Page 60 of Stilettos and Outlaws

Glaring at me, Dennis drove off slowly.

Chapter Fourteen

“Charlie-23 and Charlie-24 I’m receiving multiple silent alarms at 30325 West Windmill Road,” the dispatcher advised.

Shit! Some moron was breaking into my parent’s ranch or our temporary substation. How stupid was that? There were cops there all the time. “Show me en route and has anyone called the substation?”

“I did and no one answered,” the dispatcher replied.

“Copy.” Hmmm. That was weird.

“Charlie-24 I’m responding.”

“George-20 copies and show me en route,” Sergeant Bergman said.

My cellphone rang. I glanced at my dashboard. I had an incoming Bluetooth call from the Sheriff’s Office. “Stone.”

“Are they suicidal?” Julie asked.

I snickered. “Either that or the CIA is trying to breach our computers again.”

“Agent Grimes said they had all been kicked back to D.C.”

“They want Eric Roberts too badly to tuck tail and run. Plus, they still think we’re hiding information from them.”

“True. I’m about ten minutes out,” Julie advised.

“Okay, I’m pulling up to the gate now.” I frowned. “There are two livestock trailers parked in the driveway.”

“Did your dad buy more cattle?”

“Not that I know of.” My gaze froze on two men lying face down on the ground. “Oh shit! We have officers down.”

“I’m going code three.” The link severed.

Tossing my cellphone on the seat, I blocked the gate with my patrol car and keyed my radio mic, “Dispatch, send me additional units and the paramedics. I have unauthorized vehicles on scene and two officers down.”

“Copy Charlie-23.”

Turning the volume down on my radio, I noticed two of those wannabe cowboys trying to load Max into a horse trailer.

Max reared up and kicked at the cowboys.

A cowboy wearing a Mexican sombrero jammed a cattle prod against Max’s rump, forcing him into the trailer.

His scream made me sick to my stomach. Those bastards were going to pay for hurting Max.

Sombrero raised the cattle prod again.

I shot it out of his hand.

Shrieking blue bloody murder, sombrero clutched his hand and ran off.

His buddy pulled an old-fashioned six-shooter and fired wildly.

Damn, he couldn’t hit the broad side of the barn. I shot him in both arms and legs. He wasn’t going to be able to shoot another officer or hurt our critters.

“You fucking bitch, I’m going to kill you,” he screeched.

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