Chapter 17

The full story would not be known to Red for months. But one day, she would be told of the rescue of Glory.

Lester drove all night, stopping only for gas when needed. It would be a 20 hour drive straight through to Amarillo, and he strongly suspected that finding the little imp wouldn't be exactly easy once he arrived. But he was resourceful, and had a suspicion that a tiny runaway might attract at least a little attention.

He listened to the radio as he drove, zoning out to some decent country music until he crossed out of one radio station's territory to another and had to find a new one. Lester Tremor, the Badger of the family, was well known as the hardiest of the three brothers. He could handle lower or higher temperatures, go longer without eating or drinking, carry heavy loads over longer distances. Jeeves was without question the biggest and the strongest, and Darwin would always be the smartest and the one in charge. But there was something special about Lester. His determination, honed by a lifetime of hard work and rough living and having to be too grown up, too soon, was legendary.

By midnight, he was on the outskirts of Vegas. Garish bright lights vomited neon promises of pleasure and fortune across his windshield, but he ignored them. He needed gas again, and some provisions.

As he was filling the truck, a woman in next to nothing approached him. Leaning suggestively against the pump.

"Hey there, handsome. Looking for a little fun tonight?"

Lester looked at her over the tops of his spectacles, sternly assessing her age and obvious line of work.

"How old are you, young lady?"

She smiled, running a hand down her hip.

"How old do you want me to be?"

"Don't get cute. Ya don't look a day over sixteen at the most. Your parents know where you are? What you're doin'? It's a chilly evenin' and you ain't got enough on to keep the cold away. Skinny as a rail, too. When was the last time you ate?"

Something twisted in her features, and she nervously looked over her shoulder. Lester's blue eyes flicked in the same direction, and he saw a large man seated behind the wheel of a dark four-door something or other. The glowing tip of a cigarette making his hawkish features just visible.

He grunted in annoyance.

"An' your pimp over there should know better 'n to send you out to strangers at a gas station. Girls your age don't belong out here."

"Look, I don't need a lecture! If you're not interested then fine. But you don't know shit about my life, and you don't know what I left behind to get here. I'm gonna be a singer someday! This is just a job right now. Blue Fly takes real good care of me. He bought me real diamond earrings for my birthday! And he don't beat up on me as bad as some out there."

"Yeah, yeah. Sounds like a real humanitarian."

There was a little awkward silence, and the girl began to slink away.

"Not so fast. How much for an hour of your time?"

She paused, looking back at him hopefully.

"Fifty dollars, about? More or less depending on what you want."

Lester reached into his pocket and pulled out his billfold. He handed the girl two hundreds and nodded, unsmiling, to the pimp parked some distance away.

"Pony up the money, tell him we're gonna take a drive. I ain't gonna hurt you, kid. But I am not gonna leave you here either. Christ, this shit always happens every time I come to Vegas. Hurry up, scoot. C'mon back when ya tell him."

He finished filling his tank and went inside to pay. There was a small kiosk with wrapped sandwiches and bottled juice, and he helped himself to a little bit of everything. As the clerk put his purchases into the bag, Lester glanced out the window at his truck again.

"Shit."

The dark car had pulled up right beside it, and the big guy was getting out. Waiting for him right next to the driver's side door. Great. Just what he needed while he was on a schedule. A confrontation with an armed sleezeball who wanted to play tough guy. The skinny girl was in the passenger's seat of the man's car, staring forlornly at the dashboard and looking nervous.

"You have a good night, mister." The young man behind the counter was saying. Lester nodded to him and tucked the bag under his arm, turning to head out.

Once outside, he walked casually to his vehicle and opened the driver's door, setting the bag on his seat. Then he turned to look up at the pimp, Blue Fly. Impossible to tell anything about his race, not that it mattered. The man was grimy and overweight, with huge arms that strained the fabric of his jean jacket. He shot Lester a mirthless leer, showing a couple gaps where he'd lost a few teeth. His mud colored eyes took in the black-clad man before him. Lester had removed his weaponry for comfort's sake while driving, and it was tucked under the driver's seat. No matter, that. He didn't need a weapon for this shitheel.

"Hear you wanna hire Carly for a couple hours." The pimp was saying.

"Ya heard right."

"Yeah well, she said you was asking a lot of questions about her age and stuff. You a cop?"

