Luke: Armed and Dangerous (15 page)

To the left of the desk were a couple of huge filing cabinets, along with a computer
station where Skylar kept all the ranch records and did payroll. Best of all, it had
Internet access—but none of her work programs and business stuff crammed onto the
desktop.

Playing on this computer would be like reading for pleasure. Fun and no demands.

Before Trinity sat down to check her e-mail, she reached for the bottle of hand lotion
perched on one corner of the old oak desk. She squirted a generous amount of the thick
stuff onto her hands and rubbed it into her dry skin. The lotion smelled like brown
sugar and vanilla, a warm, comforting scent.

After she’d wiped the excess off her fingers with a tissue from a box on the desk,
Trinity perched on the swivel chair in front of the computer workstation. Skylar had
really brought the ranch a long way into the future. Their dad had never bothered
with computers, but after Skylar went to college and came home to take over the ranch,
she made some big changes—all for the better.

Trinity downloaded her e-mail and scanned her inbox. She bit her lower lip when she
came to an e-mail from Race, sent just hours ago.

Why would he be e-mailing her now? Hadn’t they settled everything the last time they
spoke?

And why did it seem like years ago that she had dated the man in the first place?

This thing with Luke—it really was consuming her. And making it oh-so-obvious that
she never, ever should have settled for a calm, rational man like Race.

She took a deep breath and opened the e-mail from Race and could almost hear his refined
British accent in his post:

Dearest Trinity.

I miss you, love. I do respect everything you told me, and all you said, but I find
myself holding out hope that we can speak again. I would like the chance to rekindle
the flame between us. I can’t fathom Christmas without you. Please, consider my request,
and respond if you see fit.

R

Trinity stared at the message for a few moments, not really seeing it at all. In place
of Race’s aristocratic looks, sandy blond hair, and his warm brown eyes, she saw a
dark and dangerous man in a black Stetson.

Not meant to be, Race. I’m so sorry. Even if Luke didn’t exist, coming home might
have made me figure this out. Somewhere down inside, I’m still a cowgirl looking for
her cowboy.

Shaking her head, Trinity hit the reply button. She wasn’t ready to talk to Race on
the phone again, and she didn’t want to string him along. She responded with a short
e-mail, telling Race he was a wonderful man, but she didn’t believe it was possible
to rekindle anything. She wished him the best, and urged him to go to his sister’s
down in Kent for the holidays, so he wouldn’t be alone.

She hit Send and hoped the message reached Race, even though she figured it wouldn’t
make him feel any better. Then she ran through the rest of her messages. All work-related
e-mails she ignored, since she was on vacation, and just read the personal notes.
She was pleased to see one from Chloe Somerville, who sounded positive despite the
rough divorce she was going through. If anyone deserved a good man, it was that girl.

Come to Arizona,
she urged Chloe in her response.
You’re a reporter—you can report from anywhere! Stay with my sister for a while. It’s
peaceful here, and different, and you could use a brand new start. Whenever I get
settled where I’m going, you can come there next. Let go of the past, honey. Move
on, like I’m doing.

She pressed Send on that one, and Luke’s voice came back to her, telling her she could
do anything she set her mind to.

God, was I just a hypocrite, telling her to let go of the past?
Trinity’s fingers hovered over the keyboard.

She thought that’s what she had done, leaving Douglas, and staying away.

But if she had, then why was it so terrifying, being here, and even remotely considering
staying for a while?

Trinity tried to shake off her doubts, and moved on to her friend Carly’s note. She
read it, and had to laugh out loud. Her next-door neighbor in London was a hoot, and
she kept trying to get Trinity to read erotic romance books, In particular Anna Windsor’s.
Trinity hadn’t had a chance to pick one out yet, but she’d just have to break down
and do it. Especially after what she’d experienced with Luke.

Trinity closed her eyes for a moment, trying to block out those images, but it only
made them stronger. Her fingers moved to her ear out of habit, and she played with
her earrings as she visualized Luke and the night at the hot tub. She could almost
smell his spicy aftershave, his unique masculine scent and could almost feel the heat
of his body close to hers—

The door slammed shut behind Trinity, shattering her fantasy.

