Matt Hilton - Slash and burn

'Huffman's men are coming,' Larry said. 'Don't go getting yourself killed after all this. You're mine, Hunter.'

'You've got a date, Larry.'

Back at the car wreck, Larry finally turned and jogged towards his Cadillac further along the road. Part of him expected a bullet in the spine, but a more resolute portion of his brain told him that Joe Hunter wasn't going to shoot him like a dog. There was more to Hunter than that: it was like he said, he wasn't a coward. Unlike punks like Tito back at the roadhouse, he wasn't about to try to take Larry from behind. If he'd been that kind of man, he'd have killed him that first time they met in the forest.

Larry eased into the Cadillac, twisted the key in the ignition. The engine roared to life, and Larry spun the car in the road. He looked back and could see a vehicle coming, sending up a cloud of dust in its haste.

'Don't get yourself killed, Hunter,' he said one last time.

Then he drove away.

Larry Bolan had been wrong on two major counts. It wasn't Huffman's guys who were driving like crazy men towards me. I recognised the shape of the Ford Windstar and knew that it was Rink and Harvey charging to my rescue. And he was wrong when he allowed his bitter desire to hurt me to get in the way of a clean kill.

I made a big mistake too. I should have shot Bolan the second he turned to run back to the Cadillac. But that isn't in me. Face to face, I'll do what must be done to any enemy, but I'm not going to put a bullet in someone running away. It's a failing for someone engaged in my line of work, but it's also something I'm damn proud of.

Holding my guns at my sides, I watched Larry spin the car round in the road. The Cadillac – a classic model with fins and chrome – was like a huge boat on wheels, and I couldn't imagine where he'd got it. He roared away in a plume of dust. So I turned and watched my friends haring towards me. I stepped out so that I was on the shoulder of the road, and I waved, letting them know I was OK.

Bringing the Windstar to a halt, both Rink and Harvey lurched out of the vehicle. Rink had a pistol-grip Mossberg shotgun in his hands and Harvey came armed with a Glock 17. Both their faces were set. Intent on killing.

'Easy, guys. It's all over.'

'The hell, you say?' Rink surveyed the scene of devastation all around us. Three vehicles destroyed and six men dead. 'We leave you alone for five minutes and… well… just look at this! You're hoggin' all the fun yourself.'

The roar of the Cadillac was still audible, even if the car was now out of sight.

'One of them is getting away,' Harvey said. 'You think that's wise?'

'It wasn't one of Huffman's men, it was Larry Bolan.'

'Bolan,' Rink said. 'Last I heard he was one of Huffman's men.'

'He isn't any longer. Believe it or not, Larry just saved my ass.'

'Get outa here!'

He wasn't speaking literally, but Rink's words weren't such a bad idea. We piled into the Windstar, the guys up front and me in the back. Harvey navigated the road round the wreckage of my Saturn, then headed off at speed following in the same direction Larry had gone. Back to Pilot Point.

I told them what had happened, ending with Bolan's reluctance to shoot me when he had the chance.

'So he's looking for a showdown?' Rink said.

'I suppose I owe him.'

'For killing his brother?' Harvey asked, incredulous. He caught my eye in the rear-view mirror. 'That's crazy thinking, man.'

'I was thinking how I'd be if someone had killed my brother,' I said. 'Or either of you. I don't blame Larry for wanting a one-on-one with me.'

'You don't owe him anything,' Rink said. 'There's no honour in the man, Hunter. You know that.'

'I know. But that doesn't change anything.' I laughed at the absurdity. 'Larry saved my life. I agreed to give him a chance at what he wants. You know how much I stand by my word.'

'The truth, Hunter?'

Giving him a sheepish grin, I said, 'OK. I want him too.'

'The guy's a goddamn freak of nature.' Coming from Rink, that statement meant something. 'Why'd you want to fight somethin' like that?'

I considered my reasons. It was perhaps misguided, but since Larry had manhandled me back in the workshop where Trent died, I'd been feeling a little inadequate. 'I have to prove something to myself.'

'Man…' Rink groaned. 'That means if he kicks your ass, I'm gonna have to fight him.'

Rink has an absurd sense of humour at times. But I wasn't laughing.

We drove through semi-rural areas where human habitation was more apparent, and picked up South Highway 377 toward Pilot Point. All along the way I watched for Larry Bolan's wheeled warship, but apparently he'd headed off elsewhere.

We cut through Pilot Point without stopping, passing a bank infamous for having been robbed by Bonnie and Clyde, so Harvey said, then followed a minor road to our destination: a fishing cabin hidden from the road by a stand of live oak on the bank of Ray Roberts Lake. The cabin was totally utilitarian, a staging area for the continuation of our plan to get Kate back. 'Have either of you any connections here in Texas?' I asked.

Rink shrugged a negative, but Harvey bobbed his head.

What had recently gone down had spoiled my chances of spiriting Kate from under Huffman's nose. He'd be on high alert now. Our next incursion on his land would have to be planned. And it should be soon, before Huffman could marshal his forces against me.

'What're the chances of you getting hold of a couple of rifles, Harvey?'

'Could get my hands on as many rifles as you want,' Harvey said. 'But I guess you're thinking of specific types?'

I told him exactly what I would like.

Harvey shook his head. 'How soon do you want them?'

'How about right now?'

Harvey clicked his fingers like a magician. But then he smiled slowly and said, 'Sorry, Hunter. I'm good, but not that good. Leave it with me, I'll see what I can do.'

'Got a plan?' Rink asked me.

'Yeah, we give Huffman hell.'

Falling back to a safe position, Larry Bolan took the loop road round the city of Denton, passing the CH Collins Football Stadium, while he considered his next move.

It didn't take much debating: Joe Hunter must die in agony.

Resolute, he blinked at the scenery and realised he was now heading back west on University Drive towards Highway 35.

On his right was a burger joint – as good a place as any to stop. Not that he wanted food: he was looking for a payphone.

Pulling in, he checked out the other vehicles in the lot. There was a mix of cars and vans, but his Cadillac would stand out if left in the open. Sooner or later he would change the plates, but he was in no rush. He doubted anyone back at Minnie's would report the vehicle missing. Hell, they wouldn't even report Tito missing. Still, he parked it at the back, next to some dumpsters. There was a No Parking sign. Like he cared. Then he got out of the Cadillac and stretched expansively.

He was wearing the overcoat he'd brought from Little Fork, but he was still reluctant to shed it. The coat camouflaged the guns in his waistband. He pulled it closer to his body as he walked round the side of the building and into a cool breeze. He saw what he wanted: a booth attached to the outside wall. He searched his pockets for change, fed quarters into the machine.

The telephone rang a dozen times before it was answered.

'Hello?'

'That you, boss?'

'Larry?' Huffman asked. 'Larry Bolan?'

'Yeah. It's me.'

There was a pause. Larry knew that those empty seconds were very important. At the end of them he would know if this was a mistake. Perhaps the biggest mistake of all.

'You survived?' Huffman sounded pleased, but that meant nothing. He always seemed happy and relaxed, whatever murder he was planning. 'I thought Joe Hunter had killed you along with Aitken and Wallace.'