Read Wildcard Online

Authors: Cheyenne McCray

Tags: #Romance, #Fiction, #Erotica

Wildcard

BOOK: Wildcard
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WILDCARD

An Ellora’s Cave publication written by

CHEYENNE McCRAY

MS Reader (LIT) ISBN # 1-84360-579-1

Other available formats (no ISBNs are assigned):

Adobe (PDF), Rocketbook (RB), Mobipocket (PRC) & HTML

© Copyright Cheyenne McCray, 2003.

All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave.

Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc. USA

Ellora's Cave Ltd, UK

This e-book may not be reproduced in whole or in part by email forwarding, copying, fax, or any other mode of communication without author/publisher permission.

Edited by
ANN RICHARDSON

Cover Art by
DARRELL KING

To Jan G.

My best bud since our college days,

and all that we’ve gone through together

over the years.

And, um, those research missions? This one’s for you!

Love ya, buddy!

 

Acknowledgment:

As always, thank you to my wonderful

crit partners, Annie & Nelissa.

What would I do without you two?

And thanks to all you Wild Cowboy fans—

the cowboy in the hot tub, and

that cowboy in chaps are for you. *g*

Prologue

Jess Lawless guided the classic turquoise and white ‘69 Chevy truck up the winding rain-soaked street and into the last remaining parking spot in front of Nicole’s Bed-and-Breakfast. The B & B was situated just off Main Street in Old Bisbee, on one of the sloping hills that reminded him of San Francisco.

He shifted into first, cut the engine and the lights, and firmly set the parking brake—he sure as hell didn’t want that truck taking a little journey of its own. The old Chevy had been his grandpa’s pride and joy, and shortly before he died, the old man had given it to Jess.

He’d promised his cousin Nicole that he’d show up for her Christmas party, but he had an ulterior motive, too. Namely a keen interest in a couple of the folks slated to attend the shindig. He had his suspicions that they might have an idea where he could find that bastard Ryan Forrester. Of course getting the information from them wouldn’t be as easy as walking up and asking.

Forrester was a former Cochise County Deputy who’d gone bad. He’d masterminded a cattle rustling ring as a cover for a drug smuggling operation that he’d gotten himself involved with to pay off gambling debts.

And Forrester was now wanted for attempted murder.

DEA Special Agent Jess Lawless intended to be the man who took that bastard down. But first he had to find Forrester, while at the same time figuring out how the hell those drug-running assholes were hiding the merchandise they were slipping across the Arizona-Mexico border.

Just as he reached for the Chevy’s door handle, Jess felt the familiar vibration of his miniature high-tech cell phone. It was powerful enough that he felt it from within the hidden pocket in his specially-designed gun holster that had been sewn to the inside of his duster. He reached under the black duster, slipped the phone out from below his firearm, and checked the Caller ID.

It was his partner Diego Santiago, who’d just hired on as a ranch hand at the Bar One. Santiago had recently gone undercover at the ranch to assist Jess in his investigation, and to obtain any inside information on Kev Grand, owner of the Bar One, and others in the area—rancher, lawman, and cowhand alike. The Bar One bordered the Flying M, where Jess worked undercover as ranch foreman.

Button number one on the phone was a direct-connect line to Santiago. One punch and they were connected.

“Lawless,” Jess answered in his slow and easy Texan drawl. Jess’s and Santiago’s cell phones had such sensitive reception that he could hear as clear as day, cows lowing in the background and the chirrup of crickets.

“Trouble at Grand’s,” Santiago said.

Jess’s grip tightened on the phone. “Yeah?”

“Contaminated stock tank. A good fifteen head of cattle are dead.”

With a shake of his head, Jess asked, “Poison?”

“Looks that way. Got an inspector coming out.”

“All right.” Jess glanced through the rain-speckled windshield, to the upper story of Nicole’s B & B, and saw a woman’s curvaceous silhouette pause in front of the sheer curtains. “Keep me posted, Santiago. I’ve got some investigating of my own to do.”

 

Chapter One

Tracilynn MacLeod peeked through the bedroom’s filmy curtains and stared out into the drenched December evening. Goose bumps pebbled her skin, the colorful glow of Christmas decorations on each of the power poles somehow mesmerizing her. The sight brought back countless memories of her childhood, of celebrating the holidays in the desert. Some not-so-happy times, but she preferred to think about the ones that were joyous, or at least warm.

Below the B & B, the door of a classic old pickup truck swung open, and Trace watched as a man climbed out. In a fluid athletic motion he put on a dark cowboy hat and shut the door of the truck. With his long black duster swirling around his legs, he looked dark and dangerous, like an old west gunslinger who’d come to town to track down his prey.

The man tilted his head up, his face shadowed by the cowboy hat, and for a moment she could have sworn he was looking right at her. It was as though he could see through the curtain and straight through the tiny little dress her friend had talked her into wearing. Trace’s heart pounded and her body had an instant reaction, her nipples hardening and her panties growing damp.

She swallowed hard, knowing she needed to back away from the window, to break the electric current that seemed to connect her to the mysterious cowboy, but she couldn’t move.

“Trace, are you ready to come downstairs and join the party?” Nicole’s voice sliced through that charged connection, snapping Trace’s attention away from the man and to her friend.

“Just about.” Trace cut her gaze to Nicole who was peeking through the bedroom door. “I need to fix my hair and that should do it.”

“Here, let me help.” Nicole bustled in, shutting the door behind her.

“Thanks.” Trace moved away from the window and to the old-fashioned vanity mirror. She frowned at her reflection while she yanked down on the tiny skirt of the lipstick-red dress. “This is ridiculous,” she muttered. The darn thing barely covered her ass, and her nipples poked against the silky material like mini torpedoes. And the neckline plunged halfway to her bellybutton, showing the full curve of her breasts from the inside for cripes sake. “I can’t wear this to your Christmas party, Nic.”

