Big Daddy Sheriff (Big Cedar Daddies #1)

Chapter 33

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

“You get any hits when you ran that plate?” Walker asked.

It was nearing eight that morning. He’d dropped by the marshal’s office to see what the status was on their potentially unwanted visitors.

Sitting behind his desk, Quinn shook his head. “Came back clean. Registered to a seventy-six-year-old woman out of Tennessee. Obviously, she wasn’t in that car. At the same time, it hasn’t been reported as stolen.”

“Hmm.” Walker appeared to think it over for a moment. “Could be they borrowed mom’s car for a little trip to the mountains.”

“Tennessee has mountains,” Quinn pointed out.

“True. Even if they were on the western side, Arkansas would be a heck of a whole lot closer for them.”

“Yep,” Quinn agreed. “I don’t like it one bit. But they haven’t been back. So…” He shrugged.

“Where is your little cutie now?” Walker asked.

“Playing with the other girls at Joe’s store.”

“You want them to come to the firehouse?” Walker said. “We can set up some toys and stuff.”

Quinn leaned back in his chair and grinned. “You think I trust you boys with a cutie like her? You’d try to steal her away from me!”

Walker laughed and held up his hands in mock surrender. “You got me.” On his way out, he stopped at the door and turned back. “All jokes aside, let us know if you need us.”

“Will do. And I’m much obliged to you all,” Quinn said. “Please pass that along to Cane and Austin.”

Walker promised that he would and left.

Quinn leaned back farther, propped his feet up on the desk, and put his hands behind his head as he thought of the dangers that might be lurking around Big Cedar.

Was he just overreacting? People drove through their town all the time. True, Big Cedar wasn’t on the most popular highways that carried tourists to the mountains. But there were enough folks who liked to get off the beaten path and take the backroads. Tourism was a big industry in Southeastern Oklahoma. For all he knew, those three guys had been on a fishing trip. They probably had poles in the back along with a cooler full of beer. Just some guys happy to be away for a few days.

Or they were searching for Alyssa.

If that was the case, he’d be ready.

He figured only time would tell.

Little did he know, it would tell sooner rather than later.

Much sooner.

Tyler, Jim, and Mike—not their real names but the ones they currently answered to—kept their distance as they sat in the car, watching the store.

They’d had eyes on the place all morning, so they knew Alyssa had gone in there with the marshal. Then, the marshal came out. The girl had stayed. Unless she went out the back, she was in there, alright.

“This is perfect,” Jim said.

In the passenger seat, Mike nodded. “We’re in and out. Quick. Make it look like a robbery.”

“Yep,” Jim agreed. “Better than her just out walking or something and it seems like a random murder. This is a lot more plausible.”

In the backseat, Tyler questioned, “What about the others in there?”

Jim shrugged. “Can’t leave witnesses. Even if we’ll be in masks.”

“Two of us can handle this?” Mike said.

“Yeah. In and out. Pop a bunch of shots. It’ll be over in a matter of seconds,” Jim said. “Y’all want me to go in? I don’t mind.”

Mike shook his head. “You’re a better driver. We need you behind the wheel. Just keep a gun handy and pointed toward that marshal’s office. If he hears the shots and comes running…”

“Don’t worry. He’ll get what’s coming to him. It’ll be better like that, anyway, so he doesn’t chase us,” Jim said. “Just remember to grab cash from the register on your way out. That way it looks like a robbery.”

Everyone put on their masks, checked their guns, and then set out to carry on with the plan.

It was go time.

Don was in the middle of a two-day bender.

His most recent batch of ‘shine was his strongest yet. It about burned his damn throat up with each swallow.

Just the way he liked it.

But he was hungry. Some fresh deer meat sure would be nice.

That’s why he was glad when he saw that elusive buck right there on Main Street. At first glance, it looked sort of like a man in a black ski mask walking toward Joe’s General Store. But then he realized it was that buck.

“Damn buck ain’t gonna fool me,” Don declared with a hiccup.

He raised the rifle to his shoulder, lined up his shot, and squeezed the trigger.

In his office, Quinn held the phone to his ear, listening intently as the person on the other end of the line spoke plainly and with emphasis, making sure he understood the gravity of the situation.

“This is Detective Willingham over in Little Rock. I wanted to let you know we have apprehended Lana Foster, Hector Foster, and Bruce Monahan. From what I understand, you’ve already had a run-in with two of those individuals.”

“That’s right. Hector and Bruce came through town a while back,” Quinn said. “But I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting Lana yet.”

“Well, I thought you’d like to know they’re behind bars.”

“That’s great. I appreciate the call. But how did you know to get ahold of me?”

“That’s the not-so-great part,” Detective Willingham admitted. “We heard your name—and your town—referenced during our surveillance. That’s actually how we were able to apprehend Ms. Foster. As you probably know, the DA has dropped some prior charges until they can rebuild the case. But a judge okayed a wiretap warrant, and we heard them plotting a murder-for-hire scheme.”

