"No, but it cannot be helped. Get the men up and ready for tomorrow - then give Richard the signal. Trace light red 'e uno green."
Cesar hated the sound of the broken English coming from his mouth, hated anything American, but with so many of those here not knowing their native language, he had little choice if he wanted to be understood.
José's slanted eyes went over the negro hermanos with clear dislike. He had been openly against Cesar letting these two live, even though he had voted to spare Rick.
The mercenaries smiled back tauntingly. "We have esclavos in truck six."
"See to them."
The heartless killer bared his broken fangs at them before ducking out into the heavy wind and mud. He was scowling openly as he slapped at a snapping fly the size of a milk jug lid. Men about to move toward him with questions, turned around.
José was only a cousin and not nearly as deadly as Cesar, but had earned a vicious reputation with his temper. He was left alone when he headed to the trucks, worrying about the twins. They were hard-asses and if they decided they wanted control of Cesar's camp, there was a good chance they would get it. Back in Mexico, they were the ones to call when no one else could get the job done.
The wind beat against the tent and in the thick silence after José ducked out, all three men could hear the girl's nervous breathing.
Jennifer had been with him since the week of the War and fear for her life was a feeling that never really went away, even when she was alone.
Cesar looked at the brothers with hard, calculating eyes. "There is no way to explain these things?"
"No."
"We followed for almost a month. She was alone until she sent out the wave of power."
They looked almost desperate to Cesar, clearly not the same men who had left him in New Mexico. "You know where she goes?"
"She's only headed northwest, never deviates."
"Toward Montana?"
They saw the determined anger in the Slaver's eyes.
"There is a group near Yellowstone that calls for survivors."
"You hear them this far away?"
He frowned, pulled a beaten-up sombrero from the debris-littered floor and slapped it on over his tightly-kinked black hair, "Si. Your bruja is headed to them?"
"Maybe. We think she's looking for family."
Cesar's frown grew, eyes going over burnt spots on their clothes and the grimy red bandana wrapped around Dillan's bandaged wrist. The white of the gauze had long since turned black. "We must get her before she reaches them. This group is big, organized. A Witch would make them a threat to me."