushed him toward the passage to the alleyway. Nate followed behind them.



* * *



—

    As they returned to the Palomino Lounge the way they’d come, Geronimo said, “Well, that was something. I’d heard about the ear thing before, but I never thought I’d see it with my own eyes.”

“Thank you for your help tonight,” Nate said. “I do appreciate it.”

“So you’re going after him?”

“Yes. But what was Soledad up to? Why’d he cache all those weapons? Those assholes we met were all geared up already. Who was the intended recipient?”

“I can’t say for sure, but I’ve got a theory,” Geronimo said.

“What is it?”

“We ain’t got time for it now, but I think our buddy Soledad is playing on a whole different level. A really dangerous level. Tristan here should help us out with getting an answer.”

“Please,” Tristan said. “Let me go. You can’t just kidnap me.”

“Call the cops,” Geronimo said.

That shut Tristan up.

Nate asked Geronimo, “Why did you talk to them the way you did?”

“What’chu mean?” Geronimo said, reverting.

“That. Exactly that. Why did you go street on them and not me?”

Geronimo grinned bitterly. “They don’t expect anything else. They can’t see anything beyond my skin color. If I broke out the King’s English on ’em, it would boggle their tiny little minds. It would be too much for them to grasp in the moment.”

“You’re an interesting guy, Geronimo Jones.”

“Thank you, nature boy. By the way, do you need a place to crash tonight? I can text you directions to my piece of property west of town. That’s the direction you’re headed, anyway. I might want to show off my birds for you in the morning before you take off. You’re the rare man that would appreciate them.”

Nate thought about it. The adrenaline from the confrontation was wearing off. He’d been on the road for eleven hours and he was exhausted.

“I’d appreciate that,” he said.

“Better than sleeping in the back of your van like a damned hippie,” Geronimo said with a chuckle.



* * *



—

Geronimo Jones followed Nate to his van on Corona Street. He produced a roll of duct tape from his parka and used it to bind Tristan’s wrists and ankles and did a double wrap around the man’s head to keep him from talking. Then he pushed Tristan into the back of Nate’s van and closed the door.

“It’s about last call inside,” he said. “I better go make sure all my chickens get home safely.”

Nate nodded.

“Are you going to need some help? Taking down Axel Soledad, I mean? I saw what you could do back there with the junior league, but from what I understand your man is a nasty piece of work.”

“I appreciate the offer,” Nate said. “But I’m better alone.”

Geronimo wasn’t done. “I don’t want you to take this wrong,” he said, “but you’re no spring chicken. Soledad is a younger and meaner version of you, I take it. It might be good to have someone watching your back.”

Nate didn’t respond.

“Sleep on it,” Geronimo said. “Decide in the morning after we have a conversation with Tristan.”

“Okay,” Nate said finally.

“One more thing,” Geronimo said. “Don’t mess with my lady.”

“I won’t,” Nate said with a grin. “I’ve got one of my own and she’s the best. A little girl, too.”

“Think of them when you consider my offer, nature boy.”

With that, Geronimo tapped the hood of Nate’s van and stepped aside.

Nate watched him amble toward the front door of the Palomino with his phone out. He was tapping on it with his big thumbs.