Page 1 of Seized by the Lawman

Chapter 1

SPECIAL ENFORCEMENT AGENT Nixon Cade stared at the screen as he and his tactical force team, Ghost Hawks, hovered in front of the monitors, watching as the suspect they’d been following for over a year joined a group of known terrorists in front of a closed deli in downtown Cheyenne. They greeted each other with handshakes and quick bows, all smiling and blending in. If Nix didn’t know any better he’d see these six men like any other group of buddies meeting to kick back, chat about football, women, and career choices over a hoagie and a beer. This group wasn’t run-of-the-mill though, far from it. They were dangerous and known for using explosives in soft target locations throughout Wyoming over the last few years.

Nix had only joined the elite team four months ago, but since then he’d read the two-inch-thick case file on the terrorists front to back and memorized every word, every dotted i, every face of every person involved, no matter how small or how big. That’s how much dedication and drive he gave to every case and now, as a part of the Ghost Hawks, he could take on the grimmest cases.

The team had received a tip from an informant that the suspect met with a group at the deli once a month. During their seemingly innocent lunches over turkey and cheese, they made airtight plans to kill innocent people in the name of their god.

Their suspect looked over his shoulder and his face flashed across the camera. “Yeah, that’s definitely him.” Even with the ballcap pulled low shading his eyes, his broad nose and the long scar from brow to cheek couldn’t be mistaken. “Bingo.”

“Do you think they have any clue they’re being watched?” asked Jameson, one of the senior agents on the team who had served a remarkable career in the Navy SEALs that was riddled with awards and distinguished honors.

“I don’t give a screwed-up fuck as long as we catch his scrawny ass and toss him away to die behind bars.” Riddle was as large as a house and as bad ass as a pissed off bear. He wore his hair closely-shaven and his beard thick. His grey-blue eyes were like lasers and his fists like hammers. Those attributes, as well as his tattooed covered arms, tended to scare the bad guys. He barely needed to use his gun to get criminals to see his way of thinking. He had the best record in getting people to talk and was celebrated for taking down three of the FBI’s most wanted. Each of the men brought a skill to the team and were chosen for such credentials. Nix was distinguished for his sharp shooting skills and sniffing out criminals where there were no leads.

The parked van where they were huddled was sitting down the street from the deli. They awaited the perfect moment to surprise their suspect and his group of assailants. One could cut the tension in the air with a knife as the Hawks anticipated bringing the wanted men down—to destroy part of a sleeper cell that had been leaving a destructive wave. Last month the suspect and two members of the group had set off a dirty bomb in a bus station that killed ten men, women, and children. As far as Nix was concerned, Wyoming wasn’t a normal target for terrorists because of the vast land to population ratio, but still, here they were and it was time the bastards’ reign of terror came to an end. The Hawks were the men to accomplish that goal. They were the ones who took on assignments that Homeland Security, the FBI and local law enforcement needed help with.

Up until this point, the suspect had thwarted every attempt of capture, but today, thanks to an undercover agent, Grayson “Gray” Carlisle, who’d infiltrated the cell, the bad men would be taking their last breath of freedom. They had enough evidence to put them away for a very long time.

With the use of a hidden pen camera in Gray’s shirt, the team watched the group of men move inside the small deli. “Now all be good little terrorists and have a seat, get comfy and talk,” Nix muttered. His adrenaline was rushing, and he itched to catch the criminals.

“Fuckers look so smug after they’ve killed so many innocents,” Nate “Cowboy” Cruise growled. He got his nickname because he always wore a Stetson, wide silver belt buckle, and dusty boots.

“The moron is ours, boys. I can’t wait to see his face when we show up.” Briggs laughed. He was the youngest of the group and always wore a smile. He could look at a woman and make her swoon with his model good looks—and he enjoyed that capability by using it often. The ladies might be a little scared if they knew he could kill a man with his bare hands. His greatest skill was hand-to-hand combat.

Nix eased back into the uncomfortable, too-small chair. “Actually, our suspect isn’t a moron. He’s intelligent and clever. Let’s not forget that he’s evaded capture six times over the last year and is extremely dangerous. If he slips through our fingers, he’ll be back at blowing up churches, bus stations, and airports tomorrow, and he’ll think he got one over on us again. The cocky son-of-a-bitch needs to be handled carefully.”