Quinn’s blood ran cold. He didn’t need the detective to tell him who the target was.

“Is it over? Now that you’ve arrested them?” Quinn asked.

“No, Marshal. I’m afraid that’s also why I’m calling you. Ms. Foster hired three men out of Memphis. Some heavy hitters with long criminal histories. They’re violent. And we do not currently have a lead as to their whereabouts, but we have reason to believe Ms. Mills is in danger.”

Before Quinn could respond, a shot rang out, echoing down Main Street and sending another chill down his spine.

He dropped the phone without another word, leaving Detective Willingham to say, “Marshal Hardin? Are you there? Marshal?”

Theo had brought Grace into town to play with the other Littles.

She was excited, talking ninety to nothing as she rode in the passenger seat of his pickup, but right now, Theo didn’t hear a word she said.

He was too focused on the man holding the hunting rifle in the center of Main Street.

He stopped the truck, put it in reverse, and backed up, eager to get his little girl to safety.

“Damnit, Don,” he muttered. “Not again.” He’d heard about what had happened when he and Grace had been camping. And that certainly wasn’t the first time one of Don’s benders had turned dangerous.

It probably wouldn’t be the last time, either, unless the man got some serious help.

Something seemed different, though.

It only took a second for him to realize Don was aiming his rifle at a person! And the person was armed, too, wearing a black ski mask.

So was their partner who stood by them.

And the guy sitting in the idling car.

The pickup’s tires squealed as he jerked the wheel hard. He parked in a wide alley between two free standing brick buildings. The space was open on both ends, and as he slid out of the pickup, he said, “Drive, honey. Go home until I tell you it’s safe. Now!”

“Daddy!”

“I have to help Quinn. Go, baby!”

She was scared but she slid over into the driver’s seat, ready to take the truck on out the opposite end of the alley.

Before getting out of the vehicle, Theo had pulled the holstered Glock pistol from beneath his seat. He took off toward the danger.

The Marine was back in action.

Austin had just pulled the fire engine out of the garage, ready to wash the thing. It wasn’t that dirty. But he was bored. That was a good problem for a firefighter to have, he supposed.

But that boredom wouldn’t last long, he realized. Hell had broken loose on Main Street right before his eyes.

And it was all unfolding just as Daisy was arriving for work.

“Get down!” he yelled, rushing to her. He shielded her with his own body and forced her forward, into the firehouse. Once she was around the corner and out of the line of fire, he hollered, “Get inside!”

He headed back out the open garage door and to the firetruck. By now, Cane and Walker had heard the commotion, too, and rushed out into the truck bay. They confirmed that Daisy was okay, told her to get inside as well, and then rushed to the truck where Austin was unraveling the hose.

“Who are we up against?” Cane yelled.

“I don’t know, but they’re wearing masks and have guns. They’re not friends, I know that much!” He grinned devilishly. “Let’s let ‘em have it, boys!”

They turned the water on.

Don’s shot went wide, but it still startled the man, the bullet sizzling a few inches away from his right ear.

The criminal dropped to one knee and leveled his gun at Don. He never got a chance to fire.

A blast of water punched into his body, sweeping him back with hurricane force, and shoving him against the outside wall of the store. He closed his eyes and kept his mouth shut, but the hydro onslaught was nearly more than he could take.

By the time it ended, he collapsed into a heap on the ground, struggling to breathe.

His gun had been washed far out of reach by the overbearing tide.

Quinn grabbed Don’s rifle as he ran past.

“I’ll take that,” he said.

“What the heck?” Don protested. He then passed out, the alcohol having reached its full effect.

“Drop that gun!” Quinn yelled at the masked man who wasn’t on the ground, sputtering with a face full of water.

The guy seemed to consider bringing his gun to bear on the marshal, but that long rifle pointed in his direction clearly made him think twice. Plus, Theo was on the scene now with his own pistol out and ready for action.

But Quinn could see the guy wasn’t going to give up that easily. Based upon the enraged expression he wore—and the anger burning in his eyes—he still had some fight left in him.

Quinn could guess what he was thinking: Maybe he could overpower them and get out of there. At least that way he’d have a chance and wouldn’t have a murder charge hanging over his head. He was desperate. And Quinn had enough experience to know desperate men were dangerous.

The guy bowed up and stepped forward, as if ready to fight, but Quinn was ready, too.

With lightning speed, he tossed the rifle up, caught it mid-air by the barrel, and used it like a club, swinging the stock until it made contact with the hitman’s head.

The masked outlaw fell to the ground, groaning for a moment before he passed out cold.

The driver of the car tried to speed away, but the firemen were ready.

They aimed their hose at it and sent the blast of water through the open window. The driver couldn’t see a thing, lost control and slammed into a nearby light pole. The airbag deployed, hitting the masked man hard in the face.

He, too, passed out. Just like his friends.

And poor ol’ Don.