Bonaparte's Belle: A SEALs of Honor World Novel (Heroes for Hire Book 24) by Dale Mayer (the beach read .txt) 📗

notes on the case herself. She had a big case report to write up, and things would get very confusing very quickly. So the sooner she got some of the facts straight in her own head, the better. And every time she thought she had it all down, something new would come up.

And every time something new would come up, she would check her phone to see if there was anything from Bonaparte. And there never was. Finally she groaned, tossed down her pen, pulled out her phone, and called him. When there was no answer, she started to panic. Then she took several long slow deep breaths. This was Bonaparte. This was one of Levi’s men. She had to trust that he had this well in hand. If it were her deputies, that was a different story. But it wasn’t. It was Bonaparte. She slowly replaced her phone, took a deep breath, picked up her pen, and continued on her report, hoping she had made the right decision.

*

Bonaparte had already coasted past Johnny’s place. The gate was locked. No vehicles were in the driveway, and all the lights were off. He kept on going down to Ronnie’s place. Same thing. On a hunch, he headed back to Isabel’s, where Henry and Johnny had been picked up from. As to why they would go back there, Bonaparte wasn’t sure. Except maybe they expected Isabel to return.

As Bonaparte drove up, his instincts had him coming around to the back, where he parked. He also saw another vehicle there, parked off to the side. Thinking about that, he reversed and pulled around the corner again, so that anybody coming up to that vehicle wouldn’t see his truck. As soon as he was parked, and the vehicle was locked up, he headed to Isabel’s, going through the alley. Then he hit the public path and kept on walking toward the house.

As he approached, he stayed against the big trees along the back, while he studied the back wall. There hadn’t been any vehicles in the front, and, outside of the one that he found parked in the alleyway, he wasn’t sure who, if anyone, was here. It’s quite possible that vehicle belonged to somebody else. He stayed in the shadows, silent and waiting, to see if any motion occurred.

When soft voices drifted through the windows, he smiled and bolted toward the kitchen, snugging up tight against the wall. Somebody was in there, and Isabel was still at the station. From underneath the window he listened to the conversation.

“We should just take out the bitch,” stated a young punk, his voice whiny.

Henry.

An older, more granular voice snapped back in reply. “Once you start killing law enforcement,” he said, “you’ll bring everybody down on your back. It’s one thing to kill any Joe Blow on the street, but take out a cop? Then you get every other branch of law enforcement looking for you, and you won’t stay hidden for very long.”

Johnny.

“But she’s the one causing all the trouble. We got rid of all the deputies.”

“No, we convinced the deputies to leave their posts, and, in several cases, no way they’ll ever go back,” the older man said, with a snigger. “That’s the fun part, ruining lives.”

“Yeah,” Henry said, with enthusiasm. “I really like that part.”

What he really meant was he liked being in control and having power, instead of being the one downtrodden and being picked on all the time.

Bonaparte understood, but it didn’t make the punk an upstanding citizen. In this case, it made him a criminal. Bonaparte moved silently toward the front of the house, hoping he would hear a third voice, but, so far, he heard just the two men. But that didn’t mean Ronnie wasn’t here. Seeing nobody on the front steps, Bonaparte hopped up, and without warning, stepped into the living room. The two men were sprawled on the couches. They looked up at him in shock and then, with a delayed reaction, bolted to their feet. He confirmed them as Johnny and Henry, from earlier in the day.

“Well, there we go,” Bonaparte said, “the escapees. What do you know? Hands up.” The fact that he had a handgun didn’t register with the men. Johnny immediately reached for his gun on the coffee table, and Bonaparte winged him in the shoulder. He cried out, slammed against the couch, and stared at him in astonishment.

“Hey, you were going for a weapon against a law enforcement officer,” Bonaparte said smoothly, his gaze hard and watchful. “If you think this wasn’t a legal shooting, you’re wrong.”

But Henry swore at him. “You can’t fucking shoot us,” he said. “You’re nobody. You’re just another damn dumb deputy.”

“Yep,” he said, “I am. But I’m not one who scares easily. I’m not one who you’ll run off. And you definitely won’t ruin my life.”

At that, he flushed. “What are you doing, listening in on our conversations now?”

“No, not at all,” Bonaparte said. “It’s much more a case of you guys shooting off your mouths.” He walked over to where Johnny sat, his blood streaming over Isabel’s couch. “Hands behind your back.”

“I can’t,” he bit off. “I’m injured.”

“Oh, come on. It’s just a flesh wound,” Bonaparte said, as he pulled handcuffs from his back pocket. Ignoring the shoulder wound, he disarmed him and snapped Johnny’s hands together behind him, before shoving him back down on the couch. He turned to look at Henry, who was already sidling toward the front door.

“Go ahead, Henry,” he said. “Head for that door, and I’ll take you down before you hit the front gate.”

Henry stopped and looked at him, then looked at the front door and bolted. Bonaparte didn’t even waste time swearing and headed to the front door. He jumped all the porch steps in one huge leap and tackled Henry at the gate. Henry’s head smacked down hard on the sidewalk, and he screamed for help. Bonaparte hopped to his feet, grabbed him, and stood him on his feet,