Luke: Armed and Dangerous (18 page)

Someone had left on the Christmas lights, and they helped her make her way without
stumbling. Blue stirred in the kitchen and Trinity heard the dog’s nails click against
the tile as he followed her into the living room.

“You sense it too, don’t you, boy?” Trinity murmured as she neared the window.

Blue’s ears pricked forward as he jumped up and rested his front paws on the windowsill
and looked out into the night with Trinity.

Everything was still. Nothing moved.

And then Blue growled.

Trinity was about to look at him when she thought she saw a flicker at the far end
of the barn, where the storage room was, and her skin chilled. There it was. Stronger
now. Like a flashlight... but different.

Her heart pounded and she started to yell for Zack and Skylar, that there was an intruder,
when she realized what the flicker was.

Fire.

Blue growled and then barked, loud and sharp, and Trinity shouted at the top of her
lungs, “Fire in the barn! Fire in the barn!”

She ran toward their bedroom door, still yelling, but as she reached it Zack came
crashing out, pulling on his boots, his pants undone and shirtless.

“Fire in the barn,” Trinity repeated frantically. She turned and ran for the front
door, yanking it open and barreling into the night, screaming, “Fire! Fire!”

Blue barked at her heels and Trinity didn’t stop yelling as she ran toward the barn.
So many animals. She had to help get them out!

The acrid odor of smoke met her as she neared the barn. She coughed and choked as
she tried to shout some more.
The bell!
Trinity dove for the ancient bell and grabbed the rope hanging down from it and pulled.

It started clanging, loud and clear in the night. Above the noise she could already
hear the shouts of men and saw them running toward the barn.

Smoke poured from the barn and the horses screamed their fright from inside. She’d
seen the fire at the opposite end of the barn, and so far no flames from the barn
door.

Trinity released the bell’s rope and dived for the lights, flooding the barn with
a yellow glow that blinded her for a second. She yanked off her jacket and tied the
arms around her head so that her nose and mouth were covered, but she could still
see. Dodging inside the barn, she ran toward Dancer’s stall.

Men shouted behind her, and Trinity thought she heard someone calling her name, but
she didn’t care about anything except getting those animals out.

Smoke burned her eyes as she reached Dancer. The mare was wild-eyed and frantically
pawing at the stall door. Trinity climbed up the side of the gate, took the jacket
from her face, and covered Dancer’s eyes with it before releasing the bolt lock, speaking
to the mare in low, steady tones and calming her down.

As she led Dancer out of the barn, the smell of smoke nearly overwhelmed her. She
heard shouts, saw men rushing back and forth, and knew they were fighting the fire.
Everything seemed to be a blur, a horrific kaleidoscope of sights, sounds, smells,
and sensations.

When she finally made it out of the barn with Dancer, Trinity led the horse to the
closest corral. The teenaged ranch hand Luke had been teaching helped her open the
gate and put the mare safely inside. Clenching her jacket in her hands, Trinity rushed
back to the barn, set to go in again.

Someone grabbed her from behind and whirled her around. “What the hell are you doing?”
Luke’s face was streaked with smoke and his furious glare focused on her.

“I’m getting the animals out!” She tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let her go.

“It’s too damned dangerous in there.” Luke gripped her arm and started dragging her
toward the far end of the barn. “That smoke could kill you,” he said as he brought
her to where the men were fighting the fire with hoses and buckets and fire extinguishers.
A sigh of relief rushed through her when she realized the fire was almost out.

“Get a bucket and help from this end,” he said in a tone she’d never heard from him
before. “If you try to go into that barn again before I say it’s safe, I’ll tie you
to the fence post.”

With that he strode back to where the men were still throwing buckets of water on
the fire from the stock tanks, and spraying it down with the hose. Trinity’s first
instinct was to be furious with him for his high-handedness, but then she realized
what it was she’d heard in his tone and seen in his eyes.

He’d been scared for her. Afraid something had happened, or that something would happen
to her. Scared in a deep, real way that unsettled him.

It unsettled her, too.