Her eyelids popped open and she swiveled on the seat and saw that it was her sister.
The disappointment she felt that it wasn’t Luke caught her off guard.

“No fair sneaking up on me like that,” Trinity said.

With a mischievous grin, Skylar plopped down onto the overstuffed leather couch, and
tossed a bundle of mail onto the cushion beside her. “Ran into Rylie at the Safeway
grocery store in town. We figured a game of cards might be fun this Saturday night.
Poker. You up for it?”

“Sure.” Trinity tried to muster up some enthusiasm. At least it would get her mind
off of Luke for a while.

Skylar glanced at the computer. “Checking in with your boyfriend?”

With a shrug, Trinity said, “Yeah. But, no. I sort of, um, broke up with Race.”

Cocking her head to one side, Skylar said, “You... what?”

“I couldn’t do it, Skylar. I couldn’t let that relationship continue. Something was
missing.”

Please don’t ask me if this means I’m staying.

But Skylar didn’t go there. Her expression got distant for a few moments, and then
she nodded. “It was like that for me, before Zack came back. I kept searching for
something, but nothing satisfied me.”

“You were meant to be with Zack, Skylar. Everyone’s always known that.” She leaned
forward and propped her elbows beside the keyboard, staring at her sister. “My fate’s
a little less certain.”

Skylar shook her head, not looking the least bit uncertain. “Somewhere out in the
world, there’s a man meant to steal your heart away, Trinity. A man who satisfies
you so completely you couldn’t imagine asking for anything more. I’m sure of it.”

Yeah, me, too. Trinity sat back. I’m just damned afraid he’s right here on the ranch,
near the town I never wanted to return to, and he wears a black Stetson.

“Something wrong?” Skylar now had a worried expression. “You turned pale on me all
of a sudden.”

Trinity forced a smile and shook her head. “Just a little sad, I guess. Race wrote
me and I had to sort of break up with him a second time.”

“Why don’t you get some rest?” Skylar scooped up the pile of mail and started flipping
through the pieces as she spoke. “I don’t need any help with the chores, and Zack’s
been killing you with all that computer mess when you’re supposed to be on vacation.
Besides, you already mucked out Satan’s and Dancer’s stalls, not to mention cleaning
out the back storage room.”

“Hey, Zack set up that punching bag for me there, so it was the least I could do.”
Trinity smiled. “And besides, it was kinda nice to do those things again.”

The corner of Skylar’s mouth quirked. “Then by all means...” Her voice trailed off
and her expression looked puzzled as she held up a postcard. She flipped it over,
and then her face turned the same shade of white as a new moon. Her fingers crept
to her throat in that all-too-familiar movement that told Trinity her sister was upset
about something.

“What’s the matter?” Trinity said, even as she moved from her chair to slide onto
the couch beside her sister.

“I’ll have to tell Zack.” Skylar shook her head, her lips pursed. “This is a bunch
of bullshit.”

Trinity reached for the card and Skylar let it slip from her fingers. As Trinity looked
over the note, her sister got up and started pacing the floor.

On one side was a weird design of letters within letters. A capital B in red was a
kind of border, and then a capital I in green was a little smaller in the middle,
and then a T in blue a tad smaller than that. And to the left side of the T was a
yellow C and to the right was an orange H..
.

BITCH.

Trinity’s skin chilled, goose bumps pebbling her skin as she turned the card over.

In a messy black scrawl was written:

It’s not over, you double-crossing whore.

“Shit,” Skylar muttered, snapping Trinity’s attention from the card and to her sister,
who was still pacing the floor. “Woods. I bet it’s Woods.”

“Who?” Trinity tossed the card onto the couch like it was contaminated. “And why would
he send something like this?”

Skylar stopped pacing and explained to Trinity how the former deputy sheriff had been
caught red-handed stealing cattle from her ranch, and Wade Larson’s, and other ranches,
too. Then she explained how he’d been fixated on her, and almost taken her out.

“But if he’s in jail, who sent you that piece of garbage?” Trinity pointed to the
postcard.

Skylar shook her head. “My gut says Woods did it from behind bars. He probably paid
somebody who was being released, or smuggled it out with some other prisoner’s family
or friends.”

