His Iron Bargain

I build gates for a living. Big ones. The kind that keep things in and people out. The best-paying client I have is a ranch at the end of a road I'm not supposed to remember. I don't ask what's behind the barn. I don't look at license plates. I cash the check. Then I saw a face through the slats of a trailer, and the check stopped mattering. His captain came to my shop at midnight with a proposition I couldn't refuse and couldn't quite believe. Keep working. Keep the fences strong. Let him move money through my accounts to buy people back. If anyone notices, we die. We've had six months. There's a bag of receipts in the safe, and a man who lies to his own boss to keep me alive, and a night coming when all of it pays out at once. I'm the driver. He's the target. The accountant asked too many questions and now we've got one hour.