by Marin Thomas
“How’s the Pony Express business?” he asked.
“Fine.” The moment felt surreal as they chatted about mundane things, when it felt like only yesterday that they’d been madly in love and crazy for each other. “How’s the border patrol business?” Tony was one of the good guys—an agent for the Yuma Border Patrol Station.
“Good.” His gaze drifted down her body, stalling on her breasts before descending to her toes and reversing direction. Was Tony recalling the times she’d waited for him in his motel room when he and Michael traveled the circuit?
“How’s your mother?” Lucy asked. Maria Bravo worked as a waitress at the Fiesta Travel Stop between Yuma and Stagecoach.
“Fine.”
Okay. Everything and everyone was fine. There was nothing left to say, but Lucy couldn’t summon the strength to move her feet toward the exit. “Is your mother still volunteering with Meals on Wheels?”
Tony nodded.
“I’m glad she’s keeping busy,” Lucy said. Tony’s father, a U.S. Immigration and Customs agent, had been killed in the line of duty when Tony was a baby. Antonio Bravo had gotten caught in the crossfire of a botched drug deal near the border. Rather than return to her hometown of Nogales, Mexico, Maria, a Mexican immigrant at the time of her husband’s death, had become a U.S. citizen and had raised Tony in Arizona.
Conversation stood at a standstill.
“I’d better go,” Tony said. “I’m first out of the chute this afternoon.”
“Good luck with your ride.”
“I drew Swagger. Should be interesting to see who struts their stuff better—Swagger or me.” He settled his hat on his head and touched a finger to the brim then disappeared among the milling cowboys.
Lucy made it to the exit then did an about-face and returned to the stands, finding a seat on the bleachers near the chutes. Memories pinched her heart, but she couldn’t make herself leave—not after running into Tony. She’d believed she’d put their short affair behind her, but seeing him today had unsettled her and awakened a need for answers—answers she feared would open Pandora’s Box.
“Ladies and gentlemen, now that the chuck wagon competition has ended, we’re ready for the final event of the day. And don’t forget the barbecue and music jamboree following the rodeo.”
A group of young women wearing pink leather shorts and fringed halter tops strutted in front of the crowd waving signs that advertised the local restaurants competing in the barbecue cook-off.
“Folks, Tony Bravo is up first in the men’s bull-riding event. Bravo hails from Stagecoach, Arizona.”
The stands erupted in applause and boot stomping, and there were sexy whistles from a group of buckle bunnies near the chutes. What woman wouldn’t find Tony’s tanned skin, jet-black hair and muscular physique sexy?
“Turn your attention to chute seven. Bravo’s coming out on Swagger, a five-year-old Charbray from the Swanson Ranch near Alpine. Only one cowboy has ridden Swagger this year. Let’s see if Bravo tames this wild bull.”
Hands clasped tightly in her lap, Lucy watched Tony prepare for his ride. He adjusted his protective face mask and zipped his Kevlar vest. Not long ago he and her brother had chosen not to wear the gear. They’d believed themselves invincible—Michael’s death had proved one of them wrong.
The chute door opened and the reddish-brown bull jumped into the arena. Tony struggled to maintain his balance, his right arm flailing in the air, snapping back and forth as if connected to his body by a rubber band. Swagger kicked sideways and Tony slid off balance but managed to right himself before the next buck. Lucy counted the seconds in her head. Four…five…six— Shoot!
Tony catapulted over the bull’s head and she flinched when he landed on his right shoulder and bounced across the dirt. The bullfighter waved his arms, attempting to distract Swagger, but the bull wasn’t finished swaggering. As Tony struggled to his feet, the animal charged. Tony dove to his right, barely avoiding a collision. Lucy expelled the breath she’d been holding in a loud gasp when Swagger trotted out of the arena.
“There you have it, ladies and gentlemen. Tony Bravo gave his best effort but Swagger keeps his bragging rights. Better luck next time, cowboy.”
Lucy headed for the parking lot. Now that she’d asked Shannon to find rodeos for her to ride in, she’d better show the cowgirl that she meant business. First on her agenda—find a mechanical bull to practice on.
