Luke: Armed and Dangerous (24 page)

For a few long seconds, Gina actually seemed to be considering his offer, but then
she frowned and gave her head a single, sharp shake. “I’d bet my life on that, but
I won’t bet Lola’s.”

What could Luke say to that?

Nothing at all, so he didn’t try.

The most he could do for Gina now was be still and let her get finished—then work
his ass off to keep her brother out of Clay Wayland’s jail.

“I’m leaving now, Luke Denver,” Gina said. “If I ever see you again, I’ll kill you.”

Luke didn’t answer that either, because no answer was necessary. The lady had just
made him a promise he figured she’d keep—and he didn’t aim to find out if she meant
it.

Gina holstered her weapon and slipped out of his kitchen—not toward the front door,
but toward his bedroom. He heard the rasp of his window sliding upward, then a second
rasp as she closed it behind her.

How the hell had he missed the marking at one of his window frames? He allowed himself
three seconds to be irritated that he’d have to postpone his lunch with Trinity, and
that trip to the cave where she learned all about sex and fantasies and dreams.

Work again. It always came back around to that, didn’t it?

Luke unfolded his arms and got on the phone to Rios in one big hurry.

“Yeah. Get Wayland and Ralston, and head to Bull Fenning’s place. We’ve got a lot
more than footprint data now—a real break on the UDA murder. If you can call it that.
I’ll brief you when I get there.”

Trinity never got the chance to keep avoiding her sister and Zack. She finished taking
her shower, combed out her wet hair, yanked on a comfortable pair of flannel pajamas
and slippers—and Zack came knocking on her door to look at the final printouts from
her body temp overlay analysis again.

“I’m heading to Bull Fenning’s,” he said, stepping back from her worktable. His gray
eyes seemed intense and focused. “I, ah, want Luke to go with me in case this goes
bad for Fenning and Brad Taylor needs some extra help. He asked me to tell you he
might not be back in time for lunch tomorrow.”

“I understand.” Trinity smiled in spite of the burst of disappointment. Running a
ranch and working in law enforcement had a lot of similarities. Some things just couldn’t
wait. “But, Zack, wait a minute, okay?”

She shifted the papers on her desk and pointed to the last analysis she’d been working
on, but hadn’t finished yet. “This one set of prints here, the ones you and Wayland’s
people didn’t think were related to this crime scene. I’ve been giving them a second
look.”

“We think Fenning had a man helping him. Those tracks probably belong to him, checking
up on Fenning.” Zack was heading toward the bedroom door. “Making sure the body disposal
went like it was supposed to. We’ll find out soon enough.”

“I think those are female prints,” Trinity called after Zack, and she heard his mumbled
response.

“We’ll look at it later.”

Trinity slid the paper back toward her laptop and sighed. She didn’t much feel like
fooling with any of it tonight. She still felt embarrassed. Unsettled. And... hungry.

Time to head to the kitchen.

It was close to ten but she had a good feeling she’d find Skylar there.

Trinity’s stomach growled as she padded down the hallway— she hadn’t eaten since noon
and she was starving. She passed the twinkling Christmas tree, rounded the corner,
and headed into the kitchen, and sure enough, there was Skylar at the breakfast nook
with a half gallon of Rocky Road and two spoons sticking out of the ice cream. Her
sister appeared to be deep in thought, playing with her spoon in the Rocky Road.

The kitchen was spotless, but Trinity caught the delicious smell of roasted meat—probably
pot roast—and her stomach grumbled again. It was so quiet that the rumbling of her
belly was the only sound Trinity could hear other than the ticking of the kitchen
clock.

As she approached her sister, Trinity felt heat rise to her face. “Save any for me?”
she asked as she sank into the chair opposite Skylar.

Skylar looked up and smiled as she gestured toward one of the spoons. “Dig in. Unless
you’d rather start with dinner.”

Thankful to have something to do with her hands and mouth, Trinity shook her head
and grasped the spoon. “This is most definitely the dinner of champions,” she replied
as she dug out a particularly large chunk and then stuffed it into her mouth.

“So...” Skylar’s voice trailed off, and Trinity knew what was coming next. “You and
Luke, huh?”

Trinity shrugged, her face burning hotter than ever while she studied her spoon and
slowly chewed the chocolate ice cream filled with marshmallows, nuts, and fudge. The
taste was welcoming and comforting, and somehow it had always made it easier to talk
with her sister.

