Luke: Armed and Dangerous (2 page)

Below the B & B, the door of a classic pickup truck swung open, and Trinity watched
as a man climbed out. In a fluid athletic motion he put on a dark cowboy hat and shut
the door of the truck. With his long black duster swirling around his legs, he looked
dark and dangerous, like an Old West gunslinger who’d come to town to track down his
prey.

The man tilted his head up, his face shadowed by the cowboy hat, and for a moment
she could have sworn he was looking right at her. It was as though he could see through
the curtain and straight through the tiny dress her friend had talked her into wearing.
Trinity’s heart pounded and heat swept across every curve and swell of her body.

She swallowed hard, knowing she needed to back away from the window, to break the
electric current that seemed to connect her to the mysterious cowboy, but she couldn’t
move.

“Trinity, are you ready to come downstairs and join the party?” Nevaeh’s voice sliced
through that charged connection, snapping Trinity’s attention away from the man and
to her friend.

“Just about.” Trinity cut her gaze to Nevaeh, her gorgeous friend who was peeking
through the bedroom door. “I need to fix my hair and that should do it.”

Nevaeh came in, her blue evening dress shimmering in the light as she shut the door
behind her with a thump. “Here, let me help.”

“Are you sure?” Trinity moved away from the window and to the old-fashioned vanity
mirror. “You already have guests.”

“These people are party veterans.” Nevaeh—whose name was “heaven” spelled backward
even though she liked to tell people hell forgot to come looking for her—gave Trinity
her locally famous grin. “They’ll amuse themselves.”

“Thanks.” Trinity frowned at her reflection while she yanked down on the very short
lipstick-red dress. “But this thing is ridiculous on me.”

Nevaeh rolled her eyes. “You look fabulous.”

Trinity cut her friend a skeptical glance. The darn dress barely covered her ass,
and her nipples poked against the silky material like mini-torpedoes, especially after
her sort-of-encounter with Mr. Tall-and-Gorgeous Cowboy when she caught sight of him
through the gap in the curtains. The neckline plunged halfway to her belly button,
showing the full curve of her breasts from the inside for cripes sake. “I can’t wear
this to your Christmas Charity Extravaganza, Nev. They’ll think I’m a high-class call
girl.”

“Hey, with this bunch, you could make a fortune.” Nevaeh’s grin was mischievous in
her reflection.

Trinity turned from the mirror to glare at her best friend and pointed to the three-inch
heeled sandals on her feet. “And where did you find these? If you had a better memory,
you’d remember I’m a bit of a klutz.”

“You’re not a klutz. Well, maybe you used to be.” Nevaeh’s blue-green eyes glittered
mischief. “And I’d say that dress was made for you. Those long legs, cute little butt...”

Trinity snorted. “Stop looking at my butt.”

“Can’t help it.” Nevaeh backed up, propped her hands on her full hips as she checked
out Trinity’s figure. “I just can’t get over how much you’ve changed in the last four
years. No more glasses, and you’re so... tiny. I didn’t even recognize you when you
first came to the door, even though we talked on the phone through every five-pound
increment. Those pictures you e-mailed me don’t even come close to doing you justice.”

With a self-conscious smile, Trinity studied her best friend since her first year
at Cochise Community College, and on up through their fourth year at the University
of Arizona.

Before Trinity had taken off for Europe, she and Nevaeh had been tighter than sisters...
certainly closer than Trinity had been to her real sister, Skylar. Those last few
years, anyway, when Skylar’s heart was broken, from her breakup with Zack, she just
stopped talking to everyone—even the little sister who needed her more than anyone.

“It’s all still kind of weird to me.” Trinity raked her fingers through her hair as
she spoke. “Having IntraLASIK performed on my eyes was the best thing I’ve done for
myself.” She smiled. “Other than losing those ten dress sizes, that is.”

Nevaeh cocked her head. “And you took it off in a great way. Healthy eating, all that
kickboxing. You really changed your habits. Your whole life. Sweetie, you’ll never
be Meaty MacKenna again.” Trinity shrugged and tried to smile again, but that old
nickname stabbed deep. God, how she hated the mention of it. It was one reason she
had ditched her first name, Madeline, the minute she left home and started going by
her more unusual middle name. A clean break. Leaving behind that life, that sadness,
this place...