Lucy’s father had purchased her brother a high-tech bucking machine that he and Tony had trained on in the barn at the Durango Ranch. On a few occasions during high school, Lucy had hidden in the hayloft and spied on the boys. Sweat had stung her eyes and hay dust had filled her lungs, but the discomfort had been worth it when Tony removed his shirt and she’d gotten an eyeful of his rippling muscles.
After Michael died, her father had instructed Pete, the ranch foreman, to get rid of the bucking machine. One day while Lucy was in Yuma running errands, she’d driven past Tony’s pickup on Main Street and noticed the equipment in the truck bed. She wondered if Tony still had the machine. If he did—could she convince him to allow her to use it?
* * *
A WEEK LATER, Lucy still hadn’t heard from Shannon, but she’d moved forward with her fundraising plans, hoping Wrangler would eventually agree to promote her cause. She’d spent the morning in her small office in the barn, working on her company website. She’d added a PayPal form and a pledge counter so visitors would see how close she was to reaching her goal of $20,000. Once she knew for certain that she’d be competing in the rodeos, she’d upload the new pages.
Nothing left to do but wait until Shannon contacted her; Lucy decided to head into Stagecoach for a root beer at Vern’s Drive-In. She wished one of her girlfriends from college lived nearby, but after graduation they’d taken various jobs across the country, and Lucy had returned to Stagecoach. Before her brother had passed away, she’d dreamed of working in Chicago and renting an apartment near Michigan Avenue. She’d wanted to experience living somewhere other than the hot, dry desert.
The drive-in was deserted when Lucy arrived, but once the sun set the place would be hopping with teenagers. She left her truck running and walked up to the order window. Vern’s daughter, Sherry, had taken over the business years ago when her father retired to Palm Springs.
“Howdy, Lucy. What can I get for you?”
“A large root beer, please.”
“You want a frosty mug or a to-go cup?”
“To-go.”
“Comin’ right up.” Sherry disappeared for a moment before returning with the drink.
Lucy handed over two dollars then tossed her change into the tip jar. “Thanks, Sherry.”
“Sure thing. See you next time.”
Back inside her truck, Lucy angled the air vents toward her face and guzzled her drink. Once she’d quenched her thirst, she backed out of the parking spot and turned onto the highway. The drive between the ranch and Stagecoach was nothing less than boring—rocky brown landscape dotted with green cactus. Mesmerized by the wavy heat lines radiating off the pavement, Lucy slammed on the brakes when an animal shot across the road in front of the truck.
“Maddie!” Blast that dog. The purebred boxer charged across the desert. Lucy pulled off the road and turned on the truck’s flashers. She rummaged through the glove compartment until she found the whistle, then got out of the truck and blew hard.
The brown speck in the distance skidded to a stop. A stare-down ensued.
“Come back, Maddie. It’s too dang hot to chase you.”
The seven-year-old boxer had been a shadow of her old self since Michael died. No one had witnessed the accident, but everyone assumed Maddie had been riding in the bed and was thrown clear when Michael’s truck flipped and landed in the ditch. Not long after, Maddie had found her way back to the ranch and
barked nonstop until she’d woken the family.
Lucy blew the whistle again. Maddie trotted forward then stopped and sat. What kind of game are you playing, girl?
Michael had come across the dog walking along a deserted highway on the outskirts of Flagstaff, and the pair had been inseparable until his death. Maddie had begun running away a month after Michael was cremated. At one point, Lucy and her mother had searched for days. Finally, when they’d driven past the site of the crash, they’d discovered the dog waiting in the hot sun for her master to return.
After that incident, her mother had insisted Maddie be put down, but Lucy had refused to allow her parents to euthanize Michael’s dog. Instead, she’d suggested they build an outdoor kennel and keep Maddie penned in. The darn dog must have dug her way to freedom.
A horn blast startled Maddie, and she took off like a jackrabbit, disappearing behind a thicket of scrub brush. Lucy shielded her eyes from the sun as a black truck drew closer and parked behind her vehicle. Tony Bravo.
