Keller County Cops Book Seven: Code of Vengeance (10 page)

The sheriff dropped the chair and tackled the gunman. They slid across the floor and crashed into the other man, who fired wildly as he went down. His head smacked the table, and the bullet shattered the mirror behind the counter.

The customers screamed.

Keegan leapt to her feet and bounded toward Blaylock, who struggled to keep his grip on the writhing gunman. He'd dropped his weapon, and it spun to a stop beside the counter.

He lunged for it, but Keegan scooped it up and shoved it in his face.

"Don't even think about it, you ass," she snapped, fire flooding her veins when she thought about what might have happened if she hadn't been able to reach it.

The door burst open and three Keller County deputies stormed inside.

"Drop the weapon!"

"Put it down!"

"Do it now, ma'am!"

Their shouts rattled her, and she let the gun waver. The gunman sprang at her, but Sheriff Blaylock wrapped an arm around the man's waist and slammed him to the floor.

"Damn, Sheriff," one of the deputies said in awe. "Nice save."

Keegan lowered the gun, and another deputy took it from her.

The third glared at her and pulled out his handcuffs. "Turn around, ma'am."

"No," Blaylock boomed from the floor. He lay halfway on top of the gunman, his weight holding the guy still. "She's not involved. Cuff
this
asshole, Stevens. For God's sake."

"Oh. Yes, sir." The young deputy's cheeks turned crimson, and he hurried to comply.

Her frayed nerves finally giving out, Keegan righted the chair the sheriff had tossed down and sank onto it. Surely he wouldn't insist on questioning her anymore today after this.

Another deputy roused the second gunman, who appeared disoriented after crashing into the table, and cuffed him before leading him outside, while the third deputy aided the pistol- whipped barista and called for an ambulance.

"You okay?" Sheriff Blaylock's deep rumble startled Keegan, and she looked up to find him towering over her. A bruise was already forming on under his left eye, and a tiny cut marred his right eyebrow, making him look even more rugged. He squatted beside her chair and put his hand on her knee. "Keegan?"

"Yes," she rasped, suddenly lightheaded. She'd felt this way the day she'd found Jenny and the night the guy had stabbed Dirk. What made her think she could ever kill anyone, if she couldn't even deal with the adrenaline crash after this kind of event?

He squeezed her knee. "Raincheck on questioning you?"

"Please." She sat back in the chair. "I just can't--"

"I know." He blew out a frustrated breath. "I'm shaken up, too. You'll need to give your statement about this incident before you can leave, though. I'll need to head down to the station. After something like this, I'll have to fill out reams of paperwork."

"At least nobody died."

"Well, there is that." He let go of her knee and gingerly fingered the darkening bruise beneath his eye. "How does it look?"

"I wouldn't go on camera right now, if I were you," she said with a firm twist of her lips.

He snorted. "Well, that's rich. I'm supposed to tape a campaign commercial in the morning."

"You might want to wait a few days -- and avoid the reporters hanging out in the parking lot, if they're still there." She gnawed at her lip, and then met his eyes. "I suppose you still want to question me about the incident on Saturday."

"What do you think? I used the word
raincheck."
He pushed himself up to a standing position. "Tomorrow, after court. Assuming you have to be there again."

"Yes, I do. Unfortunately." She rose on shaky legs. In addition, she had a self-defense class scheduled for five-thirty tomorrow afternoon. Guess she'd have to call her instructor and reschedule.
Damn it.

He pulled a business card from his shirt pocket and handed it over before glancing at the chaos still reigning inside the coffee shop. "Let's meet at my office. We won't have to worry about an armed robbery or the press there. Text me on my cell as soon as you're through at the courthouse."

"Okay." She glanced down at the card. He'd listed his cell number beneath his office number. "Just keep in mind that court might not be over until late, and I'll have to scan my sketches into the computer before I can leave. So--"

"Not a problem as long as I hear from you." He edged closer.

She nodded. "I understand. I-I'll text you. I promise."

"To make sure, why don't you jot down your cell number for me? That way, I can call you if you're late." He pulled another card from his pocket, flipped it over, and handed it to her along with a pen. She wrote down her number and gave it back. He smiled. "Thanks. I'm still depending on you to text me. If you don't, I'll send a deputy to find you."