“That’s my goal,” she said, feeling more absurd than ever in the tiny dress. “All
the exercise makes a world of difference for me.”

“And what a difference.” Nevaeh grinned. “Can’t wait for our old classmates to get
a load of you now. They’ll flip—never mind all the major money of Douglas and Bisbee
that’ll be at this party.”

“You’d think I’d be used to it.” Trinity smoothed her hands over the silky material
of the dress and glanced down at her hips. “I’ve never had hip bones—well, not that
I could ever see.” She cut her eyes back to Nevaeh and pointed to her own shoulder.
“And look at this. Shoulder bones!”

Nevaeh laughed and hugged Trinity, her friendly embrace and soft baby powder scent
bringing back memories of their college days. “I’m so proud of you, Trinity.” Nevaeh
pulled away and smiled. “As far as I’m concerned, you’ve always been gorgeous. But
now... wow. You’re a knockout.”

“Yeah, right.” Trinity turned back to the mirror and pushed her strawberry blond hair
on top of her head to see if it would look better up, and frowned at her reflection.
The row of gold hoop earrings down her left ear glittered in the room’s soft lighting.
While she was in England, just to be different and a little quirky, she’d had five
piercings done on her left ear, with only two on her right.

It felt like a step out of Skylar’s shadow, and a big leap away from the shy, awful
days of Meaty MacKenna.

It’s old stuff, Trin. Grow up.

But coming home again...

Yeah. Coming home brought back the specter of that quiet, hurting large girl who barely
made it out of Arizona alive.

Truth be told, if Trinity hadn’t been changing jobs, and if Skylar hadn’t e-mailed
her to tell her about the rustling troubles at the MacKenna ranch, she never would
have come home.

Since she got here and found out the rustling problem was over, Trinity still hadn’t
been able to bring herself to call Skylar or see her. After a combined ICE-DEA operation,
Skylar and the Flying M were safe again—but the place didn’t feel safe to return to
Trinity in so many ways.

Trinity knew she needed to force herself to visit her sister, but it felt so horribly
much like stepping back in time, like surrendering all the progress she had made in
life.

Trinity sighed. “Skylar’s always been the beautiful one in the family. The thinnest,
the smartest—even the best barrel racer.”

“Being a rodeo queen doesn’t make Skylar MacKenna royalty,” Nevaeh said, looking more
serious than Trinity had seen her since she got back to town. “Let me take you downstairs,
and we’ll see who gets the royal treatment from every eligible male in the room—and
half the ineligible ones, too.”

Nevaeh slapped Trinity’s ass hard enough to make her jump.

“Hey.” She rubbed her stinging butt cheek with one hand and glared at Nevaeh over
her shoulder. “You’re not acquiring an ass fetish, are you?”

Shaking her head, Nevaeh scooped up a gold hairclip from the antique vanity table.
“Sooner or later, you’ve got to stop comparing yourself to your sister. Now sit.”
Nevaeh placed her hands on Trinity’s shoulders and firmly pushed her down onto the
bench in front of the vanity mirror. “Look at all you’ve accomplished.”

Trinity shrugged. “No big deal.”

Nevaeh narrowed her gaze at Trinity’s reflection. “Graduated with honors from U of
A. Hired by Wildgames—only the best software company in the world. Never mind jetting
all over Europe and shooting up the corporate ladder. Hell, you practically ran Wildgames’s
software development until they got bought out last month—and DropCaps Digital snapped
you up with a giant bonus and a month off.”

She gathered Trinity’s hair into the clip and didn’t even stop for a breath. “And
don’t forget the best part. You’re still dating an English god.”

Trinity knew better than to interrupt Nevaeh on a rant, even to tell her she wasn’t
sure about her long-distance relationship with Race Bentham. Her friend barreled along
like a boulder rolling downhill when she had a point to make, and she’d freak if Trinity
mentioned she might be dumping a handsome, wealthy businessman with a Ferrari and
a way-hot British accent.

“And now you look incredible,” Nevaeh finished as she fluffed the soft cloud of curls
left out of the clip. “Like you walked out of
Cosmopolitan.
”

Trinity couldn’t help but smile at her friend’s enthusiastic support. “It’s funny
how confident and successful I’ve felt since I left home.” Her smile faded a bit.
“Until my airplane landed in Tucson. Now... I don’t know. Time warp. I feel like I’m
the old Trinity instead of the new Trinity.”