Lester raised an eyebrow and took off his glasses, folding them and slipping them into his breast pocket. Then he held up his bone-tattooed hands.

"Do I look like a motherfuckin' cop to you?"

"Ain't what I asked, man." But he seemed satisfied, looking Lester over and judging him to be just some yokel from out of town. "Why you gotta know about her parents and her age and all that? She ain't doing nothing wrong. Just making conversation with a nice fella who gave her some money. Now maybe she goes with you and maybe she doesn't, but it was real sweet of you to donate. You uh…want to negotiate? Seem like you got some cash to toss around."

Again the leer.

Lester sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. He was on too tight a schedule for this asinine garbage.

"No negotiation needed. See, the thing is, I don't reckon Carly there is really enjoyin' her glamorous lifestyle. She wants to be a singer, not a hooker. And you're a piece o' shit pimp who is about to lose a girl. I am takin' her with me. She's too young for this. Ain't a goddamn thing you can do about it, Blue Fly. You don't know me, but you will. The name's Lester Beaufort Tremor. I'm the man that's about to give you a beat down without ever makin' a fist."

The bigger man's face twisted into an ugly look of hatred and rage. His hand went inside his coat.

"Motherfucker, WHAT did you say to me?!"

There it is then. In his coat. Lester's hand moved faster than eyes could follow. He reached out and slapped Blue Fly across the cheek with enough force to knock him against the truck.

"WHAT…!"

But Lester didn't respond. He followed up the first slap with a vicious backhand that sent the man reeling the other way. Then another palm to the face, and another backhand. Stunned for only a moment, Blue Fly finally wrested his gun free from his coat. He aimed it at Lester, cocking back the hammer. Only to have the gun slapped out of his hand so strongly that it cracked the face of his watch.

"Keep on pissin' me off, boy. I ain't even warmed up yet."

Lester leaned down and picked up the gun, walked around the front of his truck, and with two crisp, loud bangs he took out the tires on the car. Then he whipped around and fired a round into Blue Fly's knee as the pimp came for him again. The man howled and went down like a bag of cement. Inside the gas station, the young man was gaping at the scene through the window. He was lifting a phone to his ear.

"Oh goddammit. CARLY! Get outta the car, c'mon girl! NOW!"

And that was how Lester kidnapped a prostitute at gunpoint from a gas station in Vegas. Because that's just the kind of thing he did. And the kind of man he was.

Twenty minutes later, they were on the highway. Carly was sobbing, stunned and terrified and mad as a wet cat, but she didn't try to jump from the truck.

"Would you simmer on down, child? I ain't gonna hurt you."

"You killed him! You killed my boyfriend!"

"I did the hell not, he'll be fine. Just slapped the ever-lovin' fuck outta him an' busted a kneecap. That prick was not your boyfriend. Don't you watch enough after school specials to know when you been caught up in the sex trade?! Sleepin' with strange men for money?! That your idea of a life well lived?! Shit no! Now you are gonna settle down, quit your caterwaulin', and eat a sandwich. You want tuna or turkey? If those do not appeal to ya, I got peanut butter an' mayo in a box on the floor in back. Sorta my favorite, but it ain't to everyone's taste."

"What are you, some kind of religious nut?! Rescuing damsels who AREN'T in distress by force just so you can feel good about yourself?!"

Lester shrugged, pulling the paper bag into his lap with one hand to open it and fish out a random sandwich. He handed it to the girl, and a bottle of juice.

After another few seconds of pouting, Carly got control of herself and angrily snatched the food. Despite her tough words and mannerisms, she was starving.

"Now you listen to me. I get it that ya can't go on back to your parents for whatever reason. I can respect that. My own father was a piece o' shit too. I reckon there's abuse in your past."

Carly didn't answer. But she nodded, once. Lester nodded too.

"Alright then. So ya can't go home. You got any people anyplace? Grandparents? Uncles? Aunts? Cousins? You got friends? You got a place you can go to start a new life, if you had enough money to put yourself through community college and pay rent? You're too young to rent your own apartment, I think."

"I'm nineteen! I'm just skinny, for God's sake! And I put on makeup and dress to look younger! Because people pay more for the younger girls!"

Lester chuckled, relaxing back in his seat.

"Well shit then, Carly. You don't need anyone. You can start over. You can have your own life somewhere. Make your own rules. Get a decent job, go to school. Turn it all around."