Jameson nodded. “Cade’s right, boys. Getting cocky isn’t in the ingredients of catching this asshole. We can’t falsely believe this group will go down without a fight. Although we can’t see them, they’re all packing and not afraid to use their weapons, especially on lawmen. In their eyes, killing one of us is a golden seat on the airplane to heaven. Let’s not give any of them the satisfaction.” Jameson tightened his bulletproof vest that padded his large chest. “It’s now or never, Hawkss. Chin up. Shoulders back. Let’s roll.”

One by one, they slinked out of the back of the van, staying low and hidden from the large window of the deli. With a signal from Jameson, they separated, moving like a well-oiled machine, slinking along the building, and took their positions. The plan was to move in quietly. Damage-control and keeping the death toll to a minimum was required, exactly what the government appreciated. Each suspect killed was one less avenue in getting one of the terrorists to talk and gain valuable information in catching another terrorist.

Jameson gave the nod and Nix signaled to the men behind him.

The thunderflash was thrown through the window. Shouts, followed by gun shots, rang off inside. Each planned step, each strategic action was followed…

Three hours later, Nix strolled into the building of the Hawks’ office. The team was jovial, sharing gruff compliments because the assignment had gone down without a hitch. The terrorists were all taken alive and headed for interrogation. Gray was safe and being debriefed. The Hawks were proud that they’d completed another mission. Now it was up to the next team to get as much knowledge, useful information, and names of other terrorists from the captured before being convicted and sentenced.

Nix hung back and stepped up to the desk of the secretary, Claire. She was in her thirties, had shoulder-length, curly hair and wore thick glasses that she pushed up her nose every few minutes. Her cubicle was scattered with pictures of her cats, and although Nix didn’t know her very well, he did know every cute name of her animals.

“Hi, Claire,” he said as he approached. When she saw him, she jerked and knocked over a file, scattering papers all over the floor. She was her usual jumpy-self. Some of the men had teased Nix in the past saying Claire had a crush on him, but he believed she was just socially awkward. Her cheeks turned red and she bent to her knees, grabbing the papers in haphazard fashion and shoving them back into the file. Picking up a paper that had landed at his feet, he handed it over. She took the offering without meeting his gaze and hurried back to her chair. “I’m sorry. Did I surprise you?” he asked once she was settled.

Claire cleared her throat, uncomfortably shifted, and tugged down the hem of her skirt. “No, no. I was just working on a few things. I hear the bust went without a snag.” There she went, pushing those too-big glasses up her nose again. Nix wasn’t sure if they were loose or if it was just a nervous habit. He had a yearning to ask if he could help by tightening them for her, but he was afraid she’d take his offer as rude. He liked her, even if she did seem timid when he was around.

“I’ve noticed there are cameras set up around the office, but I was told they are disabled.” Working in the biz of putting away criminals for over ten years now, Nix understood the need for security even when it seemed unnecessary. He’d just installed a superior system at his cabin.

“Not disabled.” She moistened her lips and glanced up at him. “They’re not working.”

“When you get a chance, can you call in a repair service? We can’t be too careful.” He smiled and the red flush that had been in her cheeks creeped into her neck. He almost felt guilty for making her so uncomfortable.

“Will do, Mr. Cade.” She knocked over the pencil holder. “Oh, I mean Nix. Just as you requested.”

“Thank you.” Not wanting to prolong her misery, he headed down the hall to the room of common offices. The men all occupied their desks, piping down some after their victory, and Nix dropped into the chair behind his own desk, pulled out his key and unlocked the bottom drawer. Taking his weapon out of its holster, he clicked on the safety and secured it, pushing the drawer closed with his dusty boot.

Clicking on the computer, he typed in his password and stared at the screen. Now that his adrenaline was coming down from the clouds, his mind wandered. His thoughts were stuck on a woman he’d met months ago when he’d first moved to Devil’s Bluff. They’d made love and the next morning she was gone, without a word. The unmarrying type, Nix had never complained when a woman decided to disappear at sunrise, but Melissia Easton had affected him enough that he’d hoped they could have breakfast, and maybe a repeat of wild, passionate sex.

That didn’t happen.

He should let the mystery woman go and chalk their rendezvous up to a one-time event that he would remember fondly. He should concentrate on work. Considering he was new with the team, he wanted to keep his nose to the grindstone, feeling like he had something to prove. He’d been brought in to join the elite team to stop the widespread criminal activity of terrorism, the sale and distribution of controlled substances, prostitution, child pornography, and organized crime in Wyoming. The Hawks got the worst of the worst cases.

“Copy machine isn’t working again,” Jamison growled and punched a button on the speaker on his desk. “Claire, when you get a chance could I get you to copy some paperwork for me?”

---