Death Before Dishonor 2 - Pistols Zip

“Death before dishonor,” Kael said. “But I’m not dead. So I guess you’re the one who lost honor.”

Kael Rivera knelt in the mud, wrists zip-tied behind his back, the plastic biting into flesh he’d long stopped feeling. Two men held him by the shoulders. A third stood in front—Lobo, with his gold-capped grin and a pistol that looked too clean for this side of the border.

Lobo’s man had been careless. When they dumped Kael, the silenced .22 had slipped from a jacket pocket and landed three feet away in the weeds. Death Before Dishonor 2 Pistols Zip

Lobo reached for his piece on the table.

“You’re dead,” Lobo whispered.

Because Kael Rivera died ten seconds ago.

“No.” Kael’s voice was gravel and fever. “I just chose.” “Death before dishonor,” Kael said

Lobo was drinking tequila in a back room off the main plaza when the door opened. He looked up. His glass stopped halfway to his lips.