Luke: Armed and Dangerous (8 page)

The room smelled of pine from the Christmas tree, and of leather from the overstuffed
chairs and couches. And there was that old rocker that their mom used to rock them
in when they were little, long before she’d died.

When Trinity’s eyes met Skylar’s, her sister flashed a grin and motioned toward the
kitchen. “Let’s fill one another in over our favorite chatty food.”

“Rocky road?” Trinity laughed as her sister headed toward the freezer with Blue at
their heels. “Remember all the times we’d sit at the table with a half gallon of the
stuff and eat it straight from the carton with a spoon?”

“Ohhhh, do I ever.” Skylar yanked open the freezer door, then dug out the ice cream
carton.

After grabbing a couple of clean spoons out of the dishwasher, Skylar and Trinity
settled at the table in the breakfast nook, while Blue curled up at Skylar’s feet.
A peridot heart pendant sparkled at Skylar’s throat, and Trinity shook her head, remembering
all those years ago when Skylar had said she’d never wear it again.

Incredible how things change. How people change.

The carton made a sucking sound as Trinity popped off the lid. “You bought this just
because I was coming home, I’ll bet.”

Skylar stuck her spoon into the container and scooped out a spoonful. “Uh-huh.” Her
gaze lighted on Trinity’s left ear, and then she tilted her head and looked at Trinity’s
right. “Very cool. Definitely suits your sexy new image.”

Trinity shook her head and laughed. Thinking of herself as sexy was taking some getting
used to.

The sisters spent the next three hours bringing one another up to date on their lives.
Skylar told Trinity how Zack had come back, determined to make up for lost time. “And
have we ever,” she said with a laugh.

Trinity shared with Skylar all she’d done while living abroad, the places she’d been,
the people she worked with, and even a bit about Race. She was surprised at her reluctance
to talk about the man she’s been with for two years. She couldn’t bring herself to
tell Skylar that she thought he was going to give her an engagement ring for Christmas.

And she definitely couldn’t bring up the cowboy she’d met tonight. No, that was better
left unsaid.

One kiss, one night, end of story.

Even after the sisters had hugged and said good night, and Trinity had crawled into
the four poster bed in her old bedroom, she couldn’t get Luke Rider off her mind.

Instead she stared up at the canopy, looking at the patterns of colorful light on
the white fabric that were reflected there from her Tiffany lamp with the stained-glass
shade. In place of the colors, she saw Luke, reliving every touch of his hands, his
lips, his body.

Trinity pulled her nightgown over her head and tossed it on the floor before she shimmied
out of her thong and ditched it, too. She brought her hands up to her breasts and
pinched the bare nipples. Instead of the one man she’d had sex with for the past two
years, she could only visualize Luke. Could only imagine his hands caressing her,
flicking his thumbs over her nipples.

Her nipples beaded even tighter in the bedroom’s cool air. Her pulse picked up at
the thought of Luke’s mouth on her nipples, licking and sucking, and biting her the
same way he’d kissed her.

Slipping one hand between her thighs, Trinity ran her fingertips along her folds and
shivered. She’d never been so wet before. So hot.

Trinity let go of the guilt, let go of everything but the fantasy of letting that
cowboy make her his own. She slid her fingers into her drenched folds and gasped when
she stroked herself. She was so close to exploding, when it usually took her awhile
to reach orgasm.

With her free hand she cupped one breast and raised it up while lowering her mouth.
Her breasts were big enough that she could flick her tongue against her nipple while
she fingered herself.

She closed her eyes, imagining it was Luke who licked her nipples. Luke rubbing his
cock against her before sliding deep inside her. And how it would feel to have Luke
driving into her. She could still feel that long hard length of his cock as he’d pressed
up against her on the dance floor.
Oh, God.
He’d take her so deep and hard, rough and wild, and he’d make her scream.

Trinity bit back a cry as her orgasm spiked through her, and her eyes flew open. Her
hips rocked against her hand as she drew out her orgasm as long as she possibly could,
enjoying every electrifying jolt.

When she could catch her breath, she rolled over and switched off the Tiffany lamp
and tried to relax on her pillow.

