Last Man Standing (69 page)

Web raised his glass. “Consider your mission accomplished. But why?”

“I don’t know, Web, I really don’t know what’s going through his head right now.”

“Maybe it has something to do with that damn tape. Again, I’m sorry.”

Gwen just shook her head. “It’s not just that. This has been brewing for some time. Billy’s been changing over the last few
months or so, and I’m not sure why.”

To Web it seemed like the woman did know why but wasn’t to the point where she was going to reveal it to a semi-stranger like
him.

“His behavior has been becoming more and more bizarre.”

He looked at her curiously. “How so?”

“Well, he’s become obsessed with his stuffed animals, always down there messing around. My God, that is the most repulsive
thing.”

“It is pretty gruesome.”

“And he’s been drinking hard, even for him.” She looked at Web and spoke in a lower voice. “Do you know what he told me while
we were getting dressed?” She took a sip of her ginger ale. “He said that they should put all the heads of the Free Society
members up on poles and parade them around, like they used to do hundred of years ago.”

“Why? To send a message?”

“No.”

They both looked up and saw Billy standing there.

He downed the rest of his whiskey. “No, you do it because the best place to put your enemies is right in front of you, so
you know exactly where they are all the time.”

“That’s not always easy to do,” commented Web.

Billy smiled through his drink glass. “That’s right. And that’s why folks’ enemies get the drop on ’em more often than not.”
It was just a quick glance, but Web was almost certain that Billy looked at Nemo Strait when he said this.

Billy held up his glass. “Ready for a fresh one?” “I’m still working on this one.”

“Well, let me know. Gwen, you ready for a real libation?”

“Dressed this way in a room full of men, I think I need to keep my wits about me tonight,” she said with a coy smile.

For the record, Web noted, her husband didn’t return the smile.

Right before they went up to dinner, Web heard a scream and looked over to its source. The gun cabinet was swung open, revealing
the secret room. And Harvey and Giles were both holding their chests after having been surprised by Billy’s slave mannequin.
And the man himself was leaning against the wall laughing so hard he was gagging. Web just had to smile.

After dinner, coffee and snifters of brandy that Billy insisted everybody try, they all took their leave. Gwen gave Web a
hug and he felt her soft breasts push into his own hard chest. Her fingers seemed to cling to him a beat too long. He didn’t
know exactly how to take that and so all he managed to say was good-bye.

They went outside and Strait climbed in his truck and one-armed it back to his house. A limo pulled up in the front circle
and Harvey and Giles Ransome piled inside. They had both made fools of themselves over Gwen, Web had thought, but she had
taken it with good graces. She was no doubt upstairs right this minute slipping out of the painful shoes and the uncomfortable
dress. In fact, she was probably naked right now, and Web felt himself glancing toward the upstairs windows—in hopes of what?
he asked himself. A glimpse? It didn’t happen.

Bates came up to him and Romano.

“Romano, Web and I need to talk.”

The man said it in such a tone that all Romano did was turn and walk toward the carriage house.

Web and Bates faced off. “Okay,” Web said, “what’s the deal?” Bates told him and Web took it silently until the man finished.
“What about Romano?” asked Web.

“Buck didn’t mention him, so I’m assuming he’s okay.”

“Let’s keep it that way.”

“I don’t know what to do, Web. I’m caught between a rock and a hard place.”

“No, you’re not. I’ll make it easy for you. I’ll resign.”

“Are you shitting me?”

“It’s time for me to move on, Perce, do something else. I’m not getting any younger, and to tell you the truth, I’d like to
find out what it’s like having a job where people aren’t shooting at you.”

“We can fight this, Web. Winters doesn’t have the final say on this.”

“I’m tired of fighting, Perce.”

Bates just looked at the man helplessly. “I didn’t want it to end this way.”

“Me and Romano will finish up here and then I’ll be moving on.”

“You know the heat this is going to generate, with what happened with the Frees. And with you leaving HRT, the timing of that
will make everyone assume you’re the scapegoat. It’s going to get dicey. The media will come after you. In fact, it’s already
starting.”

“There was a time when that would’ve bothered me. But not now.”

