Zack, page 22
He set the food in the middle of the table, which was already set with plates, flatware, and napkins. He went back to the counter and picked up the dish of scrambled eggs and the pot of coffee.
Sky grabbed a glass carafe of orange juice from the fridge. She stopped to retrieve the saucepan of maple syrup that had been heating on the range top, and then joined him at the table.
“Oh, the cream.” She jumped back up and went to the fridge. Zack watched her as she bent over to search the lower shelves, his T-shirt hiking up over her hips and exposing her bottom.
She wasn’t wearing any underwear.
Zack’s mouth fell open as he stared at the exposed flesh, and he wondered what refrigerator sex would be like.
Ice-cold air blowing over their naked bodies as he bent her over in the open door of the fridge. Sky clutching the shelves that held milk and eggs, her nipples hard from the chill. Her screams of pleasure as she yelled at him to take her harder while he thrust deep inside her.
“Found it.” She stood and turned, holding the small container of cream, then shut the fridge door with a bump of her hip.
She returned to the table and sat in a chair with a grimace as she put the cream on the table.
He frowned. “Did you get hurt last night?”
“Could have been worse.” Sky shrugged. “One of the men knocked me on my ass and my tailbone’s a little sore.”
With a scowl, Zack raked his gaze over her. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”
“Just a headache.” Sky pushed aside her hair that had been covering the side of her face that was bruising near her eye. “And nothing any worse than you’ve already seen.”
He nearly vibrated with renewed anger at Woods. Zack wanted to knock the shit out of the son of a bitch. Between Sky’s and Blue’s assaults on Woods, the former deputy was in a world of hurt. “That night doesn’t seem real, does it,” she stated.
Zack heaved an angry sigh. “Glad that’s over in more ways than one.”
Sky nodded, then looked at his plate. “Aren’t you hungry? You haven’t touched a thing.”
His thoughts turned to the image of Sky bent over. He cleared his throat. “Ah, just waiting for you.” She gave him a smile and poured two cups of coffee. “So, my cowboy prince is a gentleman, too.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” he muttered as he added a touch of cream to his coffee. He piled pancakes on his plate and had just slathered them with butter and warm maple syrup when he glanced at Sky.
The way she was looking at him made him wonder how he managed to keep himself from wiping the tabletop clean with one swipe of his hand and taking her on top of it.
When they finished, he captured her around the waist and lifted her onto the polished granite surface of the kitchen island.
She laughed, her eyes sparkling, and moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m having brunch.” Zack brushed his lips over Sky’s and her nipples went ice hard. “And this is just the right height.” Sky shivered. “I never knew granite could feel so cool and delicious against my skin.”
Trailing his thumb over her bottom lip, Zack said, “Especially when you’re not wearing any underwear?”
She cradled his jaw with one hand, stroking his stubble with her thumb. “How did you know that?”
“Lucky guess?”
She pulled him toward her and kissed him hard. His groin tightened as her fingertips skated over his chest and worked on down to the button of his jeans.
Her orange blossom scent flowed over him and he was already hard from the feel of her soft body pressed to his. As she drew back, Sky’s mouth was red from his kiss, her nipples pebbled under his T-shirt.
His gaze dropped to the open neck of the T-shirt and he saw a familiar chain and his throat grew tight. He reached up and grasped the heart pendant he’d given her their first Christmas together. Their only Christmas together. He’d chosen the stone because it matched the color of her eyes and it was her birth- stone. And he had chosen the shape because she had captured his heart.
He grasped the pendant in his palm. As his gaze met hers, he shook his head in wonder. “I thought you might have thrown it out in the pasture.”
Lips curving into a grin, she gave a throaty laugh. “I gave that some serious consideration.”
“I’ll bet you did.” Zack released the heart and kissed her softly.
How could he be so blessed with such an incredible woman? The truth was loud and clear as he slowly and softly moved his mouth over hers. This was the most special woman in the world and she was his.
Sky’s entire body went on alert as Zack slid his hands onto her bare ass. He pushed the T-shirt up and over her head before he tossed it onto the kitchen floor, leaving her naked.
Thoughts of last night and the pain in her head vanished, replaced by thoughts of Zack.
Tingling thrills went through her body as he pressed his jean-clad length against her. She wiggled her hips and worked on the button and zipper that kept him out of her hands. And not inside her.
She moaned as the button finally came undone and she fumbled for the zipper’s tab. “Don’t play around, baby. I can’t wait.”
Zack pushed her hands away from his zipper, then palmed her breasts and squeezed her nipples. “Not yet. Your nipples are in the perfect place for me to taste.”
Whimpers and more moans rose from her throat as he nuzzled and licked and sucked her breasts. She tilted her head back while holding on to his shoulders, bracing herself as she squirmed from the feel of his tongue on her.
He thrust one of his fingers inside her while rubbing her nub with his thumb. She gasped and cried out, and dug her fingers into his shoulders.
When she couldn’t take his erotic teasing another moment, she almost sobbed as she clenched her fingers in his hair and begged him, “Please, Zack.”
She let his hair slip through her fingers as he unzipped his jeans and her mouth watered. She was vaguely aware of being relieved that he had a condom in his jeans pocket.
