The Lost Ones Read Online Free Page B

Boy?” he asked, lighting a cigarette with a Zippo.
    “Alejandro works for my boyfriend.”
    “And your boyfriend ain’t no preacher?”
    Luz didn’t answer. Man, it sure was raining.
    QUINN STOOD WITH JASON on the weathered dock as the rain came in. The little boy took his fishing seriously. Quinn smoked a La Gloria Cubana, Hondo sleeping at their feet.
    “What do you want for dinner?”
    Jason looked up at him and smiled. “Waffles?”
    “I can make some waffles,” he said. “How about I fry some chicken, too?”
    Jason nodded. “Chicken and waffles?”
    “Sure,” Quinn said. “Why not.”
    He’d inherited the property and the family farm late last year after the death of his Uncle Hamp, the former sheriff who’d died in disgrace and turmoil. Most of the acreage had been overgrown with scrub pine and privet bush, but in the summer, he and his friend Boom had reclaimed a lot of the land, putting in a new well, rebuilding a barn that had been burned by some thugs, and cutting trails into his woods. The old house had been repainted, floorboards mended, and a new stove bought from Sears. He’d planted corn, tomatoes, and hot peppers.
    Quinn’s deep freezer was ready for the deer he’d kill after Thanksgiving. It wouldn’t take much to supplement what he’d shot and grown. He bought his whiskey and cigars in Memphis.
    “How ’bout we head on in?” Small drops of water flecked the shoulders of his khaki shirt.
    “Watch TV?”
    “You know I don’t have a TV.”
    “Scooby-Doo?”
    “We can read books.”
    Jason checked his line. A crappie had taken the cricket. He didn’t seem too worried when he turned to Quinn and handed him the cane pole and empty hook. “Call Momma?”
    “Soon,” Quinn said. “She’s been askin’ about you.”
    God damn, he hated to lie.
    “SO WE GOT A DEAL?” Donnie asked, looking into Alejandro’s screwed-up face. The wiry little guy just stared back and nodded before walking back to the Escalade.
    He returned thirty seconds later and tossed Donnie a manila envelope crammed full of cash. Donnie opened her up and poured out the money. He started to flip through the bundles of twenties and hundreds, and in a few minutes he knew it was all there. The rain hit hard on the tin roof of the range.
    Donnie offered his hand to Alejandro. The little man shook it.
    “Y’all want a drink?” Donnie asked. “I got a bottle of Jack in my truck.”
    Luz shook her head. “They don’t drink.”
    “Not even tequila?”
    “No.”
    “Signs and wonders.”
    The boys and the kid gathered the guns and ammo and packed the car.
    “A true pleasure,” Donnie said to Luz.
    “He wants more,” she said.
    “OK.”
    “You said you could get M4s.”
    “It’ll cost you.”
    “That’s not an issue.”
    “How many?”
    “A hundred.”
    Donnie laughed, feeling a smile creeping up. “Really?”
    “Can it be done?”
    “Maybe.”
    “You will find out?”
    “You have the most beautiful hair I’ve ever seen.”
    “You will see about the guns? Military grade. Not Chinese rip-offs.”
    “Yes, ma’am,” he said. “Sure about that burger?”
    Luz’s eyes wandered over his sorry ass. “You can call later if you wish.”
    She walked off in the tall cowboy boots and got inside the Escalade, the wipers working overtime. A broad swath of headlights turned and passed over his face before disappearing in the rain.
    Shane and Tiny emerged from the woods. Shane was country skinny, with a goatee, and wore a Toby Keith T-shirt. Tiny wore Carhartt overalls, and was as big and fat as a guy named Tiny should be. Both of them had served with him in the 223rd on his first visit to the Shitbox.
    “Crack open the beers, boys,” Donnie said. “Tiny, go get that bottle of Jack in my truck.”
    Donnie fired up a Spirit and tossed them both a wad of money. “And y’all thought I was a liar when we were back in God’s Armpit.”
    Them boys sure could grin.

5

    QUINN GOT THE CALL AT TEN AND DRESSED,