Flinch

A cool breeze danced across the desert floor as light faded on a bloody day. Lance and Lucy had fought hard and long, but the law had them cornered like a couple of animals there in a cave along the Nevada border.

They were the last of the feared Sanchez clan. El Oso had put his trust in them to carry on the family name, and they had failed him.

This was their last stand, and they needed a miracle.

“Get on out here, Lance Sanchez.” The voice belonged to Sheriff Quinn, nicknamed “Mama” for an insatiable desire to guide and protect all aspects of life there in Casa County.

Lance and Lucy looked at each other, pondering the omission. If the sheriff didn’t know Lucy was there with him, could this be the break they needed?

The wind whipped around the walls of their hideout, shivering their spines.

Lucy squinted, trying to draw up a quick plan.

“Come on out now, Lance, and things go a lot better for you.” Quinn called in a sing-song voice.

Uncertainty passed over Lance’s face, and Lucy knew he was wavering, thought maybe he could save her by surrendering.

“Don’t go outside, Lance,” she whispered sternly.

He rocked back on his heels, settling in again. Lucy exhaled, relieved

But then …

“Lance Sanchez … if you come out here right now, you can have what you’ve been asking for. You know what I’m talking about, Sanchez.”

Maybe Lance knew, but Lucy had no idea. She opened her mouth to ask, but before she could eek out a word, Lance was gone …

He streaked across the carpet in a flash and bolted through the bedroom door.

“Alright,” Mama said. “Go wash up for bed now. Do you want chocolate or vanilla ice cream for your snack?”

She paused.

“Say, have you seen your sister?”