Trouble With the Law (19 page)

“Fuck you,” she said in Spanish under her breath as she spun on her heel and stomped toward the stairs.

“
Dime cuándo, magnífic
o
,
”
Trac
e
replied sexily in stiltedSpanis
h
,
an
d
hi
s
laughter echoed behind her as she reached the stairs. 

Say when
, gorgeous
.

The bastard
understood and evidently spoke Spanish.  But for whatever reason, he was letting her go with them, and she wasn’t giving him a chance to change his mind, Ronnie thought, as she took the stairs two at a time.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“They’re too short, and a little tight in the hips, but what do you think?” Ronn
ie asked as she spun in a slow circle, before facing him again.  Trace swallowed and shifted his stance.  How the hell did she look?  Like a fucking walking wet dream.  A woman he’d like to drag up into a deer stand and do something other than hunt.

Trace snorted and dragged his eyes from hers.  “It’s not a fashion contest.  They’ll probably see your white legs for miles in the woods.”  She had rolled up the pants to just below her knees so her well-toned calves were on display between them and the combat boots she wore.

“I’m a redhead, Trace,” she reminded him defensively. 

As if he didn’t know that.  He knew.  Inside and out, Ronnie Winters’ was a redhead. 
A true redhead right down to the curls between her legs.  With a growl, he jerked the AR-15 that Dave Logan had given him from where it rested against the sofa, and slammed a magazine in the stock.

“Where did you get those boots?” he asked gruffly.

“They’re a little small.  Must’ve been Conner’s when he was a kid.  They were at the back of the closet.”

The black t-shirt Ronnie
wore must’ve been Conner Lucas’s when he was a kid too.  It looked like it was made for a ten-year-old boy.  Her perfect breasts were outlined under the tautly stretched material.  And her damned nipples were hard.  She didn’t have on a bra again.  Shit.  “You didn’t find a bra in there?” he asked snidely glancing away.

She laughed.  “The one I found wouldn’t have done a bit of good, so no.”
  She glanced around then asked.  “Where’s Dave and his men?”

“Loading the van.  If you took any longer, we were going to leave your ass.”

“That wouldn’t have been smart, because you would’ve had to come back here sooner or later.  And it wouldn’t have been pretty,” she threatened.

“No, what’s not smart is
us bringing you with us at all.  I can communicate with those women just fine.”

“Why are you bringing me with you then?” she asked with a short agitated breath, as she folded her arms under her breasts.  They jiggled enticingly above her
forearms and heat shot through him.  That was the sixty-four thousand dollar question. 

Why was he bringing her?
 

Because leaving her here alone
, or even with Dave’s man Caleb, went against the grain.  He needed to know she was safe.  The only way he would know that if she was with him.  But Trace tried to convince himself it was because he could use Dave and both of his men for backup just in case.

“You’re staying in the van, got that?”
Trace said as he slung the strap of the weapon over his shoulder and leaned down to pick up the camo backpack with his other weapons and supplies.

“Don’t blame me when one of those women kicks you in the balls then,” she said with a sharp laugh.
  “If they see a woman with you, it’ll make them feel more comfortable.”

He cast her a hot glance. 
That might be true, but she would be safer in the van.  “I’ll take my chances.  Let’s go.  It’s getting dark, and we have a good drive to get there.”  Trace walked past her out the door, and didn’t look back to see if she followed.  If he was lucky, she’d slam the door and stay here. 

Trace met Dave Logan and Caleb by the back of the van and threw his backpack inside.  “Ya’ll ready to hit the road?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Dave replied as he shut the back door of the van with a metallic click.  Ronnie walked up and he tossed her a camo hat.  “Put that on, Red.  Your hair will glow like a neon sign out there in the woods.”

“She won’t be in the woods,” Trace told him.

“We’ll play it by ear,” Ronnie retorted breezily as she shoved the hat on her head, pulling her hair through the hole in the back.  Trace started to set her straight, but didn’t feel like arguing with her now.  She was staying in the van, and that’s all there was to it.  He grabbed the handle on the van door and slid the side panel open.  Ronnie hopped inside and he heard her gasp. 

