Boone's Cowboy [Rescue for Hire 8] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic ManLove) (4 page)

Eddie fired his rifle at the big-mouthed asshole standing in the window. The glass shattered and crashed to the ground. Eddie blinked. There was no one there. To his
dismay,
he realized he had fallen for the reflection trick. He’d shot a damn
reflection,
missing the man who stood off to the side, out of Eddie’s
sight
.

“Now are you going to tell me your name?” the voice asked.

“My name is Eddie,” he yelled.

“Do you have a last name, Eddie?

“Kiss my ass. I’m not telling you that.” Eddie fired a few more rounds at the dark figures that now were pointing rifles over the balcony at him.

“Who was your first victim, Eddie?”

“Who that stupid bitch was is none of your business either,” he called.

“You got any kids, Eddie?”

“Just shut up with the questions.”

“Did you kill them, too?”

“Those whiny shits take after their mother. They aren’t worth the effort I made to keep them alive after their birth.” Eddie always resented using any of his disability money to buy those brats stuff. But Judy insisted they needed things she called necessities.

“The way I see it, Eddie, you only have two choices. Give up or die. Which one are you going to pick?”

Eddie laughed and stood up. “That’s where you’re wrong, Shane.” He held the rifle in one hand, and with his other hand, he lifted his shirt, revealing the bomb strapped to his belly. “I think this will give me a free ticket out of here.”

The
cold,
sharp edge of steel against Eddie’s neck had him freezing in place. “I don’t think so, Eddie,” whispered a deadly voice in his ear. Goose bumps crawled over his skin, and Eddie felt his death racing toward him.

Eddie dropped the gun and went to push the button that would detonate the bomb. A hand caught his wrist, and fingers dug into his flesh. His hand immediately went numb.

The razor edge of the knife at his throat sliced into his skin. “Don’t move, Eddie. I have no problem ending you.”

Eddie let go of his shirt and reached down to grab the gun tucked into the
waistband
of his pants. He’d managed to bring the gun partway up, pointing it at the teenagers sitting on the floor, when his breath was cut off. A terrible, wet, bubbling sound filled his ears as he struggled to breathe. Heavy, liquid coated the inside of his throat, oozing down toward his lungs and making it impossible to pull air into them. A curtain of gray cloaked his
sight,
and the last thing Eddie felt was hands grabbing him.

* * * *

“Get the hell out of here,” Treble Walker yelled at the
wide-eyed
teenagers. He would have laughed at how fast they scrambled around him and Eddie and ran across the court if his situation hadn’t sucked crap so badly.

“Someone better get over here and take care of this bomb,” Treble called out. Shit, not only was Eddie bleeding all over him, but now, the man’s stupidity might blow them both the hell up.

“Don’t move, man. I’ve seen those things in Iraq, and they do a
number
on the body.” Gabriel came into
Treb
’s sight with a look of concern.

“Does anyone know how to disarm it? Can I set him down?” Treb’s arms were starting to protest under the weight of Eddie’s dead body.

“I’ve worked on a few of these types of bombs before. I’m not an expert, but give me a second to take a look at it.” A wave of relief
washed
over Treb at the sound of the commander’s voice.

Treb
watched the commander crouch down to study the bomb. “Doesn’t this city have a bomb squad?” he asked.

“The police chief informed me that the closest bomb squad is three hours away,” the commander answered.

“Well, shit, can you do something? He’s getting heavy,” Treb complained.

“Your call, Treb.”
The commander looked Treble straight in the eyes.
“I’ll help you hold him steady until the bomb squad gets here, or I can cut that wire that I’m almost positive will disarm the bugger.”

“We’ll help hold him up, too, Treb,” Rock said.

Behind Rock stood the rest of Treb’s teammates, Gabriel, Tony, and Treb’s beloved Damian. If Treb were the teary-eyed sort, he might have been a little choked up at his teammates’ show of support.

“I trust you, Commander,” he said.

“All right then, let’s do it.” The commander pulled a multipurpose tool out of his utility belt.

None of his teammates moved away to a safer distance. They stood by him in a show of solidarity. Treb’s eyes met Damian’s. If this was their last moment on the
earth
, then so be it. Treb couldn’t think of a better way to die than immersed in the love of his life’s beautiful blue-green eyes.

Treble heard a sharp snap.

“That’s
it.
It’s dead, Treb. I think you can let him go,” the commander said.

“Let me help.” Gabriel stepped forward.

Together, they gently placed Eddie on the floor. Now the authorities could come in and deal with the aftermath of Eddie’s destruction.

“We
’re not done
, gentlemen,” Shane said to his team. “We still have to find Eddie’s children.”

Boone had enough. Ignoring his screaming brother-in-law, he left the building without looking back.
There was a sweet, twenty-six-foot, toy-hauler travel trailer all packed up and waiting for him.
For at least the next two
weeks,
he intended to explore and conquer every obstacle and challenge the north woods campground where he was booked had to offer.

The powerful Harley motorcycle between his legs came to
life,
and Boone took off toward his sister’s house. Like his stint in the
Navy
and the job working for his
sister,
Cindy’s, husband, his time living with them had reached the finish line. After he
had blown
off some steam so he wouldn’t land himself in jail, Boone decided the time had come
to look seriously for a job that suited his skills and personality
. He also needed to look up a certain cowboy whose pull called to him.

