Have Gun, Will Travel (The Bare Bones MC #5)(14)
“Sir!” barked Slayer. “I would never compromise a mission due to false vanity that I do not possess, and I’ll have you know, my hair would never need fixing in the cool air conditioned environment of a casino!”
I could tell by Sax’s satisfied smile that he was correct in his assessment of Slayer, as well as his vanity. It would be an interesting rivalry if we were to hire both men for our job. Maybe they’d spur each other to greater heights of accomplishment.
CHAPTER FOUR
SAX
Seeing that vain, shallow polyester stallion who dressed as though he’d traveled through time pricked at Sax’s memory banks.
He remembered Santiago Slayer from when he was just a Ken doll of a hitman. He had started out as an actor in Mexico City and had somehow been swept up in cartel living. Maybe the ego boost of belonging to a cartel was greater than that of being on daytime telenovelas. Slayer seemed much too big of a * to ever actually kill anyone, the reason no one had taken him seriously for quite a long time. But when a rival cartel member wound up hanging from a bridge down in Magdalena, Sonora, a traffic camera caught Santiago Slayer doing the deed, and his name rang in the streets from then on in.
Sax knew Slayer could achieve Beatrix’s goal for her. He could have just walked away once he knew Slayer was on the job. But for some reason, Slayer’s obnoxious posturing got to Sax. He felt a rivalry coming on. Maybe because Beatrix was watching, he suddenly felt the need to prove something to her.
She had really gotten under his skin in the short time he’d known her. Her camp counselor’s attire, her innocent, virtuous face as though gleaming from a spring shower, her underlying naughtiness all brought out the supreme, domineering side of him. Fantasies ran rampant in his mind. In addition to her cooking nearly naked for him, Sax could see taking his time making complex patterns against her skin with jute rope. Her mask would fall, she would show herself baldly to him. He would subdue her arms first with his tight binding, positioning, tugging, shaking and holding the rope. Her creamy white thighs would be the next wrapped. He’d part them with precision, allowing his fingertips to barely brush her outer * lips as he passed the rope by. By the time he hoisted her in the air with the pulley—
“I’ll have you know, my hair would never need fixing in the cool air conditioned environment of a casino!”
Sax grinned. “Doesn’t the air conditioning suck all the moisture from the air? Your bathroom visit was why the guy escaped the entire casino and lived to kill another member of the cartel you were working for.”
He was pleased when Slayer sputtered. He almost looked about to stamp his foot petulantly. “That is a baseless lie and accusation. All to be expected coming from the man who is not even welcome in his own babyish motorcycle club!” Assuming a calm, assured face, he looked at the women, thumping his chest with a fist. “Can you imagine? In Mexico we do not need babyish patches to proclaim who we are. We know deep down in the pits of our souls that we alone control the fabric of the universe!”
Sax was surprised when Beatrix spoke up. “Yes. You guys just make idiotic Facebook pages, posing with pouty lips and piles of semiautomatics.”
Slayer glared at the stranger. “I do not have a Facebook page! I even cancelled my Twitter account when El Winnie the Pooh was caught tweeting a photo of himself in Hermosillo with a dead body propped up next to him. Such arrogance will be the downfall of many a man.”
“Well,” said Rhetta, thumbing her smartphone, “you did just Instagram a picture of you at a party in Tucson—”
“I was doing undercover work!”
“—with four women, two on each arm—”
“I was not even the one who posted that! Someone at the party did!”
“It’s hilarious,” said Rhetta, showing the other women the photo. “But you were the one who tagged it with your name.”
Sax couldn’t help quipping, “Some undercover work.”
Slayer huffed and puffed. “I was trying to draw the interest of the mark! I figured he’d see that, know I was hot on his trail, and become nervous.”
Sax had no idea why it would behoove a sicario to make the mark nervous. After glancing at the photo of Slayer practically covered with the four boob-enhanced women, it was clear that the guy had done it strictly for an egotistical boost. Perhaps he wasn’t so competent after all. “Yes, and the photos are embedded with geographical metadata,” Sax pointed out. “Anyone could’ve figured out exactly where you were.”
Slayer jabbed the ceiling with an idealistic forefinger. “That was my plan!”
Rhetta added, “And Instagram was how I found you just now, when I wanted you for this job.”
Slayer’s eyes flashed with an anger that showed Sax he was clearly capable of murder. “One must stay abreast of the modern age if one is to beat these criminals at their own game! You cannot be in the technological Stone Age and keep up with the lightning speed of communication these days. And now, if you do not mind, I shall begin my odyssey to find Tony Tormenta for you lovely ladies, instead of wasting time standing around in a”—Slayer looked about himself with dread and nausea—“biker bar all day long.”
Turning proudly on his two-toned heel, Slayer stalked out. He almost sashayed, his fingers held out stiffly as though not wishing to ruin his manicure, giving Sax second thoughts about his hitman capabilities. But Sax would rise to the challenge, as polyester and effeminate as it was. No doubt more challengers would come forward to claim the women’s money. Sax didn’t want or need that. Suddenly he absolutely needed to prove to Beatrix Hellman that he was at one with the club. That’s where his sympathies lay, despite what his NOMAD patch proclaimed.