Thank God he didn’t wait, as he lifted her hips and positioned himself at her center. Her cry of pleasure echoed through the kitchen as he thrust himself inside so deep she felt it nearly to her belly button.
Sky grasped Zack’s shoulders, digging her nails even more into his muscles and taking him deep as his lips, teeth, and tongue found one of her nipples again. She wrapped her legs around his hips and bucked at a frenzied pace and Zack clenched her to him.
As Sky arched her back, her hair slid against her naked shoulders, an erotic combination with Zack’s warm mouth on her breasts as he drove in and out of her.
The orgasm building inside made her head spin. He was so big, he fit inside her so perfectly and touched every sensitive spot inside her. The sensations inside her raged like nothing she’d ever felt before.
When it hit, her climax was so massive that a loud cry tore from her throat. The spinning in her head increased and her core spasmed around him at the same time he continued his hard thrusts.
Zack shouted as he came, and somewhere from the height of her climax Sky felt him pulsating deep within her even when he stopped moving in and out.
She collapsed against him, and they held on to each other, their sweat mingling, their breathing heavy, their hearts pounding.
Sated by their lovemaking, Sky allowed herself to enjoy the comfort of Zack’s embrace. His earthy presence surrounded her. Filled her.
Zack leaned back and traced one finger over a hardened nipple. “Cold?”
“Not with you to warm me,” Sky murmured in a teasing tone.
The look in his eyes was suddenly too serious and a strange fear gripped her.
Grasping a lock of her hair, he wrapped it around his hand. “I love you, Sky.” He took a deep breath, an uncertain look on his handsome face. “Marry me.”
For countless seconds Sky stared at Zack as he looked at her. His dark hair was mussed, his face unshaven, his masculine body large and imposing, his gray eyes stormy.
“When I left ten years ago I knew I’d made the biggest mistake of my life.” Zack’s gray eyes focused intently on her. “I love you. I’ve never stopped loving you. Say you’ll marry me and I’ll do whatever I can to make up for all the time we’ve lost.”
For a long moment she couldn’t say anything and her eyes burned with tears that wanted to come out of nowhere.
“You bastard.” She flung her arms around his neck and buried her face against his chest. “I love you so much.”
He pulled away from her and smiled that killer, devastating, elusive smile of his. “Is that a yes?”
“A most definite yes.” Sky stroked the scar along his cheek. “And I’m not waiting another minute. We can fly to Vegas tomorrow. I don’t want to give you a chance to change your mind.”
“There’s no danger of that.” He kissed her long and slow, then murmured, “Why wait that long? We can catch a flight tonight.”
“I’ll hold you to that.” She was so full of love and happiness that she thought she’d explode. “We’ll start packing, just as soon as you finish making love to me again.”
He smiled and slid between her thighs. “I love you, Sky MacKenna.”
She gave him her most mischievous grin as she brought him inside her. “You’d better, Zack Hunter. You’d better.”
EXCERPT: LUKE
ARMED AND DANGEROUS
CHEYENNE MCCRAY
CHAPTER 1
“Three kids with penny-ante possession charges across the last year. All from Cochise College—and not a one of them over nineteen.” Clay Wayland’s voice was harsh and tight over the phone. The county sheriff sounded way rattled, and way past pissed as he continued. “We found the remains on a tip, in an old warehouse. The place has been shut down for two decades, but the vat of lye was new.”
Wayland paused, and Drug Enforcement Agency Special Agent Luke Denver gripped his miniature secure cell so forcefully he was afraid he'd crack the battery. Most of the road between Douglas and Bisbee was reasonably straight and flat, which was a good thing, since his mind had gotten stuck on three dead teenagers who would never come home for Christmas break.
No doubt the kids were running drugs, probably small stuff, maybe to the campus or even to local high schools. It was a common way to make extra bucks these days—stupid as hell, but they didn’t deserve to get murdered and left to dissolve in a vat of lye like exterminated rats.
“I think we’ve got ourselves a turf war,” Wayland said. “But who in Christ would be stupid enough to poach on Guerrero’s territory?”
Denver guided his classic turquoise-and-white ’69 Chevy truck west as fast as he dared to push the limit. “We must have weakened Guerrero when we took down the cattle rustling part of his operation near the MacKenna ranch. Had to hurt when we wiped out their inside contact in local law enforcement. Now some other group thinks it can move in while Guerrero’s cartel is distracted.”
“Perfect.” The sound of Wayland smacking something with his fist made Denver wince. “Just perfect. This little Christmas charity bash you’re headed to better turn up some good intel, or a shitload more people are gonna get dead in Douglas before New Year’s Day.”
“I’ll call Rios when it’s over, and he’ll be in touch.” Denver punched off and tucked the small cell into its hiding place in his black duster. His gut churned as he covered the last few miles into town, then drove the truck up the winding rain-soaked street and into the last remaining parking spot below Nevaeh’s Bed-and-Breakfast.
Nevaeh’s was situated just off Main Street in Old Bisbee, on one of the sloping hills that reminded him of San Francisco. He’d heard that at one time, Bisbee had been called little San Francisco. Under normal circumstances, he’d enjoy the view.