Trace turned from the mirror to glare at her best friend Nicole and pointed to the three-inch heeled sandals on her feet. “And where did you find these? If you had a better memory, you’d remember I’m a bit of a klutz.”

“You’re not a klutz. Well, maybe you used to be.” Nicole’s blue-green eyes glittered mischief. “And I’d say that dress was made for you. Those long legs, cute little butt…”

Trace snorted. “Stop looking at my butt.”

“Can’t help it.” Nicole backed up, propped her hands on her full hips as she checked out Trace’s figure. “I just can’t get over how much you’ve changed in the last four years. No more glasses, and you’re so…
tiny
. I didn’t even recognize you when you first came to the door.”

With a self-conscious smile, Trace studied her best friend since her first year at Cochise Community College, and on up through their fourth year at the University of Arizona. Before Trace had taken off for Europe, she and Nicole had been tighter than sisters…certainly closer than Trace had been to her real sister, Dee. Those last few years, anyway.

“It’s all still a little weird to me.” Trace raked her fingers through her hair as she spoke. “Having IntraLasik performed on my eyes was the best thing I’ve done for myself.” She smiled. “Other than losing those ten dress sizes, that is.”

Nicole cocked her head. “So how did you do it? The weight loss, I mean.”

“Healthy eating.” Trace shrugged. “I’ve also really gotten into kick-boxing, and all that exercise has made a world of difference for me.”

“And what a difference.” Nicole grinned. “Can’t wait for our old classmates to get a load of you now. They’ll flip.”

“You’d think I’d be used to it.” Trace smoothed her hands over the silky material of the dress and glanced down at her hips. “I’ve never had hip bones—well, not that I could ever see.” She cut her eyes back to Nicole and pointed to her own shoulder. “And look at this. Shoulder bones!”

Nicole laughed and hugged Trace, her friendly embrace and soft baby powder scent bringing back memories of their college days. “I’m so proud of you, Trace.” Nicole pulled away and smiled. “As far as I’m concerned, you’ve always been gorgeous. But now…
wow
. You’re a knockout.”

“Yeah, right.” Trace turned back to the mirror and pushed her strawberry blonde hair on top of her head to see if it would look better up, and frowned at her reflection. The row of gold hoop earrings down her left ear glittered in the room’s soft lighting. While she was in England, just to be different and a little quirky, she’d had five piercings done on her left ear, with only two on her left.

Trace sighed. “Dee’s always been the beautiful one in the family.”

A beauty that Trace had always envied as she was growing up. Dee had always been the prettiest, and certainly the thinnest. Dee had always won all the awards for barrel racing in every rodeo, and had even been a rodeo queen. And of course Dee had always made better grades.

Trace, well, she’d been the quiet one, all of her accomplishments hidden in the shadows. She’d been on the chunky side, with baby fat that turned into teenage fat and then adult fat—

A slap on Trace’s ass jarred her from her thoughts. “Hey.” She rubbed her stinging butt cheek with one hand and glared at Nicole over her shoulder. “You’re not acquiring an ass fetish, are you?”

“No, dork.” Shaking her head, Nicole scooped up a gold hairclip from the antique vanity table. “You’ve got to stop comparing yourself to your sister. Now sit.” Nicole placed her hands on Trace’s shoulders and firmly pushed her down onto the bench in front of the vanity mirror. “Look at all you’ve accomplished.”

Trace shrugged. “No big deal.”

Nicole narrowed her gaze at Trace’s reflection. “Graduated with honors from U of A. Hired by Wildgames—only the best software company in the world. Never mind jetting all over Europe and shooting up the corporate ladder. Hell, you practically run Wildgames’ Public Relations Department, and you’ve only been there four years.” She gathered Trace’s hair into the clip and didn’t even stop for a breath. “And don’t forget the best part. You’re dating a company VP.”

Trace knew better than to interrupt Nicole on a rant. The woman barreled along like a boulder rolling downhill when she had a point to make.

“And now you look incredible,” Nicole finished as she fluffed the soft cloud of curls left out of the clip. “Like you walked out of
Cosmopolitan
.”

Trace couldn’t help but smile at her friend’s enthusiastic support. “It’s funny how confident and successful I’ve felt since I left home.” Her smile faded a bit. “Until my airplane landed in Tucson. Now…I don’t know. Time warp. I’m the old Trace instead of the new Trace.”

“Close your eyes.” Nicole held up the hairspray can.

Trace obeyed and held her breath as the spray hissed and a wet mist surrounded her. When she heard the can clunk on the dresser, she opened her eyes again and saw Nicole’s reflection. She had her arms folded, her blue-green gaze focused on Trace in the mirror.

“You know what I see?” Nicole asked.

Trace gave her friend an impish grin as she waved away the lingering smell of melon-scented hairspray. “A redhead in a too-small red dress with no bra?”

“Turn.” Nicole didn’t even crack a smile as Trace slid around on the polished bench to face her friend.

“Now don’t tell me.” Trace scrunched her nose as though she was seriously considering Nicole’s question. “A redhead with freckles?”

“I see the same Tracilynn MacLeod that I’ve known and loved.” Nicole crouched so that she was eye level with Trace and rested her hands on the bench to either side of Trace’s hips. “You’ve always been a butterfly, you just finally had a chance to come out of your cocoon.”

Warmth rushed through Trace and she bit the inside of her lip before saying, “You’re wonderful, you know that? You always know the right things to say.”

Nicole adjusted the spaghetti strap of Trace’s dress, a no-nonsense look on her pretty face. “Hush up and get that tiny ass downstairs. It’s time to soar, Ms. Butterfly.”

 

BOOK: Wildcard
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