Tormented by the Lawman (Mountain Force Book 3)

by Rhonda Lee Carver

  “No. I better not.” She plucked at a loose thread on the shirt Denise had loaned her.

  “Your uncle still wanting you to help in his campaign?”

  Nodding, Hazel lowered her feet to the floor, wiggling her neon pink toes in the thick rug. “Yes. It’s crazy.”

  “Crazy that he wants you to act like a political science graduate, huh? Oh wait, you are a political science graduate.”

  “No lecture, please.”

  “Sorry, sweetie. You know I love you, but I’m just reminding you that once upon a time you had dreams of wanting to change the world. It’s not too late to drag that superhero cape back out and start planning your own campaign.”

  “Yeah, yeah. The cape would take some mending first.”

  “No excuses. I have confidence in you.”

  “Of course you do. You make me want to be a better person.” Hazel leaned in and gave Denise a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “I better be going. The Super should have unlocked my door by now.” Hazel stood “Thank you for coming to my rescue again.”

  “What are friends for?”

  “I’ll bring your clothes back later.”

  “No hurry. Those are my prepregnancy clothes.”

  Hazel passed the Super in the hallway on her way back. He gave her one of his greasy smiles that made her skin crawl. She ignored the urge to look toward man-bear’s door before she stepped into her apartment. Her cell phone was ringing and she grabbed it in time to answer her mother’s call. “Hi, Mom.”

  “Why weren’t you answering?” Since Hazel’s father had passed away years ago, her mother, Sierra, had become a helicopter mom, even though Hazel was an adult now who could take care of herself just fine.

  “I was visiting Denise.” Telling her mom that she got locked out of the apartment and exposed herself to the grumpy neighbor only meant she’d have to hear Sierra’s frustrated “It’s high-time Hazel got her life in order” speech.

  “I really like her, dear.”

  “I know you do, Mom.”

  “How’s the baby?”

  “Fine. Adorable.” She knew what was coming. Five…four…three…two…

  “Maybe I could have a grandchild one day.”

  “We are skipping a few important and necessary steps, don’t you think?” She cradled the phone between her chin and shoulder and stepped into the kitchen to pour herself a glass of water.

  “I’m sure there’s a Mr. Right out there for you, darling. You must give men a chance though. He could be right underneath your nose and you could be missing him. I want you to find the same happiness I found with your father. He and I had a love affair.”

  Feeling her stomach twist, Hazel wanted to end the recycled conversation before guilt riddled her. She hadn’t turned out the way her mother had hoped. Marry. Have a child or two. And be the perfect wife and mother. Arguing only meant the conversation would continue. “I’ll keep my eyes open wide.”

  And then another can of issues opened.

  “Have you given anymore thought to working on your uncle’s campaign?”

  “I’ve been tossing it around.”

  “Good, good. I think it’s promising.”

  “Mom, I’m sorry but I have to go. I have plans.”

  “Will you be flying home anytime soon?”

  “I’ll try. I promise.”

  “Don’t you remember the women’s fashion gala fundraiser you said you’d attend with me? It’s in three days, dear.”

  “Yes.” She’d forgotten. “I’ll be there.”

  After hanging up, Hazel poured out her water and filled her glass with red wine. She’d have to start the preparations for the visit at her mom’s that would be filled with long discussions on who Hazel should be dating.

  Chapter 2

  Special Agent Cox Landon examined the display of mangos, picked one up and tested it for ripeness, hoping he blended in with the other shoppers.

  Raised voices drew his attention. A vender and customer were haggling near the fish crates.

  “I can see movement through the window,” Agent Seb Foster said over the two-way from his hidden location. Cameron, McKenna, and Michaels were also dispersed.

  Cox returned his attention to the entrance of the store front across the street from the farmer’s market, then pressed his concealed earpiece. “Still nothing from my viewpoint.” Placing the fruit back on top of the pile, he rounded the end of the case while keeping his focus glued on the perimeter. The area was unusually busy for a rainy weekday morning. When they’d rolled in, they’d noticed that the corner bookstore had an advertisement for a signing with a popular author. Cox didn’t like missions carried out near innocent civilians. Although the agents of the Mountain Force were trained and had handled hundreds of assignments, there was always that slight chance of something going awry. If they screwed up and allowed the criminal to slip through their fingers, they’d have their heads on a platter.