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 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 Luke. He didn’t have much that mattered to him other than his job and that old Chevy.
Luke sat for a second or two, reminding himself of the basic details of his cover ID of Luke Rider.
Rider. Who the hell came up with these undercover names?
Had to be some soap-opera-obsessed technician in Accounting.
For better or worse, whoever named him, he was Luke Rider, ranch foreman on the Flying M. He worked for Skylar MacKenna Hunter and her new husband, Zack Hunter. Zack was an Immigration and Customs Enforcement—ICE—agent who recently moved back to Douglas, his hometown.
Thanks to the cattle rustling bust, Zack and Skylar knew about Luke’s real identity and purpose, but they were one hundred percent on board with helping him continue in his role. With any luck, the ongoing and intense joint efforts of just about every local and federal law enforcement agency in the region might yield enough intel, leads, data, and arrests to bring down Guerrero’s operation.
As he reached for the Chevy’s door handle, Luke caught the familiar vibration of his phone. It was powerful enough that he felt it from within the hidden pocket in his specially designed gun holster 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, Cruz Rios, who’d managed to get himself hired on as a ranch hand at Coyote Pass Ranch about a week ago. Rios was busy getting info on Wade Larson, owner of Coyote Pass, among others in the area—rancher, lawman, and cowhand alike.
Coyote Pass Ranch bordered the Flying M, and after that came a short string of border ranches also owned by longtime Douglas ranchers. All of them would eventually have to be investigated.
“Denver,” Luke answered in his slow and easy Texas drawl. Luke’s and Rios’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 Larson’s,” Rios said.
Luke pressed the phone harder against his ear. “Yeah?”
“I’ve got cut fences and footprints,” Rios said, “but get this— the tracks lead onto the ranch, not off it. It’s not illegals. Wrong direction. And it’s not Guerrero mules, either. These guys didn’t seem to know where they were going, or maybe they weren’t sure about what they were doing.”
Rios coughed, and Luke heard him spit on the ground. Not a good sign. Rios only spit when he was worried.
Luke’s partner continued. “When I followed the trail, I found blood—a lot of it, but no body.”
“Shit.” Luke clenched his free hand. “Larson?”
“Safe in his house. All the hands, too.” Rios paused, and Luke could almost smell the man’s frustration over the encrypted digital connection. “Looks like the bastards turned on one of their own. We may never find what’s left of him—or her. But I think this makes Larson a less likely target for our investigation. Even an idiot wouldn’t kill somebody on their own spread and leave the evidence in plain view.”
Luke didn’t like Larson, especially after he’d watched the man try to possess Skylar MacKenna when she didn’t want him, but he knew Rios was right. Skylar had been a suspect, too, way back before the rustling investigation exploded, but Luke knew she was clean. Larson had helped them bring down the cattle-rustling operation along with bringing down the rogue deputy running it— and Larson was probably clean, too.
Luke gave Rios the short on the dead kids the sheriff had discovered in Douglas, and listened to Rios swear for a full thirty seconds before the words came out of his mouth. “Turf war.”
A shitload more people are gonna get dead before New Year’s Day... “Call the sheriff’s office and our field office—get some extra officers out there to search Larson’s ranch and the surrounding area,” Luke said. “See if you can find where they dumped the body. We need some clue who’s moving in, and why they think they can start a war with Guerrero’s cartel and win.”
“We need to take down the rest of Guerrero’s operation, and right now,” Rios said. “That’s the fastest way to find out who the new players are. You get into that charity party and make nice with Francisco Guerrero. And don’t shoot the bastard unless he draws on you first.”
Rios punched off.
Luke glanced through the rain-speckled windshield, to the upper story of Nevaeh’s B & B, and saw a woman’s curvaceous silhouette pause in front of the sheer curtains. Two floors below, in the living room window, a second outline appeared, this one tall and heavily muscled, topped with an unmistakable hat. Luke couldn’t see the hat, but he could call the make and model—O’Farrell, a Cheyenne Pinch, probably black, pure beaver, and with a beaded edge.
That hat cost more than most people made in a month.
And Luke Rider had been helping to investigate the bastard wearing it for the better part of a year.
Francisco Guerrero.
The youngest son of the worst drug lord ever to cross the border.
Francisco Guerrero was a relatively new player in the family operation, brought into the fold by his two older brothers a little over three years ago, when the old man died.
Guerrero, the youngest, had a pre-law degree from Cornell, an impeccable set of American manners, and a thin but glossy patina of respectability thanks to owning a string of auto dealerships throughout Cochise County. He was slowly buying up businesses and property in the Douglas-Bisbee area, digging himself and his family operation so deep into Douglas that it would be pure hell rooting him out.
Since Guerrero had come to Douglas, the drug trade volume had doubled, never mind the body count. New ideas, new methods of illegal operation all the law enforcement agencies were just beginning to sort out—the bastard was a real game changer.
Luke got out of his truck, all too aware of the weight of his Glock against his leg.
“Look out, sugar,” he said to the woman in the upstairs window, then glanced back at Guerrero’s outline. “Wouldn’t want you to get caught in the crossfire.”