Trinity thought about the footprints in the photos she’d been working with, and the
blood, and the pieces of dead body Zack and his law enforcement friends had been investigating.

“Maybe Woods still has friends on the outside. People Zack and the others didn’t know
about.” Then she thought about Francisco Guerrero, and her stomach did a big flip.
“Or maybe they do know about the bad guys, but they haven’t been able to stop them.
Yet.”

“Whatever.” Skylar glared at the postcard. “I’ll give it to Zack, and then I’m not
going to worry about it.”

“Sky—”

“You don’t worry about it.” Skylar cut Trinity off, still shaking her head. “I mean
it. Zack will handle this.”

But Trinity could see the truth in Skylar’s eyes.

Her sister had suffered a lot during the cattle rustling. She’d been scared then,
and she was scared again now.

Skylar really does need me, Trinity realized with a start and a flood of dread—then
the strangest sense of power and relief. She needs her family around her for lots
of reasons.

“Come here.” Trinity reached for Skylar, and pulled her sister into a fierce hug.

“You’re supposed to be on vacation,” Skylar whispered into her neck, and then she
started to cry.

Trinity held on to her sister, not feeling like a little girl, or the baby of the
family, not now. Not anymore. “I’m supposed to be right here, Skylar. This time, you
don’t have to do it alone.”

Luke stared into the muzzle of the shotgun and didn’t twitch an eyebrow. Twitching
anything would be a bad idea, right about now. He kept both hands raised, and his
eyes straight ahead on the man who’d gotten the drop on him.

Brad Taylor stood in the front doorway of Bull Fenning’s big stone ranch house with
the shotgun leveled at Luke’s nose. “I’m not asking you again, Rider. Why the hell
have you been sniffing around my sister?”

Luke knew Taylor didn’t have a clue he’d drawn a weapon on a DEA agent, and right
now, he didn’t think the man would give a shit. Taylor’s short brown hair stuck up
in sweaty spikes, and his brown eyes had the look of a grizzly protecting his territory.

But this sister thing—gun or no gun, Luke didn’t know what to say to him other than,
“Trinity’s Skylar’s sister, not yours.”

“Trinity? What the hell are you talking about?” Taylor’s gaze narrowed.

“That’s who I’m—ah, sniffing around.” Luke spoke slowly. Carefully. Making sure his
lips and chin didn’t move enough to touch the shotgun barrel. “Your words, not mine.”

“Skylar MacKenna’s sister?” Taylor sounded surprised on top of being a horseshoe toss
away from crazy. “The one who just came home from England.”

Luke kept his gaze on Taylor’s trigger finger. “That’s her.”

The shotgun barrel moved back a fraction—not a lot, but enough that Luke could glance
around and take in the big house’s stone floor and wood paneling. The place smelled
faintly of alcohol and cherry tobacco.

“You scared Gina shitless, showing up at her place a few days back.” Brad’s tone stayed
hard.

“Gina Garcia.” It was Luke’s turn to sound surprised.

Brad frowned, but he finally lowered the damn shotgun. Luke allowed himself a complete
breath of air, which he hadn’t enjoyed since he knocked on the massive wooden door
and Brad answered it with his say-hello-to-my-double-barreled-friend routine.

After lunch with Trinity, Luke had gotten the call from Rios. Apparently Taylor had
an emergency at the Fenning ranch, and had asked for help, specifically from Luke.
He’d thought that Taylor must have made him. Or maybe Bull Fenning’s operation was
in deep shit and Taylor actually needed another ranch foreman with some know-how.

He never figured on knocking on Fenning’s door, and getting greeted by a gun in his
face.

Taylor leaned the shotgun against the paneled wall beside the door. “Shit, Rider.
You might as well come in for a minute.”

“Yeah.” Luke got to lower his arms and rub his elbows for a second. “Why don’t I do
that.”

He took off his Stetson and followed Brad inside, trying to add up and sort out everything
he’d just heard, but he couldn’t make sense of it just yet.

Fenning’s place was as big inside as it was out—high ceilings, wide, cavernous rooms,
and big, heavy furniture. Paintings hung on every wall of women and children, and
Luke realized that at one time, Fenning must have had a wife and kids in the home.
By the look of it, he still had a boatload of grandkids in the mix.