Stay by Victor Gischler Page B

way.
    But David had sized up the situation, and it was obvious that if he ran for it they’d gun him down before he got twenty steps.
    Without timely intervention, David was as good as dead.
    Later, Larry would say that maps of the area were notoriously inaccurate and who could tell exactly where the border was anyway in that sunbaked hell. So he’d come in fast with his men and had driven the Iranian patrol back enough for David and the rest of them to hoof it out of there. Back in Basrah, David had spent a week’s pay treating Larry and his men to drinks.
    And Sergeant Larry Meadows could put away the beer.
    Eventually Larry rotated back to the world and prospered in hotel management.
    â€œSo what brings you to my hotel, Major?” Larry asked with a big smile.
    â€œYou saved my bacon once,” David said. “I thought you might enjoy the chance to do it again.”

 
    CHAPTER TWELVE
    Dante Payne sat at his desk and stared at the phone. It should have rung hours ago, and when it hadn’t he’d sent men to find out why.
    Now he was waiting again for the phone to ring. He hated waiting. Not that anyone else liked to wait, but Dante Payne was hardly anyone else. Such mundane inconveniences were beneath him.
    And yet here he was. Waiting.
    A woman brought him a glass of red wine. Blond and tall. Short skirt. Her breasts were so large even Dante found them egregious.
    â€œWhat is your name?” Dante asked.
    â€œMichelle.”
    â€œYou’re new,” Dante observed. “What kind of wine is this?”
    â€œA cabernet sauvignon.” Michelle told him the label and vintage but her words were forgotten even as they left her mouth.
    Women. A wine cellar full of rare and expensive bottles. A luxurious and obscenely expensive mansion. Various pricey automobiles. Wardrobe from the finest tailors in New York, Milan, and Paris. The desk at which he sat was a seventeenth-century antique.
    None of it much excited him. There was a time when he thought it would.
    Dante dismissed the woman, sipped the wine. It was excellent, and he didn’t give a shit.
    He stared at the phone.
    Dante Payne had everything anyone could ever want and it wasn’t enough. The more power and influence he accumulated, the more he wanted. The more he needed . It was every bit as much an addiction as cocaine or heroin.
    That assistant DA bitch, Amy Sparrow, was a problem, one that—hopefully—would soon go away. Not because she was putting a case against him for racketeering and extortion—although, yes, there was that, too—but for the simple fact that she opposed him.
    She opposed him .
    Dante was an intelligent man and fully realized this childish flaw in his character, but that didn’t stop his blood from boiling when he thought about her. That she—that anyone —would dare to stand in the way of even his slightest whim was not something that fit into Dante’s world view. And if she’d seen what was on the flash drive, then all the more reason she had to die. And then he would recover the flash drive and they’d have nothing and Dante Payne could return unmolested to his endeavors.
    The problem, of course, had started when the government man had turned on him. Dante should have realized, should have anticipated the possibility. Any man who could so easily be bought, could just as easily prove to be untrustworthy when the time came to—
    The phone rang.
    Dante picked it up and put it to his ear but said nothing. Another minor power play that Dante realized was petty, but he couldn’t help himself.
    The voice on the other end: “Boss?”
    â€œTell me.”
    â€œWe lost some guys. And they didn’t get her.”
    A pause. A sigh. This was disappointing news but not unforeseen. “The sister?”
    â€œWe checked her house. Nobody there.”
    Dante considered. “Check the rest of the places on the list and call me back.”
    He