"I HAD an apartment that Blue Fly paid for! And a puppy! And clothes and nice things! Oh my God, Rosco is going to be all alone. He'll starve to death." And she burst into tears again, hiding her face. Lester groaned.

"Show me where you live. We'll get your shit and the dog. But then you're with me for an extended trip to Texas. Agreed? You are not goin' back to your old life."

Carly's head came up, and she gripped his arm.

"You mean it?! Turn around! I'll show you! Oh my God thank you!"

"Hell, Imma be late anyway."

It was two in the morning, and Lester was still driving. In the back seat, Carly lay with her head on a pillow, covered with his coat. In her arms was a scruffy looking mongrel puppy, also asleep. Their bellies were full. They were safe. They were warm. And it made Lester's chest feel tight and good. This was what he enjoyed. Not killing. But something had to pay the bills.

The road was a ribbon of silver ahead of him, moonlight shining off a late night rain on the pavement. The truck was silent, just the hum of the engine and the steady deep breathing of the young girl behind him. Lester's mind wandered to Glory. Would it be just as easy to save her? Or would he have to fight a hell of a lot more than just one overweight shitbag. There were some powerful people on her tail. People who hated Red and wanted to take out that hatred on Glory. People who would no doubt one day be looking for Red too. If they weren't already.

It would have to be handled.

But it was not his, Lester's, place to take out Red's enemies. It was Darwin's. This would need to be a stealthy rescue. Just get the kid and bring her back to where she would be safe until they could figure out what to do.

They drove through the night. An hour before sunrise found them in the middle of nowhere, desert scrub on all sides. Lester was exhausted, but he continued to grimly drive with his eyes fixed on the road until the sun began to peek over the mountains and the russet hues of the landscape warmed to its touch. In the back, Carly was still asleep. There was a tiny motel up ahead, and he pulled into the parking lot and shut off the truck. Just a couple hours of rest. Not a full eight. Maybe four, and he'd be good to go again. Taking the keys with him, he pulled on his shoulder holster once more and covered it with a dark green coat. Then he headed into the grimy little office and tapped the bell. An old man in overalls appeared, and when he saw Lester his face crinkled into a smile.

"Lester Tremor! Been a minute since you were through here last. Five years? Good to see you again!"

"Thanks, Pops. Good to see ya too. Lookin' real well. Still got that mangy old coon hound?"

"Sure do! Boom Daddy's out back, sleeping in his dog house."

"Real glad to hear it. Imma need to borrow that hound if ya don't mind."
"Don't mind one bit, son. You can have anything you need."
"Much obliged. I'd also like a room with two beds for about four hours. Just gonna grab a little rest. Got some company with me and she'll need a bed too. Some poor kid I found in Vegas."

The old man's smile warmed even more.

"Still saving maidens, Sir Galahad?"

Lester nodded once, and reached for his wallet to pay the man.

Carly woke up when Lester opened the back door of the extended cab, and the puppy in her arms yawned.

"Where are we? Is this Texas? How long have I been asleep?"

"You're still in Nevada, but we put about four hundred miles distance between ourselves and Vegas. I got us a room, figured you could use some rest in an actual bed. I need to crash for a couple hours myself."

She hesitated, and Lester sighed, grabbing one of her packed suitcases, the food, and his own overnight bag.

"It ain't like that, kiddo. I'm a happily married man. You're safe. Reckon that'll sink in eventually."

They walked up to the door of the motel room and Lester clicked open the lock, admitting them to a small but tidy bedroom with an attached bathroom to one side. There were two beds, just as he'd specified, and he set Carly's bag on one bed and his own on the other. He opened his overnight bag and took out his shaving cream, and upon popping off the cap he took it into the bathroom to rinse it out, then fill it with cold water for the puppy.

"We can use a magazine for a plate. Let's see if he likes turkey."

"You're serious. You're really not gonna try to score with me?"

"Nope."

"And this is for real? You're taking me to Texas and helping me start a new life?"

"Yep."

"Why?"

She'd closed and locked the door, pulled the blinds to shut out the night, and was now carefully setting Rosco on the floor to lap at the water. Lester sat on the edge of the bed to take his boots off. He didn't look up from untying the laces.

