Page 1 of Stilettos and Outlaws

Prologue

My name is Gemma Stone and I’ve been a Maricopa County Sheriff’s Deputy for five years. Why did I become a cop? Genetics, tradition, and the armed robbery I walked in on when I was sixteen.

After my father and five brothers were discharged from the Marines, they all went into law enforcement. My mother had been an Army sniper until pregnancy forced a career change. She now flies a rescue chopper for the Arizona Department of Public Safety.

I work out of District Three, which includes Sun City, eight unincorporated towns with small populations, Lake Pleasant, and lots of desert. Fifteen deputies cover 1600 square miles. District Three is always understaffed and our calls for service are incredibly high. If you get in trouble, you are pretty much on your own.

My personal life is complicated. Off duty, I’m a ballroom dancer. Everyone thinks I’m nuts, but I love competitive dancing. My Dad has always been supportive of my dancing, but to discover the reason why was jaw-dropping. What other secrets is he hiding?

Detective Sergeant Dante Delgado, the love of my life, is tracking down a group of trigger-happy cattle rustlers who have murdered five ranchers and left a trail of destruction behind them. Am I worried? You betcha.

To add to my stress level, a dangerous enemy from my parents’ past has returned and is determined to destroy them, our family and the Alpha Dogs. I knew my parents had some skeletons in their closet, but it doesn’t explain why Grandpa Reynolds suddenly parked his RV in our pasture and Dad isn’t making him leave.

Is Armageddon coming to Arizona?

Chapter One

Once a week our entire family gathers for breakfast at my parents’ house. If your ass isn’t in a chair by 7 a.m., you better have a damn good reason. Like you’re in the middle of a shootout or dead.

It was my turn to cook, and I was going to make my famous chocolate chip waffles. Since the Sheriff’s Department was still using the Alpha Dogs training center as a substation, I thought I could come a bit early, whip up my waffle batter, then run over to the substation and get some paperwork done.

Dante’s current homicide cases had him dealing with piles of reports he needed to read through. He was hoping to find a clue that would lead him to the location of the murderous rustlers who called themselves the Cochise Cowboys. Since he was consideredfamilynow, his attendance was mandatory too.

We walked into the kitchen and stopped dead. Who in the hell was playing bump and grind music at this time of the morning? Was Grandpa Reynolds messin’ with Dad again?

“I thought your parents liked country western music?” Dante put a hand on his service weapon.

“They do.” I opened the door to the living room and froze in stunned horror. My father, wearing nothing but black silk boxers with red hearts on them, gyrated around my mother.

Mom’s rapt attention was focused on Dad. Her long blue-tee shirt with a picture of a snarling Chihuahua on the front wasn’t the least bit romantic. It had been a gag gift from me for Mother’s Day.

Holy cow! The sensuous expression on Dad’s face was a panty melter. His pelvic thrusts rivaled Thunder Down Under and the Chippendales dancers.

Dante let out a low whistle.

Dad spun to face us and bristled. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m cooking breakfast, remember?” I waved my hand around. “The better question is where did you learn to dance like that?”

“Your father was a Chippendales dancer before he joined the Marines,” Mom answered in amusement.

My jaw dropped. Was Mom joking? She didn’t act like it. It was more like she was proud of the fact. “Why did you get a job with the Chippendales, Dad?”

“I wanted to buy a cutting horse, and I wasn’t winning enough money at bull riding. The pay for dancing was damn good, and it was a lot of fun.”

Mom interjected, “And there were so many women throwing themselves at your father, that he gave Casanova a run for his money.”

“I was seventeen and I enjoyed the attention,” Dad said without a trace of guilt.

“Dancers have to be twenty-one,” Dante interposed.

Dad rubbed his jaw. “I had fake ID, and my beard made me look older.”

Call me thunderstruck. My dad had been a playboy at seventeen. “Why all the secrecy?”

Dad grimaced. “I have a reputation to maintain.”

“But Dad, men dance all the time. If anyone brings it up, just tell them you were undercover. A few people might think Dante is a wuss because he dances competitively, but he doesn’t let it bother him. His machismo makes him a better dancer.”

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