The man in the white cowboy hat didn't move after he spoke.
He stood there like he'd grown out of the street, his boots perfectly square in an almost unnatural stance, one hand resting near the holster but not on it.
The badge on his chest caught the light once and then stayed dull. Zubair didn't answer him. Sera didn't either. The truck idled behind them, engine ticking, steady heartbeat against the silence.
Alexei stepped out last.
He didn't like standing still under open sky, but this wasn't open.
The sun was wrong here…flat, centered, and completely unblinking. No heat on his skin. No glare in his eyes. Just light.
He scanned left to right, a habit engrained in his blood and as easy as breathing. He needed to know where the exits were, where to take cover if needed and any threat angles.
The saloon to the left had two windows too many for its size.
The post office had a mail slot deep enough for a blade.