  Catching the suspect, Lucy Beelo, better known as Queen Bee on the streets, meant bringing down another crime boss in Wyoming. She’d been slipping through their snares for months. Cox and the other agents of the Mountain Force elite team had been tracking her since her thugs had commandeered the transport bus that had been taking her to the prison where she would be serving her twenty-year sentence for drug and human trafficking. Just as they suspected would happen after her escape, she’d reclaimed her spot in the crime ring and things continued as if nothing had happened. Since her jailbreak, she’d become one of the most wanted female criminals in the state.

  As far as Cox was concerned, this was his lucky day. He’d rest a little easier tonight knowing Queen Bee would be back where she belonged. A maximum-security prison for scum like her. She’d sell her own mother to get ahead. She’d probably even sell her own daughter, if she had one, to get richer.

  “When’s she going to show herself?” Agent Race McKenna growled through the radio.

  “Be patient. It’ll be worth it to wrap cuffs around her wrists.” Cox shifted his gaze and noticed a pretty brunette giving him a flirty smile. Too bad he was working. He turned his cheek and continued to watch the location.

  “I say we celebrate this evening over at Marty’s Bar & Grill,” Foster said. “I’m in the mood for a couple of beers, a burger and a game or two of pool. What do you say?”

  “I say we stay focused,” Cox said, but he certainly could use a cold one and maybe a couple hours of sleep.

  From his position, Cox could see his buddy McKenna across the parking lot at his post, scowling. Cox started to make a joke, but hearing Foster say, “Play time,” all attention darted for the door of the building where a short, balding man stepped out and dropped a cigar to the cement and snuffed it out with the toe of his shoe. Cox recognized him as one of Queen Bee’s most loyal subordinates, Two Face. He earned the name after he was shot in the face and the scarring changed one side of his face. Three more men exited. Guns were shoved deep into the waist of their baggy jeans. Cox didn’t need to see the weapons to know they were there. Bee and her gang had connections with the Blue Diamond Cartel and guns were handed out like candy at recess.

  Two Face remained close to the door while the others took positions along the sidewalk.

  “Well, well, wouldn’t you know she’d have an entourage. She’ll show herself soon. When we get the chance we’ll move in,” Cox said.

  Sliding his hand to the Glock 19 tucked in the sheath at the small of his back, he held the handle, waiting for the go-ahead. Seconds passed like hours and then finally Queen Bee stepped out. Her signature long braids were held back in a red ball cap and she wore large sunglasses. She said something to Two Face and he chuckled then took a step to the right, giving Cox a full view of the notorious criminal. She’d grown up on the streets of hard knocks where eventually she met one of the members of Blue Diamond. They married and two months later he was shot during a police chase. After that, Queen Bee branched out and wreaked havoc on the streets of Wyoming, her anger d
irected toward anyone who wore a badge. She was dangerous and would shoot a lawman rather than look at them.

  He narrowed his gaze on the large, blue purse she had slung over her shoulders and across her chest. Where was her weapon? No doubt she had one on her and would use it if threatened.

  She had her hand on something. Possibly a gun in the purse…?

  She turned slightly and what he saw wasn’t a weapon.

  Cox pressed his earpiece. “Abort mission. Repeat, abort mission. She’s carrying a baby.”

  “What the fuck?” Foster rasped.

  “I can see it. A baby. In the carrier on her chest.”

  “Abort mission,” McKenna said from where he pushed his weapon back into the holder. “Pull back. Fucking pull back!”

  The words had barely crossed his lips before one of Bee’s men must have spotted something suspicious because he drew his weapon, aiming it at McKenna. A shot sounded across the short distance and Cox saw his friend fall backward, landing in a wooden cart of bananas. People started screaming and running as more shots were fired.