She turned one way. Tossed the other. Kicked off her covers. Pulled them back up.

Wasn’t happening.

She’d never get to sleep with Luke constantly in her thoughts.

Only a kiss,
she told herself as she closed her eyes.
It was only a kiss.

That was a lie, wasn’t it?

Trinity sighed.

She might be a lot of things—confused, insecure, worried about her homecoming—but
she wasn’t stupid.

The way she’d enjoyed Luke Rider’s touch, it might not mean a thing about where she’d
go with that cowboy, but it damn sure meant a lot about where she should go with Race.

And where she shouldn’t.

Trinity turned on her lamp again, and estimated the time in England.

Not optimal, but then, it never would be, would it?

She got up naked, feeling half out of her own body as she made her way to her purse
and pulled out her cell phone.

Her heart thudded as she realized what she was about to do. She was going to dump
the man she’d been with for two years, a man she was close to being engaged to.

For what? A kiss by a cowboy she might never see again?

The thudding of her heart slowed and she was surprised at how calm she felt when she
heard Race’s familiar, cultured voice answer on the other end of the line.

Two years together, yet it only took a few minutes to tell him it was over between
them.

Race was far too much of a gentleman to pitch a fit over getting dumped, even suddenly,
and long-distance instead of face-to-face.

Trinity almost wished he would have made a little fuss, fought for her in some way—even
threatened to fly straight to the States and talk sense into her. But of course, he
didn’t, and that really summed up her problems with Race.

He was hurt. Polite. And in the end, cool and distant. The man had absolutely no fire
at all, at least not for her.

By the time Trinity turned off her phone and slipped back into bed, she was positive
she’d done the right thing. She knew she’d be able to sleep, maybe better than she
had in months.

Her hand moved back to the warm, damp place between her legs, and she closed her eyes.

First, though—another fantasy.

This time, without a drop of guilt...

After the party, Luke headed back to the Flying M Ranch, refusing to let himself consider
that Trinity MacKenna was staying in the main house. She was practically close enough
he could smell her, if he let himself go sniffing.

Which he damned sure didn’t need to do.

Luke bypassed the main house. He saw the strange Mustang convertible and knew the
sweet little treasure was tucked somewhere inside the house. His pulse throbbed in
a vein at his throat to know she must really be there as he made his way to the foreman’s
cabin behind the bunkhouse.
Shit.
He had to get his mind on his job. For now.

Out of habit ingrained from years of training, he made sure the building was secure
before he let himself into the small cabin. He’d installed his own security locks
on the front and back doors, as well as pull-down shades at the windows, and he always
chose a different means of identifying if anyone had been in his quarters in his absence.
Today the almost invisible threads had still been intact at both the front and rear
entrances, and he found nothing suspicious.

Once he’d made a quick round of the living room, single bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen,
he slung his duster on the coat rack beside the door. He tossed his Stetson on the
knobby top, where it rocked back and forth for a moment before going still.

From out of his duster pocket he withdrew his PDA—a slim palm device. From the holster
he pulled out his cell phone and switched it so that it would hum instead of vibrate,
and then kicked back in the comfortable leather recliner in the cabin’s small living
room. The room always smelled of mesquite wood from the pile stacked next to the old
woodstove and of leather from the worn couch and armchairs.

The furnishings weren’t much to look at, but it was neat and clean. A pair of ancient
deer antlers was mounted on the wall beside the black stovepipe of the old woodstove.
A few throw rugs were scattered around the tiled floor and the room had been paneled
in a rustic knotty pine.

On one of the wooden tables perched a small potted Christmas tree with miniature decorations,
courtesy of Skylar who figured all her ranch hands needed something Christmassy in
their quarters. The tree she’d put in the bunkhouse had been a little too big for
his tastes, but the men had gotten a kick out of it.

Luke managed to keep his mind off Trinity MacKenna—sort of—as he set to work. He turned
on his palm device and used the stylus to tab through the pages of notes he’d made
during the cattle rustling case, until he came to his short list of subjects and suspects,
people he thought might be players in the Guerrero operation, or potential competitors.

