Luke (Armed and Dangerous Book 2) (18 page)

She seemed to understand him, though, and her hands were steadier on this shot than they’d been during her first half dozen. Trinity had argued with him about not needing to learn how to handle a firearm. But after some heavy-duty convincing by Luke, she finally gave in.

He wasn’t taking any chances.

Busting the damned rustling operation hadn’t stopped the trouble, and someone was still trying to mess around with the MacKenna women. He and Zack planned to make damned sure nothing happened to either of them.

When Trinity finished firing the last round of bullets, she set the gun down, pulled off her ear coverings, and gave him a smile. “I think I did better that time.”

Luke nodded and pressed the button that slowly brought the target back to them. “I think you’re right,” he said as he pulled the target off the clip. She had a tendency to aim a little high, most of her shots going to the target’s neck, but it was a sight better than her first try. Those holes had been scattered all over the target, half of them not even close to the body.

Trinity rubbed the earrings along her left ear, something he noticed she did whenever she was deep in thought. “I don’t understand why this person would do the things he’s doing. Why the note? Why burn the barn?”

With a shrug, Luke replied, “I don’t know, but Clay Wayland and Zack and Noah Ralston are aiming to find out.”

Me, too, sugar. I’m on it like you wouldn’t believe.

He’d pulled back from the main drug-running investigation, leaving Rios in charge of that, and of tracking Guerrero’s every slimy move. He was handling the trouble at the Flying M with Zack, and Clay Wayland assisting whenever they needed him.

Whatever was happening at the ranch, it seemed to tie back to Woods and the rustling operation they’d destroyed, at least in some loose way. Guerrero-based, but not necessarily Guerrero himself pulling the strings.

That damned stooge Woods might be involved with this, and Luke had people leaning on him and his buddies already. This close to trial, they couldn’t afford any more trouble.

Of course, neither Skylar nor Trinity would leave the Flying M and go stay someplace safe, no matter how hard Zack and Luke tried to push the issue. These women were not about to be run out of their home, and away from what mattered to them.

Frowning, Trinity looked as though she intended to say something else when she turned to glance at the shooter setting up right beside them.

Luke had to stifle a groan when he saw who it was. Joyce Butler.

Trinity turned away and started packing up the ammo, and then slid the gun back into its zippered case.

Yeah, sugar. That’s it. Let’s get the hell out of here.

“Won’t do you a damn bit of good in there.” Luke smiled and rubbed his hand over her back, trying to get Trinity to take the piece back out of its case. “You need to carry it around. Get the feel of it.”

“It makes me nervous.” Trinity eased the zipper up and around the case. “I feel safer using my bare fists and my feet.”

“You’re real good at it, too.” He moved his fingers to her neck and she shivered beneath his touch. “I’d wager you could kick some ass if you had the chance.”

She raised her brows. “So... you’ve watched me practice my kickboxing?”

“Every chance I get,” he murmured, wondering if he’d ever confess what else he’d watched—and when.

Probably not.

But the memory—damn, it was a good one.

A commotion in the lane next to them caught Luke’s attention and he turned his gaze toward Joyce Butler’s target that she’d just pulled in.

“Wow,” Trinity said, a touch of surprise in her voice. “She’s really good.”

Luke shrugged as he studied her target. The shots were all centered on the head. Apparently Butler liked the idea of blowing a man’s brains out better than his heart.

When Luke and Trinity moved to pass the woman, Joyce Butler practically shoved her shot-up target in Trinity’s face. Her smile was as thickly sweet as her perfume. “A hell of a lot better than your pitiful display,” she said.

With more class than Joyce Butler could ever hope to have, Trinity nodded. “You’re absolutely right. I could never be like you, Joyce.”

Butler gave a smug smile and turned back to her next target, clearly dismissing Luke and Trinity.

Luke draped his arm around Trinity’s shoulders as they headed out to his old Chevy. “How are you doing getting your thoughts about us together, sugar?”

She leaned into him, and for a minute, Luke thought she might answer him. That she might say,
I’m fine. And then, Yes, I’m ready.

But for now, at least, Trinity MacKenna didn’t say anything at all.

