The answer came in a breath. Somewhere in the house, a squeaky door opened, followed by footsteps. Then another man emerged into the room. He had Ike in a throat lock and another 9mm pressed to his side.
By now, all five officers were in the house. They brought the slender man in with them, wrists fastened behind him with a zip tie. The man on the floor had not moved. At that moment, they heard the sound of a vehicle approaching.
“Everybody take cover and stay quiet.” The order came from the Fed. There was no telling how the driver would react if he realized something was wrong. It made sense to delay any action, but that left Ike at the mercy of a wild-eyed man with a pistol. That thug, still holding Ike, stopped, his eyes darting around the room.
He looked at the barrels of the four drawn pistols. Perry could see the instant he made up his mind. Sure, he could kill Ike, but he’d be dead a second after his hostage.
“Make a sound and you’re a dead man.” At least two of the officers issued the same warning.
Outside, a car door slammed, and fast steps came up onto the front porch. The door swung inward, and a short, stout man emerged, a bag in his hand. He skidded to a stop, his face going from cheerful to horrified in a breath. “Oh, shit. Oh, fucking shit.”
As if he’d noticed everyone’s attention had left him for a second, the man holding Ike started to edge forward. “I’m outta here. Anyone makes a move, and this dude dies.”
“No way! You kill him, and you’re a dead man too.” Perry didn’t realize he’d spoken until he heard his own voice. He saw the man’s hand tighten on the trigger.
At that instant, a steak of red crossed the room, coming from the doorway behind the gunman. Small jaws made an audible snap as Ike’s dog grabbed the man by his ankle. The distraction was just enough. While the man howled and looked down, the nearest officer lunged forward, shoved the man’s gun hand up and out, away from Ike’s body. After the gun went off, putting a bullet into the ceiling, the officer grabbed the weapon. The man gave a frantic kick that finally dislodged the rusty biting scrap clinging to his pant leg, teeth piercing through the fabric into his flesh.
“Take him, take him. It’s El Feo, the new dealer. I caught him for you. But get that damned biting rat off me.”
Ike jerked free from the chokehold as his captor swatted at the dog that circled around them, emitting ear-splitting shrill yips. As Perry watched, Ike reached to scoop his dog off the floor. The little critter didn’t seem to be hurt, but Ike immediately began to run his hands all over Rojo’s body, as if checking fragile bones for damage. He murmured something Perry could not understand.
The man on the floor moaned and stirred, then started to wriggle toward where he probably thought the shotgun was. He reached, fingers scrabbling on the worn hardwood floor. The next streak was blue-gray and bigger.
Chapter 8
Perry caught the flash as Badger dashed by. Damn it, he’d told her to wait outside. She charged past Perry to the downed man, lunged in, and grabbed that scrabbling hand. He wasn’t even close to the gun, but Badger would make sure he didn’t do any more harm.
After Perry stooped to retrieve the shotgun, he glanced around the room and through the door into the one from which Ike and the bitten gunman had emerged. “Where’s the fifth guy?”
For an instant, Ike looked puzzled. “Fifth? Oh, that was my cousin, Chivo, the damn pendejo. He’s in on this, but the boss sent him home. He’ll be in his house, right next door.”
The second deputy and the state trooper headed out to get him. Meanwhile, Mike went to drive the units down, one by one. Perry and the Fed handcuffed the bitten gunman. When the cars were all there, they put him in one and the boss in another. When the other two officers returned with Carlos, wrists bound and marching between them, they loaded him into the trooper’s vehicle. Miguel, the driver, went into yet another car.
The Fed gave them all a tight smile. “Good, don’t give them a chance to compare stories. We’ll have at least one singing like a canary in no time if my experience is any clue. The spiffy one will be tight-lipped, and he’ll make bail before daybreak.”
Last, they checked the one who’d been shot. It was a clean wound, high in the right shoulder. He was bleeding but not heavily. The Fed shrugged, a bored expression on his narrow face. “Should we call the EMTs?” No one said they should.