"Don't worry, Sheriff. You won't have to do that." She backed away from him and looked around. Before she gave her statement to one of the deputies, she needed to find her purse.

Blaylock stopped her. "That was quick thinking a while ago, by the way. You handled yourself well. Have you had any law enforcement training?"

"N-no," Keegan said in surprise.
Unless you count all the self-defense and weapons training I did to get ready to go after Dirk.
She forced a wary smile. "Guess I've just watched a few too many TV cop shows. You were outnumbered, and I reacted."

"Well, I appreciate it. You probably saved my life." He gripped her hand and pinned her to the floor with his intense gray gaze. "Thank you, Keegan Riley."

"You're welcome." A fresh surge of adrenaline made her pulse sing as he dropped her hand. At least, she hoped adrenaline was the cause and not the way he was looking at her.

"Ma'am?" One of the deputies strolled over to her, a metal clipboard clutched in both hands. "I need to get your statement. If you'll please have a seat on the couch--"

"Let me grab my purse first."

"Okay." He bobbed his head.

Her face burning, Keegan glanced at the sheriff one last time, then hurried back to the table she had vacated during the robbery. Her bag still sat on the window ledge where she had left it. She snatched it up and checked her wallet to make sure no one had rifled through it during all the excitement. Her cash was still there, and nothing else appeared to be out of place.

By the time she lowered herself onto the sofa, her pulse rate had returned to normal. Or rather, almost normal. Nothing about this afternoon had been normal at all.

The deputy walked up and sat beside her.

She didn't want to have to answer his questions, but at least this time she didn't have to lie. All she had to do was tell the truth about how Sheriff Blaylock had taken on two armed men when he wasn't even carrying a gun himself. How he'd risked his life to take down those men.

Yet her own words scared her half to death.

If the sheriff would take on two armed men with no gun in his hand, what would he do if he learned the real reason she'd been at the club that night?
I've never been a great liar, and I have less than twenty-four hours to work on my story.

Keegan's stomach roiled as she finished giving her statement to the young deputy.

*****

Rick didn't take his eyes off Keegan the entire time she spent giving her statement. Her earnest look trapped him in a haze of confusion. She hadn't appeared that sincere earlier this afternoon when
he'd
spoken with her. Of course, he hadn't had time to ask her but one question here at the coffee shop before the armed robbery, and that made him curious.

Had she been about to lie to him? Or had he intimidated her so much she'd gotten nervous? The wet behind the ears kid interviewing her now couldn't be a day over twenty-five, if he was that old. She didn't appear to be threatened by him in the least.

"Didn't mean to scare her half to death," he murmured as he scrambled out of the way of the exiting EMTs.
Damn it.
Keegan was a witness, not a murderer. He had to remember that.

"Sheriff?" Bryce Tompkins, one of Keller County's four robbery detectives, entered the coffee shop and made a beeline for him. The few customers who were left, including Keegan, were all busy giving their statements, and not one of them paid him any attention.

"What went on in here, sir?" Tompkins asked with a frown. "Whatever it was, the press must know you're involved, 'cause Mindy Ravens is lurking outside."

"Well, aren't you just a ray of freaking sunshine." Rick put out his hand, and the burly detective gave it a shake. "I had to deal with that split-tongued woman the other night at a murder scene, and today she's followed me around like she's expecting me to do something exciting. I don't relish talking to her again."

"Then I suggest you sneak out the back door."

"Good idea." He scowled toward the plate glass window. "Too bad I parked out front."

"I'll be happy to drive your car around back when you're ready to leave."

"Now you're talkin'." Rick grinned. "Thanks, Detective. Knew I kept you around for a reason."

"Hey, I don't have a problem kissing up to the boss." He smirked. Then he eyed the barista, who sat at one of the tables with her hand over her eyes. "What happened to her?"

"Pistol-whipped. The EMTs didn't cart her off to the hospital, so I guess she's okay. Just some butterfly bandages. The guy whacked her pretty good, though, and she went down like a sack of potatoes. She's probably got a concussion."

