Luke (Armed and Dangerous Book 2)

by Cheyenne McCray

  “Why are you getting dressed?” she asked as he dried her thighs, the soft hair of her mound, and on down to her calves.

  “If I stay around you any longer I’m going to take you, sugar,” he all but growled. “Right here and right now.”

  “Isn’t that what we both want?” she whispered.

  Only the sound of the bubbling hot tub and a smattering of chirping crickets were her response. Luke stood, grabbed her bathrobe off the deck chair, helped her slip it on, then tied the sash with a rough tug.

  “When I make love to you,” he finally said, his voice still rough with desire, “you’re gonna be sure it’s what you want—and I mean all the way sure.” He caught her cheeks in his callused palms and forced her to look at him. “No lingering feelings for some man in England. No rebound issues. No doubts. No fears. No regrets. You’re gonna be ready for me. For us. Understand?”

  Trinity nodded, unable to speak. Barely able to think.

  “I want you to meet me this week for lunch.” He brushed her lips with his. “I’ll call you.”

  “Lunch.” Trinity had a wild image of herself naked on a restaurant table with a red checkered tablecloth, legs spread wide, with Luke pounding into her until the damned wooden legs of the table snapped underneath them.

  She was so far into the fantasy, she wasn’t sure she was really speaking out loud. “Sure. That’d be great.”

  Luke gave her a quick, fierce kiss, then grabbed his boots and T-shirt and strode into the house without looking back.

  Chapter 16

  “Wayland and his people haven’t turned up anything on Gina Garcia yet.” Rios slid a folder marked INVOICES down the bar toward Luke as the Watering Hole jukebox kicked up with some old country tune Luke didn’t know. “We’re coming up empty, too—I say we pass on your suspicions and we turn her and her barn over to Wayland. Local law enforcement’ll come closer to getting a warrant than we will.”

  Luke frowned. He didn’t want to get a warrant and beat down the woman’s door, or her barn door, but he was beginning to wonder if that wouldn’t be the best thing.

  He took the folder Rios had given him, then had to fight back a yawn as he opened it. He hadn’t been sleeping well, thinking about Trinity, but now wasn’t any time to doze on the job.

  He’d be seeing her for lunch in a few, the first time he’d actually be with her since the night in the hot tub. He’d force himself to wait and indulge in his fantasies when he was looking into her green eyes.

  He and Rios used this ranch hand gathering place to cover their own meetings. During their time off from their ranch cover jobs, they both pretended to be fairly heavy beer drinkers, starting early and finishing late, like the five or six guys already here before lunch.

  The bartender knew how to keep his distance, too, and never approached unless they waved him over—which Rios had done twice already. The man’s dark face already had a little flush to both cheeks.

  Luke ignored the sour sawdust-and-sweat stench of the place and gave his beer a fake swig. At the same time, he looked at the autopsy report on the UDA from Wade Larson’s place.

  His eyes swept over the incidental findings, major issues, cause of death, and—

  “No drugs in his system, no traces on the skin—but a chainsaw cut him up? Shit.” Luke closed the folder. “What happened to the vats of lye they used in Douglas?”

  Rios downed a third of his beer. “This may be a separate issue. Doc said the guy was already dead—and already dead for a while— when some sick fuck turned on the spinning saw blades. All the shit on the ground around the prints—cow’s blood, to make it look like a new kill site.” Rios tapped the autopsy report. “This guy, he’d been on ice somewhere. Literally.”

  Shit.

  A turf war. UDAs out of control and surging across the border. Coyotes, mules, and drug lords. Scared women with barn issues. And now a freak-job with a chainsaw cutting up an unknown kid and going to huge pains to dump the body—for what?

  Welcome back to the new version of the wild, wild West. Luke shook his head and thought of Tombstone, not fifty miles northwest of here.

  “What happened to the good ol’ days like in Tombstone, when a man called out his enemy and shot him dead in the street? Or death by hanging. These bastards definitely deserve a public hanging.”

  Rios snorted back a laugh. “Reminds me of that old Toby Keith song, ‘Beer for My Horses’.” Rios faked a drunken man swaying on his bar stool and belted out, “ ‘Take all the rope in Texas, find a tall oak tree.’”

