Bonaparte's Belle: A SEALs of Honor World Novel (Heroes for Hire Book 24), Dale Mayer [read an ebook week .TXT] 📗

He hitched up his jeans and took a slow look around. There was a problem all right, but he hadn’t been given too many details, just that Angela needed help and somebody she could trust. Well, he was trustworthy; she could count on that. If Angela came down hard on the side of right, then he would be right there with her. He kicked a rock out of the way and walked slowly up the long wooden steps to the big veranda out front. There was a very western look to the area, which surprised him. He walked into the office and stood there at the entrance. Not a soul to be found. He took a few steps forward, surprised that the door was even unlocked when empty, when a thirtysomething woman rushed out of the back, a beaming smile on her face.

“Sir, may I help you?”

“I’m here to see the sheriff,” he said, in a slow drawl, his hands on his hips as he studied her.

“Angela,” she said, with a nod. “Hang on a moment.” She disappeared into an office down at the end of the hallway. A few minutes later she rushed back out and smiled at him.

“She’ll be out in a minute.” She motioned at the hard bench along the front window. “Feel free to take a seat.”

He looked at her and nodded.

He didn’t move; he just stood here, studying his surroundings. He was a big man, which was an understatement, and he had a tendency to dwarf everything around him. However, this office was mostly empty, with just the odd desk here and there, so it felt spacious and comfortable. Its old worn hardwood floor had seen more than a few people tread its wooden surface.

When the sound of a long-legged clip came toward him, he raised his head, and one eyebrow shot up. Angela had to be at least six feet tall. Long, lean, with an almost raw-boned look. But her skin was fresh, the look in her eyes direct and level. And, if she had long hair, it was hard to see because it was kept back in a clip at her neck.

He smiled at her and said, “Bonaparte. At your service.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Wow,” she said, “follow me, please.” Angela ignored the curious gaze from the woman sitting at the front desk, watching their every move. Angela immediately pivoted on her heel and walked back to her office. He followed the jean-clad figure, wondering what would put a woman like her in the office of county sheriff in the first place and, more important, what kind of trouble she could be in.

As she walked into her office, she held the door open for him. When he stepped in, she pointed at the visitor’s chair and closed the door with a sharp click behind him. Then she walked around her desk, sat down, and pushed a button on a small machine to her side.

He looked at it, then at her, his gaze hardened. “A frequency jammer? Are you really expecting that level of trouble?”

Her gaze was equally hard, and she gave a clipped nod. “Yes.”

As soon as the buzzer on the machine stopped, she nodded, pushed it off to the side, then settled back and interlocked her fingers, while she studied him.

He waited. If she wanted to play that game, he could too.

“Did Levi tell you what’s going on here?”

“Not exactly, no. Levi said that you were in trouble, that you were an old friend, and that you were somebody who firmly came down on the side of right,” he said, paraphrasing. “I do too. So, if you need help, I’m here.”

“And just you?”

He gave her a wolf of a smile. “Just me.”

Her grin was almost as feral, as she looked at him and nodded. “Okay,” she said, “in that case, I’ll accept it gratefully.”

“Where are your deputies?”

“Run off,” she said. “Every one of them threatened, their families threatened as well.”

He stared at her in shock.

She nodded. “I’ve contacted the sheriffs in two neighboring counties. Both of them told me to lay low and to not cause any trouble. And that they’d been threatened as well.”

“Did you go above them?”

“No,” she said. “Nobody here likes a woman sheriff to begin with.”

He settled back with a nod. “So you don’t want to give in.”

“Would you?”

“Well, it would never have happened to me,” he said.

Her gaze narrowed, and then she gave a nod again. “It’s sexist, but that’s true. It wouldn’t,” she announced. “But I don’t think you’re the kind who would let anybody run you out of town either.”

“No, not likely. What kind of trouble?”

“What kind of trouble do you want?” she said bluntly. “It’s all here.”

“It looks like such a small sleepy town,” he said, with a drawl.

She laughed. “Actually it is. Or it was. Until some wannabe badasses moved in and started terrorizing everybody.”

“And you can’t throw them in jail?”

“Well, I would if I could get some actual evidence, but these two have a lot of friends and access to a lot of money. So the town is terrified of them, and I’ve been warned to just get up and leave or else.”

“But that’s not your style.”

“Not mine, not yours, not Levi’s.”

“Good enough,” he said. “Okay, what do we need to do to get evidence, so we can pick up these guys and toss them in the clink?”

“If we toss them in the clink, we better have enough evidence to hold them because they’ll be lawyered up and shouting for bail within minutes.”

“And what kind of bail are we talking about here?”

“If they’ve done what I think they’ve done, I’d like to see it go as high as one million dollars.”

He let out a slow whistle. “So, murder?”

“Yes,” she said, her voice gentling. “Murder.”

“Of whom?”

She opened a drawer on the side and pulled out a file about one-quarter-inch thick. She flipped it open and handed