With Harley tucked away safely back in bed, Travis headed his truck towards home. He chuckled remembering her insistence that she crawl back through the bedroom window instead of using the door to complete her sneaking out adventure. His cock twitched as he pictured her delectable derriere wiggling temptingly across the sill and a huge part of him had been very interested in following her inside. Particularly, the part which was now growing in his pants. But, whatever Butch had discovered must have been pretty damn important for the man to track him down like a disgruntled ex-girlfriend and so, with a reluctant kiss...he had left her behind and hurried to his pickup to find out what it was.
She had been mildly interested in what Butch wanted to tell him and it killed him to fib to her. But, until he knew exactly what was happening, he didn't want to worry her unnecessarily and lied through his teeth. He told her a story about having Butch look into some missing cows he thought might have been stolen off his property. It was lame and he wasn't a hundred percent sure she bought it, but it seemed to have worked because she dropped the subject, buying him some time.
Pulling into the drive, he flicked off his lights and coasted up alongside Ethan's Sheriff cruiser and Butch's beat-up Jeep Willy parked on the far side of the house. Obviously, Ethan had decided the further away from Addie's eavesdropping ears...the better, though he doubted at this time of night a hurricane would wake her. Easing out of the cab, he walked over to where the two men stood waiting.
"About time you got here," Ethan grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at him. He was dressed in full Sheriff attire, from the tip of his felt hat down to his polished boots.
"Cut him some slack, Davidson," Butch drawled from his position leaning on the hood of the cruiser. The smirk on his lips made the scars on the side of his face pull into more of a sneer. "He had his hands full tonight." He gave a low rumbling chuckle. "From what I saw, if I was in the lucky bastards boots...I wouldn't be standing here at all talking to us assholes."
Travis charged up to him until they were standing nose to nose. "I thought you said you didn't see anything, Meyer," he snarled.
"And I didn't." Butch didn't bat an eyelash and met him straight in the eye. A few long minutes ticked by as the two stared each other down before Travis nodded his head and stepped back. "But I saw enough to certainly fill in the blanks," Butch added with a devilish grin.
Travis didn't even hesitate, his fist flew like a heat seeking missile and smashed into Butch's jaw. Unfortunately, the asshole had a jaw made out of concrete and he felt his knuckles crack.
"Whoa!" Ethan's voice cut through Travis's cussing and the building hostility. He stepped in between them and shoved them apart.
"Is that all you got, princess?" Butch chuckled, rubbing a hand over his chin.
"Trav, chill man," he said, when Travis made to charge forward again. "Meyer's only fucking with you."
"It's alright, Ethan. I had that one coming," Butch replied still grinning like a buffoon and Travis wanted to clobber again. "I figured he'd be a bit more relaxed after..."
"Meyer's, unless you want to be drinking out of straw for the next few month and crapping in a bag, I suggest you shut the hell up," Ethan said through gritted teeth, straining to hold Travis back as he lunged again.
"Alright, alright...chill man. I'm only messing with you." Butch held up his hands in surrender. "I feel you. I didn't know that little honey meant something, otherwise I wouldn't have mentioned it, true?"
"Little honey?" Ethan slowly released Travis and turned to look at him, cocking an eyebrow. "Where the hell have you been?" He eyed him up and down, frowning further. "You're all wet," he stated flatly.
"I found him down wallowing around in old man Sanders's hot springs."
Ethan plucked out Harley's lavender bra hanging out of Travis's back pocket and held it up like a trophy bass. "What the fuck were you doing down there?" he asked, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.
"More like who was he fucking," Butch muttered under his breath, drawing Ethan's attention and making Travis curse under his breath.
"You stupid son of a bitch!" Ethan whipped back around and stuck his face inches from Travis's own. "You took some hussy to the hot springs when you have a woman like Harley sitting at home?" He shoved Travis in the chest and sent him stumbling back into the Willy. "I should beat the ever loving shit out of you, you stupid jackass."
Butch grabbed Ethan by the shoulders and hauled him back, laughing his ass off. "He was with Miss Harley."
Ethan paused, looked at Butch and then back at Travis. "You were at the hot springs with Harley?"
"Yes," Travis snapped, pushing himself off the Jeep and snatching the bra still dangling out of Ethan's hand. "If we are done discussing my sex life, can we get on with what you fucking interrupted us for?"