  Luke smiled, closed the folder, and passed it back to Rios. The DEA agent dropped pretenses and his dark eyes went serious as Luke asked, “Who was the victim?”

  “No idea. No prints in the system, no identification.” Rios drained the rest of his beer. “Harder, since we just found the pieces, no clothes.”

  Luke was very tempted to drink all of his own beer, but decided it wouldn’t help him stay alert. “Somebody had Juan Doe in a freezer, pulled him out, cut him up, and staged a kill site on Larson’s land.”

  Rios shrugged. “Or Larson had enough of the UDA traffic across his land, killed him, froze him, waited for a good dump time, and splat.” He popped his palm against the bar. The hard smack made a big man at the far end of the bar raise his head.

  Luke pretended to drain his own beer, surprised to recognize Bull Fenning. The big rancher had on rumpled, dirty clothes and a thick gray-white stubble that suggested he’d been a few days without a shave. He didn’t seem to recognize Luke or Rios, and even if he’d seen them, he couldn’t hear them from where he was sitting.

  Damned odd, to see him in here, this time of day, looking like that.

  Luke gave an almost imperceptible nod to Rios in the direction of Fenning. Rios followed his gaze until his eyebrows lifted a fraction.

  “Wouldn’t have taken that one for a drunk.” He glanced toward Luke, then Fenning again. “Obnoxious, maybe. A little unhinged, but his accounts and ranch upkeep suggest he’s taking care of his business.”

  “Maybe it’s a binge thing, or recent.” Luke studied Fenning, who had already gone back to nursing his drink, seemingly numb and oblivious to the bar around him. Something in his posture suggested to Luke that Fenning was very familiar with this place, with that seat, and with slumping over a drink before lunchtime. “Could even be some woman dumped him.”

  Fenning still had his big head down, toying with the edge of his glass. If Fenning spent a lot of time here doing close observation of shot glasses and highballs, who was really minding his store?

  As if to answer that question, the door to the bar knocked open, spilling light across the dusty, empty dance floor. Luke recognized Brad Taylor by his height and build, and watched as Bull Fenning’s foreman strode over to the old man.

  They exchanged a few words, then Fenning got up and walked toward the door with Brad holding his arm to give him some support.

  For a time, Luke and Rios just watched the men go, but as the door swung shut, Rios said, “Rumor says he does twins.”

  Luke glanced at his partner. “So I heard.”

  He sighed and filed the whole Bull Fenning—Brad Taylor situation in his mind for consideration, then went back to the autopsy report. “About the murder—there were a lot of tracks for it to be just Larson.”

  “A lot of tracks, from one man, going back and forth.” Rios lifted a foot off his bar stool rung and pointed to the boot. “About the right shoe size for Larson, though we need to check that out for sure. Zack Hunter’s got himself a computer expert analyzing the print patterns. The expert says it was just one guy, and our people confirmed that. Hunter’s expert wants body temp info from the doc. Says maybe we can get a search grid based on how thawed the body was.”

  Luke pushed his nearly full beer toward Rios as he got up. “Sounds promising. Sick, but promising.” He checked his watch. “Think Clay Wayland could find out Larson’s shoe size for us?” “Already called him.” Rios took a look at his own
watch. “Expect to hear from him in an hour or so. Want me to head out to Gina Garcia’s and give winning her over a go?”

  Luke shook his head. “She’s already suspecting I’m more than a ranch hand. If you show up, too, asking similar questions, she’ll be on to both of us. Let Wayland handle it.”

  Rios’s normally friendly, open face tightened a notch, and Luke knew he was thinking about Gary Woods, the deputy who went bad and rustled cattle at Skylar’s ranch, not to mention others in the area. “Are we sure about Wayland?”

  “Sure as we can be about anybody in Douglas. Catch you this afternoon.”

  “Hot date?” Rios gave a low whistle behind Luke. “Give her a good one-two for me.”

  A blinding surge of protectiveness almost made Luke wheel around and punch his best friend and partner, which immediately made him remember the depth and level of shit he had stepped into with respect to one Trinity MacKenna.

