Page 39
Story: Stilettos and Outlaws
“He’s not,” Grimes said.
I looked Dodson dead in the eye. “You pull another stunt like this, and I will shoot you.” I took a step back and Julie shut the door in his face. “C’mon Jasper, you’ve got a computer to fix.”
“Is it always this exciting?”
“Unfortunately,” Julie said.
I turned around and froze. Grandpa Reynolds stood in the kitchen doorway. He was dressed like an FBI tactical officer and his sniper rifle was held casually against his chest. Holy hell, this wasn’t good. “Does Mom or Dad know you’re here, Grandpa?”
Mom cursed in my ear.
“They do now.”
Julie smiled nervously and dragged Jasper down the hallway. “Let’s get that computer fixed.”
Dad slowly opened the front door, and his furious gaze locked on Grandpa Reynolds.
One glance at the gun in his hand and I stepped in front of Grandpa. “We need him alive, Dad.”
“I know.” Dad holstered his gun. “Grimes has intel that Roberts is in Arizona and has rebuilt his crime syndicate.”
Grandpa Reynolds’ eyes narrowed in speculation. “Hard evidence or just rumors?”
“Hard evidence.”
Something dark and predatory flashed across Grandpa’s face. “I want to see it.”
“Agent Grimes is waiting in my office. The evidence is on his laptop.”
“Let’s go.” Grandpa Reynolds walked out the front door.
His hands balled into fists; Dad followed him.
I blew out a relieved breath. They hadn’t tried to kill each other. Yet.
Mom walked past me. “I need a beer.”
“Me too.”
Julie added in my earpiece, “We’re thirsty too.”
“Light beer or regular?” I asked.
“I’ll take a peach beer and Jaspar wants bottled water.”
I opened the refrigerator. “Gotcha.”
Mom’s cellphone rang. “Hello. Your father told you to do what? A barbecue? Are you kidding me?” She rolled her eyes. “Fine but I don’t think we have enough food on hand. Okay. Okay. I’ll see what I can do.” Mom disconnected and muttered, “That man has lost his mind.”
“Grandpa is making him all twitchy,” I replied.
“Your father thinks a barbecue will lower the aggression levels.”
“He’s probably right, but there has to be at least forty people here.”
A humorless laugh broke from Mom. “Including the deputies, there are fifty-two mouths to feed. And the kicker is: Pops is gonna park his RV in our pasture.”
“What? Are you serious?”
I looked Dodson dead in the eye. “You pull another stunt like this, and I will shoot you.” I took a step back and Julie shut the door in his face. “C’mon Jasper, you’ve got a computer to fix.”
“Is it always this exciting?”
“Unfortunately,” Julie said.
I turned around and froze. Grandpa Reynolds stood in the kitchen doorway. He was dressed like an FBI tactical officer and his sniper rifle was held casually against his chest. Holy hell, this wasn’t good. “Does Mom or Dad know you’re here, Grandpa?”
Mom cursed in my ear.
“They do now.”
Julie smiled nervously and dragged Jasper down the hallway. “Let’s get that computer fixed.”
Dad slowly opened the front door, and his furious gaze locked on Grandpa Reynolds.
One glance at the gun in his hand and I stepped in front of Grandpa. “We need him alive, Dad.”
“I know.” Dad holstered his gun. “Grimes has intel that Roberts is in Arizona and has rebuilt his crime syndicate.”
Grandpa Reynolds’ eyes narrowed in speculation. “Hard evidence or just rumors?”
“Hard evidence.”
Something dark and predatory flashed across Grandpa’s face. “I want to see it.”
“Agent Grimes is waiting in my office. The evidence is on his laptop.”
“Let’s go.” Grandpa Reynolds walked out the front door.
His hands balled into fists; Dad followed him.
I blew out a relieved breath. They hadn’t tried to kill each other. Yet.
Mom walked past me. “I need a beer.”
“Me too.”
Julie added in my earpiece, “We’re thirsty too.”
“Light beer or regular?” I asked.
“I’ll take a peach beer and Jaspar wants bottled water.”
I opened the refrigerator. “Gotcha.”
Mom’s cellphone rang. “Hello. Your father told you to do what? A barbecue? Are you kidding me?” She rolled her eyes. “Fine but I don’t think we have enough food on hand. Okay. Okay. I’ll see what I can do.” Mom disconnected and muttered, “That man has lost his mind.”
“Grandpa is making him all twitchy,” I replied.
“Your father thinks a barbecue will lower the aggression levels.”
“He’s probably right, but there has to be at least forty people here.”
A humorless laugh broke from Mom. “Including the deputies, there are fifty-two mouths to feed. And the kicker is: Pops is gonna park his RV in our pasture.”
“What? Are you serious?”
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