***

Trinity glared at the reinforced punching bag Zack had set up in a corner of the barn storage room, where she’d trained every day for almost two weeks. The heavy odor of smoke from the fire just wouldn’t go away.

Her breath came in angry huffs and sweat trickled down the small of her back beneath her workout clothes. Her skin was warm and flushed from her intense workout, and she barely felt the chill in the air.

Damn the bastard. Maybe bastards.
Whoever sent that postcard. Whoever started the fire in the barn. Somebody was trying to hurt her sister. She jabbed at the leather bag several times, a litany of damn them, damn them, damn them running through her mind with every punch.

Using skill obtained from four years of kickboxing practice, Trinity raised one leg, and with a powerful side kick she slammed her Nike-clad foot into the punching bag. Her ponytail slapped against her back as she followed up with five quick bare-fisted jabs, each punch feeling solid and good, and relieving some of her frustration.

A little, anyway.

Part of her frustration was sexual, and no amount of punching or masturbating was going to make that ache go away. Nothing and no one could—except Luke.

Even with the craziness around the ranch, she still found herself thinking about him. Thinking about
them.

Thinking about the fact that no matter how hard she was trying not to, she was slowly falling in love with a cowboy. Christmas less than two weeks away, and she was having dopey fantasies of spending the holidays with Luke.

She gave the black leather punching bag another wallop.

Her learning of the job with DropCaps was going great so far. No pressure, since she wasn’t officially starting until January.

Punch to the bag. It felt hard against her knuckles.

Finding the bastard who was after her sister—not so great.

Another punch to the bag. Clay and Noah and Zack were so pissed they walked around like dark clouds, storming all over the Flying M. Luke hadn’t been much better—and he’d been gone a lot, too, out with his friend Rios, doing God only knew what.

One of the ranch hands had made a comment to another hand about Rios and Luke being heavy drinkers at a Douglas bar on their days off.

Trinity frowned. She couldn’t picture Luke as a drunk. Couldn’t picture it at all.

But she could picture herself in bed with him.

“I’m ready.” Trinity smacked the bag again.

Just thinking about Luke made her ache all over, inside and out.

In a quick movement, Trinity spun and kicked the punching bag dead-on with her right foot. In a flash she nailed it with her left foot, then jabbed at the bag with each fist in rapid-fire succession.

Just as she was about to kick the bag again, hair prickled at her nape.

Strong hands gripped her shoulders from behind.

Wild thoughts tore through her mind—of the arsonist and the bastard who sent that psycho postcard.

Adrenaline pumped through Trinity, and she went on defensive autopilot.

She shot out her foot, low and hard, connecting with a booted shin. At the same time she twisted and broke free of the grip on her shoulders. She whirled, sending her fist into a hard muscled abdomen—

A fraction of a second before she realized it was Luke.

“You’ve got a helluva left, sugar.” He grimaced and rubbed his abs with his palm. “That’s certainly one way to greet a man.”

“Yeah, well, serves you right.” Trinity’s cheeks burned as she tossed her ponytail over her shoulder. “Maybe that’ll teach you not to sneak up on a woman.”

He took a step closer, dominating her personal space, but she lifted her chin and held her ground. Beneath his dark Stetson, dirt streaked his stubbled face and he smelled of dust, horse, and testosterone. Sweat soaked his blue denim work shirt, and dang if he wasn’t wearing a pair of well broken-in chaps.

No fair. A good-looking cowboy in chaps had always been one of her weaknesses. There was just something sexy about a man in all that leather.

Trinity shivered, her nipples hardening, her body already throbbing and tingling. She could picture him naked, with only his chaps on...

Luke’s wicked blue eyes glittered as he moved so close that his belt buckle brushed her belly. “I’ve been dying to get a little uninterrupted time alone with you.” He placed one hand on her hip and reached up to trail his thumb along her cheekbone with his other. “I can’t hardly sleep at night, picturing you in my bed.”

Heat suffused her body, starting from where his hand rested on her hip, flowing across her thighs, between her legs, up to her breasts and neck and on up to the roots of her hair.

Trinity swallowed hard past the dry lump in her throat. She licked her lips and a muscle in his jaw twitched. God but she wanted him to kiss her. Wanted to feel his sweaty naked body—against her own currently sweaty body.

