Shit.
“Trinity MacKenna.” He shook his head. Some big bad DEA investigative agent he was. “Skylar’s younger sister. But I thought her name was Madeline.”
“She uses her middle name now,” Nevaeh said. “Madeline—that one brings back bad memories.”
“Madeline?” Joyce Butler’s voice sounded loud and sarcastic from behind him. “You mean Meaty MacKenna? Last I heard, she was in England. What would you want with that heifer anyway?” Both Luke and Nevaeh turned to face Joyce Butler. The woman had one hand on her hip as she tossed her dark hair over her shoulder.
Luke narrowed his eyes, but Nevaeh laid into the woman before he could open his mouth. “I don’t care if your daddy is running for Congress. I wouldn’t give a flying fuck if he was the President of the United States,” Nevaeh said with fury in her voice as she pointed to the front door where Trinity had made her hasty exit. “If you ever talk about my best friend like that again, I’ll kick your ass from here to Texas. You hear me?”
“That was Madeline MacKenna?” Recognition dawned in Joyce’s eyes, but her tone turned cool as she glanced from Nevaeh to Luke. “The slut in the red dress?”
“You bitch.” Nevaeh stepped forward, her fist raised, but Luke caught her by the shoulders and held her back. “Let me at her, damn it!”
“Not worth it,” he responded in a controlled voice as he turned Nevaeh loose, his gaze fixed on Joyce Butler. To hell with information. “She is definitely not worth it.”
“Now, now. We should keep this civil.” Francisco Guerrero approached on Joyce’s right, and took her elbow gently in his hand. “This event is for charity, after all.”
Nevaeh mumbled under her breath, and Luke wanted to break his promise to Rios and shoot Guerrero on the spot.
Then he noted that Joyce Butler wasn’t pulling away from Guerrero’s grip. Her furious expression had softened to something like familiarity—or maybe even disguised fear.
Shit.
Maybe Joyce Butler was a lot more familiar with Guerrero than anyone had realized.
Guerrero’s chilly gaze swept over Nevaeh, then settled on Luke. “If you let that magnificent creature get away, shame on you, Señor...”
“Rider,” Luke supplied, though he had a gut-stabbing sensation the bastard knew exactly who he was.
Joyce Butler’s frown settled into a harsh, pressed line, but she said nothing.
“Señor Rider.” Guerrero’s smile was as phony as Monopoly money.
Luke knew better than to push the issue. One wrong step, and his cover—not to mention a year-long DEA operation and even more complex investigations by a bunch of other branches of law enforcement—would get blown to shit.
“You’re not welcome here,” Nevaeh said to Joyce Butler. “No offense, Mr. Guerrero. If you hadn’t come with Noah Ralston, Joyce, I’d never have let you through the front door.”
Ralston. Thank God. Luke let out a short breath. Ralston would likely be able to get the skinny on Guerrero from Butler, since she’d no sooner spit than talk to Luke now. Good ol’ Noah sure needed help with his taste in women, though. Luke had to say he’d never pictured Ralston as going for a woman such as Butler. Must be one hell of a story wrapped up in all that.
“Well, Nevaeh, you still have the hots for Noah, I see.” Joyce Butler extracted her arm from Guerrero’s fingers, and Luke caught the flash of anger in Guerrero’s dark eyes. “I’ve got better places to be.”
Chin up, Butler swayed her hips deliberately as she headed toward the main desk, took her belongings from the clerk, and walked to the front door. She skimmed her gaze over Guerrero and Luke before laying a particularly spiteful look on Nevaeh. “Give up on Noah, sweetie. He’d never go for a fat ass like you.”
Guerrero stepped smoothly between Nevaeh and the front door as it slammed behind Joyce Butler.
Luke was grateful for the intervention, but he still had to grab Nevaeh’s shoulders again. Her face was redder than a bullfighter’s cape.
“Let me get out there and punch her once.” Nevaeh’s fists clenched, and she struggled like a hellcat against his hold. “Just once.”
