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Shooter’s expression remained dour. “Try explaining that to him.”
They watched as the lead car shuddered to a stop and Rawlins’ fatty form emerged. Caleb stifled a groan.
“There goes the neighborhood,” Easy muttered. “You couldn’t have called anyone else?” he asked Caleb.
“I just phoned it in to the dispatcher,” Shooter told him.
“Odds are,” Caleb said, “that he heard your name mentioned over the radio call and beat feet right to us.”
Rawlins slammed the car door and without waiting for the other uniformed officers, stormed up the rutted drive. His eyes swept over the four handcuffed kids sitting on the grass, then his gaze zeroed in on Shooter. “What the hell is this?!” he demanded. His jowls shook as he bellowed.
Shooter shrugged. “Like I said, we have at least two wanted men. Possibly three. And who knows what her story is, exactly,” he said, nodding to the girl. “But I’m guessing it’ll be pretty much the same once the truth comes out.”
Rawlins gaped at him, surprise and anger warring on his face. “What—” he sputtered but couldn’t quite find the words he was looking for. “Goddammit!” Except that one.
“Where’s the ambulance I asked for?” Shooter asked him calmly.
Rawlins glared at him. “You don’t ask me questions, boy! I ask you the questions! What the fuck is this? Who the fuck are they? And who the fuck do you think you are?”
Before Shooter could begin to explain, Izzy came down off the porch. She stepped past the line of Rangers and stood between Rawlins and the boys. Caleb felt no small hint of pride that she was hurting unbelievably from her impact wound but she wasn’t cowed or showing Rawlins any sign of weakness. Her shoulders were squared and her back was straight, though he imagined it hurt her quite a bit to present herself that way. “I’m Isabelle Boucher,” she told him and the other officers who were falling in behind him. “I’m a Fugitive Apprehension Agent from Denver.”
Rawlins spit on the ground in front of her. To her credit, Izzy didn’t flinch, but Caleb thought it was pretty disgusting himself.
“Fucking bounty hunter? What’s a bounty hunter doing in my county?”
Izzy jerked her thumb behind her. “Jeter Paul, the one who won’t be doing the two-step any time soon, is wanted for kidnapping and the murder of a gas station owner in Colorado. Though I’m fairly certain the kidnapping charge is going to get tossed.”
Rawlins looked from Izzy, to Shooter, to Caleb and back again. Perhaps he was calculating how many more squad cars he would need to arrest them all. “You know these assholes?” he finally asked Izzy, sweeping his arm to indicate the men behind her.
Izzy merely shrugged. “They gave me a ride.”
Rawlins’ eyes narrowed, then he turned to look at Caleb. “You can’t do this!” he shouted. “You’re suspended!”
“I didn’t ID myself as an officer. I’m just a concerned citizen.”
Easy snorted at that but otherwise kept his mouth shut.
“There’s no need to get your panties in a bunch,” Izzy declared, “just because some civilians rounded up a couple of felons for you. Think of it this way, you didn’t even have to break a sweat.”
Easy actually did laugh at that.
Rawlins jabbed a meaty finger at her. “Watch yourself, young lady,” he ordered. “You S.O.B.,” he told Caleb with equal parts fury and glee. “You’re finished. Shooting a man in the foot, smashing a girl’s face? You are fucking done in this town!”
“Actually, that’s my handiwork,” Izzy replied coolly. “I shot Jeter when he charged us and almost shot me. Then I beaned his girlfriend there when she actually did shoot me.”
“Bullshit!”
Izzy lifted the hem of her shirt to reveal the nearly black bruise that covered her entire lower abdomen. A few of the officers behind Rawlins murmured in surprise and sympathy. Not even Rawlins could deny the evidence right in front of him.
“Where are your weapons?” he demanded.
“That’s my Persuader on the porch,” Izzy said with a jerk of her chin. “Also, Bonnie and Clyde’s nines. Stripped, of course.”
Rawlins directed two of the officers to the porch to collect the guns.
“I expect that Mossberg back,” Izzy told him, but the look Rawlins gave her said she’d never see that particular piece again. Izzy sighed heavily. “I really liked that gun,” she muttered.
“Let me see your ID and your carry license,” Rawlins demanded. Izzy handed them over. Rawlins didn’t even spare them a glance. He tossed them to a third officer standing beside him, then he stepped forward and reached for Izzy. Caleb, who had been content to this point to let Izzy take the lead, now stepped forward, blocking Rawlins.
“She’s under arrest,” Rawlins told him.
“You’re not going to touch her,” Caleb replied quietly. Rawlins may have been angry but he had the good sense to take a step back. There was no mistaking the edge of violence in Caleb’s voice.