“Close your eyes.” Nevaeh held up the hairspray can.

Trinity obeyed and held her breath as the spray hissed and a wet mist surrounded her.
When she heard the can clunk on the dresser, she opened her eyes again and saw Nevaeh’s
reflection. She had her arms folded, her blue-green gaze focused on Trinity in the
mirror.

“You know what I see?” Nevaeh asked.

Trinity gave her friend an impish grin as she waved away the lingering smell of melon-scented
hairspray. “A redhead in a too-small red dress with no bra?”

“Turn.” Nevaeh didn’t even crack a smile as Trinity slid around on the polished bench
to face her friend.

“Don’t tell me.” Trinity scrunched her nose as though she was seriously considering
Nevaeh’s question. “A girl with strawberry blond hair and freckles?”

“I see the same Trinity MacKenna that I’ve known and loved—only with bright, beautiful
wings.” Nevaeh crouched so that she was eye level with Trinity and rested her hands
on the bench to either side of Trinity’s hips. “Honey, you’ve always been a butterfly.
You just finally had a chance to come out of your cocoon.”

Warmth rushed through Trinity and she bit the inside of her lip before saying, “You’re
wonderful, you know that? You always know the right things to say.”

Nevaeh adjusted the spaghetti strap of Trinity’s dress, a no- nonsense look on her
stunning features. “Hush up and get that tiny ass downstairs. It’s time to soar, Ms.
Butterfly. Besides, I want to see which of my moneybags charity donors falls all over
himself first.”

Luke hitched one hip against the bar while he nursed his fancy imported beer—twenty
dollars a mug for charity’s sake—and studied the crowded reception room of Bisbee’s
best-known bed-and-breakfast.

According to Skylar MacKenna, Nevaeh always threw one hell of a holiday party in the
name of toys and medical care for the towns’ orphans. It looked like everyone with
a sizeable bank account in Bisbee and Douglas had turned out for it again this year.
Especially the people he was most interested in seeing.

Skylar played a good ranch “boss” to help his cover, even though she now knew he was
DEA and not just a damn good foreman. Too bad Zack Hunter had showed back up when
he did and swept Skylar off her feet. If he hadn’t, Luke would have asked the woman
out, rules be damned.

Not going there tonight.

Not with three dead college kids on his mind, a bunch of blood on the Larson ranch,
and a turf war exploding along a stretch of border land not big enough to hold that
level of violence. Time to get down to business. The job had been his life anyway,
for so long he’d forgotten what it felt like to do something other than work.

There was no way the Guerrero operation was running so smoothly in a place like Douglas
without some local help. The DEA had long believed there had to be somebody cooperating,
somebody with a ranching pedigree and some border land, or another front or cover
that made it easier for the Guerrero cartel to move their drugs into the United States.

This person wouldn’t have been born into a drug dynasty like Francisco Guerrero, and
this person might screw up and leave a trail to follow. Whoever was making Douglas
hospitable to the cartel might be the key to tearing down Guerrero’s perfect little
world.

Luke took another swig of his beer, then strode directly up to the next suspect on
the list the DEA had developed in its year of research before sending Luke and Rios
into the field.

Bull Fenning, wearing pressed jeans and a crisp red flannel shirt despite the more
formal occasion, claimed his scotch on the rocks from the bartender just as Luke drew
even with him. He turned toward Luke, and he caught a flicker of surprise in the big
man’s frost-gray eyes.

Fenning’s thick white eyebrows lifted, and the lines in his weathered face tightened
as he said, “Well, now, Mr. Rider. This party’s steep for a ranch hand.”

“Foreman.” Luke offered his hand for Fenning to shake despite the dig. “But you’re
right. I’m here representing the Flying M, since Skylar MacKenna couldn’t come.”

“I forgot. Still on her honeymoon, even though she’s back in town.” Fenning grinned,
but his expression remained wary.

Luke gave a smile in return, just enough to keep some sort of rapport with Fenning.
The old man was a big-time rancher in the area who had a big-time grudge against undocumented
aliens— UDAs—for damaging his fence line.

He’d lost thousands of dollars’ worth of cattle off his Bar F Ranch in the rustling
operation Luke had helped to bust, and then he lost even more when the fences got
cut. The cattle strayed out and died after getting into some bad feed.