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I reluctantly surrendered Bertha. “My father is a gunsmith who designs all his own weapons.” I strapped on my Sig Sauers and picked up a duffle bag that contained paperwork, ammo, two 1849 Colt Peacemaker revolvers and a hand-tooled leather gunslinger’s belt.
Tex inquired, “Those Sig Sauers modified too?”
“They are.” I handed him one.
Tex whistled. “Nice, what’s in the bag?”
“Ammo and two Colt Peacemaker revolvers,” I retrieved the Sig Sauer and slipped it back into my holster.
Sergeant Stone gave Bertha back to me. “Why do you have two Colt Peacemakers?”
“I’m a quick draw artist,” I replied and waited for a nasty comment.
“Like Annie Oakley?”
“Kinda, but I haven’t tried sharpshooting on horseback yet.”
“You’re full of surprises,” Sergeant Stone said.
He didn’t know half of it.
Lieutenant Moss walked in. “Your helicopter is here.”
“Thanks.” Sergeant Stone put a hand on my back and escorted me out of the office.
I frowned. “Shouldn’t the Huey have a tail gunner?”
“Johnson will be the tail gunner.” Sergeant Stone gave me a narrow sidelong glance. “Let me guess, you can fly a helicopter.”
“Yes, sir. I’m an FAA-licensed pilot.”
“Do you have your license on you?”
I held up my bag. “I do.”
“Did your father teach you?” Tex wanted to know.
“No, my instructor was Chuck Everson. He flew a medevac chopper during the Vietnam war. He’s now a stunt pilot for the movie studios.”
Stone shook his head in disbelief. “Your father is determined to turn you into a super assassin.”
“Over my dead body.” One look at the pilot and I grabbed Stone’s arm. “Is that Reaper?”
Stone glanced at the pilot. “It is.”
“He works for Roberts. He’s really good at making people disappear in the desert.”
“Hit me,” Stone commanded.
“What?”
“Hit me.”
I gleefully punched him in the stomach and yelled, “Go to hell, you bastard!”
Sergeant Stone took Bertha away from me and tossed it to Rodriquez. The next thing I knew I was dangling over his shoulder. “Hey! Let me go!”
“Not a chance. You’re mine now.” He carried me back into the office.