His mouth neared hers and she braced her hands on his muscled chest.

“I’m through playing games with you, Luke.” She shoved against all that strength and power. “I’m as ready as I’m going to be, so don’t even ask me this time.”

His deep rumble of a laugh made her that much hotter.

“I’m not sure I believe you.” His words rolled through her body like thunder. “But at least you’re starting to believe yourself.”

“I’m not making you any promises,” she whispered. “I don’t even know what you really want from me.”

“Yes, you do.” Luke slid his hand from her cheekbone, roughly brushing her earrings as he reached for her sweat-dampened hair. Grabbing her ponytail in his fist, he pulled on it, gently bringing her closer to him. He swept his lips over hers and she tasted his breath as she moaned. He nipped at her lower lip and she sighed into his mouth. “I want everything. And I want it right now.”

“Trinity?” A British man’s voice called from the other end of the barn, shattering the hold Luke had on Trinity. “Are you in here?”

“Oh.” In a confused haze, Trinity tried to push away from Luke but he kept his grip on her hip and her ponytail.
Oh, this is not good. Not good.
“Let me go, Luke.”

His eyes narrowed. “Is that who I think it is?”

“Trinity?” Race called out again, the sound of his voice incongruous as Trinity cursed out loud and in her mind, double-time.

She could tell from the stunned look on Luke’s face that he was thinking all sorts of things—like, maybe she hadn’t broken it off with Race when she said she did, or maybe she’d been in touch with him, or having second thoughts the whole time she’d supposedly been getting herself ready to give herself completely to Luke.

Damn!

“Give me a minute,” she said to Luke, but he didn’t look like he was about to have that kind of patience.

“I need to do this,” she told him. “And I need you to trust me.”

Trinity pushed against Luke’s powerful chest again. He held on to her ponytail for a moment longer, then let it slide through his fingers as she broke away from him.

She couldn’t seem to break eye contact, even though she needed to go talk with Race. Trinity had never felt so sexy, so attractive, and so secure as she did around Luke—while totally unbalanced all at once.

He was driving her crazy.

She was so ready for him—and now this?

Was life just playing one big long joke on her?

“Trinity?” Race sounded lost and completely confused.

“Coming.” Cool air dried the sweat on her skin even before she grabbed her sweat jacket from a hook on the wall and slipped it on.

Trinity started to leave, then paused to glance back to Luke. With that possessive look on his face she could just imagine him pulling a Neanderthal routine and getting in the middle of things. She pointed her finger at him. “You—you behave,” she whispered before turning. She jogged around the corner and spotted Race at the opposite end of the barn.

Trinity came to a dead stop, unable to make herself hurry toward the man she’d been with for the last two years of her life. Before she stepped back in time and started wrestling with her past.

It had been what, almost a month since she’d kissed Race goodbye at Heathrow Airport in London. A light, conservative kiss since he was a typical reserved English gentleman who never indulged in public displays of affection.

But when she saw him here, in the world she’d grown up in, it was almost like the last two years had happened to another woman. No excitement rushed through her at the sight of him, no fluttering of anticipation in her belly. Just a pleasant feeling of seeing a good friend... mixed with the twinge of uncertainty and a distant ache over not wanting to hurt someone she truly cared about.

“There you are, my dear.” Race smiled as he strolled up to Trinity.

Yes, he was a devastatingly handsome man, fit and well muscled, and about as tall as Luke. His high cheekbones gave him an aristocratic look, but his sandy blond hair and deep brown eyes made him friendly and approachable, and definitely gorgeous and sexy.

Race’s cobalt-blue polo shirt, khaki slacks, and brown loafers were glaringly out of place in the barn, but she couldn’t imagine the sophisticated and refined man in anything more casual. Funny, but she’d never seen him in a pair of jeans. As far as she knew, he didn’t own any.

“What are you doing here?” Trinity tried not to sound shocked or annoyed as he reached her and took both of her hands in his.

“I came to make my case in person.” Race lowered his head and gave her a light kiss. His lips were cool and firm, and he smelled of the musk cologne she had given him for Christmas last year. “I hoped it might be a nice surprise.”