It was Guerrero who said the obvious this time. “Señorita, you must not stoop to the level of a woman like that.” He glanced at the closed front door, and Luke saw that flash-in-the-pan rage again, hot enough to peel paint. “We have a lovely party to return to. Might I escort you to greet some more of your guests?”
Nevaeh tensed, but Luke saw the truth on her face. Yes, she was frightened of Guerrero, and she also knew this was an invitation she shouldn’t refuse. “Thank you,” she murmured as Luke turned her loose again.
Francisco Guerrero put out his hand, and Nevaeh took it. Luke didn’t like letting her walk away with Guerrero, but there was no way he could make a scene without sacrificing everything.
When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Guerrero kissed Nevaeh’s hand, and as he lowered it, he locked eyes with Luke.
Luke tensed, calculating where his weapon was, how fast he could get to it, and how many people might get hurt in the crossfire.
What’s he playing at?
Luke could almost smell the gunpowder-fire scent from hot pistol barrels.
Guerrero turned slowly toward the crowd, gesturing for the servants to start the Christmas music again, and leading Nevaeh forward to mingle with her better-mannered guests.
Christ.
Way to go, Denver. You really made a pal out of Guerrero. And kept a low profile, too. Great job.
Luke figured he had done enough damage for one night. The most he could do at the bed-and-breakfast now was make a bigger mess.
He adjusted his duster and headed off to find Noah so he could take care of business, then get the hell out of Dodge.
Bisbee.
Hell, whatever.
Chapter 8
Trinity gripped the steering wheel of the sleek rented Mustang convertible while she headed into the night and out of Bisbee on the hour drive, past Douglas, to the Flying M.
Fortunately she’d packed her luggage in the trunk before the party to try to make herself go visit Skylar, so all she’d had to do was grab her purse and coat from the desk clerk and scribble a quick note to Nevaeh before she’d fled.
Blacktop and yellow highway markings scrolled by her headlights, glittering from the recent rain. Her thoughts whirled—she couldn’t believe she’d just kissed another man.
Should she be upfront and tell Race? Or was it better left unsaid? A one-time mistake that wouldn’t be repeated.
Yet her stomach flipped and her heart pounded harder as she remembered every moment in Luke’s presence. The way he’d staked his claim on her, as though he intended to make her his. The way he’d brought his mouth to hers and paused, his breath warm on her lips, just waiting to see if she’d refuse him.
And oh, God. The way he kissed. The way fire had seared every part of her body, like flames burning just beneath her skin. She’d never felt such intensity with any other man. She was so worked up now she could almost scream. If she hadn’t slipped away, would she have ended up in bed with him?
Would she have cheated on Race?
Her face grew hotter, but she couldn’t tell if it was embarrassment at what she’d done... or the heat of desire from imagining what it would be like to make love to Luke.
Trinity flipped on the radio in an effort to get her mind on something else. The rich voice of the man singing a popular country- western tune only reminded her of Luke’s deep baritone.
She tried to turn her thoughts to the deserted country highway, tried to get the cowboy out of her mind, but it was impossible. Her body ached for him, in every intimate place. The silk dress caressing her skin and her tight thong didn’t help matters any. Considering the chilly desert night, she was burning hot.
Jeez. She couldn’t get to Skylar’s looking like this—decked out in this tiny little outfit, looking like she’d just made out with a guy. What was she thinking?
; Trinity kept her eyes open for a dirt road and pulled the Mustang onto the first available one she spotted. Good thing this was a rural area. She could make a quick change and get back on the road.
After she made sure she was well off the highway, Trinity parked the car and turned off the ignition, but left the radio on. The blue glow from the dashboard was the only light in the car, but outside the moon slid from behind a scrap of moody clouds and washed the desert with its silvery radiance.
She leaned against the cool glass of the side window as she looked up at the incredible display above her, stars glittering in patches where clouds had retreated. She’d forgotten how bright the stars were out here in the country, far from any towns. It was beautiful. What would it be like to make love to Luke under these stars?
No, Race. She meant what would it be like to make love to Race.
Yeah, right.
