Read Online The Bleeding Edge by William W. Johnstone - Free Book Online

He didn’t want Antonio to feel any more threatened than he already did. “We’ve met a few times. I live next door to your grandparents.”
    â€œJohn Howard saved us all,” Fred said. “He ran those men off.”
    â€œThey’re still alive?”
    â€œYeah, as far as we know.”
    Antonio said, “Then all you really did was sign your death warrant, Señor Stark. Because they won’t stop now until they’ve killed you.”

C HAPTER E LEVEN
    As the car roared through the night, Nacho Montez pounded the dashboard in frustration and ripped out curse after curse in Spanish. It was bad enough that they hadn’t gotten their hands on Antonio, but to be chased off by some old gringo . . . it was a blow from which Nacho’s pride would be a long time recovering.
    The only way to fix it was to kill the old man, to kill Antonio and his grandparents, to kill everybody in that whole damned retirement park if they had to.
    â€œSettle down,” Jalisco said. “We know where he is now. If he tries to leave we’ll know it, and we can take care of him then.”
    â€œWe don’t know for sure he’s there,” Nacho said.
    â€œIf he wasn’t, his grandfather wouldn’t have acted the way he did. Antonio’s there, all right. That’s why I called Señor Espantoso and asked him to have men watch the park all the time.”
    Nacho drew in a deep breath. Jalisco was right, he told himself.
    In the backseat, Chuckie groaned. He was starting to come around after being knocked out by the old gringo. He had a lot to be ashamed of, too, Nacho thought.
    â€œIf Chuckie had just put those damned heads in the right place instead of across the street—”
    â€œHe got a little turned around,” Jalisco said. “It can happen, especially in a place like that where so many of the houses look the same.”
    The heads had been intended to send a message. A warning to Antonio that his grandparents would pay the price if his former friends were forced to hunt him down. He would hear about it and know that he’d better turn himself in.
    Of course it hadn’t worked out that way. Chuckie had left the heads at the wrong house . . . in a vegetable garden, of all things! Despite that, the grisly warning might have worked since it was right across the street from Antonio’s grandparents’ home. Obviously, Antonio had been lying low all day and hadn’t heard about it.
    Then somebody, one of the many sets of eyes who worked for Señor Espantoso, had spotted him heading for the retirement park, and Nacho, Jalisco, and Chuckie had been sent to get him. After all, it was their fault he had gotten away in the first place. It was their responsibility to bring him in before he could do any damage.
    Not that he could really hurt the cartel’s operation. It was too big for that now. Too many officials had been paid off, and too many people were scared. Antonio was just a minor annoyance, but he needed to be taken care of anyway.
    Chuckie sat up in the backseat, muttering curses. After a moment, he said, “Wha’ happened? Where’s Antonio? Didn’t we get him?”
    â€œNo, we didn’t get him,” Nacho snapped at his dim-witted brother. “You let some old man knock you out. Then he threatened us with a shotgun and made us put you back in the car.”
    â€œWhy didn’t you just shoot him?” Chuckie asked. He sounded genuinely puzzled.
    â€œWe tried, you . . .” Nacho lapsed into cursing again.
    â€œYou shouldn’t talk to me like that,” Chuckie said. “I’m your brother.”
    â€œDon’t remind me!”
    Jalisco looked at the rearview mirror and said, “ Policia .”
    Nacho twisted around in the passenger seat to look behind them. Flashing red and blue lights were coming up fast.
    â€œI’m not surprised. That old gringo bastard blew out our taillights.”