He added in Joyce Butler and Gina Garcia, though he wasn’t happy about it. Ralston
thought Guerrero was using more than his charm to rope women into doing his dirty
work—and Ralston’s instincts had proven pretty sharp in the past. As for Guerrero,
damn, but that bastard deserved something worse than a bullet between the eyes.

Maybe he and Rios could accidentally castrate the fucker when they took him down?

Luke wanted to smack the PDA on the table, but stopped himself before he destroyed
the little piece of technology. He needed to get the sociopathic drug lord out of
circulation, and fast, but he hated the idea of having to lean on scared, vulnerable
women to get the information he needed.

Guerrero probably knew that, too.

Tomorrow Luke had plans to head down to the county hospital to interview a UDA who’d
been used as a mule to smuggle drugs in from Mexico. The man had been beaten half
to death by the coyotes who had been loosely connected to the cattle rustling they’d
stopped at this ranch a few months back. Maybe he’d get enough information from the
mule to leave Butler and Garcia out of the picture.

The hum of his cell phone snapped Luke out of his consideration of the suspects to
date. He picked up the phone from the end table and saw by the caller ID that it was
Rios.

“Denver,” Luke said into the phone at the same time he shut off the PDA.

“Just talked with Miguel Cotino,” Rios said.

“The Special Ops supervisor over at CBP?”

“Yeah.” A feminine giggle could be heard in the background and Rios’s voice lowered.
“Said to not bother heading to the hospital to interrogate that mule. He’s dead.”

“Shit.” Luke ground his teeth and thumped the PDA onto the end table after all. “Anything
else?”

“Nah. Catch you tomorrow. I got me a hot little thing waiting for me.”

“Lucky bastard,” Luke said before punching the phone off and setting it back down.

At least Rios was getting some tonight. He could use a distraction himself, like Trinity
MacKenna. That was about as likely as a tornado in Arizona.

With a frustrated sigh, Luke got up from the recliner. Damn the coyotes. Damn, damn,
damn. Without the mule, what did he have, other than suspicions and scared women?

Scrubbing his hand over his stubbled face, Luke considered what to do next. He’d never
get to sleep feeling as restless and edgy as he was.

And as for distractions—well, he could go into town, but he didn’t think generic hookups
would work so well, due to one sexy little strawberry blonde he couldn’t get off his
mind.

Didn’t help that he was sure she was only a few yards away from him.

It took only a few minutes to lock up and secure the cabin. Luke found himself striding
through the dark night and toward the MacKenna house without any real purpose or plan.
Just on the hope of seeing Trinity, maybe catching her outside or in the kitchen,
and getting to talk to her for a few minutes.

He passed by the corrals and barn, the sounds of a horse whickering, the low of a
cow, and the singsong of crickets filling the night.

Luke knew the sounds well. He’d visited Douglas dozens of times as a kid, to see his
favorite aunt on her little ranch that had been sold years ago. Not to mention he
was a native Texan. He owned his own nice spread near Houston, full of its own cows
and crickets. Once this case was closed and cleaned up, he intended to head back there.

Although he enjoyed his work, he was accustomed to family dropping in, big get-togethers
with his folks, his grandma, his sisters and brothers, and all his nieces and nephews.
It had been months since he’d seen them, and he could sure use some of his mom’s blueberry
pie, straight from the oven, with a scoop of homemade vanilla ice cream right on top.

He might even talk to his mom about Trinity.

Luke almost stopped walking, because that thought caught him totally by surprise.

Not smart. Don’t even start thinking that way.

Yeah, he knew how this movie ended, and the story never worked out neat and pretty.
Best to go back to his cabin—but before he knew it, he was standing in front of the
ranch house and near the room he knew had belonged to Trinity MacKenna when she was
growing up here. No doubt it would be where she’d be sleeping.

What are you going to do, Denver? Throw rocks at her window?

He bit back a wave of frustration and embarrassment. But then, why the hell not? Maybe
she’d get a kick out of it, of him showing her his teenage-feeling interest.