* * *
LUCY HAD BEEN BACK from college for two years, and he’d managed to avoid any direct contact with her until she’d plowed into him at the Yuma rodeo. Now here they were, running into each other twice in one week.
“Car trouble?” Tony strode toward Lucy, grateful his mirrored sunglasses hid his eyes from view as he looked her over. Seeing Lucy up close in her tight jeans, sassy boots and formfitting T-shirt reminded him of the nights he’d stripped her clothes off in a motel room and they’d both been caught off guard by the explosive passion between them. Their series of one-night stands, strung together over the course of five months, had ended abruptly. After letting Michael down in the worst possible way, Tony hadn’t deserved to be happy, and because he hadn’t had the guts to tell Lucy the truth about the night her brother had died, he’d walked away from her without a word of explanation.
“Maddie ran off,” she said.
He scanned the horizon, realizing he hadn’t seen the dog since Michael’s funeral, when she’d sat beneath the tree across the street from the church. The memory of that afternoon flashed through Tony’s mind, but he slammed the door shut before the images came into focus.
“Will she come back?” he asked.
“Eventually.” Lucy didn’t sound confident.
Tony returned to his truck and grabbed the gallon of water he stored for emergencies and an empty fast-food salad bowl from yesterday’s lunch. He filled the bowl with water then placed it on the ground near Lucy’s feet. “If she comes back, she’ll have water to drink.”
“Thanks.” Lucy walked several yards away and blew the whistle. “It’s been over six months since her last break for freedom.”
Tony wasn’t surprised Maddie had run to the place Michael had crashed his truck. Dogs were intuitive animals, and Maddie’s internal clock had alerted her to the importance of tomorrow’s date—the second anniversary of Michael’s death. The sun had faded the white wooden cross Lucy had placed in the rocky ground after the accident. Michael’s name was barely discernible. Tony’s chest tightened when he recalled his last conversation—rather argument—with his best friend. Tony wanted a do-over of that night so damned bad. “Maddie’s how old?”
“Seven.”
Tony studied Lucy’s face. Her cheekbones were sharper than he remembered, making her blue eyes appear larger beneath the light brown lashes. She’d pulled her curly blond hair into a ponytail, and the little makeup she wore revealed a flawless complexion. He squeezed his hands into fists to keep from dragging a finger down her cheek to test the softness of her skin.
“Interesting uniform hat.” Lucy pointed to his head.
Grinning, he tugged the brim of his Stetson. “I’m a cowboy first, then a border patrol agent.”
Lucy laughed, the gesture showing off the tiny dimples in her cheeks. “Guess I’ll head home. Hopefully Maddie will turn up tonight.”
“I’ll spread the word to my coworkers to be on the lookout for her when they’re driving in the area.”
“Thanks, Tony.”
He watched Lucy get into her truck and drive off. Once the vehicle disappeared from sight he turned and spotted Maddie trotting through the desert in his direction. The sly dog had waited for Lucy to leave. Maddie stopped at the water bowl and drank it dry.
“Long time no see, girl.”
The dog lifted her head, water dribbling from her jowls.
Tony dropped to one knee and Maddie bounded closer, putting her paws on his legs and licking his face. “Guess I’ll have to take you home.” He grabbed the plastic bowl and opened the truck door. The dog jumped inside and sat in the passenger seat. After Tony started the truck, Maddie sniffed the air vents, then relaxed, her tongue hanging out the side of her mouth as she panted.
Tony steeled himself against the ache in his heart when he scratched the boxer behind the ears. Maddie pressed her head into his hand and he rubbed harder. “I’ve missed you, girl. We had some good times with Michael, didn’t we?” The dog had traveled everywhere with Michael, and Tony had been in awe of their powerful bond.
“I miss him, Maddie. More than you know.”
The dog lay down on the seat and rested her head on Tony’s thigh. His throat tightened at the affectionate gesture. He shifted the truck into Drive and sped down the road. Tony had planned to speak with Cal Durango about a human-trafficking ring in the area, but had hoped to have more evidence before he asked the ranch owner for access to his property. Thanks to Maddie, Tony would be confronting Lucy’s father sooner rather than later.