* * * *

Shane stood in the front yard of Eddie and Judy Barrett’s house and surveyed the area. The local police were inside the immaculate home looking for any leads that might help find the two missing children. Things were complicated by the sad fact that, with the death of their parents, all indications pointed to the children no longer having any other living relatives. Unless the in-depth
investigation
social services would conduct turned up something, those two babies were now alone in the world.

Minutes before, Shane had received a call from the head investigator at the mall shooting scene. During the examination of Judy Barrett’s body in the lunchroom, the county medical examiner found a cell phone lying
under
her. Shane suggested redialing the last call she’d made to see if that turned up any clues to the children’s whereabouts, but Shane hadn’t heard anything back yet on that.

The other members of the team were checking local daycare facilities, churches, and going house to house looking for the children. Tony and Shane had decided to stay at the Barrett house and search the large lot and neighbors’ yards.

“Did you see that?” Tony asked.

“Yeah,” Shane answered.

A silver minivan slowly drove past them and continued down the street. The vehicle could be completely
innocent
and its passengers only curious about all the police vehicles parked along the street. But something about the wide-eyed woman driver had Shane’s instincts clamoring on red alert.

“Shane.”

“I see it.”

Shane watched the minivan
turn around
and
come
back toward them. Just before it reached the Barrett’s
property,
the vehicle swung into the driveway next door. Because of the tinted windows, Shane couldn’t tell how many passengers occupied the vehicle.

Shane nodded at
Tony,
and together they walked up to the minivan. The driver’s side window rolled down halfway. Shane observed a nervous brunette in her forties watch them come nearer. He relaxed a bit when she kept both hands on the steering wheel. From the interior of the
vehicle,
Shane heard a baby crying.

“What’s going on?” the woman asked.

“Hi,” Tony greeted the woman. “My name is Tony Grayson, and I’m from a company called Rescue for Hire. We’re looking for two missing children, Abbie and Toby Barrett.”

With his good looks and pleasant demeanor, Tony tended to put people at ease. Tony claimed Shane’s big body and
his hard-edged
personality intimidated potential witnesses. They had an agreement to let Tony play good cop if the situation warranted it.

The woman studied Tony for a moment before her gaze turned toward Shane. After she had
considered
them, she watched the police officers entering and exiting the Barrett home. Next to Shane, Tony shifted subtly, urging the woman to make a decision.

They both tensed when her hand left the steering wheel. There was a click and the door opened. The woman stepped out of vehicle and turned to the sliding side door. “They’re in here.”

Shane leaned down and looked through the opening. Two child car seats occupying the middle bench seat of the vehicle. In
one,
a little girl with red curls sat holding a small package of animal crackers. The other held a crying baby swaddled in blue blankets.

“Let’s take them into the house so the police can call off the Amber
Alert,
” Tony said.

As the woman unstrapped the little girl and handed her to Tony, she asked. “Is Judy all right?”

“Let’s go inside,” Tony said.

A half hour later, Shane walked outside the house, leaving Tony to comfort the crying woman.

Shane pulled his phone out of his pocket. Seconds later, he heard his brother, Cade’s, voice.

“Did you find the children?”

“Yeah. A neighbor had them. Judy Barrett intended to file for divorce and disappear with the children. According to the neighbor, Judy feared her husband was going to kill them all. The neighbor was supposed to meet Judy at a rest stop with the children after Judy finished her work shift,” Shane explained. During the whole
rescue,
he had kept his brother updated.

“So she knew her husband was going off the deep end again but didn’t react fast enough. That’s a shame. I wish she’d have called the authorities. They could have helped her…and him,” Cade said. “Hopefully some relatives can step up and give the children a decent home.”

“That’s why I’m calling. You need to get on that phone of yours and start making some calls. I have a sweet little
three-year-old
girl and a
four-month-old
baby boy headed
for
the foster care system,” Shane said.

“What do you mean?” Cade asked.

“According to the neighbor, the kids don’t have any other relatives. Cade, these children need you and Bret. Get on the horn and do what you got to do,” Shane ordered. “One more thing you should know. The little girl has some bruises on her that shouldn’t be there.”

“Shit. Thanks for the heads-up. I’ve got to go.”

Shane smiled. Cade and his partner, Bret, had worked hard getting their license to foster children with the intention of adopting. From what he had seen inside the house behind him, the children desperately needed Cade’s calm protection and Bret’s unlimited love and smiles.

Twelve hours later, Shane and Tony walked into their
beloved home
and flopped down onto the couch. It hadn’t escaped Shane’s notice that Tony had passed out during the half-hour plane ride home. The man hadn’t woken up until they taxied up the runway behind Damian and Treb’s airplane hangar.

Shane put his hand on Tony’s thigh and gave it a squeeze. “Talk, honey,” he said.

The leg under his hand stiffened. In Shane’s mind, enough was enough. With a few quick maneuvers to a now protesting Tony, he had the handsome man on his lap. If Tony continued to delay, Shane had no problem flipping him over and spanking his luscious ass. Shane was not a patient man.

“Shane,” Tony choked out.

A hand grabbed the front of Shane’s black shirt. He looked down into Tony’s fear-filled eyes. Never before had Shane felt such dread. His senses told him Tony’s next words were going to change both of their lives forever. And his senses were never wrong.

Shane cupped Tony’s cheek with his hand. “I love you,” he whispered.

“I found a lump.” Tony closed his eyes. Tears leaked out from under the thick fan of his black lashes and down his tan cheeks.