Merciless

Your head on a spike and your teeth on my key chain? Nah. “Which is what?”

“The murder cases solved.”

“I’d be happy to take you to the tribal PD if you want to talk to someone about your concerns for your personal safety.”

“Think you’re funny, doncha? I don’t think it’s funny that the feds are here on the rez all the time. The BIA sends a new rep, then the DEA wants to know why the feds and the BIA are sniffing around. Makes it hard for a man to do business.”

“Yeah. Scaling back on selling drugs to kids is a real bitch, ain’t it?”

His eyes were flat black pools. “I’ve got a blade, and you know I ain’t afraid to use it.”

Yikes. I tamped down the sarcasm. “So here’s my question, Barry. Did you use that sharp tanto blade to hack off Verline’s tongue and hand after you killed her?”

“Why would I waste effort killing her?”

When I pressed my back into the door of my pickup, Saro edged closer. His looming presence and deadly stare were intimidating, but not as frightening as when he’d held a knife to my throat. The scars he’d left were faint, but I knew they were there. And he knew they were there. “Because Verline and Cherelle were cousins. Maybe Verline lied to you about something regarding Cherelle. Or maybe Verline stole something from you. Chopping off body parts seems your style.” Crap. No sarcasm, remember, Mercy?

He gave me a lunatic grin. My insides quivered with fear. “Efficiency is more important than style. People find what I want them to find. Only a fuckin’ amateur would be so blatant, so don’t insult me by assuming I had anything to do with them two little bitches getting sliced and diced. And ain’t Rollie Rondeaux in jail for the murders?”

“He was arrested on unrelated charges.”

“Why am I on your personal suspect list?”

I wondered who’d told him: Junior? John-John? “Because you have motives for wanting both Arlette Shooting Star and Verline Dupris dead. The tribal president is pushing the tribal cops to crack down on drug deals on the rez. Killing Elk Thunder’s niece sends a message the new crackdown doesn’t make you happy.”

“Don’t matter what the tribal prez wants, or what he thinks he can tell them cops. They ain’t dumb. They know who to make happy.”

Meaning no one messed in Saro’s business. Was that why the tribal cops refused to consider Saro a suspect? “Why did you hire Junior Rondeaux?”

“Don’t push me. I don’t answer your questions, you answer mine.” Then Saro slammed the back of my head into the window. My vision wavered. His hand clutched the side of my face, and he dug his thumb into the cut on my lip.

Stupid church rules that wouldn’t let me attend services armed. I could’ve shot this ass wipe twice by now. But instead, I had to play helpless because I had no way to defend myself.

“Do the feds know where Cherelle is?”

“I don’t know.”

He pushed harder into my bloody lip. “Don’t. Lie.”

It’d be difficult to speak since he wouldn’t move his hand, but I wouldn’t ask him to move it. “I’m not lying. DEA is handling that case. Not us.” The intimate press of his body against mine kicked in my gag reflex.

“You shot the bitch who killed my brother.” Not a question.

“Yes.”

Saro released me. “If I wanted to prove a point to the tribal prez, I’d turn his niece into a drugged-out whore, not kill her. That way, she’s making me money and shaming her family. Win-win for me.”

A Sumo-looking guy, whom I assumed was Saro’s henchman, appeared from out of nowhere. He glared at me, and Saro slipped away into the darkness. Then Sumo dude disappeared as well.

My mouth bled. I hated that I’d started to shake. I hated him. I yelled, “Great talking to you, Barry.”

No answer. Not even Saro’s stupid girly laugh echoed back to me.

You’re an idiot for taunting him after you escaped with just a bloodied lip this time.

Footsteps on the gravel had me reaching for my sidearm, only to come up empty again. But it wasn’t Saro sneaking up on me from another angle. It was Shay Turnbull.

He reached for my hand. “Come on.”

I allowed myself to be led, mostly out of shock that Turnbull was here. Standing in the shadows watching while a psycho, murdering, drug thug pushed me around. I jerked my hand. “Let go.”

Shay stopped, too. “What?”

“Is there a reason, Agent Turnbull, you just let Saro rough me up?”

He shrugged. “You had it handled.”

“Handled?” I pointed to my mouth. “I’m bleeding, asshole. Couldn’t you have arrested him for assaulting a federal officer or something?”

His eyes narrowed. “Jesus, Gunderson. Why are you shaking like that?”

“Because Barry Sarohutu is deranged. And the last time I crossed paths with him? He cut me. Six slices across my neck. Oh, and then he jabbed a knife into my chest, while taunting me about carving up my family members, before he choked me out. So yeah, be glad I’m just shaking and not fucking screaming.”