“What?” he asked leaning inside.

“Looks like we’re ready for World War III,” she replied as she ducked to move across the van.  Trace got inside, then Caleb got in and shut the door.  Trace’s eyes worked along the wall and he saw she was right.  They were definitely well armed and organized.  The guns weren’t scattered in the van, they lined the wall in racks.  Trace felt better about the whole situation and his confidence they might be successful tonight inched up.

Jamie
sat on the passenger seat, then closed the door.  He reached back over the seat and handed them radios.  “These have a GPS built into them, so if you get lost in the woods, you can find your way back to the road, or we can find you,” he informed with a laugh. 

All of the equipment Dave Logan had given him was top-notch, military grade stuff.  This guy must do well in his business to afford this kind of equipment, Trace thought.  Maybe he should talk to him about a job, since he was now unemployed.
 

Nah, what he really wanted
to be was a rancher.  Once he got the mess his life had become sorted out, he wanted peace not excitement.  If he got it sorted out at all.  If that didn’t happen, he would be someone else, somewhere else. 

But
Trace needed to deal with the present, before he could contemplate a future.  If he made it out of this whole mess alive, he’d think about it then.  “Dave, do you have ski masks?  I think it would be best if we wore them, so whoever we run across doesn’t identify us if we’re seen.”

Dave turned his head to look at Jamie and he nodded.  “Hand me that backpack behind you,”
Jamie said. 

Trace reached into the back and hefted the backpack over the seat.  He shoved it to
ward him.  The man unzipped the pack and pulled out a pack of black knit masks and ripped the packaging open.  He handed each of them one, then stuffed the rest back inside.

“Make sure you keep your head down, and ID with hand signals, so we don’t accidentally blow your head off out there in the woods,” Jamie said.
  “It’ll be dark out there, and with the masks on we won’t be able to see your face.”

Beside him Caleb shifted in the seat.  “Yeah, with night vision we can see the signals,”
he added.

Trace laughed.  “Night
vision too?  What are you guys commandos?” he asked. 

Dave hadn’t given him night vision goggles, but it sounded like he would.  If they weren’t successful tonight, it wouldn’t be because they didn’t have the right equipment.  Hell, with just the three of them they could probably take out a brigade of bad guys. 

Trace wished the police department had been so well-equipped.  Maybe Sean wouldn’t be dead.  Grief tried to surface inside of him, but he pushed it back where it belonged.  In the past.  He had to focus on the present and keep his eye on the prize, or he could very well wind up dead tonight too.

When Trace
looked back up, he saw Dave studying him intently in the rearview mirror.  He wasn’t looking at the road, but somehow he managed to keep it between the lines.  After a few seconds he said, “I make sure we have the tools to get the job done.  Sending soldiers into battle half-equipped and expecting a good outcome is just stupid.  Been there, done that.  Not doing it to my men.” 

Dave looked back at the road, but Trace could see the tension in his arms where he gripped the steering wheel.  There was a story there, he could see that.  Trace knew the signs.  His own story produced the same tension inside of him.  Maybe he and Dave Logan had more in common than he thought.

A heavy seriousness settled in the atmosphere inside the van.  Even Ronnie was quiet.  Which was definitely saying something.  She always had something to say, but she hadn’t muttered a word since they left the house.

After an hour or so
of driving, Dave said, “Tell me about those women, and what kind of condition we can expect them to be in when we rescue them.”

“They’ll be scared,” Ronnie said.

“Probably drugged and not perfectly coherent,” Trace added with a look at her.

Her eyes met his and with the oncoming lights shining into the van, he saw a little fear there.  That surprised him, but seeing fear in Ronnie’s eyes was comforting to Trace.  Maybe she wouldn’t do anything stupid if she was scared. 

“They’ll be confused,” she said and he heard a waver in her voice.

