“I only got five miles of road to cover but one cruiser sees me and it’s all she wrote. It’ll take an extra hour, but let’s go over the mountain. I know New Mexico and they’d never think to block the dirt roads yet. Come on, andale!”
Nick pulled back. Juan backed around and tipped his hat toward Nick and Marguerite. “Take care of my girl, bro. And tell all them fakewest motherfuckers I’ll shoot ’em and use ’em for bear feed if they cross my trail.” He let out the clutch easily. Their last view was of tail lights, heading up the steep dirt track behind the house.
They sat in the kitchen, Nick with the weird sense of playing somebody else’s role. He was cold sober, and Marguerite was swilling tequila from the bottle and washing it down with swigs of Corona. In between, she cut a lime into