"Ouch. Bet that hurt." Tompkins eyed the spider-webbed mirror behind the counter. "Anybody shot?"

"No. Just the mirror. The second guy's gun went off when his partner and I slammed into him." He sighed. "Long story. Two gunman, one terrified barista, and a shop full of customers."

"Apparently you saved the day."

"Well, I had to do something." Rick dragged a hand down his face. "I'm the sheriff."

"And you're running for re-election." The detective grinned. "This'll be all over the papers and the Internet by dawn. Should send your numbers through the roof."

"Maybe so, but I don't care. I'm just glad we caught the guys and nobody got hurt."

"Ditto." He nodded and pulled out a pad and pen. "Now, lead me through what happened step by step. We need your story, too... as you well know."

Rick led him over to a table where he could still keep an eye on Keegan. His heart rose into his throat when he took in her weary, bedraggled appearance and realized he was partly to blame. He'd shoved her up against her car and cuffed her in the rain less than two hours ago. Yet even with air-dried, unkempt hair and tired eyes, she radiated a quiet inner strength. He wished he hadn't been so hard on her.

"Just a witness," he murmured to himself.

Tompkins settled into his seat and lifted a brow. "What was that, Sheriff?"

"What? Oh, nothing." He jerked his attention back to his own statement about the armed robbery. "All the trouble started after I bought a cup of coffee."

The detective lifted a brow, and for the next five minutes sat quietly taking notes as Rick related his account of what had happened, ending with Keegan snatching up the pistol and him cuffing the only conscious gunman. He let Tompkins know Keegan was still here.

"That one, huh?" Tompkins bobbed his head toward her. "Wow. She's a looker, even though I'd say she spent some time out in the rain this afternoon. Who is she?"

"A witness in a murder case. Dirk Woodward."

"The guy stabbed at the Kitty Kat Klub on Saturday?"

"Yep."

"Wow." He furrowed his brow. "She was here with you?"

"That's right." Rick leaned closer and lowered his voice. "I needed to ask her a few more questions, and she begged me not to make her go down to the station. This is what I get for going against protocol and agreeing to her suggestion. Damn it, I never do stuff like this."

"I've done it a time or two myself, hoping to put the person I was interviewing at ease. It usually works pretty well. Hope the press doesn't get wind of your little field trip, though. They'll have you screwing a witness in a homicide investigation before you can even say your name."

"No kidding." He caught the other man's eye. "Nothing like that's going on, Detective. I swear. The meeting was on the up and up."

"Take it easy, boss." Tompkins put up both hands. "I don't doubt that for a minute."

"Just so you know," Rick said, his cheeks burning at the implication. "Please don't tell anyone else about it either, okay? Nobody knows. Except you, me, and Ms. Riley, of course."

"Certainly not, sir. I won't say a word."

"Thank you." Rick sat back and glanced over at Keegan. Or rather, at the spot where she'd sat on the couch. The deputy who'd taken her statement now stood alone beside the monstrous piece of furniture. He turned back to Tompkins. "Give me a second, will you?"

"Sure, boss." The detective rose and picked up his pad and pen. "We're done as far as I'm concerned.  I have everything I need from you."

"Thanks, Tompkins. Stop by my office if you have any more questions."

"Will do." He quirked his mouth and angled across the room toward the barista, who now sat with her head cradled in both shaking hands.

Rick walked over to the deputy standing by the sofa. "Where'd Ms. Riley go?"

"Who?" The kid raised his head.

He glared at the young man. "Keegan Riley. She just gave you her statement."

"Oh, yeah." Apparently growing antsy, the deputy shifted. "She just left."

"I see. Well, that's fine as long as you were done." He clapped his hand on the young man's shoulder and peered down at the silver name bar on his chest. "Thanks, Jones."

"Anytime, Sheriff." The kid grinned. "A lot of excitement for one day, right?"

"Too much." He edged away. "Keep up the good work, son."

Eager to get the hell out of there, he told Tompkins and the other deputies on scene that he needed to go. Tompkins promised to wait around and talk to the owner, who was on his way. Then without another word, the robbery detective headed outside to get Rick's car and drive it around back so he could avoid Mindy Ravens. Maybe this time, she wouldn't follow him.