  Cox drew his weapon, keeping Queen Bee in his crosshairs as she drew a gun from between the baby and her body and ran back into the building while Two Face dropped to his knee and pointed his gun into the throng of people.

  Taking cover behind a Mustang, Cox hunkered down and weaved through the parked cars until he had the perfect shot. He fired a bullet into Two Face’s chest. The man fell onto the ground as Cox approached slowly. He bent to check the man’s pulse and felt nothing.

  Cox ran into the building and saw a flash of Queen Bee’s long, blonde hair before she disappeared through a doorway off the main room.

  More shots sounded outside as Cox stepped deeper into the dimly lit hallway where Queen Bee had run. He clutched his gun and aimed it at the ceiling. He could hear the heavy thuds of Queen Bee’s shoes echoing through the empty building. She had a baby so he wouldn’t do anything to put the child at risk.

  Pressing his back against the brick wall, his heart thudded so heavy it slammed against his ribs. He inhaled and slowly side stepped until he came to the end of the hall. He could no longer hear any noises, but she was close, he felt it in his bones. Without Two Face she was vulnerable.

  He heard the screeching of a door. “Shit!”

  Cox raced through a room, crashed through a metal door and into the alley. He spotted Queen Bee running toward the street and took off after her, catching up to her as she reached overturned carts and spilled vegetables and fruit all over the ground. “Get down and stay down,” he yelled at a couple. Then he focused on the assailant. “Queen Bee, stop and toss your weapon. You’re under arrest.”

  She’d made it to the chain link fence that blocked her passage to the street and she sliced a jagged glance from left to right as she must have debated where she could go. When she saw Cox, she gave him a slimy grin, lifted the gun and pointed it at him, her signal that she wouldn’t go down without a fight.

  He kept his gun steady on her. “Put down the weapon, Bee. You’re going back to prison where you belong.”

  Her smile grew and the baby cried.

  In that instant he searched his mind for a hundred different scenarios on how to end the situation without anyone getting hurt, especially the baby. Cox met the woman’s cold gaze and her list of priors scrolled through his brain. He knew her background and she was dangerous. She’d kidnapped young girls and sold them into prostitution. She’d killed cops and innocent victims with her gun and drugs. He couldn’t just let her walk. She’d be back in business within the week.

  “Let’s end this without anyone getting hurt. Think of the baby.”

  “Fuck you. I’m not going back to prison.” The sunglasses were gone and her eyes were piercing.

  “Watch. I’ll lower my weapon and then you can lower yours. There’s no way out, Bee. You’ve come to the end of the line. You’re surrounded and Two Face is dead.”

  Several expressions flickered across her face before her mouth twisted. Losing her top member had her thinking.

  Cox slowly lowered the gun, aiming it at the ground as he kept his gaze connected with Queen Bee’s. His gun was now on the ground and he straightened, realizing the risk but what choice did he have? “That’s your baby, right?”

  The woman didn’t answer. She only continued to stare at Cox with penetrating eyes. Her features softened some and he could see that he had her attention. Her weapon lowered a few inches, not much but some, and this was happening. As dirty as she was, he had to believe she wouldn’t hurt her child.

  Movement caught his attention. Beyond her shoulder, on the other side of the fence, he saw a uniformed officer. His gun was drawn and targeting Queen Bee.

  “Put your weapon down, cop killer,” the uniformed officer barked.

  She turned slightly and the second she saw the officer her gun came back up.

  “Don’t shoot!” Cox yelled.

  A shot resonated through the parking lot and Queen Bee dropped to her knees. Shots fired from her Glock 18, striking a nearby Lexus. The light in her eyes faded as her arms fell to her sides and she slipped onto her back onto the cement. The baby’s squalls filled the silence.

  Cox grabbed his weapon and holstered it as he raced forward, his hands shaking as he unclipped the belt strap on the baby and pulled the child to safety. Splattered blood stained the pink clothing and hat, but he couldn’t tell if she was injured or it was her mother’s blood. Footsteps clambered against the concrete and frantic voices sounded all around Cox as he took off with the baby, looking up and down the spilled fruits and vegetables.