  Yeah, he had it pretty bad.

  And in a few minutes, it was about to get worse.

  Chapter 17

  Warm, heated air brushed Trinity’s cheeks as she sat at a table in the back section of Zappati’s, the newest restaurant in Douglas.

  Unusual these days for the border town, the place had a certain class to it, with low lighting, even at lunch, and clean, bright tablecloths—with, er, no red checkered pattern. The Mayan decor and motif gave the place a Mexican flavor, but the dining area smelled like fresh baked bread with a hint of spices and fruit, and the establishment served an eclectic menu.

  What was a place like this doing in a dirty border town?

  Trinity had allowed herself some cheese sticks to munch on while she worked on Zack’s footprint analysis on her laptop and waited.

  For Luke.

  God, I’m really doing this.

  She looked up from her computer screen and the folder of photos next to it and almost groaned. She still couldn’t believe what had happened that night in the hot tub. Every time she thought about Luke—naked and doing the things he’d been doing to her—her stomach twisted and her body had an instant reaction. She swore she was walking around with permanently damp panties and her nipples poking through her T-shirt like someone had stuck jelly beans in her bra.

  Out of the corner of her eye she spotted a couple of cowboys trooping in for lunch, but she refused to look outright at the door to see if Luke might be there. Of course she knew she really didn’t have to see him to know whether or not he was near. If he had been, she’d have been able to sense him, to feel his presence.

  “Work, MacKenna,” she told herself, and got lost in the calculations all over again.

  It took her some time, but between chewing cheese sticks and mumbling curses at dark digital photographs, she finally managed to superimpose the footprint data over a satellite-generated topographical map of Douglas. For a touch of the bizarre, she added a wavy-looking pirate’s X to mark the spot where the body pieces had been found. Now, when she got the temperature and weather information from Zack, she could—

  “Señorita. What a pleasure it is to see you again.”

  Trinity jumped so hard at the smooth, lightly accented voice that she almost knocked her dish with its last half of a cheese stick onto the restaurant’s stone floor.

  The man standing beside her had on jeans and a white casual shirt with the sleeves rolled up and the collar open. His tanned skin and muscled build accented his dark hair and eyes, and in another place, in some other world, Trinity would have thought he was way past handsome.

  As it was, Luke had warned her about this man, then Nevaeh and Skylar and Zack had taken turns doing the same thing.

  Drug lord...

  Bastard...

  Scary son of Satan...

  She’d heard enough to be a believer, and she just wanted to close her folder and computer without being too obvious. “Mr. Guerrero.” She pushed down the lid of her laptop, hearing the motor rev, then switch off as the machine hibernated. “I remember you from the Christmas party.”

  “And you, you are unforgettable as well.” The man’s smile made him look like a heart-stealing movie star, but Trinity saw a hint of wolf in his gaze as his eyes roved over the pictures of footprints she was trying to slide back into the folder. “Forgive me, but do you work in law enforcement?”

  Trinity managed a laugh that didn’t sound too fake. “Me? No. I’m a software engineer. I work for a gaming manufacturer.”

  “Computer games.” Guerrero didn’t sound convinced. “And what does your boyfriend think of your work?”

  “My boyfriend.” Trinity almost gave an automatic response, that her boyfriend worked in the same field, but then she remembered. No more Race. No more comfortable, easy future with comfortable easy answers.

  Next, she almost said she didn’t have a boyfriend, but that wasn’t true either, was it? Because she was meeting Luke here for lunch, because she intended to sleep with him as soon as humanly possible. More than once. All night long. All week if she could, before DropCaps called her back with moving plans.

  Her lust didn’t make Luke a boyfriend.

  But since he’d touched her, since he’d kissed her—hell, since the first moment he’d looked at her, Trinity had felt... taken.

  Claimed.

  “He’s—ah, we haven’t talked about it that much.” She picked up her piece of cheese stick, then laid it back down. “But I’m sure we will soon.”

  Guerrero’s gaze turned more wolfish, and Trinity wished Luke would show up fast. To cover her own rising anxiety, she said, “So, yeah, computer games. That’s what I do. Like Grand Theft Auto— oops, sorry. You own a luxury car dealership, right?”

