The Beasts of Juarez, R.B. Schow [books to read for self improvement .txt] 📗

human who would likely go haywire if someone tried to detain her, Atlas was a killer ex-cop that should be serving three life sentences back in California in a supermax prison, and Cira…Cira was her own set of complications, but at least she was a free(ish) citizen.

As if his “people problem” was not enough, he had fifty kilos of premium marijuana stuffed in the back of the Audi, which was a slap on the wrist in and of itself, but was just one of a number of crimes he was already guilty of just by being in the driver’s seat of a car that may or may not be stolen. Oh, for heaven’s sake, he didn’t even think of that!

More breathing, more creep-crawling toward the border attendant’s booths, more reasons to flip a bitch and pull the plug on this entire operation.

“How you doin’ up there, boss?” Atlas asked.

Leopold flicked his eyes up to the rearview mirror and saw the convict looking right back at him with a knowing grin.

“Everything changes when you’re the tip of the spear, doesn’t it?” Atlas asked with a knowing look.

“I’m fine,” he said.

“You’re shitting bricks, boss, just admit it.”

“Fine, I’m definitely a little worried,” he admitted, “but I’m good in a pinch.”

“Let’s hope so,” Cira said.

When they reached the booth, the attendant began asking enough questions to make Leopold even more nervous. Then he asked the question: “Before I search the car, are you in possession of any illegal money, weapons, or narcotics?”

“Why would you search the car?”

“We now do random searches, with your consent, of course. Your vehicle just happened to be the random search this hour.”

Leopold looked into the man’s eyes and didn’t believe a word he was saying.

Leopold laughed like this was all a bit too ridiculous, but then he said, “My car is clean, of course. But if you’re asking about money, all I have is five hundred in cash on the back seat.”

If the now dead border attendant, Gill Franklin, had lied to them about all of the guys being on the take, he’d find Gill’s corpse and kick it square in the nuts the first chance he got.

“Are you trying to bribe me?” the attendant asked.

“Of course not,” Leopold said, his heart now moving from a trot to a full gallop. “It’s just that, if you’re looking for anything of interest, I’m afraid all I have is the five hundred on the back seat.”

The man not only frowned at Leopold, he actively began mean-mugging him. In a terse display of puckered asshole syndrome, he said, “My supervisor will want to see you.”

“You suck at this,” Cira told Leopold when the attendant went back into his booth.

“We’re a bit off the reservation here,” Leopold said quietly, “but it’ll be fine.”

“Sure it will,” Atlas said. “Except for Kiera, the drugs, and the mass-murdering ex-cop, we’re all good. I mean, what else could possibly go wrong?”

“You’re not a mass murderer,” Leopold said.

“To be a mass murderer, you need to have committed four or more murders with a no cooling-off period,” Cira said. “At least, that’s according to the FBI.”

“And you know this how?” Atlas asked.

“Leopold has me learn things so that I can do things,” Cira said cryptically, “and that’s all you need to know.”

“She was like you,” Leopold said. “But much better looking.”

Atlas turned and looked at her. “No kidding?”

“That was for me to share and not you,” Cira said to Leopold. “We talked about this.”

“Be quiet,” Leopold said as the supervisor made his way toward them. “We can’t cause a scene.”

“Too late,” Atlas said.

“Paco tells me you are trying to bribe him,” the supervisor said. He was an older man with a round belly, a big Texas handlebar mustache, and a belt buckle so ostentatious it almost deserved its own reward. “Do you know the kinds of penalties that come with bribing a CPB agent at the border?”

“I didn’t know that Paco was an agent,” Leopold said.

“Did you try to bribe him?” he asked.

“Absolutely not,” Leopold said. “I merely told him that if he searched us, which he said that he intended to do, that all he would find would be five hundred in cash on the back seat.”

“Do you realize that you have an eight hundred dollar exemption for gifts and personal articles right now?”

Now he felt like a donkey. “I wasn’t aware of that,” Leopold said, sheepishly.

“I’m going to need you to open the back doors and when I tap the trunk lid, please open that for me,” he said. He then addressed his subordinate. “Paco, let Esteban know I’ll be tied up here for a few minutes, please?”

“Si,” he said, still hitting Atlas with the stink eye.

“Open the back doors,” the supervisor said.

Leopold unlocked the doors and Kiera quietly turned in her seat. When the man opened the door, he looked at Atlas, turned away at the smell, then held his nose and looked at the seat between Atlas and Cira. He then shut the door, walked around back, and stood there for a while. When he tapped the trunk lid, Leopold said, “We’re totally screwed.” The fear hit his eyes like a hammer to the skull. He opened the trunk lid. Leopold clenched his sphincter at the sound of the lever’s release.

The man looked inside and there was no way on God’s green earth he could miss that weed. He then closed the lid, walked up to Leopold’s door, and gave it a knock.

“You’re clear, sir,” he said. He turned to Paco and said, “They’re all good.”

Paco let them through, and then after a moment, they were on the move.

From the back seat, Atlas, ever the untimely comedian, said, “I think I smell something funny. Leo, did you just soil your pants?”

“I think maybe I did,” he said. “Did he take the cash?”

“Sure did,”