  A man who was crouching down behind his capsized stand saw Cox and huddled deeper against the wood in fright.

  “Water!” Cox demanded.

  The young man pointed to a jug laying on its side. Cox held the baby in one arm and grabbed the container, popped off the lid that went flying and slowly trickled the water over the baby who hadn’t stopped crying. Her face was beet red and her small fists were pounding the air. “That’s right, little girl. You’re a fighter. You keep on screaming.” He scrubbed the quickly drying blood from the child’s small cheeks and neck, relief passing over him when he realized she had no wounds…except that her mom was gone.

  Chapter 3

  “What the hell happened out there?” Special Agent Dillard stood at the head of the long, pockmarked table, sweeping his piercing gaze down the line of Cox and the other agents of the Mountain Force team. “I have one agent wounded and four dead. If any of you think this mission is an accomplishment, you’re wrong.”

  In a perfect world no one would be wounded or killed during any mission, but Cox was grateful the baby was safely with Child Welfare Services without any injuries. McKenna was clipped by a bullet and after surgery to remove the bullet he was expected to recover fully.

  “Do any of you have anything to add?” Dillard pressed his hands into the table, his scowl deepening every second. A war veteran and a Navy Cross recipient for his bravery, the agent could make his subordinates shiver in their boots. He’d taken a leadership position at Mountain Force weeks ago, and he’d proven in that short amount of time that he had the grit needed in fighting criminal activity in Wyoming. The long scar from brow to jaw added to his warrior-like appearance.

  “We had it under control, sir. And then—” Foster was cut short.

  “All hell broke loose,” Dillard growled then slammed his fist into the table.

  Cox rubbed his forehead and shifted in the seat causing the wood to creak under his weight. He understood Dillard’s anger because the man had to answer to the DEA as well as other officials. “If anyone needs to take the heat on this it should be me.”

  “Why the hell should you take the blame for the mission going cross-eyed?” Foster grumbled. “Shit happens. And it was the uniform who wanted to play hero who almost killed a baby.”

  “Don’t worry. The chief will take care of his man, but we were heading up this assignment.” Dil
lard ground his teeth then swiped a hand over his jawline as if releasing some of the stiffness from his features. “Landon, you did what any of us would do. You put the child’s safety first. Hell, all in all, I commend you men. Things might have turned ugly, but dealing with criminals the likes of Queen Bee and her thugs you should all each receive an award for getting scum like their gang off the streets. We’re all tired, so get out of here and take a break. Grab some winks.” The forty-something, silver haired, tycoon of a man waved then turned on his booted heel and stormed from the conference room.

  Cox looked down the line of his partners, and most importantly his friends. “Well, that went smoothly.”

  “I’m having trouble reading Dillard. You think he likes us?” Cameron partially joked, but the severity of the situation fizzled any chance for laughter.

  “Hell, we all know he’s a damn good man. He’s just getting his feet planted after finishing his SEAL contract. He’ll be one of us before you know it.” Cox pushed his chair back and stood. “Anyway, I’m taking the man up on his idea to grab some winks. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He bid his buddies farewell and sluggishly made his way from the room and into the lobby, seeing the reception desk empty.

  “Looking for me, Cox?”

  He found the petite blonde standing at the coffee station adding coffee grounds to the filter. She brought her chin up, smiling, until she saw him. “You look like hell.”

  Although the woman didn’t own a verbal filter, he found that her straightforwardness was a breath of fresh air. He liked her. “Duly noted.”

  “My momma sent this coffee from her shop back in Ohio. She swears it’ll perk up a possum. Can I get you a cup?”

  “No thanks, Fawn. I’m heading home and getting some sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Okay.” Her smile returned. “Be careful out there. There’s a storm brewing. It’s supposed to be a nightmare.”

  Stepping through the double doors, he hauled his sweatshirt hood up higher around his neck against the cool breeze. The thick, dark clouds promised rain, just as Fawn had said.