Page 49 of Stilettos & Whiskey
“Not anymore,” I spat.
Smiling grimly, Logan held up a set of keys. “Our suspect has an ATV parked somewhere close by and there’s a key for an RV too. Which would explain how they keep avoiding our dragnet.”
“There are hundreds of RV parks in the Valley,” I groaned.
Devon kissed the top of my head. “Don’t worry, squirt. We’ll find them.”
“The brave never die!” Martin jumped to his feet.
With a spinning side kick, I knocked him down and straddled his legs. “You are going to tell me where Roger is hiding, or I’ll cut your man parts off and feed them to the coyotes.” I pulled out my knife.
“You’re a cop, you can’t do that,” Martin scoffed.
My family laughed.
“Wanna bet? You shot my mother.” The moron’s loincloth made it so easy to place the tip of my knife against his testicles. I gave him my wildit’s that time of the month and I’m out of chocolate look.“Where is he?”
“Get this crazy bitch off me!”
Lucas knelt beside me. “If I were you, I’d answer her question, or we’ll leave you ball-less and bleeding out.” He shrugged. “Someone might find your body in a month or two.”
“But you’re cops! It’s against the rules,” Martin cried.
The rules? Seriously? I sneered, “Roger is a cop too, don’t the rules apply to him or is murder okay in your family?”
“It’s not murder, it’s justice and you’re bluffing.”
I jabbed him with my knife. “Wanna bet?”
“Stop! Stop! Roger is living in the RV,” Martin blubbered.
Lucas wrapped his hand around Martin’s neck and squeezed. “Where is the RV?”
“The Lost Dutchman’s Park in Goldfield. But he’s not there now,” Martin rasped.
I stuck him again. “Where is he?”
“He’s buying ammo, and C4. He’ll be back soon.”
Dad pulled out his satellite phone and punched in a number. “It’s time we throw them a surprise party.”
Chapter Twelve
My fingers drummed nervously on the command van’s control console. The waiting was the worst. Waiting for Mom and Brent to get out of surgery. Waiting for Roger and his cousins to show up at their rather ancient motor home. Waiting for Nate and the bomb squad to arrive. Even though Roger had done a piss poor job of booby trapping their RV. Waiting for Grandpa to come back with the food. Waiting for the monsoon to hit.
While Devon tracked the storm, Logan and Jacob played cards.
Lucas busily texted God knows who.
I fretted. Mom was in excellent shape, but she had lost so much blood, and Brent was in critical condition.
A giant wall of rolling red dust slammed into the RV park. The command van rocked violently.
“Shit!” I clung to my chair. Mom actually flew in this crap.
Devon let out a whistle. ““The weather bureau is clocking the wind gusts at eighty mph!”
“Yippee,” I muttered. With all the shit that had gone down today, my nerves were shot.