After a few seconds, Perry volunteered. “I’ll transport him to the hospital and stand guard until they release him to go to jail. I don’t think it’ll take long. Clean the wound, maybe bandage it, and shoot him full of antibiotics. Then he’ll be good to go.”
They bedded the wounded man down in the back of Perry’s unit. He seemed to black out again while they were getting him settled.
Ike stood quietly to one side, still holding his dog. Perry glanced at him, finally trusting his emotions to stay under control. “You coming, or do you want to stay up here?”
Ike muttered a few hard words in English and Spanish before he answered. Perry thought he heard Esperanza and some curses. “I’ll come. I’m not under arrest, am I, being at this scene?”
The Fed studied him for a few seconds. “Are you that El Feo?”
“No.”
“Did you come here willingly?”
“Fuck no. Do you think I’m crazy? There is no El Feo anyway. They made up the whole thing to get the heat off of them. Sounded like the DEA was getting pretty close.”
Perry found a grin. “You’re not too crazy. Your dog might be, but you’re probably okay. Get in. Badger, you get on the floor.”
With a woof of disgust, Badger got off the seat while Ike climbed in, still holding Rojo, exactly where he’d been the first night. The barrier was in place now so Badger couldn’t jump into the back. They’d folded the seat down to make a pallet for the wounded criminal anyway. She crouched at Ike’s feet, reaching up to nuzzle Rojo. Then she settled down for the trip home.
* * * *
As Ike expected, Perry went by the house first. He stopped in front. When Ike reached for the door, Perry put a hand on his arm, the touch gentle and somehow full of caring. “You okay? It may take a while, but I’ll be back as soon as I can book this goon into jail. Will you be all right, you and the dogs?”
Ike got out, still carrying his pet. “You don’t have to leave Badger. She won’t like it.”
“Yes, I should. She doesn’t need to sit in the car. It may take longer in the hospital than I expect. She needs to be fed anyway.” As Ike watched, Perry looked at Badger. She’d been sitting on the floor by Ike’s feet all the way down the mountain. She didn’t seem to mind, either, which had surprised Ike. “Go on, girl. You take care of Ike and the little guy. I’ll be back pretty quick.”
Badger hesitated for a breath. Then she turned and jumped down without so much as a grumble.
Before he turned to walk around the house, Ike met Perry’s intent gaze. There wasn’t a lot of light, just the streetlight a few yards past the house. Still, he saw something in the deputy’s expression that reassured him. Maybe everything would be all right.
“Like I say, I’ll be back pretty quick. Plan on it.”
After Perry put the car in gear and drove off, Ike led the two dogs into the house through the back door.
He couldn’t concentrate on anything. There was food in the fridge so he didn’t need to cook. He fed the dogs and made fresh coffee. Sitting at the kitchen table, nursing a cup, he thought back over the past hectic hours. A mixture of pride and guilt assailed him when he assessed his role.
Perry had said he was going after the drug dealers anyway and didn’t know that Ike was there until the one hood brought him out into the ongoing bust. Ike wasn’t sure. Had he ensnared the deputy in a messy situation? He probably ought to get his stuff and move on. It couldn’t look good to many folks for a law enforcement officer to be sharing his quarters with a convict, not even one who was trying to keep his nose clean.
Yet the thought of leaving stabbed through Ike’s soul
like a keen blade.
Finally, he heard the county unit pull up, the engine die, a door slam, and then Perry’s boots on the back porch. He was not sure what to expect, but the time to worry and wonder was over.
Perry stopped just inside the door. He took off his gear belt and hung it up in the usual place. All the time, his gaze never left Ike’s face. Although Ike had stood, he didn’t move away from the table. He had to wait.
“Damn it, get your ass over here!” Perry’s eyes twinkled as he issued the order, a laugh lurking behind the words.
He can’t be very mad. That flashed through Ike’s mind as he started across the ten feet between them. He stopped one stride away. For a dozen breaths, they just looked at each other. Ike saw Perry’s changeable eyes had gone green.
