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Dan stared at the man pointing the gun at his face, wondering why he hadn’t seen this coming. Of course it was too coincidental that Cheyenne Pete showed up exactly where they were in the middle of a snowstorm. He should’ve realized Pete was packing. Add that to the thousand other incompetent mistakes he’d made so far, which had not only put them in this situation but left Maria MIA.
Maybe their road trip had reached the end of the road.
“First you were homeless. Now you’re a hit man. Which is it?”
The scruffy man grinned a little. “Both could be true.”
“He is large,” Ben muttered. “He contains multitudes.”
Dan kept his eyes locked on Pete. “You always carry a pistol?”
“More useful than a shopping cart.”
“I’d like to know who killed me before I die. And why. If that’s not asking too much.”
“Already told you who I am. You don’t need my backstory.”
“You mean your name really is Cheyenne Pete? That’s what it says on your birth certificate?” Out the corner of his eye, Dan noticed Ben quietly inching away. Pete didn’t appear to be paying nearly so much attention to him. Maybe Pete thought Ben was not much of a threat. In any case, he needed to keep the man distracted.
“You don’t need my real name,” Pete snapped.
“You don’t look like a paid assassin,” Dan said, trying to keep him engaged. “How do I know you didn’t just find that gun somewhere?”
“Your curiosity will be satisfied when you’re dead.”
“If it’s not your gun, you’re probably not going to fire it. I don’t—”
Pete raised the gun toward the ceiling and fired. The sound was explosive, deafening, especially with a blanket of snow surrounding them.
Dust fell from the rafters, with a helping of snow. Place must not be as secure as they thought. Miracle the roof didn’t come down.
“Okay, fine, you’re not afraid to fire. That’s not the same as killing someone.”
The man targeted the gun directly at Dan’s face. “Allow me to provide more convincing proof.”
“I might be able to help you.”
Pete squinted his left eye. “You’re about to help me in a big way.”
“Look, I’ve already been shot once today. This is getting old. You said you’re getting paid. How much?”
“What difference does it make? That’s confidential.”
“Whatever you’re getting now, I’ll double it.”
“You might find that puts a strain on your bank account.”
“Don’t underestimate me. I like being alive. So I’m offering you double. Do you take PayPal?”
“Maybe I should ask for more than double.”
Now he had him. “Maybe you should. I have a lot of savings socked away.” He didn’t mention Ben’s much larger bank account. He wanted Pete to forget all about the other man in the room.
“What’s your limit?”
“I don’t have one.”
“Everyone has one.”
“Let’s cut to the chase. I’ll give you a million bucks to not kill me. Is that enough? With that kind of money, you could move out of the abandoned gas station. In fact, with that kind of money, you could rescue everyone you knew back at the rez. How about a cashier’s check?”
“You’ll cancel it soon as it leaves your fingers.”
“You can go to the bank with me.”
The man appeared to consider. “Tempting. But who knows what you might try if we go out in public. I’ll stick with my original offer. The dude who posted it has a 98% satisfaction rating on the Exchange.”
Dan raised his hands, as if that might help stop a bullet. “I can do something for you that your dark web pals can’t. I’m a lawyer.”
“Now I have two reasons to kill you.”
“I can help you out of whatever put you in this situation. Find you a real job.”
“I’ve had real jobs. Didn’t like it much. I much prefer the gig economy. One job pays enough to live for half a year.”
“Because you’re a murderer.”
“I prefer to think of myself as a ninja.”
“You know you’ll be caught if you kill us, right?”
“Don’t think so. No one knows who I am or why I’m here.”
“Wrong. You forgot one thing.”
Pete gripped the pistol tighter. He appeared to be losing patience. “What would that be?”
“You have no way out. You can’t go barefoot. And your shoes are ruined.”
Pete looked down at his shoes. The instant he did, Dan tackled him.
He knocked Pete into the spinner rack of audiobooks behind him, careful to stay to the left of the gun arm. Pete fired, but the bullet went wide. Cans and potato chip bags scattered in a whirlwind around them.
Pete tumbled to the floor with Dan on top of him. Dan grabbed his gun arm. First and foremost, he had to take the weapon out. He squeezed as tightly as he could, but Pete held onto his pistol. With his other hand, Pete battered him on the side of his head.
Dan winced. Hurt like hell, but a bullet would hurt worse, so he held onto Pete’s arm. He banged it hard on the tile floor. The third time, the gun skidded out of Pete’s hand.
Now he had a chance. He reared up on his knees and swung for the face. Pete blocked the blow and kicked him hard in the stomach. Dan went reeling backward. Pete followed, hitting him again and again, pummeling his face.
Dan grabbed him by the throat and squeezed. Pete’s face scrunched up. His eyes looked like they might pop out of his head.
“I’ve...had...about enough of this,” Dan muttered.
“Likewise, loser,” Pete managed to growl. And a moment later, he squeezed Dan’s right arm—on top of the bullet wound.
Dan screamed. His eyelids fluttered. He fell sideways, unable to get his bearings. Colors flashed before his eyes. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision.
Pete had recovered his gun. And it was pointed right at him. Point blank.
“Props for putting up a decent fight,” Pete said, licking the blood from his lips. “But no one gets the best of me.”
“The million can still be yours,” Dan replied, gasping. “I’m a man of my word.”
“Sorry. Don’t much trust you much now. Time to say—”
All at once, his face was transformed into a frozen mask of pain. A few seconds later, he crumpled to the floor.
Ben stood behind him.
Dan wiped the tears from his face. “Took you long enough!”
“You’re welcome. Glad I could help.”
“What were you doing while that man was trying to kill me?”
“Looking for a weapon. You know how hard it is to find a good weapon in an abandoned gas station? Everything’s plastic these days.”
“What did you use?”
Ben held it up. “Jumbo can of motor oil. The only brand that wasn’t plastic.” He looked down at the floor. “Pete won’t be out long.”
“I know.” Dan gently massaged his sore arm. “Fortunately, I brought those handcuffs.”
“And now you’re going to use them on someone who actually needs to be restrained.”
Dan pulled the unconscious man’s arms behind him and cuffed him to the dormant hot dog heater. “Okay, thanks. Though I could’ve taken him.”
Ben snorted. “You were two seconds from dead.”
“I would’ve rallied.”
“Sure. And the Buffalo Bills might win the Super Bowl.”