As Matt typed several fake messages on his Blackberry, he watched and evaluated the four men. No formal training. No obvious weapons. Definitely forei...ners. Dark hair, dark eyes, light complexion, little facial hair. Freshly cut hair … cut close … trying to look American. Brand new fashionable clothes. Probably Central or South American. It was hard to forget some things, especially things that saved your life once upon a time. Matt had been out of the game for a while, but the training came. "Where's your momma? Oh I see her. Same rank as you. Sure you can breathe down there, lady?"Irma was not amused. "Get on with your act, Tracy, before I have you on that trestle." Yes, Marm" drawled Tracy."These little dogs are horny little buggers," she continued. "Not the only ones here, though, Eh, Boss?" More laughter but muted."Hey, looking at her rear end I say the kid has been done doggy fashion. Well, folks, that's what we're about. How about helping me, kid. Here hold this. More

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