Luke: Armed and Dangerous (3 page)

But Fenning had recovered quickly. Maybe too quickly. DEA financial snoops were doing
their best to figure out where Fenning’s stream of cash came from, since his insurance
and the income from his stock, weren’t sufficient to cover that kind of disaster.

“Glad to see the Bar F made it back so fast from losing so much of your herd.” Luke
kept his tone conversational, relying on his cover as a ranch hand to make him nonthreatening.
“Skylar said she’d never have been able to come back from a hit that big.”

“Skylar trusts banks. The government.” Fenning drank his scotch in one gulp, then
set his glass on the bar for a refill. His cheeks flushed maroon—maybe from emotion,
maybe from alcohol. “My daddy taught me not to put all my bullets in one gun.”

Luke responded with a practiced silence, but he widened his eyes, playing his role
as a younger man interested in Fenning’s wisdom.

Fenning picked up his refilled scotch. “Diversity. That’s the key. You want to stay
in business, you better know how to diversify. Always have one stream of income that
won’t let you down, and a stash of cash the government can’t touch.” He killed the
drink, and his face turned redder as his expression relaxed.

Luke shifted his weight back and opened his stance to give the appearance of even
greater interest. “So, if I get to the point where I can buy my own ranch and run
my own cattle, what other streams of income should I think about?”

The hard wariness came back in a rush, and Fenning answered with a snort. “Son, if
you disappeared from Douglas tomorrow, I wouldn’t miss you. What makes you think I’m
ready to tell you my business secrets?”

Luke shrugged, as if to say, fair enough. “Maybe down the road, I can do some work
for you—show you what I’m worth.”

“I got myself a good foreman,” the old man grumbled, but Luke heard the hint of interest.
Fenning’s foreman, Brad Taylor, was infamous in the community of ranch hands for partying
hard, staying out late just about every night, and barely getting to work on time.
Luke also heard that Taylor had a penchant for twins... at the same time. Maybe Fenning
found that interesting enough to keep Taylor around.

“If something changes, let me know.” Luke gave a short nod then took a drink of his
beer as he moved away from Bull Fenning before he overplayed his hand. Every detail
of the conversation was recorded in his mind to share with Rios.

Diversity. Secrets. Cash the government didn’t know about. Definitely merited more
digging—though the old man might be making his bucks filming Taylor’s exploits.

Luke made his way across the room to Gina Garcia, a statuesque blond who had bought
the old Karchner K, a couple miles north of the Bar F. Drug activity had escalated
since her arrival in the area, and some big busts had been made in a corridor discovered
between the Bar F and the K & K. Luke’s gut instinct told him that the single mother
had nothing to do with Guerrero or the new operation that was starting the turf war,
but it wouldn’t hurt to question her and check out the K & K for good measure.

Gina was decked out in a long green dress and a glittering gold locket. Classy. Definitely
easy on the eyes. Looked like she was born to wear evening gowns and sip champagne—so
why was she so nervous she was picking lint off a branch on the Christmas tree?

“Evening,” he said as he approached her, then felt bad when she jumped.

Gina’s long fingers fluttered against her chest. Her green eyes went wide, but she
seemed to relax when she saw who was speaking. “Luke. What are you—oh. Skylar MacKenna
couldn’t come because she just got married.”

Luke nodded. “Skylar says every ranch owner around Douglas has to do their part for
this shindig to work. But yeah. She wasn’t ready to give up her alone time with her
new husband.”

Gina’s smile trembled. “I wish I had an excuse. Especially a good one like that.”

When her voice faltered, Luke realized she was about to cry.

Ah, hell.

Did he have a handkerchief?

With his free hand, he felt the back pocket of his pants through his duster, but he
hadn’t come prepared for this.

“I mean, it’s just—well.” Gina’s voice dropped. “Everything’s so
expensive.
I didn’t realize I’d have to pay for more than the tickets. But it’s charity. And
like Skylar said, if you own a ranch around Douglas or Bisbee, it’s expected.”

Luke thought he was beginning to understand. “If it’s too much for you, Ms. Garcia,
you don’t have to stay.”