Finally, Perry reached out. His hands skimmed up Ike’s arms, rested on his shoulders for a few seconds, and then rose to cup Ike’s face. Fingers traced over the lines and angles, nose and cheekbones, brows and lips in feather-light touches. Ike went hard even as a shiver skittered over his body. The touch was so erotic and so evocative. Too much emotion flowed from that strange caress.
“You’re safe. You’re here.” Perry blinked as he shook his head. “Yeah, I was scared shitless. Thank the powers for that crazy little red dog of yours. None of us knew what to do because that hood had you right in front of him and he was closer to firing than any of us were. It could have gone so wrong.”
Abashed, Ike reached toward Perry. Not sure whether he meant to push him away or bring them closer together. “I’m not worth worrying about,” he said. “I should never have stayed, never made such a handy tool for them to use. It’ll happen again. I can’t do that to you.”
“The hell you say. You’re not going anywhere. I don’t want you to leave. Here, let me show you.”
Perry’s hands moved, one wrapping behind Ike’s head and the other dropping to grab the left cheek of his ass. The embrace felt right, scary and wonderful and right. This really was where Ike belonged. Together seemed to be where Perry belonged as well.
“Let me show you,” Perry repeated, between hot, wet kisses. “I’m going to feel you, taste you, and touch you all over. You can’t go.”
For a while, all Ike could do was be done. His shirt unfastened to Perry’s sharp jerk, the snap fasteners parting with a sound like a half dozen mini-firecrackers. Snap, snap, snap. His belt came next and then the zipper on his Levi’s. They slid down to puddle around his ankles, his Jockey shorts landing on top of them.
Then Perry knelt before him, grasping his cock in a strong yet gentle hand, stroking, squeezing, and finally bending forward to lick and nip and at last take half of it into his mouth. Ike swayed, his legs trembling. He’d been blown before, more than once, but never like this.
The rhythm accelerated, almost matching the pounding of his heartbeat. That echoed in his ears until he couldn’t hear anything else. All at once, he felt the pressure build to a crescendo. He came in an abrupt burst. Perry rode it out to the final spasm, then rocked back on his heels, his shining wet lips curved in a wide grin.
“You’re staying,” he repeated.
“Get up, man. I should be kneeling to you, not the other way around. You and the other guys saved my sorry ass.”
“We busted some crooks. That’s all we did. You just happened to be there. Come on, pick yourself up and let’s get more comfortable for the next round.”
Together they stumbled down the hall, Ike kicking free of his dropped pants with one leg so he could walk. Meanwhile Perry started shedding his uniform. By the time he reached the foot of his bed, he was nude. Ike had freed himself of his shoes and thrown his clothes aside as well.
The men sprawled onto the bed. They kissed as if they’d never get enough, rubbed their bodies together, and wrapped limbs into ever changing knots and tangles. Finally, they shifted to lie head to feet and then into a position where first hands and then mouths found stiffening cocks. Ike did his best to give Perry the same kind of intense sensations he’d just experienced, but it was hard when he was going right back to that himself.
“Wait. Stop. I can’t do this. It’s your turn, and you won’t let me do it right.”
Perry laughed, but he let Ike’s prick slip out of his mouth. “Okay. You first then, and maybe after that we’ll try another way.”
* * * *
Once the two dogs felt the way was clear, eight paws followed the men down the hall with only the faintest, unnoticed sounds. Four canine eyes watched their people with keen interest. Then two tails gently wagged.
Badger nudged Rojo. It’s okay. You’re going to be staying here for a while. With a little practice, you’ll make a proper working dog, too. That was pretty slick what you did up there.
He’s my person. I couldn’t let that bad guy have him, could I?
Satisfied that all was well, the two dogs settled together on Badger’s doggie bed, in a quiet corner of Perry’s room. It looked like the start of a long night, which was just fine with them.