After she swallowed, Trinity glanced from her spoon to her sister. “It all started
that first night I came home. I met Luke at Nevaeh’s Christmas party.”

Skylar raised one eyebrow. “You’ve been seeing him that long?”

“Well, sort of, but not exactly.” Trinity dug her spoon into the softening ice cream.
“He’s been working on me, and I’ve been fighting the attraction,” she said before
taking another bite.

Shaking her head, Skylar replied, “That sounds awfully familiar.” She winked at Trinity.
“And knowing Luke, when he sets his mind to something, he doesn’t give up. Not for
anything.” She licked her spoon, a thoughtful look on her face. “So what about Richard,
or Rocky, or whatever his name was with the British accent and the corny rented sports
car?”

Trinity swallowed the mouthful of Rocky Road and snorted back a laugh. “Race.”

“Whatever.” Skylar pushed the ice cream carton aside and leaned over the table, closer
to Trinity. “I knew you said you’d cut it off by phone and e-mail, but when he came
to the door, I wondered.”

“He needed to hear it face-to-face. So did I, really.” Trinity dug into the ice cream
again. “Felt more final after that.”

“That accent alone’s enough to give any woman the shivers. And he’s one fine-looking
man.” Skylar pointed her ice scream spoon at Trinity. “When he started talking, it
was all I could do to find my tongue.”

Trinity smiled. “I sure fell for that refined British accent.” Her smile faded as
she considered the reason why their relationship hadn’t worked. “I really think the
world of Race, but the problem was that he’s too reserved. I know he cares about me,
and probably loves me in his own way, but something happened in his past that caused
him to lock away his emotions and feelings.”

Trinity toyed with the spoon as she spoke, studying her upside- down reflection on
its shiny surface. “It wasn’t until I met Luke that I realized Race was truly passionless.
I realized that I need someone who’s able to feel and live.” She raised her eyes to
meet her sister’s. “And I wasn’t the right woman to set Race free. Just like he couldn’t
set me free.”

“Sorry about walking in on you and Luke.” Skylar’s cheeks went pink and her hand moved
to the peridot heart pendant at her throat. “I was feeding the horses and that devil
Satan, when I heard noises in the office. After the postcard and the fire—”

“We should have locked the door.” Trinity was sure her own face was Christmas red.
“It was our first time, and we went kind of wild.”

Skylar’s eyebrows shot up. “Your first time with him and he gave it to you in the
ass?”

Resisting the urge to duck under the table and hide, Trinity nodded. “Well, actually,
that was after we did it the, ah, usual way.”

Her sister leaned forward on the table again. “So tell me. How did it feel? In the
ass, I mean.”

Trinity laughed and before she thought better of it, she said, “As wild as you and
Zack have always had it, you’ve never tried anal sex?”

Skylar frowned. “I’ve never told you about our sex life.”

“Oops.” Trinity chewed the inside of her lower lip, then decided to spill the beans.
“You know, back when you and Zack were dating... before he left?”

Skylar’s spoon clattered to the tabletop and she clasped her pendant tighter. “You
didn’t.”

Trinity hid a grin and gave a solemn nod instead. “Up at that place you called your
hideaway. There’s a cave hidden behind some bushes. I was curious and hid out there
and watched you guys.”

“Oh. My. God.” Skylar slowly shook her head, an expression of disbelief on her features.
“I can’t believe it.”

“Let’s just say it was a real education for a teenage girl.” Trinity stuck her spoon
into the ice cream that had softened to the point of turning into a mudslide instead
of Rocky Road. “Better eat up. It’s melting.”

Laughter escaped Skylar and she raised her hands in an
I give up
gesture. “Well, I sure don’t feel so bad walking in on you and Luke now.”

Trinity snorted and giggled and then in the next moment the sisters collapsed into
fits of laughter. Tears rolled down their cheeks, and Trinity laughed so hard that
her stomach ached.

God, but it felt good to laugh.

And even with all the stress, even with all the craziness in Douglas and at the Flying
M, it felt really good to be home.

In the near darkness, the Bar F looked like a kicked beehive full of flashing lights.
When Luke got there, he counted half a dozen law enforcement vehicles, marked and
unmarked, and more were coming up fast behind him. Floodlights had been set up in
the yard, making the sidewalk and porch bright as noon. Crime-scene tape marked an
area to the right, leading to an outbuilding where Luke presumed Bull Fenning kept
his meat locker.