“Gina, please.” She lowered her hand, and seemed to relax even more. She wasn’t flirting
with him, not really, but Luke could tell flirting was a natural habit she was suppressing—probably
because it seemed out of place at a highbrow event like this.

“It’s hard, getting in with the ranching and business crowd in Douglas, Luke.” Gina
nodded toward Bull Fenning, who was terrorizing the bartender, who apparently didn’t
want to serve him another drink so quickly. “My herd’s small, but the stock’s strong.
I need them to know I’m going to keep building—and that I can hold my own.”

Luke took a taste of his beer. “Got it. Tough for a woman to make it as a rancher,
even in the twenty-first century.”

“Skylar’s doing it. I can, too. No matter what it takes.” Gina’s anxiety shifted to
anger so quickly Luke almost raised his eyebrows. “My daughter deserves a fresh start
and a good home. She’s only eight. I have to show her how to be strong.”

Fresh start—now that’s interesting.

How far would this woman go for her daughter’s welfare?

Guerrero’s people were opportunistic and ruthless as hell. Luke wouldn’t put it past
them to use a child to get what they wanted from the girl’s mother.

We need to put more surveillance on the old K & K.

He was about to offer to help Gina feign illness and make her exit before she bankrupted
herself for a soft drink when a loud female voice intruded into their conversation.

“Hello, there. You are one fine slice of cowboy.” A good-looking gray-eyed brunette
edged up beside Gina Garcia, smiling at Luke and sticking her chest in his direction.
The curve of her breasts was halfway to obscene through her thin black dress, and
her manner left no doubt she’d be a willing roll in the hay.

Luke tipped back his beer bottle for another swallow. He had no interest in women
who were that obvious. A little chase was more interesting.

“I’m Joyce Butler,” the woman said, extending her hand.

Luke made himself give her fingers a squeeze, but only because Ms. Joyce Butler was
on his list. Rich father, politically connected. Her family had a massive amount of
border land on the outskirts of Douglas—and Butler’s Rocking B hooked on the old K
& K ranch. More importantly, Joyce Butler had reportedly been tight with Gary Woods,
the sheriff’s deputy who went bad, rustled cattle for Guerrero, and tried to kill
Skylar. Joyce Butler had dated the bastard at one time, and she might have information
about the Guerrero operation, whether she knew it or not.

When Joyce Butler gave him a quick wink, Luke sighed and took another drink of his
overpriced beer.
Damn.
He’d bet his Stetson she was already planning a make-out session in the corner, or
imagining that they’d do it right on the dance floor.

Gina Garcia mumbled a few excuses, then hurried away into the crowd, abandoning Luke
with Joyce.

“Who are you, handsome?” Joyce’s voice had a rich, silky quality.

“Hired help,” he said, hoping it would back her off a step. “I’m here for Skylar MacKenna.”

Joyce pushed a strand of her curly hair behind one ear and moved even closer to him.
“Then you’re Luke Rider. Her foreman. I’ve heard half the girls in town talking about
you.”

“Guilty,” Luke admitted, making note of all the potential exits in the room.

“A foreman.” Joyce brushed her chest against his, then moved back, like it might have
been an accident. “I’m sure you know how to ride.”

Luke went to take a drink of his beer, but he’d already drained it. Fast as a flash,
Joyce had his empty bottle out of his hand, trailing her nails over his knuckles as
she took it away from him. Then she was off toward the bar, her hips bouncing back
and forth like somebody was hitting drums and cymbals to keep the rhythm.

She works it well, but I don”t want that.

But, hell.
He didn’t know what he really wanted anymore. His dedication to his work had cost
him every important relationship he’d ever managed to build, so he’d stopped bothering
to try. Skylar MacKenna—yeah, she had piqued his interest before Zack Hunter had come
back, but he’d never acted on it.

And then there was Rylie Thorn—a real spitfire friend of Skylar’s. Now, that woman
might have sparked Luke’s libido if she hadn’t reminded him so much of his younger
sister.

Luke watched as Joyce passed by Cochise County’s new sheriff, Clay Wayland. Wayland
was at the buffet table, talking to a sexy cowgirl with brown hair and blue eyes,
who owned a ranch just east of Douglas.

