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Dad shrugged nonchalantly. “Most females do.”
I rolled my eyes. Modesty wasn’t Dad’s strong suit.
“And all that macho swagger got passed down to your brothers,” Julie whispered.
I whispered back, “Unfortunately.” The men in my family were too damn pretty and women did all sorts of creepy things to catch their attention.
“I summoned Jaspar. Hopefully, he can get our computers up and running today,” Mom advised, totally oblivious to the growing puddle of water at her feet.
I handed her a roll of paper towels and tried to log into our security systems, but nothing happened. “Shit! The cameras are down too.”
“I’ll go to the barn and boot up the backup systems,” Julie said.
“Go with her, Gemma,” Mom ordered. “If Roberts is in Arizona, he has the ranch under surveillance.”
I grabbed my earpiece and popped it in my left ear. “Why hasn’t he attacked?”
“I don’t know and that worries me.” Mom rubbed her hair with a paper towel.
Julie snorted. “If he was the one who hired Chuck to make bombs, he’s either low on money or manpower or desperate.”
Implacable resolve stamped on his face, Dad growled, “Doesn’t matter. This time he’s going down.”
“I’d like to be a fly on the wall when he discovers chickens were responsible for blowing his plans all to hell,” I snickered.
Dad gave me the look.
“While I’m out there, I’ll feed the critters too,” I added hurriedly.
“Move Bodacious and Max into the barn. We don’t want them getting shot,” Mom ordered.
I nodded. “Will do.” The separate backup system was in a hardened bunker beneath the barn. Dad believed in being prepared for the worst and we even had seven years of food and weapons stored in the bunker.
Chapter Seven
Julie and I quickly changed our flip-flops for tennis shoes. The only person I knew who could fight while wearing flip-flops was Mom.
“Keep your weapons concealed and act harmless,” Dad instructed.
I giggled like an overcaffeinated teenager. “How’s that?”
Mom winced. “That’s guaranteed to scare off anything with a penis.” The puddle at Mom’s feet was getting larger and larger.
“That is the idea.” I grabbed my Glock out of the desk drawer and stuck it in the back of my jeans.
Julie did the same. “What kind of men did Roberts hire in the Middle East?”
“A mixture of well-trained mercenaries with a few idiots thrown in,” Dad answered.
I grinned. “Lucky us. Most of his idiots are either dead or locked up. None of the prints we ran came back to criminal masterminds.”
“You didn’t run all of the prints,” Dad pointed out.
My shoulders sagged. “True.”
“Now we have to worry about the CIA and their FBI attack dogs too,” Julie groused.
My eyes widened in horror. “Have you told Grandpa Reynolds yet?”