“I’m not waffling on helping with this, but I still can’t understand why you don’t just alert the authorities to intercept them,” Dave said with a shake of his head.

“I feel obligated to help them,” Trace replied with a huffed breath.  “I watched other groups be herded in and out of that ranch for six months.  I couldn’t help those women, but I can help these.  Give them a chance to get back home and maybe make a life for themselves.”

Maybe Trace Rooks wasn’t as damaged as Ronnie thought he was.  That statement said he still had the ability to care. 
It also made it obvious to her that there was a lot more going on inside his head than just self-preservation.  The fact that he saved her from that ranch said that as well.  There was hope that he would find his way back to the man he was before he was sent to prison.  It would just take time, and vindication.  Ronnie would help him get that if it was the last thing she ever did.

Ronnie
sighed and when Trace looked at her, she stiffened her shoulders and folded her arms over her chest.  No weakness, she thought dragging her eyes to the back of Dave head.  “Are we almost there yet?” she asked, impatient to get this over with so she could start working on those files.

“Not far,” Trace replied
, as the GPS unit on the dashboard announced a turn was coming up.  Anticipation and a smidge of anxiety mixed inside of her. 

She was with Dave in wondering why Trace was insisting on
doing this instead of alerting the police.  They got anonymous tips every day from folks.  Dave could have even given it to them.  Instead, they were going into the woods after dark on a mission that wasn’t even their own.  But Trace seemed to be determined to do this.  And she wasn’t letting him go alone.  Tomorrow, Conner would be at the lodge with those files.  They could begin untangling this mess he had gotten both of them into.

“I talked to Conner and he’s bringing the files to the
cabin, but he’s going to be a few more days,” she said and Trace grunted.  “He’s found some stuff we need to weed through, other than the files from the case.  Notes that were made by the partners.  Unexplained deposits from the business account into their personal accounts around the time of your trial.  He had to tread lightly to get that information, so that’s why he was delayed.”

That got his attention.  Trace shifted in the seat and turned toward her.  “He’s digging into their bank accounts too?  How’s he getting that information?”

“Don’t ask, don’t tell,” Ronnie said with a short laugh. 

Conner was sticking his neck out, going into the office after midnight when he knew nobody else would be around.  And he was being careful not to leave a trail that he’d been there.  He sounded terrible the last time she’d talked to him this morning.  She didn’t think he’d slept since he left the cabin the other night.

“Your friend better be careful,” Dave said glancing at her in the rearview.

“He’s covering his tracks.  We need that information.”  And she trusted Conner to get it discreetly.  She’d only thought of getting that information to cross check
last night when they talked. 

Ronnie
figured the financial records might be a road map to the dirty dealings if they could tie irregular disbursements into the files he was bringing out.  The rest he would have to get from the courthouse during regular business hours.  To get checking account information on the other players, they would need a court order, but this was a start, and Ronnie hoped it would lead to having enough evidence to do that.

Suddenly, the GPS signaled they needed to make a U-turn and Trace sat forward to lean into the space between the front seats.  “You missed the turn back there.  It’s not marked
.  It’s an old oilfield road and goes back pretty far into the woods.  One way in and one way out,” he said somberly.

“That’s not good,” Dave
replied as he slowed the van to a crawl, before he swung the van to make the U-turn. 

Trace tensed.  “I know, but it is what it is.  We probably should park somewhere and walk in.  That way if something happens, we’re not trapped.”

“Great,” Dave replied tersely.  “I smell goat shit.”

A goat fuck.  Since his stint in the Marines, Ronnie had heard Dave use that term often.  What it mean
t in this case scared her.  Dave thought things might go south, and they’d all be in a world of trouble before this night was over.  That’s all Ronnie needed.  She should have insisted they forget about this stupidity.  Trace didn’t need more trouble, and neither did she.  They should have stayed at the damn cabin.  Now, not only was he in danger, she was too, and so was Dave and his men.  Yes, Ronnie thought those women deserved to be rescued, but not at the expense of one of their lives.