Luke (Armed and Dangerous Book 2) (9 page)

“That’s it, sugar,” he murmured as she slipped one hand down and then she spread her legs wide as though welcoming him between her thighs.

“You’re beautiful,” he said softly as he worked his cock. “Can’t wait to get to know you better.”

Trinity’s fingers slipped between her folds and she began rubbing herself in a slow, circular motion. With her free hand she pushed up one of her generous breasts and flicked her tongue against her own nipple.

Damn but that turned him on. He’d never watched a woman licking and sucking her own nipples, and the sight was fucking arousing.

Her fingers grew more frantic and his strokes more intense.

When she came, she threw back her head, and she bit her lip as though to keep from crying out. Her body trembled and vibrated, and she kept rubbing herself until she came a second time.

As her body relaxed, a dreamy expression covered her face, and he only hoped she’d been imagining that he was the one making her so happy. She raised her fingers to her nose as though to smell her juices, and that was enough to make Luke’s climax hit him in a rush.

He bit the inside of his cheek as it took him, and went on, and went on a little longer. Damn that had felt good. But the real thing was going to feel a whole lot better.

Luke fixed his belt and jeans, as he forced himself to turn away. For a moment, he stood there, wondering what the hell he’d just done. He’d had no intentions of spying on Trinity MacKenna and had ended up masturbating while he watched her do the same.

Fuck.

He was losing his goddamned mind.

Over one beautiful woman.

Luke slipped away from the house and faded into the night.

Trinity couldn’t remember being so hungry in years.

How could breaking up with the perfect boyfriend and having wild sweaty dreams about a cowboy—a cowboy, for God’s sake— get her stomach growling this loudly?

Skylar rattled her omelet pan on the stove, and the sizzle of onions filled the air. The whole kitchen smelled like them, and eggs and peppers and rich, melting cheese, and bacon—
oh, man.
Skylar flipped two omelets onto her plate, walked to the table, and plopped down across from Trinity, right next to Zack. With a grin, she slid her second omelet onto Trinity’s plate, and Trinity’s stomach growled again.

Damn it, midnight breakups and all the hunger in the world didn’t change the fact that Trinity didn’t do cowboys. She never had, never planned to—because cowboys tied women to places like Douglas. She wasn’t about to make that mistake.

She glanced across the breakfast table and caught another glimpse of the pictures her new brother-in-law had been studying.

He’d been hard at work since she started stuffing down the first excellent omelet Skylar had cooked for her.

Trinity made herself swallow a delicious bite of fresh, hot cheesy eggs before asking, “Are those pictures of footprints?”

“Yeah.” Zack acted as if he wanted to slide the pictures back into the folder he was guarding with his elbow, and Trinity realized the photos had to be related to some investigation. Interesting. Zack worked for Immigration and Customs Enforcement and Skylar had told Trinity the border and drug smuggling issues in Douglas had heated up so badly that lots of agencies were working together now.

Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms—ATF—for one, along with DEA, ICE, CBP, and the local sheriff and police forces. Just about everybody had joined the fight. The violence and risk scared Trinity a little, but she found the science of it fascinating.

“Sorry, Sky.” Zack gave Skylar a guilty look.

Skylar ate a bite from a strip of bacon and shrugged. “Just don’t drag out the blood and gore shots, okay? I want to enjoy my breakfast for once.”

Trinity craned her neck to see the photos, which appeared to be multiple shots of human footprints, set in dirt or sand. Some dark stuff had been splashed all around the prints—
oh.
Trinity swallowed a little harder this time. That was probably the blood Skylar didn’t want to see.

Trinity put her fork down and focused all her attention on Zack. “Does your office use footprint analysis?”

Zack’s brows pulled together above his gray eyes. “For individual prints? Of course.”

“I mean for the overall pattern of all the tracks.” Trinity couldn’t help herself. She picked up her fork and started eating again, barely getting her bite swallowed before she continued talking. “You know, to figure out who came and went first and second and third, and likely points of origin—that sort of thing.”

Zack put his fork down. “Whether or not we can do it by sight depends on how clear and how fresh the trail is when we find it.”

