Page 87 of The Wounded Warrior

“Or what?”Come on, assholes. Keep talking. I will put your asses under the county jail.

“Just shut up, Leo.” The local boy poked the other one on the arm.

“What did you boys think you were gonna do?” Rory asked. “Waltz in here and pull me out of my house and beat me up? You think I don’t protect my home?”

They glanced at each other, and he had to chuckle. So yes. That was exactly what they’d planned. Morons.

“I may be a giant flaming fag, guys, but I’m still a Texan. I know my rights. Now, I suggest you get off my land before I shoot you for breaking and entering.”

Another truck turned into the drive, his phone beeping. Fuck-a-doodle-doo.

He didn’t let it distract him, the shotgun never wavering.

Texas doofus turned to see who it was, eyes widening. “Shit, Leo.”

“I told you not to say my name!”

He prayed that Luke was watching, was paying attention and could see something through the rain.

“That’s Preacher LeBlanc’s truck. Come on!”

The beefy one with the Jersey accent wasn’t bright enough to comply. “I’m not scared of some minister.”

“No?” He had to make the decision whether to expose himself and protect Luke and his mom or pussy out. Christ on a crutch. Like he’d told Harris’ men, he might be a giant flaming fag, but he was still a Texan. He opened the screen door, stepped out on the porch and put a bead on the one that had proved he was packing. “Maybe you ought to worry about being scared of me.”

“Come on!” The Texas boy started down the steps just as the truck accelerated sharply, then skidded to a stop with the passenger side facing them. Very stunt driver maneuver.

There was nothing stunt double-y about Luke sitting in the open truck window, pointing a rifle at the goons. “What the hell isthis?” Luke snarled.

“The Doug Harris welcome wagon. Watch out, honey. Mr. Tall, Dumb and Yankee here is packing.”Be careful, Luke.

“Oh, I imagine Jakob there is, too. He never did have a brain in his head.” Mrs. LeBlanc had hopped out of the driver’s seat and was leveling a large revolver over the hood of the truck while keeping herself mostly out of sight.

Please, Jesus. Let me be part of this family. I’m totally in love at first sight with Mom and the vision of Luke with a gun is giving me an inappropriate woody.

“Now, Mrs. LeBlanc.”

“Castor Jakob Hise, don’t you talk back to me. That’s my baby boy Luke with that rifle and he was a sharpshooter for the Navy. He will skin you alive one bullet at a time. Now you take your ugly friend there and get out of here. I also suggest you get a better job. One that doesn’t involve you waking up of a morning and being an asshole! Don’t think I won’t call your momma.”

“Jesus.” Jakob grabbed the Leo guy by the arm. “We’re going. Now.”

“Good idea. It’s damp out here and I have lunch plans.” Not to mention that the shotgun was getting heavy. The big guy was going to be a problem, he could tell, but for now he muttered and took off with little Jakob.

No one moved a muscle until the big truck cleared his gate and gunned off down the ranch road.

“Well, now. I hope you have a towel warmer,” Mrs. LeBlanc said.

“Yes, ma’am. I bought one last year. Come on in and I’ll help Luke in and then I’ll set you up.” He shot her a smile. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Pleasure to meet you, too.” She tucked the revolver into her shoulder bag before walking over to take the elbow he offered her.

“Be right back,Luke.”

“No worries. I can hang.” Tension thrummed in Luke’s voice.

“I won’t let anything happen to him, ma’am. You have my word.” He wasn’t sure that was a comfort, but it was true.

“I hope so, Rory. I have to say it wasn’t reassuring to drive up to a standoff.”

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