Homicidal By Design [Hector Escaton]

Chapter 16

It was funny how something that seemed daunting hours ago now seemed like child's play. Hector supposed it was the difference between having something to lose—no matter how fleetingly you had it—and having nothing.

People with nothing were far more dangerous.

He took cover in the workshop, breaking the small window that faced toward the center of the farm and shooting the newly replaced guards by the cabin. Now, Hector just had to wait. Between the four of them, they had removed five of the gang members and shot the leader of the Confederados; neither gang could ignore the skirmish, especially since they didn't know how many attackers there were. If he didn't give away his position, they would have to look for him. Hector could kill them all.

He would kill them all.

Steeling himself, Hector cast his gaze back down the sloping hill to the barn. The bodies were gone! How? Where had they been put? A renewed rage coursed through him at the thought of Izzy's body being thrown aside like trash. Suddenly there was a feminine scream from inside the building. It had never occurred to Hector that she might have survived the shot only to suffer a worse fate at the hands of a sadistic psycho. He had to get in there.

Footsteps quietly approached the workshop, and he spotted a singular Confederado. Without needing confirmation, Hector knew the man was aware of his presence.

"Escaton, I know you're in here." The door opened slowly, revealing a middle-aged, stocky gringo that made Hector question the Confederados' hiring standards. He breathed harshly from the short trek up the hill and his forehead shone with perspiration.

Hector pressed himself against the wall. He reached for his pistol before remembering that he had given it to Izzy. With an internal grimace, he knew that he couldn't unsheathe his rifle silently. He would have to wait for the opportune moment.

"I am going to cut off a piece of you and bring it back home in my carry-on," the man mocked. His eyes searched the dark workspace, and he carried his revolver down at his side lackadaisically—unaware that Hector stood just feet from him."I'll mount it on the hood of my car for all my friends to see."

As silently as he could, Hector wiggled one of the bullets free from his belt, breathing a sigh of relief when it popped free. He tossed it across the room and it bounced off of the opposite wall.

The Confederado's eyes darted to the sound and Hector used the distraction to lunge at him. They landed on the ground with a thud and Hector slammed his fist into the man's face.

"Mother fucker!" the man shouted, clawing frantically at Hector's arms and face. All semblance of tough gunslinger had vanished. "You can't hurt me! You can't..."

Hector tossed the man's pistol away. "Oh, can I not?" He pressed a hand against his throat and reveled in watching him squirm. "If you want I could cut a piece of you off and let you fish for it in the Olvido."

"No no no no..."

Hector stared down at the hapless Confederado underneath him. He wanted to kill him, wanted to torture him, inflict some kind of enduring pain on him.

Sighing, it was like a switch had flipped in his mind. He decided against it.

A flicker of hope glittered in the man's eyes. Hector smashed his head into the floor. Compromise.

He had a general to find.

******

"Izzy!" Len grabbed her arm and helped her up in a rush. They scooted around to the back of the barn.