“I mean afterward, from photographs.” Trinity glanced from Zack to Skylar, who took another huge bite of omelet and didn’t seem to mind them talking about Zack’s work. “It’s similar to some of the gaming software for one of the products I supervised,” Trinity said. “The designer used a trail analysis algorithm to help spaceships target off-screen enemies who were shooting at them.”

Zack studied her. “Go on.”

Trinity chewed up another bite of bacon and swallowed, wishing Skylar had fried another pound. “If you leave me a copy of that photo, of all the photos showing footprints—and show me due north on the crime scene, I might be able to give you some information.”

Zack put a hand on his folder full of photos. “Like...”

“Like which set of prints arrived first, which set left the scene first—which direction they took, and maybe even which direction they came from.” Trinity dug into the last of her second omelet. “If that would help.”

Zack gave Skylar a mock frown. “You didn’t tell me she grew up and got useful.”

“Don’t give her any pictures with body parts, damn it.” Skylar pointed her fork at Zack’s nose. “I don’t want her having nightmares and leaving. I don’t want her leaving at all.”

Trinity’s stomach gave a big lurch, and it was all she could do to keep a smile stapled across her face.

I don’t want her leaving...

Skylar’s words bounced through Trinity’s mind, driving away the scents and flavors from the wonderful breakfast.

Okay, so, she’d known her sister wanted her around, wanted her to visit, even wanted her to stay, but hearing it out loud like this, here, now, as they all sat around the breakfast table eating eggs and bacon like a real family—
ouch.

Skylar wants me here.

Trinity tried to make herself take her last bite as Zack riffled through his folder and picked out photos, but she couldn’t lift the fork to her mouth.

Skylar wants us like this—a family again.

Talk about insta-guilt.

Or were all the knots in her stomach really fear, instead?

What am I afraid of?

That I want to stay in Douglas?

Get real.

She had a job. A future that had nothing to do with Meaty MacKenna or any of her old pains. She had a life, a boyfriend, a—

Oh. Wait.

The reality that she broke it off with Race last night came slamming home, and for a few moments, Trinity felt completely cut loose from reality. She felt like old Trinity.

Madeline...

Stop it.

“These ought to be a good start.” Zack slid four photos of footprints across the table.

From a thousand miles back in her own mind, Trinity noted that the bloodstained prints had been decorated with dozens of tiny evidence markers. The markers gave millimeters and centimeters, indicating depth and distance from each other.

“Are you okay, honey?” Skylar’s warm, loving voice jerked Trinity back from the strange, distant place she’d gone.

“Fine.” Trinity gathered up the photos, trying not to let her hands shake. “Just thinking about what I need to do with the software to prove I did grow up and get useful.”

“Silly.” Skylar went back to her omelet as Trinity slid out of her chair. “You’ve always been a lot more than just useful, especially to me. You’re my only sister, and the best one in the world.”

Trinity managed a smile, then picked up the photos and left the kitchen before she could freak out again. She made it around the corner and leaned against the wall, closing her eyes to settle herself for a second.

Skylar and Zack had started talking to each other, voices low and loving, sounding oddly right in the stillness of the ranch house.

This had become a happy place, a healthy place. A place Trinity could get used to, for sure, but she knew she couldn’t have it both ways. She had to choose between staying away from Douglas except for visits and keeping her new, confident healthy self—or coming back to this town and house and life, and maybe drowning in her old, scared, helpless self.

Trinity opened her eyes, her mind sharper now. As much as Skylar meant to her, that choice wasn’t really a choice at all. Trinity needed to get Zack’s photos taken care of, then get hold of Drop- Caps to finalize their arrangements, stay the hell away from dangerously sexy cowboys—and get the hell out of Douglas.

The helicopter swept low, stirring a shitload of dust across the dilapidated piece of border fencing between Bull Fenning’s ranch and the edge of Gina Garcia’s property.

Luke shifted his position to get a better look at the images on Noah Ralston’s radar screen as they covered more territory. Ralston guided the helicopter on another sweep, as close to the ground as he dared.

Ralston shook his head, and Luke gave the pilot a signal to pull off and make another pass to the south, fully over the eastern edge of the K & K. They were still well out of visual range from the main house, though.

