Chapter Eleven
The bedroom door was flung open and Dad bellowed, “Why is there a coyote in my dog run?”
I bolted upright in bed and squinted at Dad. Crap, he was holding a shotgun.
“Coyote?” Julie repeated, rubbing her eyes sleepily. “What time is it?”
“Edgar is not a coyote,” I protested.
Dad cocked an eyebrow.
“Okay, he’s got some coyote in him, but I think he’s mostly German Shepherd.”
Dad just stared at me.
“I know Edgar had a family until recently. I don’t know if he got lost or if they abandoned him, but I couldn’t leave him at the hospital. Plus, Mom’s always complaining about the rabbits eating her vegetable garden and flowers. Edgar could take care of them.”
“Coyotes like to eat cats, too, and they have attacked our cattle before,” Dad responded.
“He likes people, and he made no effort to eat Miss Kitty.”
A muscle in Dad’s jaw twitched. “Prove it.”
“Let me get dressed.” I threw back the covers.
“I’ll be waiting for you at the dog run.” Dad left.
I blew out a long breath. “That went well.”
Julie stared at me in disbelief. “You brought a coyote home?”
“Sorta.” I quickly got dressed.
Julie grabbed her jeans. “This I’ve got to see.”
Slipping on some flip-flops, I ran a brush through my hair and headed for the barn.
The sun peeped over the mountains, turning the morning sky from lavender to cotton candy pink.
“God, it’s not even five,” Julie groused.
“Tell me about it.” I cut through the orange grove and came to an abrupt stop. The door to the dog run was open and Mom was feeding Edgar bacon.
The coyote delicately took the food from her fingers and totally ignored Miss Kitty, who sat next to him.
Dad watched in disbelief. “Please tell me that’s not our breakfast.”
“Eat cereal. We have five boxes of the stuff,” Mom retorted.
Yikes, they were still at it. “How’s Edgar doing?”
“He’s been a perfect gentleman.” Mom fed him the last of the bacon and stood up.
“Edgar is such a good boy,” I cooed, petting him.
His tail wagged wildly.
“Coyotes can’t be domesticated,” Dad stated.
Mom shot him a dirty look. “Edgar, sit.”
He sat.
“Edgar, down.”
He dropped to the ground.
“Good boy,” Mom rubbed his ears.
I glanced at Mom’s vegetable garden. A jackrabbit was eating her lettuce. Gesturing at the rabbit, I commanded, “Get it, Edgar.”
He shot out of the kennel and pounced on the rabbit.
“Good boy, Edgar,” I cried.
Julie clapped loudly. “Way to go, Edgar.”
The coyote plopped down in the orchard and ate his catch.
“We’re keeping him,” Mom announced.
Dad stared up at the sky for a long moment. “He needs proper training, and I don’t have the time.”
“I’ll train him,” Grandpa announced out of the blue. “I need a good guard dog, and I could use the company.”
We all stared at him in shock.
“Okay, let’s see how you get along,” Mom said.
My cellphone rang. I didn’t recognize the number. Frowning, I swiped right. “Hello?” A sigh of relief broke from me. “Dante, whose phone are you using? The nurses? Okay. What’s up? You sound a little pissed.”
Dad leaned over and hit the speaker icon.
“The FBI is insisting on taking me into protective custody,” Dante snarled.
Grandpa scowled. “It’s the CIA, not the FBI, and it won’t be protective custody. They want to interrogate you. You need to get out of the hospital, now!”
“They have four agents guarding my room,” Dante advised.
Mom smiled evilly. “We’ll just create a diversion. They won’t know what hit them.”
“Will they go after my family?” There was a thread of fear in Dante’s voice.
Grandpa drawled ominously, “They will.”
“Not a problem,” Mom interjected. “I’ll fly your brothers and your aunt to the Refuge. They’ll be safe there.”
I butted in, “Don’t worry Dante. I’ll call them and let them know what is going on.”
“Thank you, querida .”
“Are you able to fight?” Dad asked.
Dante’s voice was full of defiant fury. “Yes!”
I had a sudden brainstorm. “Dante, do you remember the dance contest where I dressed up as Marilyn Monroe and wore that sexy white dress?”
“The halter-neck, mid-length, white pleated skirt dress?”
“That’s the one, and do you remember how many men you had to warn off?”
“I remember the brawl. It took eight officers to stop it.”
“Marilyn Monroe is about to pay a visit to the hospital and while I’m creating chaos, Dad and Grandpa will take care of the CIA.”
“Who am I going to be?” Julie wanted to know.
“Betty Boop.”
Julie frowned. “Never heard of her.”
“She’s a cartoon character from 1932.
A groan broke from Dante. “Your Betty Boop costume caused a fight too.”
“It did. That’s how I know this will work.”
Grandpa’s smile was downright scary. “Bring the cat. Those CIA goons won’t know what hit them.”
“I’ll need some clothes too. They burned what I was wearing,” Dante advised.
My grin got bigger. “Not a problem.” I waved at Lucas as he got out of his truck. “We need you.”
“For what?” He called.
“To rescue Dante from the CIA.”
Lucas frowned. “How are we going to do that?”
“You’re going to become Batman.”
“Batman! Are you nuts?”
Mom interjected, “I still have your Batman suit in the hall closet. Go get it.”
“Yes. ma’am.” Muttering under his breath, Lucas headed for the house.
Lucas made an awesome Batman, so I wasn’t sure what the problem was. “Is your Zorro costume still in the trunk of your car, Dante?”
“It is.”
“Good. The CIA won’t be expecting a bunch of costumed superheroes and famous movie stars to stop them. We just need to find a way to get your costume to you.”
A female voice said, “I’ll bring it to him.”
“Thank you, and you are?” Her voice was too damn sexy.
“I’m Dorothy Willamson, Dante’s nurse. The men guarding him give me the creeps.”
Dad scowled. “Have they threatened you, Dorothy?”
“Not exactly. It’s how they look at me.”
“They’re very dangerous men,” Grandpa inserted. “Do you have access to sedatives?”
“I do,” Dorothy replied.
Grandpa’s eyes were like bits of stone. “Start carrying syringes full of strong sedatives until they’re gone.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Give Dante some of the syringes, Dorothy,” Dad ordered.
“It’ll be my pleasure, sir.”
Dad added, “Our eta is about thirty minutes, Dante. Don’t let them take you anywhere.”
“I won’t,” Dante promised.
Dorothy interjected, “I can always give him ipecac syrup. Believe me, if he’s vomiting on them, they won’t want anything to do with him.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Dante said.
Dad advised, “Gemma, Julie and Lucas will be at the hospital around ten. They’ll tell the charge nurse they’ve come to cheer up the sick patients.”
“Since we’ve done that before, it should work,” Dante replied.
Dad glanced around. “Anyone have questions?”
“How long will it take Gemma to transform herself into Marilyn Monroe?” Grandpa asked.
I pursed my lips. “A good forty minutes.”
“Let’s get it done,” Dad said.
Mom let out a whistle. “Edgar! Come.”
Edgar trotted over, carrying the half-eaten rabbit in his mouth.
“In you go.” Mom gestured at the dog kennel.
Edgar walked in, and I closed the gate. “See, he had a family once.”
“Yes, he did, and I’d like to have a talk with them,” Mom snarled.
“Me too.” I grimaced as Edgar chomped down the rabbit’s head. “C’mon Julie, we have some phone calls to make.”
“Explain this Betty Boop to me.”
“I will.”
Dad yelled, “Tess, what did you do with my Mandalorian costume?”
“It’s in the hall closet, where it’s always been,” Mom yelled back.