"You walked in on them?" Ethan popped wide surprised eyes to Butch before his face crumbled into laughter. "Holy shit! No wonder he's all riled up," he snorted, gasping for breath. "You have my permission to knock Meyer on his ass," he sputtered to Travis, doubling over and braying like a mule.
"Nice, Sheriff." Butch yanked off his cap and scrubbed a hand over his buzz cut. "Way to uphold the whole keeping the peace thing," he drawled, slapping his hat back on his head.
Ethan finally managed to put a cork in his chortles and shrugged a shoulder. "I'm off duty," he replied still chuckling.
"Can we just get on with what you wanted to tell me?" Travis grumbled, jamming Harley's bra back into his pocket. As much as he like the thought of punching the sniper again, he liked the idea of being able to have full function of his hand more. The damn thing was still throbbing with each beat of his heart as it was.
Butch gave a brief nod of his head and brushed passed Ethan who was still sniggering despite Travis having threatened to shove his tazer down his throat. Jerking the door to the Willy open with a teeth clenching squeal, he pulled out what appeared to be a small, hard-sided briefcase and slammed it shut again. Carrying the case over to Ethan's cruiser, he swiped his thumb over the security pad and the latches popped open.
Ethan whistled low. "Damn, that's some serious hardware there," he said, easing out a hand to touch the revealed laptop sitting snuggly inside.
"Keep your hands off or lose a finger, your choice," Butch growled as he fired it up.
Travis watched as the man typed faster than any teenage girl he ever saw. "That's some pretty fancy equipment for a civilian," he commented.
"Who said I was a civilian?" Butch muttered, turning the computer screen to give them a better look. "I saw two clowns tromping through the woods in full suits and ties a couple of days ago. I doubted they were there squirrel hunting, so I took the liberty of snapping a few pictures with my scoop and followed them. They're hiding out at Rafferty's hunting cabin up on the south side of Red Lodge Mountain. When I downloaded the images into a facial recognition program, these two upstanding citizens showed up."
"Franky 'The Switchblade' Salvatore and Vincent Castello," Travis read the names under the two mug shots. "Who the hell are these fuckers and what are they doing in Wolf Springs?" he asked as his eyes continued to skim down the long list of criminal activity they had been charged with.
"They are the two top heavies who work for Louie Cardello, better known in New York as Big Louie." Butch's fingers flew over the keyboard again and quickly they were looking at the smarmy grin of the notorious crime boss.
"Son of a bitch," Travis swore out loud as he looked over the lengthy rap sheet which had everything from arson to murder and all sorts of illegal conduct in between. "Why the hell isn't this jerkoff sitting cooling his jets in a jail cell somewhere?"
"They've tried. Despite some of the best prosecutors around, the scumbag keeps slipping out of their hands," Butch said.
Travis turned to look at Ethan. "This is the guy Rafferty is doing business with?" he asked.
"I don't know, but I would bet my next paycheck he is," he muttered, still frowning at the photo on the screen. "If his two lackey's are here, then he's probably behind it. The question is...why?"
"Big Louie is known for owning several shady construction companies. He uses them to launder dirty money mostly," Butch said, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning a hip against the cruiser. "If he's involved, then Rafferty is doing more than borrowing money. He's planning on building something. I have a couple of men I know from the military doing some recon. Whatever business dealing Big Louie has with Rafferty, they'll find it."
"What about the Feds you mentioned?" Travis asked. "Didn't you say they were following some henchmen from Vegas? I'd bet my ass these are those two assholes they are looking for. Why can't we just find them and tell them where they are?"
Butch shook his head. "They are US Marshalls. They won't make a move until it benefits them and whatever case they are working on. Besides, they're stumbling around on the wrong side of the mountain."
"You following them too?" Travis cocked a brow at the sniper before turning back to study the picture of the grinning mob boss. His mind was already working overtime on setting up a better security system, stocking up on more weaponry and ammunition. He needed to talk to Bo and the Gypsy Rose boys to make sure Harley was never alone and see what kind of security they could establish. He would follow her around the clock if he had to, to ensure her safety. They could also make sure everyone who wasn't in Rafferty's back pocket, knew what the two assholes looked like. The folks in town he trusted could be on the lookout and if they caused the kind of trouble he suspected they were here to do...they could shoot them on the spot and make up a story of self-defense later. That was one nice thing about living in a small town, you may get shitty cellphone reception, but people took care of their own and there wouldn't be any big investigations if two strange lowlifes ended up dead.
