Sonny and Zander left the coffee warehouse late that night. "Any word from Jax?" Sonny asked.

Zander shook his head. "No, not yet."

Sonny nodded, thinking about what pieces of information could be passed on to his arch nemesis to keep Candy Boy off his back. "Well, let me kn. . ."

Spanish floated to ears, shocking him into silence. Sonny loved to speak Spanish, but around here, opportunities were few and far between. In his life, it seemed he had to fly to Puerto Rico to have a decent conversation.

He noticed the concerned look Zander cast his way. "Sonny, you okay?" Sonny put a finger to his lips, motioning Zander to be quiet. Driven by curiosity, he followed the bits and pieces of the conversation, trying to pinpoint where the source of the voices.

". . .can't put. . .on there," one said , a hint of frustration in its somewhat young sounding voice.

"Why not? " The other queried, persistence in his voice.

". . .doesn't fit with. . .rest. . .," the person Sonny had tagged as Kid declared.

"But. . ."

Sonny inched his way along the alley wall with Zander following close behind him. The voices came from the back of his warehouse. He glanced back at Johnny and Max, motioning for them to go around the other way. They nodded and disappeared into the night.

"What's going on?" Zander whispered, anxiety coloring the concern in his voice.

Sonny shook his head, trying to keep their approach as stealthily as he could. With every piece of conversation he heard, concern built within him. Questions and suspicions swirled in his head. What are they doing at his warehouse? Did they break in? No. . .from the sound of it, they're hauling something. Who hired them? Roscoe. . .He's been dealt with. Sorel's dead. Who does that leave? A.J. . .He's too concerned about using Courtney. . .That leaves Jax.

As they made progress to the source, the conversations became much clearer. He paused when heard Kid ask, "What does this say?"

Another voice replied in halting English, "Cor. . .in. . .thos."

"Good. This?"

"M. . .or. . .gan."

". . .know. . .this?"

"Coffee," the third man answered without hesitation.

A laugh cut through the night. "Great! We're making progress."

He peaked around the corner, taking in the scene in front of him. Let's see. There are one. . .two. . .three. . . f. . .what a minute. . .is that what I think it is? Sonny blinked to make sure that he wasn't dreaming. Nope, it was indeed true. A cowboy was here. In New York. In Port Charles. At his warehouse. He shook his head. Where in the world did Jax hire a cowboy from? That's takes "outside help" to a new level.

"Are they robbing the place?" Zander whispered urgently.

Shaking his head, Sonny ducked back behind the corner. "I better see what's going on," he whispered back. "You stay here," he ordered, giving Zander a meaningful look. The impulsive kid had gotten into more trouble than he could count. He waited until the kid nodded his agreement before making his move. He took a deep breath and stepped out of his hiding place. The words he had prepared stuck in his throat when he noticed that everyone had disappeared but the cowboy leaning against the edge of an empty coffee crate with his arms crossed. "What's going on here?" he demanded, looking around a bit, hoping to catch sight of the others.

Despite the shadow from the cowboy hat, Sonny could make out the young features and the glittering eyes it hid.

"Nothin'." So he speaks English, Sonny thought, a bit disappointed that he wouldn't be able to conduct Port Charles business in Spanish for once. He recognized the voice of the person in front of him as Kid.

Sonny decided to try a friendly approach. He flashed a dimpled smile and said, "It didn't sound like "nothin'"." Pretending to look around, he asked, "Where'd your friends go?"

Kid shrugged. "Reckon they went on 'ome."

From the darkness, the figures of Johnny and Max emerged.

"Wondered when y'all would come out," Kid said without even looking at the newly arrived bodyguards.

Confident in the odds, Sonny walked toward the cowboy. "Now, I asked you a question," he stated as Johnny and Max moved in from the sides.

"I gave you my answer," the kid retorted, eyes glaring at him from under that hat. The kid had spunk had to give him that.

"Why can't you just answer the question?" Sonny asked, with a fleeting, insincere smile.

"Why do you care?" Kid retorted. /P>

"I'm Sonny Corinthos," he announced, placing full authority and weight behind his name. He waited from some sign of recognition: the fear it usually instilled within people of his business, the distaste it brought to those of more refined tastes, and the hatred it instilled in his enemies. He got none of these. Instead, he got curiosity. Curiosity. Followed quickly by a speculative look. In that moment, he felt like a bug under a microscope and knew he needed to regain his footing in this situation. Overcoming his discomfort, he stated, "You're on my property."

"Sorry." Kid gave a quick smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes, which were constantly shifting between Sonny, Johnny, and Max.

Realizing that he was getting nowhere fast, he knew the situation called for a more direct action. He nodded for Johnny and Max to come closer. Johnny grabbed the kid's arm. Out of nowhere, the kid pulled out a knife and stabbed him. Johnny howled in pain, letting the kid go and grabbing his wound. He gave Sonny a shocked look filled with pain. Guilt and regret filled Sonny, who knew and understood that Johnny had been hurt a lot worse for his sake. Sonny stood there, shocked as the kid swung around toward Max, brandishing what looked to be a now bloody switchblade. He looked at

Johnny, who had blood dripping between his fingers and wondered when exactly he had lost control of this situation.

"Max, check on Johnny." What the hell was he supposed to do now?

"That wasn't very nice," Sonny pointed out, taking a step forward only to be stopped when the knife was waved at him.

A stunned voice from behind him broke through the tense situation. "Cory?"