Luke got out of his truck and put on his black Stetson, and made his way to Clay Wayland,
who was standing by the front door making notes on a pocket-sized pad. Clay Wayland’s
deputies were already leading Bull Fenning away from the massive stone ranch house
in handcuffs, and the big man had his head down so low his chin seemed to be part
of his chest.

“Damn shame that boy from Mexico had to die.” Clay Wayland lowered his pad and adjusted
his tan Stetson as he greeted Luke. “I’d like to get my hands on the fucking coyote
who cut that poor kid loose and sent him wandering across Bull’s land in the middle
of the damned night.”

“Something has to change.” Luke watched as the deputies helped Bull into the back
of a marked car.

He knew stopping fuckheads like Guerrero was key to ending scenes like this. Before
the American people and the people of Mexico would ever embrace immigration reform,
the drug lords had to be put out of business. Everything along the border, all the
issues—sooner or later, they meshed together. Couldn’t fix one without fixing the
others, too. Not really. Sometimes it felt a lot like shoveling shit out of a manure
pile the size of Canyon de Chelly.

Wayland rubbed the corners of his dark moustache. “We talked to Fenning about Guerrero,
and Fenning thinks his oldest son might step up to the plate with the Bar F after
all. He signed a quitclaim to transfer the property to him, and he gave Brad Taylor
the cash to wire his son what he’d need to cover this year’s taxes and operating expenses.”

“Damn.” Luke whistled from surprise. “That’s a lot of capital to have lying around.”

Wayland’s mouth twitched into something like a smile. “The old man had it in waterproof
safes, sunk down in his well. Eve heard tell Fenning’s father was like that—but you
know, after the market crash bullshit and all the failed banks, they don’t seem that
crazy after all.” Luke thought about how the federal government and other nations
were busy busting up tax havens in Swiss banks and offshore accounts. He thought about
all the hours of forensic accounting the DEA hired and paid for, day after day and
week after week. They got a ton of intel from watching where the money moved, but
there would always be a Bull Fenning somewhere, burying—or drowning—his cash off the
radar.

A few seconds later, Cruz Rios came out the front door, hustling Brad Taylor in front
of him. Luke was relieved to note the lack of cuffs on Taylor, and he pulled off to
the left with Wayland and Cruz, away from the growing crowd of officers and technicians,
to talk to the man.

As they reached a clutch of pines near the edge of the yard, Taylor’s brown eyes looked
wide and wild, hunted, not unlike his sister’s when she’d come to Luke’s cabin earlier
that evening. Luke felt a twinge of guilt, especially when Taylor smashed his fist
against a pine tree trunk, then wheeled on him.

“You should have listened to me, Rider—if that’s even your name.”

Luke didn’t volunteer anything about his cover. “You should have told me the whole
story, Brad. Especially if you suspected I was law enforcement.”

Cruz and Wayland stayed silent, obviously realizing Luke had enough of a relationship
to pull off defusing the situation and getting Taylor where he needed to be.

“Christ, I may never see her again.” Taylor rubbed his bruising knuckles against his
jeans and stared at the gray dawn sky. “And Lola—they’re really on their own now.”

“I tried to get her to go to some of my friends,” Luke told the man. “She wouldn’t
do it.”

“I sent Levi Thorn after her,” Wayland said in his quiet, matter-of-fact voice, surprising
Luke and Rios, too, by the look on Rios’s face. “I had him headed out to question
her at the K and K based on the info the DEA had received. When he found her and her
daughter gone, Levi tracked her to the Flying M.”

“Not bad,” Rios muttered, giving Luke a look, no doubt about the Flying M connection.

Luke quickly explained about his encounter with Gina, and how she’d come to the Flying
M to ask him to help Taylor.

Taylor’s mouth came open, and his already red face got a little darker. “Your deputy
won’t ever catch up to my sister, Sheriff Wayland. She’s good at running. She has
to be.”

“Don’t underestimate the man,” Wayland said. “Levi’s former special forces, and he
worked for the U.S. marshalls for his first four years out of the service. Last I
heard from him, he’d picked up her trail again, on the edge of Cochise County, heading
north and east.”