THE END
Author’s Note
Alamo County and the towns of Esperanza and Riata are strictly fictitious. If they did exist, I think they’d be along the western edge of the Rio Grande Valley in south central New Mexico, where mountains edge down to the lower terrain. Copper mines seem to be most common in rugged ranges of red-hued, steep hills, so that’s where I see Esperanza. Riata is lower in the valley, near the base of the foothills leading to taller mountains. Alamo is a small and poor county, with mining and some agriculture as its main industries. One or two town marshals or village constables represent the law in incorporated communities, and perhaps twelve or fifteen deputies patrol the rest of the county. A lot of the Old West still exists in such places with drug and human trafficking added in modern times. It’s a tough place for law enforcement officers to operate. Alamo means cottonwood (as in the tree) in Spanish, while Esperanza is hope, and Riata is a lariat or cowboy’s rope.
The practice of big mining companies to raze or relocate towns in order to create or expand an open pit mine is not an unusual one. Phelps Dodge relocated parts of Bisbee, AZ, in the fifties to open the Lavender Pit, and another firm completely eradicated the town of Santa Rita, NM, when they created the Chino Mine in the last century. In this tale, Ike’s hometown vanished while he was away for nearly twenty years.
Dogjacked
Chapter 1
Early summer
Southwestern New Mexico
With the late afternoon sun just a smidge off smack in his eyes, Trek barely saw the sign. Alamo Junction, Next Two Exits. A quick glance told him the Fury’s gas gauge sat on the edge of the red. Luckily, traffic was light. He whipped over a lane and took the off ramp a little faster than the recommended speed. When he hit the brake hard for the octagonal red sign at the bottom, Commando gave a grumble of protest.
“Sorry, dude. Sometimes Daddy isn’t the best driver.”
From his sprawled comfort in the hammock-extended back seat, the dog nudged Trek’s elbow and then settled back with a second muffled grunt. Trek followed the arrow and turned right, now keeping the prescribed speed. He knew these small towns were notorious for hidden cops with radar guns, waiting to nab a careless visitor. Not that he couldn’t afford a ticket, but why risk it? A clean record kept his insurance reasonable even with a restored muscle car like the Fury.
Trek knew he should have changed the color. Red cars were ticket magnets, especially one with a speedy look and flashy fins. He just couldn’t bring himself to change it, though. This had been Gramps’ car when he went to Vietnam in sixty-eight, never to come home, at least alive. After that the old car sat for years in a barn on the Tennessee farm where Trek’s mother had grown up.
About the time he finished college, he decided to have it restored. Although the work hadn’t been cheap, he was happy with the result. He had a one-of-a-kind car that turned heads everywhere he drove it. About the only variance from authentic was the new 2010 hemi engine h
e used to replace the original 361 V8 when it threw a rod three years earlier. This one got better gas mileage and didn’t sacrifice on power.
He pulled in to a Spee-Dee Stop that advertised American gas. Although not a real fanatic about buying US products, he figured he’d rather not support the Middle Eastern oil sheiks when he had a choice.
Commando sat up and watched while Trek got out, unlocked the gas cap, and put it with keys still inserted on the rear deck. The damned pump didn’t like his card. After three tries, he stalked inside to get the stupid sucker turned on.
The blonde clerk snapped her gum and batted her lashes. He wasn’t impressed, so complimented her nails, long and well decorated. It was something most men would not do, would not even notice. Did she get the idea? Hard to tell. He wasn’t playing gay eye for a straight guy, anyway. He had just handed her the card when a familiar sound spun him around. That hemi should not be running, but it was. As he watched in shock, the Fury ran right out onto the street and roared away.
“Damn it. The idiot won’t get far on the gas in the tank, but the bastard’s got Commando! That fucker just stole my dog!”
He jerked his phone out of a pocket and punched 911.
“I need to report a stolen dog,” he said, as soon as the dispatcher came on line. “At the Spee-Dee Stop, east side of town. Get a cop down here ASAP.”
* * * *
Dan Winstead eased his unit down a bumpy alley, looking for a kid on a stolen bicycle. He didn’t find the little punk. Oh well, just another exciting P.M. shift in Alamo Junction. His radio crackled.
“P-5, can you take a call at the Spee-Dee Stop? Man reported a stolen dog. He sounded mighty upset. The clerk called too, and she said a car was also taken.”
“Ten-four. Headed that way.”
Canine Cupids for Cops Page 7