The man really did care about her, didn’t he?

Trinity watched Luke work to finish putting out the fire, and her thoughts kept focusing
on one sentence.

I really think I’m ready.

Over and over again,
she said it to herself.

I’m ready. Luke. When all this craziness settles down, when we have a chance to get
our thoughts and minds and bodies together—

I’m ready.

If she’d thought it was all a blur before, it seemed even more so, later. By the time
the fire was completely out and all the animals treated and returned to their stalls,
dawn was breaking. Trinity was so tired that she could hardly see straight. Her muscles
ached, her eyes and throat burned, and she felt like she’d sleep for a week.

While the men had fought the fire and made sure all the animals were safe and tended,
Skylar had called the sheriff’s office. Clay Wayland had arrived by the time the fire
was out, and spent time going over the scene with Zack, Levi, Luke, and any ranch
hand still able to walk and help.

Once they’d taken a good look around, Clay felt pretty certain the fire had been deliberately
set. After Zack and Trinity put Skylar to bed, Zack, Levi, Clay, and Luke talked a
lot about the postcard Skylar had found, and whether or not it was related.

Noah Ralston showed up after that, and the five men hashed out possibilities long
past the point Trinity could understand, or even listen. Sure seemed like Luke knew
a lot more about crime investigations than most ranch foremen would probably know.

Trinity tried to stay awake long enough to ask if anybody had found footprints for
her to analyze, but she figured she was getting delirious. She could hardly keep her
eyes open, and she didn’t protest when Luke insisted she get back to the house, take
a shower, and then get to bed.

He didn’t say another word about her running into the barn like she had. Instead he
escorted her into the house, kissed the top of her head, and then left her staring
out the living room window and watching him walk away.

“But I’m ready,” she mumbled after him as he went back to Clay, Zack, Levi, and Noah—and
other men were showing up, too. Foremen from other ranches. Like Rios. Trinity recognized
him as one of Luke’s friends. Brad Taylor was there, and even Wade Larson.

If Guerrero had pulled this stunt—and for the life of her, Trinity couldn’t figure
out why he’d do such a stupid thing—the drug lord had stirred up a hornet’s nest.

As Trinity dragged herself into the shower, she thought about Guerrero, and how he
wouldn’t even be expecting trouble until all the hornets came buzzing in to sting
him to death.

On Saturday, Luke stood behind Trinity at the firing range as she aimed the handgun
at the target. “That’s it, sugar,” he murmured, even though she couldn’t hear him
through the protective ear coverings she wore. “You’re doing fine.”

She seemed to understand him, though, and her hands were steadier on this shot than
they’d been during her first half dozen. Trinity had argued with him about not needing
to learn how to handle a firearm. But after some heavy-duty convincing by Luke, she
finally gave in.

He wasn’t taking any chances.

Busting the damned rustling operation hadn’t stopped the trouble, and someone was
still trying to mess around with the MacKenna women. He and Zack planned to make damned
sure nothing happened to either of them.

When Trinity finished firing the last round of bullets, she set the gun down, pulled
off her ear coverings, and gave him a smile. “I think I did better that time.”

Luke nodded and pressed the button that slowly brought the target back to them. “I
think you’re right,” he said as he pulled the target off the clip. She had a tendency
to aim a little high, most of her shots going to the target’s neck, but it was a sight
better than her first try. Those holes had been scattered all over the target, half
of them not even close to the body.

Trinity rubbed the earrings along her left ear, something he noticed she did whenever
she was deep in thought. “I don’t understand why this person would do the things he’s
doing. Why the note? Why burn the barn?”

With a shrug, Luke replied, “I don’t know, but Clay Wayland and Zack and Noah Ralston
are aiming to find out.”

Me, too, sugar. I’m on it like you wouldn’t believe.

He’d pulled back from the main drug-running investigation, leaving Rios in charge
of that, and of tracking Guerrero’s every slimy move. He was handling the trouble
at the Flying M with Zack, and Clay Wayland assisting whenever they needed him.