"If I had a little girl, an' she was out peddlin' her ass on the street, I'd sure as hell want someone to save her. Not just give her a couple bucks an' some friendly words of advice. Not just a meal. Not somethin' all soft an' passive like that. Nah. I'd be prayin' for a goddamn hero. Someone to walkinto her life, shoot the bad guys, throw her over their shoulder an' carry her off to safety."

Carly slowly opened her suitcase, watching him.

"My Dad wouldn't have cared even if he wasn't too drunk to notice anything. He always said I was nothing but a worthless little whore."

"You got his address handy?"

"What? No! You'd kill him for me?"

"Sure, at half price on account of we're friends now. You got twenty-five grand lyin' around? I do not do freebies."

Carly couldn't tell if he was joking or not. She decided not to press him, still finding it hard to believe that there was no ulterior motive.

Lester kept his clothes on, a knife under the pillow and another under the edge of the mattress. Then he stretched out and shut his eyes. He was asleep within moments. Carly fed Rosco, and when she was sure the man in the bed was asleep she slipped into the bathroom to take a shower. She washed the makeup off her face and the grime of the streets off her body. The stink of cigarette smoke and the stink of half a dozen nameless, faceless johns all swirled down the drain like so much toxic waste. After the long shower, she felt better. She wrapped a towel around herself and left the bathroom, meaning to get dressed. But her eyes strayed to the man on the bed. He was on his back, those sky blue eyes shut, and she felt something stirring in her heart. He really had saved her life. Didn't that deserve some kind of a thank you?

He woke up to the sound of his own belt buckle being unfastened.

"Jesus Christ, Carly! Can't a man get an hour?" Annoyed, he batted her hands away. Then he rubbed his face and sat up. Just blinking for a few seconds at the girl standing beside the bed. Her towel on the floor. Clean and soft and smiling at him.

"I wanted to say thank you."

Lester groaned, then swung his legs over the side of the bed and got up. He took Carly gently by the shoulders and looked right into her eyes.

"Listen to me. Every word, alright? You are never gonna touch a man that you ain't in love with again. Never." He gave her a little shake to drive the point home. And he leaned down and picked up her discarded towel, wrapping it around her shoulders. "You are not in love with me. I just saved your scrawny ass."

Carly sniffled, her eyes filling with tears. Then she shrugged off the towel and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly.

"You're the most wonderful man I've ever met in my life!"

"Yeah, yeah. Girl, you better hop in bed an' rest a few hours. Christ, the headaches you are causin' me."

Carly smiled, kissing his cheek, and pulled back to secure her towel around her once more. Within minutes, she was dressed in pajamas and sliding into bed.

Lester stayed awake for fifteen minutes just to make sure she stayed there. Then he drifted off too.

Four hours later, they were awake and back on the road again. This time, there was an additional passenger. In the back seat, looking straight ahead and sitting stock still as though he were a statue, a mixed breed bloodhound/lab/pit bull sat beside Carly and a very interested Rosco. This was the legendary Boom Daddy, the finest tracker Lester had ever met. On loan from his friend Pops Marten for an indeterminate amount of time. Lester thought he might prove useful in the finding of Glory.

Texas was still well ahead of them, but with alacrity and determination they should make it there just after dark. And so they did. It was nearing dawn again when they pulled into Amarillo.

The last known position of Glory. Lester was here. He needed to find some sign of her, needed to find a scent. But first, he had to deal with the skinny issue in his back seat.

And so it came to pass that Lester Tremor, assassin and general redneck, found himself standing in the office of an apartment complex, doling out a thousand dollars for first month's rent and security deposit on a furnished studio apartment, utilities included, that allowed pets. He was cranky and tired, but he needed to make goddamn sure that Carly got on her feet. He gave the ecstatic girl enough money to keep her going for three months, plus provided her with his personal burner phone number should she need anything further.

Karma, it is said, has a way of finding you.

"Hell of a thing you just did." The man behind the counter told Lester, after Carly had carried her bags and Rosco up the stairs to her new home. Lester grunted an answer, focusing on signing the paperwork. The man seemed to be in a communicative mood, though, and he kept talking.

"Did something like this myself couple days back"

"Did ya now. Real good."

"Sure as breathing, I did. Gave a room to a hungry little thing I found at the park up the street. She stayed four days before taking off again."

"Well that was right kind of ya."
Carly dashed down the steps long enough to kiss both Lester's cheeks, give a squeal of pure joy, and dash back up the stairs again. Lester watched her go with a sense of fatherly protectiveness, and relief. She was going to be alright. This man in front of him, Gary, had promised to keep an eye on her.