“The radar’s only good to about forty feet.” Ralston sat back from the wavy lines and colors on his screen. “If the tunnels are deeper than that, we’ll never see them.”

Luke nodded. Even the older version of ground-penetrating radar, which still had to be mounted on the bottom of military vehicles or towed in a cart, gave a lot of false positives. This new version that could be focused from low-flying helicopters helped with searching more territory. Problem was that the depth was shallow at best, and about half the signals they investigated turned out to be nothing, or naturally occurring pockets in the earth. Microgravity sensors would be a hell of a lot more effective in tunnel detection—but thousands of times more expensive, too.

Tunnel hunting had been a long shot, but what the hell. Luke figured he might as well be useful while he waited for Rios to get his ass back from the autopsy of the body—well, body pieces— they’d finally located on Wade Larson’s ranch. It kept him busy, and it kept him away from Trinity MacKenna.

Who might be back at Skylar’s house, naked in her bed, touching herself. . .

God help me.

Luke clenched his jaw so hard he almost cracked a tooth.

“You seem distracted,” Ralston called over the dull roar of the chopper’s whirling blades. “Not on the same planet distracted.”

“Yeah.” Luke tried to ignore the hard-on building at just the thought of seeing Trinity MacKenna with her fingers moving between her legs, of watching her flick that pretty pink tongue against her dark nipples.

I’m killing myself.

“You get anything from Joyce Butler yet?” he asked, mostly to refocus his own thoughts. Thinking about Joyce Butler definitely tamped his lust a few notches.

“We talked all of two minutes, at the most, after the Christmas party.” Ralston squinted at his screen again, but didn’t act as if he was seeing anything important. “Joyce left town early this morning to help with her father’s campaign. We did a fairly thorough flyover of her boundaries after she was gone, and came up empty.”

“Why don’t you touch down and let me off over there?” Luke pointed to a flat stretch of packed sand and rock to the east. “My truck’s close enough to K and K for me to pay a visit to Ms. Garcia and walk from there.”

The walk would definitely do me good.

When Luke looked at Ralston, the CBP agent had a big smirking grin on his face. “You like Gina Garcia? Is that where your head’s been?”

Luke shook his head. “I want to poke around a little, see what she’s scared of—because she’s definitely nervous about something.”

“Uh-huh.” Ralston kept grinning even as he guided the ’copter down. “Well, if it’s not Gina, it’s some other woman.”

“You need a girlfriend, Ralston.” Luke waited for the bird to touch ground before he jumped out, keeping his head low. “Your fantasies are getting the better of you.”

Ralston shook his head, still smiling, as Luke moved clear of the rotors.

The chopper picked up in a swirl of dust and pebbles, leaving him alone for a few long minutes before he started walking.

Luke glanced around.

No cold streams to dive into, damn it. This was Douglas. The desert. Right now, an arctic shower might have been helpful.

He dusted off his jeans and Western shirt and figured he’d better start walking the few miles to the K & K’s main house. The exercise would have to be enough to burn off his interest in Trinity MacKenna.

For now.

The old K & K ranch house looked a lot like Luke remembered it when he’d visited it as a kid—all white boards and angles, with a big porch and a bigger barn. The flower boxes in the windows added a soft touch, and the tire swing hanging from a wooden strut off the barn’s side door—that looked new.

The kid in the tire swing with the long blond braids—-she was definitely a new addition. The little girl had big wide eyes that got even wider when she saw Luke coming across the field toward the house.

Before he could call out to her, the girl jumped from the swing and ran for the house. She yelled for her mother, spooking about thirty white hens and a couple of roosters into loud squawking as she pelted across the driveway.

Good girl,
Luke thought as he let himself through the field’s back gate into the K & K’s sprawling back lot.
You stay safe.

A minute or so later, Gina Garcia met him on the porch, looking nothing like she had at the Christmas benefit. Today she had her hair pulled up in a messy ponytail, and her white tank top had more purple stains than clean fabric. Probably blackberry or blueberry juice, Luke realized. Gina had left the back door ajar when she came out, setting free a tantalizing smell of baking pies.