Page 1 of Taken by the Lawman

1

Agent Deegan Bronx clicked off the TV. He couldn’t watch another minute of the media coverage on Senator Max Kline’s extramarital affair with his aide. That morning she was found dead in her bathtub with an empty syringe on the bathroom floor.

The media wanted to bust his buddy’s balls by blaming him for the young woman’s death. From their take, Max had driven her to stick the needle into her arm. The newspaper headlines read, “Older man seduces younger employee into death”.

The microwave dinged and he took out his dinner—, beans and rice. Giving them a stir, he stuffed his mouth and coughed. “Shit!” They were burnt mush.

Dumping the container in the trash, he opened the refrigerator and scanned the contents with disappointment. His choices were a moldy block of cheese, a slice of two-week-old pizza, and a six pack of international snobby beer he’d received as a gift. He was a domestic sort of guy, but in a pinch he’d certainly adapt.

Popping the lid to the bottle he took a long swig, but it did nothing to ease his hunger pangs. Opening the cabinet, he found an unopened bag of crackers and munched on them.

This was the first time he’d been home in days after working an out of town undercover case and what he needed was a good night’s sleep, a home cooked meal, and a shave—not in that particular order. Scrubbing his palm down his whiskered jaw, he groaned. He’d take care of his hygiene later. For now, he was headed to bed.

He deposited the crackers and bottle on the table and made it halfway to his bedroom when he heard a knock on the door. “Go away,” he growled. Toeing off his boots and stinky socks, the definite sign of a hard-working man, he fell onto the bed.

His ribs ached from an earlier scuffle with a giant of a man on a Wyoming mountain. Deegan had gotten the best of the drug-runner and hoped the bastard enjoyed his new accommodations, three meals, and a cot.

Closing his eyes, he was almost asleep when another knock sounded, this time more commanding.

Grabbing the pillow, he covered his head, but the visitor was relentless.

Realizing he’d need to take care of the little issue, Deegan stomped across the living room and practically ripped open the door. Opening his mouth, ready to curse the person who’d disturbed his peace, he spotted the two official looking men in black suits and frowns. “It’s a little late for Halloween, boys.”

The balding man laughed, but the tall gruff-looking one didn’t flinch a muscle. “We have orders. Get dressed and come with us.”

“Orders?” Deegan chuckled. “I think you have the wrong place, big guy.” He started to slam the door when the shorter, and uglier, suit stuck his polished square-toed shoe out to block the bold action.

Looking from the shoe to the man, Deegan gritted his teeth and resisted the urge to reach for his Glock 22 sitting on a nearby table. He was known for his patience, but a lack of sleep combined with hunger made him touchy. “Listen, buddy—”

“Agent Deegan Bronx, right?”

“I don’t know who you two are or who sent you here, but you can go back and tell them I have plans to get some shut eye.”

Neither of the men moved. They widened their stances and clasped their hands, and Deegan immediately sized up the situation. They weren’t Feds because they were missing the fake smiles and they weren’t goons because their shoes were too shiny.

The hairs on Deegan’s neck stood at alert and he clenched his fists.

Although he could easily grab his gun, it wasn’t needed. He’d take the largest one down first because the bigger they were the harder they fell. The other—the one with the shifty gaze—would probably run for cover and cry for mommy.

His cell vibrated from his back pocket.

“You’ll want to take that,” the tallest said.

Keeping his focus on the men, he dug out his phone and read the screen. “Well, well, Max Kline.” Deegan took a step back, his shoulders naturally releasing some of the tension. “You have anything to do with the suits standing in my doorway…You want me to come there tonight…Can’t it wait?” Grimacing, he ended the call. “I guess you two beefcakes are my escorts.”

“Lucky us.”

Deegan shut the door and went to his bedroom to put on a clean pair of socks, drag on his boots, then grab his gun. He started for the door when he decided he’d finish the rest of the beer. The shakiness he heard in his buddy’s voice told Deegan this would be a long night.

The men ushered him downstairs and into a black Escalade with tinted windows. Deegan sat alone in the back watching the scenery pass as they headed into downtown Cheyenne where Senator Kline’s office was located. “Hey, fellows. Can we run through a drive-thru?”

Neither responded.

So, ten minutes later when he was in Max’s office Deegan’s mood hadn’t improved.

His buddy looked like shit. There was no doubt he would. Politicians weren’t strangers to rumors, and Max had suffered his fair share during elections, but the current scandal was different. His personal, and professional, life had been slammed all over the front of every newspaper and TV broadcast. The scum-seekers were digging up every bone, even portraying Max’s wife, Lisa, as a frigid woman who drove her husband to have an affair. Or that she was too busy laying under the plastic surgeon’s knife rather than supporting her husband. Unfortunately, the only person who knew the complete truth about the situation was the disgruntled man sitting behind his desk that looked like he needed sleep too.

Deegan and Max hadn’t seen much of each other since he’d been elected to office, but they shared a brotherhood that only a fellow Marine would understand. Their lives had taken considerably different paths since their contract ended, but they had remained friends. Over the years they’d helped each other in times of need, but Deegan wasn’t sure why he was here because the dirty deed needed a time machine to fix, not a Fed.

---