The men stood there quietly for a few seconds as many years of fighting the good fight together suddenly had abruptly come
to an end for them and it seemed neither of them was prepared for it. Web finally turned and walked away.

I
t was around two o’clock in the morning. The only movements at East Winds were the horses in the pastures and the wildlife
in the encroaching forest. Then came footsteps that crept along the path leading through the trees.

There was one light on in the house and a man’s silhouette was stark in the outline of the window. Nemo Strait held a cold
beer can against his injured shoulder, grimacing as the frosty metal hit the damaged skin. He wore a T-shirt and boxer shorts;
his thick, muscular legs had split the fabric at the thigh. He lay on his bed, picked up the semiautomatic pistol there and
deftly loaded the gun’s magazine, but with only one hand he had trouble sliding the bolt back to chamber a round. Frustrated,
he finally put the gun on the nightstand, lay back on the bed and sipped his beer.

Nemo Strait, by nature, was a worrier. And right now he had a lot to concern him. He was still thinking about the chopper
that had come out of nowhere in the dark woods. Strait had watched the flight of the aircraft. It had not landed in the woods,
and it did not appear to be the police. Strait had thought about going back to where they had shot Cove to make certain the
guy was dead. Yet he had to be. They had fired five shots into him, no one could shake that, and even if the man somehow managed
to live, he’d be a vegetable, incapable of telling anyone what had happened. Still, Strait didn’t like it and he had scanned
every news program he could find in the hopes of learning that an FBI undercover agent had been found dead. And he also wanted
to hear that there were no clues to the killers. He rubbed his shoulder. Strait’s blood was out there, of course, but they
had to have something to match his DNA to, and his was not on file anywhere that he could remember. Except the Army! But after
more than twenty-five years, would they still have it? Would the stuff be any good? He doubted it. Still, he could feel it
was getting close to the time he would be moving on. He had accomplished everything he had set out to do, and last night’s
transaction had left him with enough money to retire to just about anywhere he wanted. At first he had thought about buying
a place up in the Ozarks and passing the rest of his life doing nothing more than fishing and spending his money in increments
that would arouse no suspicions. Now he was rethinking that strategy. Now he was thinking that another country might be a
far better retirement venue. Well, he had heard the fishing was terrific in Greece.

If Strait heard the back door open, he made no indication. It had been a long day and his painkiller was wearing off. He took
another slug of it and wiped his lips.

The door to his bedroom slowly opened. Again, Strait seemed not to notice. The person moved into the room. Strait turned on
some music on the radio next to his bed. The figure moved closer to the bed. Finally Strait stopped what he was doing and
slowly looked around.

“I didn’t think you were going to come tonight,” he said. “Thinking with one arm I wasn’t good enough anymore.” He took a
drink of his beer and then put it down.

Gwen stood looking down at him. She wore the red dress she had had on at the party, but her high heels had been replaced with
flats; her gold anklet glittered a bit in the wash of light.

She moved closer to him, her gaze drifting to his shoulder. “Does it hurt much?”

“Just every time I breathe.”

“Which horse did it?”

“Bobby Lee.”

“He’s not known as a kicker.”

“Every horse can be a kicker.”

“I forgot, you’re the expert.” She smiled demurely, but there was something behind the look that was not nearly so playful.

“No, but I grew up with the damn things. I mean, you don’t learn this stuff in a year or even in ten years. Look at Billy,
he’s a fast learner, but he still basically knows shit about running a horse farm.”

“You’re right. That’s why we hired you and your good old boys.” She paused. “You’re our white knight, Nemo.”

Strait lit up a cigarette. “Yeah, that’s a good one.” She surprised him by reaching over and taking a drink of his beer.

“Don’t you have anything stronger than this?” she asked. “Bourbon.”

“Get it.”

While he pulled out the bottle and glasses, she perched on the bed and rubbed her calf. She touched the anklet, a gift from
Billy. It had both their names engraved on it. Strait handed her a full glass and she downed it in one pass and handed it
back to him for a refill.

“Take it easy on that stuff, Gwen. It’s not candy.”

“It is to me. Besides, I didn’t drink at the party. I was a good girl.” Strait’s gaze ran down her long body, took in her
bare legs, her ample bosom. “Every man in the place wanted to jump your bones.”