Whatever was happening at the ranch, it seemed to tie back to Woods and the rustling
operation they’d destroyed, at least in some loose way. Guerrero-based, but not necessarily
Guerrero himself pulling the strings.

That damned stooge Woods might be involved with this, and Luke had people leaning
on him and his buddies already. This close to trial, they couldn’t afford any more
trouble.

Of course, neither Skylar nor Trinity would leave the Flying M and go stay someplace
safe, no matter how hard Zack and Luke tried to push the issue. These women were not
about to be run out of their home, and away from what mattered to them.

Frowning, Trinity looked as though she intended to say something else when she turned
to glance at the shooter setting up right beside them.

Luke had to stifle a groan when he saw who it was. Joyce Butler.

Trinity turned away and started packing up the ammo, and then slid the gun back into
its zippered case.

Yeah, sugar. That’s it. Let’s get the hell out of here.

“Won’t do you a damn bit of good in there.” Luke smiled and rubbed his hand over her
back, trying to get Trinity to take the piece back out of its case. “You need to carry
it around. Get the feel of it.”

“It makes me nervous.” Trinity eased the zipper up and around the case. “I feel safer
using my bare fists and my feet.”

“You’re real good at it, too.” He moved his fingers to her neck and she shivered beneath
his touch. “I’d wager you could kick some ass if you had the chance.”

She raised her brows. “So... you’ve watched me practice my kickboxing?”

“Every chance I get,” he murmured, wondering if he’d ever confess what else he’d watched—and
when.

Probably not.

But the memory—damn, it was a good one.

A commotion in the lane next to them caught Luke’s attention and he turned his gaze
toward Joyce Butler’s target that she’d just pulled in.

“Wow,” Trinity said, a touch of surprise in her voice. “She’s really good.”

Luke shrugged as he studied her target. The shots were all centered on the head. Apparently
Butler liked the idea of blowing a man’s brains out better than his heart.

When Luke and Trinity moved to pass the woman, Joyce Butler practically shoved her
shot-up target in Trinity’s face. Her smile was as thickly sweet as her perfume. “A
hell of a lot better than your pitiful display,” she said.

With more class than Joyce Butler could ever hope to have, Trinity nodded. “You’re
absolutely right. I could never be like you, Joyce.”

Butler gave a smug smile and turned back to her next target, clearly dismissing Luke
and Trinity.

Luke draped his arm around Trinity’s shoulders as they headed out to his old Chevy.
“How are you doing getting your thoughts about us together, sugar?”

She leaned into him, and for a minute, Luke thought she might answer him. That she
might say,
I’m fine. And then, Yes, I’m ready.

But for now, at least, Trinity MacKenna didn’t say anything at all.

***

Trinity glared at the reinforced punching bag Zack had set up in a corner of the barn
storage room, where she’d trained every day for almost two weeks. The heavy odor of
smoke from the fire just wouldn’t go away.

Her breath came in angry huffs and sweat trickled down the small of her back beneath
her workout clothes. Her skin was warm and flushed from her intense workout, and she
barely felt the chill in the air.

Damn the bastard. Maybe bastards.
Whoever sent that postcard. Whoever started the fire in the barn. Somebody was trying
to hurt her sister. She jabbed at the leather bag several times, a litany of damn
them, damn them, damn them running through her mind with every punch.

Using skill obtained from four years of kickboxing practice, Trinity raised one leg,
and with a powerful side kick she slammed her Nike-clad foot into the punching bag.
Her ponytail slapped against her back as she followed up with five quick bare-fisted
jabs, each punch feeling solid and good, and relieving some of her frustration.

A little, anyway.

Part of her frustration was sexual, and no amount of punching or masturbating was
going to make that ache go away. Nothing and no one could—except Luke.

Even with the craziness around the ranch, she still found herself thinking about him.
Thinking about
them.

Thinking about the fact that no matter how hard she was trying not to, she was slowly
falling in love with a cowboy. Christmas less than two weeks away, and she was having
dopey fantasies of spending the holidays with Luke.

She gave the black leather punching bag another wallop.