Midnight by Ellen Connor Page A

Night random, well away from a raid. That way no one can see our pattern to learn when we’re vulnerable.”
    “And these pirates have always attacked from their vehicles?”
    “That’s right.”
    All he could hear now was the desert quiet. But something else was out there. Chris could practically hear them creeping in, all shadowy echoes of that blasted dream. The future of Valle de Bravo depended on Rosa putting her trust in him. No easy task, considering he barely trusted himself.
    “But what if they didn’t have a minute?” He held up his hand, offering it to her, silently urging her to come with him. “No trucks, Rosa. Not this time. What if they were coming in on foot?”

ELEVEN
     
    “You sure of this?”
    Chris’s silence wasn’t reassuring, but she couldn’t afford to take chances. Peltz had demonstrated a little more intelligence than other roving bands. Just a little, mind, or else the raiders would’ve changed their lifestyle. But from his patient strategy, he must be ruthless and cunning. Maybe he envisioned taking over Valle de Bravo, with his men in place of Rosa’s. A leader that arrogant would figure women wouldn’t care who protected them.
    Rosa smiled and shook her head. Shows what he knows.
    Bouncing on the balls of his feet, Chris’s impatience demanded her attention. He wanted her to call the bravos in from Burning Night on the idea he could hear something she didn’t. The old adage “better safe than sorry” made her pull the pistol out of her gun belt and fire two warning shots into the air. Then she scampered down the hill at a run. The men were already forming up, most cussing and half dressed. If Chris was wrong, she’d let them beat him senseless for interrupting one of the few nights they got to drink and carouse.
    “What the hell?” Brick demanded.
    Ingrid didn’t look any happier at having her night with Ex interrupted. Neither of them hooked up often, so this meant a rare break from their taciturn natures.
    “We got incoming,” Rosa said. “I want all able-bodied men at their posts.”
    “We’d see them,” Falco said. “Hear their trucks.”
    She narrowed her eyes. “Who’s giving the orders here?”
    The answer was obvious when they all grabbed weapons and prepared to fight. Ex was one of their best shooters; he scaled up a lookout post. Falco did too, as he was damn fine with a rifle. Other gunmen did likewise. Jameson waited in the middle of town, knives at the ready, and Brick fell in beside him, fists upraised. He fought barehanded better than most men could with any number of weapons. Ingrid, too, preferred to fight in a melee. Opponents nearly always pegged her as a soft target. It was fun to watch them underestimate her as she ripped them up with krav maga.
    Rosa cocked her head. Now she could hear it in the silence too—the telltale crunch of footsteps over loose rock, the occasional muffled curse drifting on the night wind. She smelled them as well. Living as they did, dust pirates stank of what they ate and drank: half-rancid meat and poorly fermented sour mash. The stench carried on the night wind.
    Chris had been right. She’d deal with that uncomfortable fact later.
    Now it was a matter of determining how many approached.
    Thanks to early warning, the bravos had time to get into position and defend the perimeter. Rosa shouldered a rifle and ran into what had been a church. She jogged up the steps to the tower, wiping sweaty palms on her pants. But the flash of nerves went in a blink. This was her life.
    Rough, unkempt men in makeshift armor edged over the ridge. If not for Chris, Valle would have been caught flat-footed. When the first man came into range, she sighted and took the shot—a clean kill right through the neck. It wasn’t the clean shot of a sniper, but one intended as a deterrent. So fucking messy. He gurgled as he died, blood spurting from the wound in his throat.
    “Think twice!” she called to the rest. “I can drop five more