Chapter Two
“You know he hates me, don’t you?” Maddie’s alert brown eyes shone with sympathy. Tony strangled the steering wheel as he drove along the highway on the outskirts of Stagecoach. He wasn’t looking forward to facing Cal Durango. The man blamed him for his son’s death and he had a right to.
Not a day passed that Tony didn’t regret leaving the bar after Michael had assured him he’d find a ride home if he drank too much. If Tony could travel back in time, he’d have stayed until Michael had finished celebrating, or he’d have coaxed him out of the bar before he’d had one too many beers.
He turned down the road leading to the Durango ranch house and passed beneath a stone archway with the iron letters DR at the top. A mile later, he parked in front of the sprawling hacienda with the covered front porch that ran the entire length of the home. The house sat in the shadows of a rocky incline that blocked the wind and provided shade from the afternoon sun. The yard had been landscaped with palm trees and colorful vegetation reminiscent of a California resort, not the Sonoran Desert.
Tony stepped down from his truck. “Get the hell off my ranch, Bravo.” Cal Durango sat on the front porch, smoking one of his expensive Cuban cigars.
“Be happy to hit the road as soon as I unload this cargo.” Tony snapped his fingers. “Come on, Maddie.”
The stubborn boxer wouldn’t budge.
Tony reached for her collar, but Maddie scrambled into the backseat.
“Damn dog’s a nuisance. Should have put her down long ago.” Durango acted tough as nails, but Tony knew the death of his son had cut him off at the knees and he was a broken man on the inside.
“Got a leash?” Tony asked.
“Here’s one.” Lucy stepped out the front door. Had she been eavesdropping? She skipped down the steps and clipped a tether to Maddie’s collar. “Naughty girl.” Lucy tugged the dog from the truck. “She must have come back after I left.”
“Left where?” Lucy’s father stood on the top step and glanced suspiciously between Tony and his daughter.
“Maddie misses you, Tony,” Lucy said, ignoring her father’s question.
“Enough about the damned dog. Get off my ranch, Bravo.”
“I’d like a word with you first.” Tony moved closer to th
e porch.
“A word about what?”
“We believe—” Tony had yet to convince his boss of his hunch “—that underage girls are being kidnapped and brought over the border then sold into the sex trade in the Midwest.”
“How awful,” Lucy said.
Durango chomped on his cigar. “And this concerns me how?”
“We suspect members of a Mexican cartel are crossing into the United States between the San Luis and Lukeville ports of entry then making their way north through Stagecoach.” Tony paused for a moment to allow the information to sink in. “We have reason to believe the men are using your ranch as a shortcut through the area.”
“You got any proof of that?” Durango puffed on his cigar.
“Witness reports spotting young females walking on your property along highway 41.”
“Reliable witnesses, or illegals you didn’t catch at the border?” Durango asked.
“Reliable witnesses. I’d like to take a look around your place.”
“Have your boss call me. I’ll consider giving him access, but not you.”
“Dad!” Miffed at her father’s rude behavior, Lucy spoke to Tony. “Thank you for bringing Maddie home.”
Tony flashed a half smile and her pulse fluttered with yearning, just as it had each morning he’d kissed her goodbye after each of their motel rendezvous. They’d kept their affair a secret because Tony’s mother had been old-fashioned and expected her son to marry a Hispanic girl. Of course, Lucy’s father wouldn’t have approved of Tony, because he hadn’t come from a wealthy, prestigious family. They’d also worried that their parents’ objections to their relationship would distract Michael from his quest for a national title.
Each time she and Tony had seen each other, they’d fallen more and more in love, and the strain of keeping their affair a secret had worn them down. Finally they’d decided to tell their parents during Lucy’s spring break in April, after Tony and Michael returned from the rodeo in Prescott. But Michael had died that night, and Tony had refused to see Lucy or take her calls. He’d broken her heart when she’d needed him most.