New man in town, around the same time as the new competition for the Guerreros. Despite
Luke’s earlier conversation with Wayland, the fact the sheriff could be involved had
potential, though Luke couldn’t imagine two crooked lawmen in the same small town.
By and large, those who swore to serve and protect did exactly that.

Wayland’s attention was on the cowgirl—was he just being polite or horny, or was he
investigating some lead or other? As Luke watched, Wayland excused himself from the
woman and took a call. A few seconds later, the man left without looking back, and

Luke figured he’d gotten the call about the trouble at the Larson ranch that Rios
had informed Luke of earlier.

Too bad.

That little cowgirl looked like she might have some spirit. Clay Wayland probably
just lost out on a night of fun and relaxation.

The mellow malt flavor of beer lingered in Luke’s throat as he contemplated the fact
it had been too long for his liking since he’d enjoyed the company of a fine woman.
He’d known his share of ladies, but in the past few years, since he gave up trying
anything serious, he hadn’t met any ladies who could keep his attention for more than
a night or two of good, hard sex.

Past few years? Hell.

If he got honest with himself, he’d have to admit that had been a problem most of
his life.

He was more attached to his truck than most people. Probably a consequence of growing
up hard and alone, then going into law enforcement. Like Clay Wayland, he rarely got
a night of uninterrupted fun. And until he brought down the Guerrero operation and
whoever it was starting a war with them, he’d be too busy for any kind of involvement.

That whole cattle bullshit Woods had arranged for Guerrero had just been a distraction,
a sleight of hand, and a little more cash for the asshole. The real scheme involved
smuggling drugs in from Mexico using illegal immigrants, UDAs, for Guerrero mules.

Noah Ralston of Customs and Border Protection had been notified of the UDA’s and immediately
took over that aspect of the investigation. Ralston and the CBP had subsequently called
the DEA. What CBP hadn’t known was that Luke and his agency had already been sniffing
around Guerrero.

Luke sure would like to know what that weasel Woods knew, but the bastard wouldn’t
say a word even to cut his potential prison time. The men that Clay Wayland, Zack
Hunter, and Luke had rounded up with Woods had been damn near worthless as far as
information on the Guerrero operation.

Gritting his teeth, Luke clenched and unclenched his fists. No sign of Joyce. She
was lost in the crowd at the bar. For half a second, he wished he could take the night
off and have some fun, get the edge off, but time was one thing he—and Douglas—didn’t
have. And Joyce wasn’t the type of woman he’d like to sink into to take that edge
off.

Just as he was about to go looking for his own beer, he saw a woman coming down the
stairs who had to be Nevaeh, by Skylar’s description. Pretty, vivacious, bright and
intelligent eyes. And—

Damn.

The woman beside Nevaeh.

Any thought he had about finding any other woman evaporated like water on a desert
rock.

Nevaeh said something that caused the woman to laugh, and her lips curved into a radiant
smile that met her beautiful green eyes.

Eyes that seemed vaguely familiar to him. Yet he knew he’d never seen this woman before,
and he never forgot a face. Ever.

Luke’s sharpened senses took in every detail of the woman and came up with a puzzle.
She appeared strong, sexy, and confident, yet there was a contradicting air of vulnerability
about her.

Intrigued, he watched her stroll into the room, her movements smooth and graceful.
Her strawberry blond hair was piled on top of her head in a sexy just-got-out-of-bed
style, and her jade green eyes were big, giving her an innocent look.

Yet the tiny red dress she wore was made for sin. It hugged her figure, showing off
her generous breasts, small waist, and curvy hips. Definitely a dress designed to
drive a man to his knees. And those high heels she was wearing—
damn.

A vision came to him—having the woman beneath him, sliding between her thighs while
her desire-filled green eyes focused entirely on him.

Luke’s groin tightened and he shifted his position.

Looked like this night might get real interesting.

How the hell was he supposed to keep his mind on business now?

“I’m going to have to hire a bodyguard just to beat the guys off of you,” Nevaeh said
as she and Trinity headed down the stairs and into the enormous recreation room of
the bed-and-breakfast. “You’re a man magnet. I swear every male in this place is watching
you.” She pointed to the Doberman resting at the foot of the stairs. “Even Killer,
my dog. Look at him staring at you—he’s in love.”