Page 33 of Stilettos and Outlaws

Julie threw her hands up in disgust. “You had spitting contests?”

“We did.”

“No wonder you’re so weird,” Julie huffed.

I grinned. “And you fit in so well.”

“I do, don’t I?” Julie strutted over to the pool and kicked off her shoes.

“Work it,” I yelled.

Julie gave me the one-fingered salute and began a sensuous stretching routine.

A flash of light caught my eye. Yep, we had some Peeping Toms on the hill to the south of us. I bet they were enjoying the show.

Acting like I didn’t have a care in the world, I strolled into the barn. Max knickered at me. “Hold on, buddy.” My cellphone rang. “Stone.”

“I’ve got a drone up,” Mom said.

I hurried into the tack room. “I think we’ve got some Peeping Toms to the south.”

“I’ll check it out.” Mom laughed. “But I can assure you all their eyes are fixed on Julie. She could make a fortune at the Showgirls’ Cabaret.”

Julie’s voice sounded in my earpiece. “Just imagine the expression on Sergeant Bergman’s face if I told him I had gotten a part-time job there.”

“Hoo boy! He would have a meltdown of biblical proportions.”

Mom let out an exasperated hiss. “Miss Kitty got loose.”

“How did that happen?” Moving an old-fashioned porch light to the right, I watched as a panel opened, revealing a high-tech sensor pad.

“She followed me up on the roof and climbed down the bougainvillea.”

“Miss Kitty is heading my way. I’ll keep an eye on her,” Julie promised.

I placed my hand on the sensor pad and presto! The floor slid back to reveal a staircase. “How long before we get some backup, Mom?”

“Twenty to thirty minutes. Your dad just received intel that the CIA and their FBI attack dogs are sending a tactical team to secure the ranch.”

I shook my head in disbelief. “You would think after our last encounter; they wouldn’t pull another dumbass stunt like that.” Taking the steps two at a time, I rushed over to the control panel and typed in the passcode.

“Wait a minute, I thought the CIA were only allowed to work overseas,” Julie interjected.

“They’ll have fake FBI credentials,” Mom replied.

“Why didn’t they simply call us and ask how we got Robert’s print,” I groused.

Mom snorted. “The CIA are a paranoid bunch.”

Data filled the screen. “C’mon. C’mon. We are sitting ducks right now.” The start-up screen finally appeared, and I typed in the passcode.

“We have two hostiles climbing over the fence by the orange grove,” Mom warned.

Dad growled in my earpiece, “I’ve got them.”

The cameras finally came online. “Copy that. They’re dressed like cowboy wannabes and surveillance is live.”

I winced as Dad kicked the living shit out of them. Wowzers, when Dad went into his berserker mode, you stayed the hell out of his way. I quickly checked the cameras for more uninvited guests. “Julie, two more hostiles are at the side gate.”

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