Gwen did not smile at this compliment. “Not every man.”

“Hey, Billy’s getting up there, can’t do it on demand anymore. Hell, I’m getting to that point myself faster than I’d like.”

“It has nothing to do with age.” She reached over and took a puff of the cigarette and then handed it back. “And when your
husband hasn’t touched you in years, it tends to drive a woman to other sources.” She glanced at him. “I hope you recognize
your limited role here.”

He shrugged. “A man has to take what he can get. But it ain’t right that he still blames you for what happened to your son.”

“He has every right. I was the reason David was at that school.” “You didn’t order them crazy Frees in there to shoot up the
place, now, did you?”

“No, and I didn’t ask the FBI to send down a bunch of men who were too cowardly or incompetent to save my son either.”

“Kind of strange, having the FBI right here on the farm.”

“We knew that was a very real possibility.”

Strait smiled. “Come here to protect you.”

Gwen said dryly, “From ourselves.”

“Well, the little bomb in Billy’s phone that I detonated when Web tossed it out the car, that threw them off the scent for
good. They’re not looking in our direction.”

“Web London is a lot smarter than you probably think.”

“Oh, I know he’s real smart. I ain’t going around underestimating anybody on this one.”

Gwen took a sip of her second bourbon, slipped off her flats and slid back on the bed.

He caressed her hair. “I been missing you, lady.”

“Billy could care less, but it’s a little difficult to move around with the FBI patrolling your property.”

“Well,” said Strait, “now it’s just Web and Romano. He’s another one to watch. Ex-SWAT and Delta, that dude can be bad news.
See it in his eyes.”

Gwen rolled over on her stomach, propped up on her elbows and stared at him. His eyes were locked on her cleavage, which was
now spilling out of her dress. She noted his gaze, but apparently his attention did not interest her.

“I wanted to ask you about the horse trailers.”

Gwen’s question caused his gaze to lift from her breasts to her face.

“What about ’em?”

“I grew up on a horse farm too, Nemo. You had some of those rigs customized in a very special way, and I want you to tell
me why.”

He grinned. “Can’t a man have any secrets?”

She got up on her knees and slid closer to him. She started kissing his neck, and his hand went first to her chest and then
moved to her bottom. He hiked her dress up to her waist and discovered she had on no underwear.

“Good thinking. With me as horny as I am, you would’ve just gotten those panties ripped off anyway.”

She moaned into his ear as his fingers moved over her. One of her hands went to his face and then down to the neckline of
his T-shirt. And then with a flash she had ripped the shirt down the front and sat back.

Her movement surprised Strait so much that he almost fell off the bed.

He followed her gaze to the bloodstained bandage on his shoulder.

“Mighty odd bruise from a horse kick,” said Gwen.

The two stared at each other. And before he could stop her, Gwen picked up Strait’s pistol, chambered a round and drew aims
at various points in the room. She looked at the gun.

“The balance on this is off. And you really should get some lithium sights, Nemo. They do make a difference with night fire.”

A bead of sweat appeared on Strait’s forehead. “You handle that thing real good.”

“Horses weren’t the only thing I grew up with in Kentucky. My father and brothers were very active members of the NRA. I would’ve
joined too, only it wasn’t deemed ladylike by my parents.”

“Hey, that’s real good to know. I’m a member too.” He breathed a sigh of relief when she set the safety, yet she still didn’t
put the gun down.

“So what is it?” she asked. “Drugs?”

“Look, baby, why don’t we just have a drink and get to—”

The pistol came up and the safety went off. “I came here to screw you, Nemo, not to be screwed
with.
It’s late and I’m starting to get tired. If you want any candy tonight, you better cut the bullshit.”

“Okay, okay. Damn, you are something.” He took a quick belt of his drink and wiped his mouth with his hand. “It’s drugs, but
not the kind you think. Prescription stuff with a kick twice that of morphine. No lab, no border problem. Just steal ’em or
work a deal with a pharmacy assistant making eight bills an hour. This Oxycontin stuff started rural. But I’m taking it to
the big cities. About damn time us country folks got a piece of the pie. It’s sweet.”