Page 13 of Stilettos & Whiskey (Deputy Gemma Stone)

I crawled to the edge of the overhang. The helicopter was a blazing inferno, and the mesquite trees were on fire too. “He’s an idiot. The fire is blocking the only path down the mountain.”

“You can’t cure stupid,” Mom snapped.

The Apache warrior pulled off his black wig and used it to wipe the sweat off his face. His melted war paint made him look demonic. I studied his sunburned beer belly for a moment. He definitely belonged to the Evans clan.

A shadow passed overhead.

I looked up. Five parachutes appeared in the turquoise sky. “The cavalry has arrived.”

The Apache warrior spotted them too and raised his rifle.

“Oh, hell, no.” Grabbing Mom’s sniper rifle, I placed the rifle butt against my left shoulder, sighted in and fired.

The rifle fell from the warrior’s hand, and he shrieked in pain.

“That ass is going to jail,” Mom snarled.

Blood dripping from his wounded hand, the warrior reached for the rifle with his left hand.

I fired again, striking his left hand. That bastard wasn’t going to be able to shoot a gun for a very long time.

His teeth bared from the pain, the fake Apache warrior ran.

Dad fell from the sky and knocked the warrior flat on his face.

“Hooyah!” Logan hit the ground and rolled to his feet. He quicky picked up the warrior’s rifle and watched Dad subdue the suspect.

As Devon gathered up the chutes, he intoned, “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you. Do you understand your rights?”

“Go to hell.”

Devon smiled. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Two camouflaged chutes flared as Jacob and Lucas landed gracefully next to the overhang.

“Mom! Julie!” Lucas called.

I stood. “Here. In the cave.”

They rushed over wearing their scary cop faces.

“It’s a through and through wound.” I advised and watched the tension leave their bodies. “But she’s in a lot of pain.”

Mom gave me the stink eye. “I can talk for myself. I need some morphine, Lucas.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Taking off his backpack, Lucas pulled out a paramedic kit and filled a syringe with morphine. He quickly gave Mom the injection and checked her wound. “Your clavicle is intact and there seems to be limited tissue damage.”

A sigh of relief escaped Mom. “Good,”

Lucas rebandaged her still bleeding shoulder. “Hopefully, you won’t need surgery.”

My eyebrows rose. The jerk knew damn well Mom would need surgery. But one look at the warning in his eyes, and I kept my mouth shut. Mom hated hospitals too.

Jacob wrapped a blood pressure cuff around Mom’s left arm. “There’s an Air Evac chopper coming for you.”

“Someone needs to check on Brent. I think he was hit, and the missing hiker is down under some trees. The suspect probably shot her too,” Mom said.

Jacob pumped the blood pressure cuff up. “Devon and Logan are checking on them.”

“We need a water drop before that fire gets any bigger,” I warned.

“Dad had an air tanker diverted from the wildfire at Roosevelt Lake.” Lucas touched my throbbing lower lip. “You broke your stitches.”

I leaned away from him. “I know and don’t even think about it. I want Doc Halliday to redo the stitches.”

“That means another trip to the hospital,” Lucas said.

Damn, he was right. “Okay, fine. You can redo the stitches.”

Lucas touched his earpiece and listened. “Logan found Brent. He’s alive. He was shot in the stomach, and he’s pretty banged up from the fall.”

“What about the hiker?” Mom wanted to know.

Lucas keyed his mic, “What’s the hiker’s status?” He frowned. “A what?” Anger filled his eyes. “Copy.”

“Sonovabitch,” Jacob spat. “You were set up from the get-go.”

My stomach knotted. “What do you mean?”

“You were lured out here. Logan found a dummy wearing the hiker’s clothes under the tree.”

Mom started cursing in Farsi.

A blinding rage rolled over me and I jumped to my feet. “That bastard is going to tell me everything I want to know. Like where Roger is hiding.”

“Don’t worry. Dad, has it handled.” Lucas grabbed my wrist. “Now sit down and let me check you over. It won’t take long to replace the stitches. I have some anesthesia spray for your lip and forehead. You won’t feel a thing.”

I touched my forehead, and my fingers came away bloody. Shit! That explained the headache. Lucas sprayed my forehead and mouth and everything went numb. My eyes widened when he held the needle up.

“Sit. Stay,” Lucas commanded.

I gave him the one-fingered salute.

Jacob wrapped an arm around me. “No biting or kicking.”

“Not funny.”

The needle penetrated my skin, and I hissed like a cat.

Three more pricks and Lucas declared, “All done and you didn’t feel a thing.”

I glared at him. “Liar.”

“Are you hurting anywhere else?” Lucas’s hands moved over my body.

“Ouch! That hurts,” I groused when his hands probed my ribs.

Lucas made a face. “Quit being such a baby.”

“This from the man who moaned continuously about dying when all he had was the common cold,” I shot back.

Lucas retorted, “It was the flu.”

Mom rolled her eyes. “Everyone back. The air tanker is making its drop.”

“About time. That fire is getting awfully close.”

Twelve thousand gallons of water fell from the sky, snuffing out the fire.

Using the edge of my blood-splattered T-shirt, I wiped the water out of my eyes. That was one way to cool down.

Dad dragged a beat all to hell and soaking wet suspect into the cave. His worried gaze surveyed Mom from head to toe. “Report.”

“The wound is a through and through. Mom’s vitals are good, and the bleeding is under control,” Lucas replied.

I studied the suspect. He was in his late thirties, his breathing was labored, his movements stiff, and painful. Bandages were wrapped around his cuffed hands. His hate-filled eyes locked on Mom. “You should be dead.”

“I’m hard to kill,” Mom answered.

I gave him my Debbie Sunshine smile. “And your shooting days are over.”

“Bitch!” He spat. “Soon you will know your place. Every man in our family will fuck you till you bleed. Then and only then will Roger’s honor be restored.”

Lucas dropped him with one punch. “Your family has no honor.”

“And they’re all friggin’ nuts. Did he have any ID on him?” I asked.

Logan and Devon carried Brent into the cave. His color was bad, and he was struggling to breathe.

Devon handed Dad a backpack. “His name is Martin Evans. He’s a guard at the state prison.”

“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 wild it’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.”