"I was, but they aren't doing much. I have a suspicion they have orders to lie low." He snorted in disgust. "If you can call having Amazon and the pizza guy making deliveries around the clock, lying low. I did, however, install a tracking device on their ride. If they move...I'll know."
"Hey...wait a minute." Ethan typed a few keys on Butch's laptop. Obviously not concerned about losing any fingers. "You've tapped into the Sheriff's office systems you asshole. How the hell did you get my password? Do you know I could have you arrested on the spot?"
Butch merely half shrugged a shoulder. "You asked for my help, remember?"
"I asked you for help, not to hack into the law enforcement data banks. Jesus, Meyer! What other government agencies have you illegally hacked into?"
"Why? Are you going to arrest me, Sheriff?" Butch asked sarcastically as he snapped the laptop shut.
"I'll have to if the government comes nosing around because you tripped the big brother triggers."
"Relax." Butch opened the door to the Willy again and stowed his laptop inside. Travis got a glimpse of full camouflage ghillie suits, plenty of ammo boxes and several rifle long boxes before the door was slammed closed. "My equipment is linked to satellites most people in the government are unware of. And those who do know about it, aren't likely to get upset about it. I'm completely untraceable...nothing more than a ghost."
"Exactly who the hell are you Meyer?" Ethan asked, his voice touched with a bit of awe and distrust.
"I'm just a retired Navy Seal who wants to be left the hell alone," he grumbled back. His face pulling into a frown that made his scars on his face stand out more prominently. "I moved here to get away from shit like this, but since it's decided to land on my back doorstep, I feel obliged to help remove it by whatever means necessary."
Ethan dropped his mouth open to say something when the radio in his cruiser crackled to life.
"Attention all personal, we have a 10-70 reported off of highway 181. All available personal are asked to respond. Repeat. We have a 10-70 reported off of highway 181."
Ethan jerked to attention and made a mad dash for his radio. "Dammit, I've told her not to do that," he muttered. Leaning in through the opened window, he yanked the microphone off his dash and brought it to his mouth. "Casey, this is Sheriff Davidson. If I've told you once, I've told you a hundred times...there is no personal. It's me and Jeffery. You keep going on like that and you are going to bring every yokel within a 50 mile radius with a police scanner down on us faster than fleas can jump on a dog."
"10-4 sir, sorry," came the squeaked reply.
"That's fine, honey. We are a little lax on codes around here, so put your handbook away and just tell me what's going on."
"Um...okay. I received a fire call from a Bodie Richards saying he was from some place called the Gypsy Rose, but according to the address he gave...it's listed as a property owned by Jack Stewart. I followed protocol and contacted the fire department and they are on their way. It says here, step two was to radio in police assistance."
"Are you fucking kidding me?" Travis made a grab for the handset. "I just left there! Is everyone okay? Where's Harley?"
Ethan shoved Travis out of his face. "You did good, Case. Did Jeffery respond?"
"No, sir."
"He's probably asleep and has turned off the radio in his truck. You are going to have to call his cell phone and tell him to get his ass over to the Stewart's."
"Y...yes, sir. Over and out."
"I don't suppose you would behave yourself and stay here?" Ethan asked Travis who was already climbing into the passenger side of the cruiser.
"Fuck no," he growled, sending Ethan a defiant glare over the roof.
Ethan rolled his eyes and turned to Butch who was throwing a leg into his old Willy and opened his mouth, but was silenced by the sniper when he held up his hand and gave a brisk shake of his head.
"Don't bother, Sheriff. I'm right behind you. Flick on those pretty lights and let's get a move on," Butch snapped gruffly as he fired up his Jeep.
Ethan shook his head. "So much for being off duty," he mumbled with a heavy sigh as he climbed into the cruiser.
Author's Note:
I hope you enjoyed this latest installment of When Roses Collide and if you liked it, you will consider giving it a vote. I love hearing from you and comments are always appreciated. If you don't see any updates here, feel free to check out my other works Bending Steele, Steal You Away and FANGED.
The next scheduled update for this book is September 13th.
As always, thank you for reading!
Sincerely,
K