With a groan, Trinity moved and reached between the bucket seats to grab her duffel out of the back. From years of travel experience, she always kept a quick change of casual clothes in a carry-on bag, along with basic necessities, just in case her luggage was lost at the airport or stolen from the trunk of her car.
Her dress pulled against her breasts as she stretched her hand toward where the duffel rested on the floorboard, and one nipple popped free. It felt cool and erotic rubbing over the leather seat of the Mustang as she reached for her bag. Her thong slid into her folds, pressing harder against her.
Maybe what she needed was a good orgasm. It had been at least a couple of weeks or longer since she’d had sex with Race. He’d been tired from work one week, and the next had been an inconvenient time of the month for her, and then she’d left for the States a few days ago.
Then came an image of Luke, his big body spreading her thighs before he thrust hard and deep inside of her...
Trinity leaned forward and banged her forehead against the steering wheel. And then again.
It didn’t work. The big, tall cowboy just wouldn’t get out of her mind.
Chapter 9
“Yeah, I figure Joyce Butler knows Guerrero pretty well.” Noah Ralston punched off his cell phone and stuffed it into his back pocket. He glanced around the main floor’s sunroom, as if he was checking for anyone who might be listening. “And yeah, that’s why I’m here with her, to see what she might share with me, for old time’s sake.”
Luke nodded and scuffed one boot heel against the hardwood floor. “At least that makes sense. Once I met her—well, she just didn’t seem like your type.”
“Back in the day, Joyce wasn’t all bad. Mean as hell, insecure, but she had her reasons.” Ralston’s eyes got a little unfocused. “We used to be friends, Joyce and me. It was never more than that, even though she tried. I’ve just been thinking lately, seems like the lady could use a friend again.”
Luke took a slow breath, sorting that statement out the best he could. The whole space smelled like a mixture of Christmas and chlorine from the hot tub under the sun roof and the decorated tree where Ralston was standing. Ralston didn’t seem inclined to say much more about Joyce Butler, but Luke assumed the man wouldn’t hold back anything essential.
Luke jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Butler had a few words with Nevaeh a few minutes ago, after Butler insulted Trinity MacKenna.”
The corner of Ralston’s mouth quirked. “If I know Nev, I’d say she probably came out on top of any cat fight.”
Luke grinned. “Would’ve laid into the b—, er, woman, if not for a little restraining on my part.”
Raising an eyebrow, Ralston said, “I take it Joyce’s gone.”
“Just left the party. Guerrero tried to calm her down, too, but she wasn’t having any of it.”
“Good thing we drove separate vehicles.” Noah sighed and shook his head. “She always did have a hell of a temper, but she came by it honest. Her mother was a flat-out spitfire before she died, and her dad—crooked politician, no time for the girl, except to run her into the ground.”
“Is that why she took up with Guerrero? Some sort of daddy-payback thing?” With a wry smile, Luke added, “Sorry to interrogate you, but after I sided with Nevaeh in the fight, it’s not likely I’ll get anything out of Ms. Butler.”
“I’d say that depends on what you’re willing to give her in return.” The CBP agent folded his arms across his chest.
“No thanks.” Luke shook his head. “That one’s definitely not my speed, either. Butler’s full-throttle, damn the curves, and I’m thinking she doesn’t much care what she drives.”
Ralston’s sigh said a lot. “It’s sad, but that’s how Joyce operates. The lady doesn’t like spending nights alone.”
Luke waited and watched Ralston shift through different emotions. The man’s face finally settled into an expression that told Luke his loyalty to law enforcement was winning out over old friendships.
“To answer your question, no. I don’t think Joyce planned to use Guerrero to jab at her father. I think she just wanted his company, his attention—but I get the feeling she got into something. Something way over her head. I think she’s scared of the bastard now, but she won’t admit it to me.” Ralston’s color darkened. “Even if she did admit that, I’m not sure she’d tell me why.”
Luke took this in and waited some more, because gut instinct told him Ralston had a little bit more to say.