Gary watched the young woman bounce away too, then turned back to Lester, who was preparing to leave.

"They're so precious at that age. The girl I helped, she was right precious too."

"Bet she was."

"Tiny little thing, hungry as a bear just out of hibernation! I had half a pizza back here, and she asked for it. Not a slice, mind you. The whole box."

"Heh. That's real cute. Well, I best be off…."

"All huge dark eyes and curly hair, just the sweetest little thing. Pity she didn't stay."

Lester finally caught on. Something larger than himself was at work here. He reached across the counter and caught the man by the arm.

"Say again?"

Danny seemed a little taken aback by the contact. He looked down at the tattooed hand that held him, and repeated his late sentence quickly.

"I said she was a sweet little thing. Curly hair and huge, dark eyes. Prettiest little girl you ever saw. I found her at the park on a Sunday, looking through the waste bins and eating old French Fries out of tossed out containers. My heart just broke right there. I said to her, 'Honey, you look like you need a place to sleep for the night. I own an apartment building. I can give you a room to rest in. Safe. Warm. Out if the weather.' She didn't even look scared of me, like any girl ought to be of a stranger. She just came right up, wiped some ketchup off her mouth, and took my hand."

"She give you a name?"

"She….she did. Sir, you mind letting go my arm? Kinda hurting me here."

Lester did, but his heart was racing. He drummed his fingers impatiently on the counter.

"The name. Please. I reckon it might be the little lady I gotta find, before some real bad folks find her first."

Gary rubbed his arm, looking at Lester. But finally he spoke.

"Couldn't forget a name like that. Just as pretty and unusual as the little gal herself. Glory. Her name was Glory."

"Show me the room she stayed in."

He got Boom Daddy from the car, of course, and led the hound into the small room that Gary showed him. It was neat as a pin. Gary told him, a little fearfully, that he'd cleaned it just that morning. Lester cast his sharp eyes around the room, looking for anything the man might have missed. Just that morning.

"You do the laundry yet?"

"Not yet."

"Reckon you can get me the sheets or the towels she used?"

"I mean, I think I can. Probably all mixed in with my stuff though. Hey, is she in some kinda trouble?"

"Yes. And I am the one who's gonna get her out of it. But Imma need some goddamn help. So get me the dirty laundry an' hold it under this here trackin' dog's nose. He needs the scent. She leave here on foot?"

"Must have, I didn't see a cab and the bus stop is up the street."

"Any idea where she might've gone?"

"No sir. Tried to get her to stay a bit, but she never said a yes or a no. Just took off a couple nights ago. It was real weird. This dark car, kinda fancy, was driving real slow up and down the street. She was in the office with me, having about three pounds of Chinese food, when she saw it. That was the night she disappeared. Found the window open and her missing in the morning."

A muscle twitched in Lester's jaw, and his hands closed into fists. Goddammit. He'd JUST missed her. That dark car…the folks who were after Red were hotter on Glory's heels than he had realized. Suddenly, he was extremely glad he'd brought a veritable arsenal. His eyes fell on the bed, and he walked to it on an impulse. Kneeling down, he looked at the place between the night stand and the bed. There was a folded piece of paper on the floor, and nothing else. He grabbed it and stood up. It was a receipt. A sandwich, candy, a soda. And there was an address. It was all he had.

Gary came back with a wad of dirty linens, and Lester crouched down to hold them to Boom Daddy's sensitive nose.

"Imma buy these from ya. You got a trash bag? Need to keep the scent as uncontaminated as possible."

"No need to buy them. If you're going to save that little girl, that's all the payment I need. She was something else. Little thing like that, she shouldn't be out on the streets alone. Anything else I can do to help?"

"Yeah." Lester handed him his card. "You see her again, keep her here an' call me. You call me if you see that black car again, too. Alright?"

Gary nodded, taking the car.

"Absolutely."

"An' Gary?"

"Yes sir?"

"Ya never saw me." Despite the man's weak protestations, Lester shoved a few bills into his hand. Then he took the sheets, and the clean trash bag from the waste basket to keep them in, and he raced back to his truck.

He was close. Real damn close. Glory was here somewhere. Hiding.

Unfortunately…so were Ahmed's people.