  “I do. And if I could be so bold, you would look splendid in our new Jaguar XK-5.” Guerrero held up his hands to frame her face. “Black would accent your natural beauty, though silver would work well, too.”

  Trinity shifted in her seat, uncomfortable with how Guerrero was looking at her cleavage. “Do you come here often?”

  “This is my restaurant now.” Another meant-to-be-dazzling smile radiated from his angular face. “A recent acquisition. What are you driving, Ms. MacKenna?”

  “A Mustang. It’s rented—but it’s a sweet ride.”

  Damn, that was stupid. He might not have known—but he could find out pretty easily, I bet.

  Trinity had a sense she was in some sort of chess game, and losing. Badly.

  “A Jaguar is infinitely faster than a Mustang. Much more powerful.” Guerrero flexed one of his well-ripped arms, and his expression turned downright dangerous. “If you ever want to experience true speed, Ms. MacKenna, a thrill you cannot imagine—see me.”

  Coming from anybody else, Trinity would have found that line laughable, but nothing about Francisco Guerrero seemed humorous to her.

  “Let me give you a ride,” he said, moving closer to her table. “A ride you will never forget.”

  “If the lady needs a ride home, I’ll be the one to take her.”

  Luke!

  Trinity almost jumped to her feet and threw her arms around Luke’s neck.

  He was standing behind Guerrero, a quiet mountain made out of muscle, handsome as sin in his dark T-shirt and jeans. He laid his Stetson on the table but kept one hand on the top of the table’s empty chair, like he was thinking about smashing it over Guerrero’s head.

  “Sorry I’m late, sugar.” Luke’s eyes swept over Trinity, and she heard how his voice vibrated with possessiveness and concern. When she saw the pain and death radiating from Luke’s overly calm face, she almost jumped to her feet a second time, this time to throw herself between the two men before Luke did something to Guerrero that might land him in prison.

  Guerrero wasn’t giving an inch of ground, and his expression didn’t look any friendlier than Luke’s.

  “You’re not late, Luke,” Trinity babbled, trying to diffuse the tension. “I came early to work on the new gaming program I’ve been trying to develop.” She tapped her nails against her l
aptop as her pulse raced. “Made good progress, too. Are you thirsty? I could order us some tea.”

  “Have a seat, Mr. Rider.” Guerrero gestured to the chair Luke still seemed to be considering as a weapon. “I trust you’ll enjoy something on our menu.”

  “Our menu?” Luke’s question came out low, through his teeth.

  Trinity tried to catch Luke’s eye as blood rushed in her ears. “He bought the restaurant.”

  Luke’s posture stayed hair-trigger tense, but he finally looked away from Guerrero. “I’m not that hungry. Want to get some air, sugar?” He smacked a bill on the table that was more than enough to cover her diet soda and cheese sticks.

  “Sure.” She got up so fast she jostled her water glass and had to snatch her laptop and the folder full of footprint pictures off the table. She barely got them stuffed in her laptop bag before Luke had her by the elbow, steering her toward Zappati’s front door. He took the laptop bag and carried it in his free hand.

  “I hope you will come back soon, Ms. MacKenna,” Guerrero called after her, but Trinity didn’t even turn around to tell him no thanks.

  When she and Luke hit the sidewalk in front of the restaurant, the cool December air chilled her skin in a wake-up, calm-down sort of way. He gripped her hand and started walking down G Avenue where most of the businesses were. She could barely remember when the town was more alive and not so... dirty.

  “I warned you about that man.” Luke’s low, angry voice didn’t help Trinity’s heart stop hammering, but she had her wits back enough to slow them down and pull free of Luke’s grip. “I know your sister did, too.”

  “I didn’t ask him to come snooping around my table.” She stopped in front of a store with cheap dresses displayed in the window with circular racks lined up behind the display. “I was working. I didn’t even see him standing there staring at what I was doing until it was too late.” She rubbed her fingers over her eyes, willing her heart rate to slow back to normal. “Zack’s probably gonna be pissed Guerrero got a look at those pictures.”