Ralston’s frown turned deep and Luke got his first glimpse of a side of the man that wasn’t laid-back at all. “I’ve got reason to believe Joyce knows a little about how Guerrero’s getting his goods across the line—that she may have been helping him round up UDAs to use as mules. If he even needs mules.” Ralston gestured to the door of the sunroom. “Hell, Joyce’s family owns half the borderland in these parts. Guerrero could have tunnels on one of those properties.”
Hooking his thumbs in his Wranglers, Luke rocked back on his heels. “Joyce Butler would have agreed to something like that?”
“Not if she had a choice—she’s not stupid.” Noah raked his fingers through his dark hair and grimaced. “But since Guerrero showed up, women I’ve known for years have left, or changed, or gone squirrely like Joyce. I wish I could figure that bastard’s angle. I don’t know how he gets them on his hook, or how he keeps them—but I know one thing for sure. Francisco Guerrero doesn’t seem to give women many choices at all.”
Gina Garcia, the pretty blond doing all she could to give her kid a good start in the world, drifted by the sunroom, looking as lost and frightened as a woman could look. Luke studied her wide eyes, her pale face, and the way she seemed cut off from anything safe and comfortable. “Yeah,” he said to Ralston. “I’m beginning to get that impression.”
Chapter 10
The knot in Trinity’s belly grew tighter as she drove closer to the Flying M Ranch. She’d changed out of the wild made-for-Nevaeh- and-not-Trinity outfit, and into a pair of worn Levi’s, a royal blue scoop-necked T-shirt, thick socks, and Nikes. She’d even taken a moment to tone down the blush on her cheeks with a tissue. Didn’t have to worry about the lipstick—Luke had eaten that off.
Shivers skated along Trinity’s skin at the mere thought. Cripes— when would she be able to push that kiss and that man to the back of her mind?
She guided the Mustang onto the dirt road leading to the MacKenna ranch. It’d been over four years since she’d been home. Four years since she’d stormed out and told Skylar she didn’t care if she ever saw her again.
It had taken Trinity a long time to realize that Skylar had done the best job she could in raising Trinity. Sure, there were only a few years between the two of them, but Skylar had been there for everything when their mother died and their father drew away from them.
In Trinity’s immaturity, she had seen only that Skylar had what she didn’t—beauty, talent, intelligence... But one day, long after she’d established herself with Wildgames in Europe, it had hit Trinity that she did have all that Skylar did, she had just needed to recognize her own self-worth. Sky
lar had tried to tell her that time after time, but Trinity had let envy—jealousy—cloud their relationship.
Eventually, when Trinity had moved to England, she’d sent Skylar a letter, chatty and friendly, trying to reestablish their relationship. Skylar had been warm and receptive, just as always.
That had been a couple of years ago, and now, Trinity had come home. It really was time to make amends. To say the things she should have said long ago.
And to finally bury the old, insecure part of herself she should have laid to rest with her troubled childhood.
Meaty MacKenna...
Countless memories unraveled in Trinity’s mind as the Mustang’s wheels rattled over the cattle guard. She slowed the car down as she drove toward the house.
Toward her home.
She’d spent her entire life at the Flying M, up until her two years at the university and then the last four years in Europe. She’d practiced calf roping and barrel racing in those corrals to the northeast of the ranch house. Despite darkness shrouding the ranch she could easily make out the split-rail fencing and the water trough made from a fifty-gallon steel drum.
And over there, in that huge old barn, was where they kept Dancer, Trinity’s mare. Farther out back she could even see the bunkhouse where most of the ranch hands lived, and she smiled. When she was growing up on the ranch, she’d certainly had her fair share of crushes on hot cowboys.
At the thought of cowboys, one particularly tall and good-looking one came immediately to mind. Amazing—she’d finally been able to forget Luke Rider for all of what, three minutes?
As she brought the Mustang to a halt in front of the house and switched off the ignition, the knot in her belly rose into her chest, making even breathing difficult. Why was she so anxious about getting together with her sister after all this time? Maybe it was the combination of seeing Skylar, and what had happened earlier with Luke.
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