“Yeah,” Taff said, shoving a revolver back into the fourth crate. “We’ll take ’em.”
“Too damn right you will.” Arturo held out his hand. “Pay up.”
“Sure, let’s get them on the van.” Wyatt nodded at Taff. “You start, yeah?”
“Mi amigo.” Taff pointed at the nearest Mexican. “Help with this.”
Wyatt waited until two crates had been loaded then ducked into the cab. He pulled out the envelope stuffed with twenty grand in cash.
“Pleasure doing business,” he said, handing it to Arturo. “Don’t spend it all at once.”
“Let me worry about my cash flow.” Arturo shoved it into the inside pocket of his cut. “You worry about getting over the border.”
“It’ll cost, you know it will, to turn a head the other way.” Wyatt shrugged and grinned. “But we’ve factored that into our end of the deal.”
“Good luck.” Arturo huffed. “Get the gates,” he called. “See ’em out.”
Chapter Ten
Wyatt got into the van and slammed the door at the same time Taff did.
“All good?” he asked.
“Sure,” Taff said, sparking up. “Nothing to see except oranges if anyone looks.”
“Which they won’t.” Wyatt tapped his pocket, checking the bribery money was still there with their passports. It was. “C’mon, the goddamn flies are biting the fuck out of me.”
He started the engine then pulled out of the compound. Dust spun into the air. The transaction had gone quicker than he’d expected. He hoped the journey back to the compound would also be smooth.
They jolted into a couple of potholes then started on the track toward the main road.
“Holy hell, that’s good gear back there,” Taff said.
“Sure is.”
“Fuck knows where they got it.”
“Don’t care, won’t ask.”
“Guess that’s the story of these guns now.” Taff chuckled. “Sooner we shift ’em on, the better.”
“Yeah.” Wyatt dug around for a smoke. “Enough oranges?”
“Yeah, more or less, as long as no one gets too nosy.”
The desert stretched before them, a vast shimmering horizon. To the right, dust plumed into the air, a swirl, a dust devil. Except it wasn’t. Wyatt quickly saw it was a gritty trail rising from bikes. “Fuck, we’ve got company.”
Taff pulled out his weapon. “Step on it. On the main road, the van will have the advantage.”
“Trying to.” Wyatt had his foot to the floor, but by doing so, they were getting knocked around, his head almost bashing onto the roof. Behind him, he could hear the orange crates crashing. “Fuck.”
They were being gained upon.
“Who the hell is it?” Taff peered forward. The air was awash with sand flying around.
Wyatt flicked on the wipers. Dirt smeared in a streaky arc over the glass.
“Shit.” Wyatt tried the wash and succeeded in making the situation even worse.