by Joanna Wayne
The neighing of a horse led him straight to Faith. He spotted Georgio and saw the glint of the sun bounce off his pistol. And then he saw Faith, on the ground, facedown.
The drug lord’s right foot was crushing her shoulders into the hard Texas clay. The gun was pointed at her head. A young thug, also armed, was standing next to Georgio.
R.J. and Ray were tied and gagged.
Travis brought his horse to an abrupt stop that almost sent him flying over its head. One wrong move on his part and Georgio would pull that trigger. Faith would be dead.
How could Travis have let this happen?
“Welcome to the party, Detective. You almost missed the fun.”
“You’ll never get away with this, Georgio. This time you’ve gone too far.”
“And what are you going to do about it when you’ll be as dead as Faith? I’ve always been able to outsmart you and the other cops on the DPD. You know that.”
“And you think no one will suspect you after Cornell links you with the smuggling and Walt’s murder?”
“Cornell has a brain injury. You can’t believe a word he says. And Angela. She’s a stripper who was breaking up with Walt to get it on with Cornell. You’d expect her to lie.
“This all comes down to your poor old pappy and his deteriorating condition,” the drug lord continued. “He lost it. It happens with those pesky inoperable tumors. He lured you out here, killed you one by one and then turned his gun on himself.”
A guttural noise sputtered in R.J.’s throat. His face was bloodred. It was easy to see he was fighting mad.
“Keep your gun pointed at the detective, but take the gag from the old man’s mouth,” Georgio ordered his henchman.
The young man jumped to do as he was told.
The gag fell from his hands to the grass. R.J. let out a war cry that would have made Geronimo proud.
Miss Dazzler went wild. She stamped and reared up on her hind legs. Georgio dived away from her, trying to get out of her reach. The horse’s front hooves came down on the drug lord’s back and knocked him to the ground.
Georgio fired once. So did Travis, but his shot was the one that hit its target. It burrowed into Georgio’s chest. He fell to the ground face-first.
The young thug tried to make a run for it, but somehow Ray rolled over in the grass and managed to trip him.
Faith grabbed Georgio’s fallen pistol and pointed it at Georgio’s accomplice. “Move and I shoot to kill.”
“Good work, partner,” Travis called.
“I’m learning from the best.”
And hating every second of it. But if this was what it took to save her son, she’d fight the devil himself. Maybe she just had.
Travis tied up the accomplice while Faith freed R.J. Then she rushed to Ray and checked his pulse. He opened his eyes and tried to talk. Instead he only gurgled blood.
He was still breathing, but he was losing blood. She grabbed her shirt and used it as a bandage, pressing it lightly against the gunshot wound.
“I’m calling for an ambulance,” she said. “Lie still and don’t try to move.”
R.J. shuffled over and checked Georgio’s pulse. “You’ll need a hearse for this one.”
Once the accomplice was secured, Travis walked over and slipped an arm around Faith’s shoulders. “Are you all right?”
“Not yet, but I will be.”
“Good. Please don’t ever scare me like that again. I was afraid I’d get here and find you dead, and then when I saw Georgio...” His voice broke. “Love can kill a man.”
“Or save him,” she whispered. “Especially when the woman loves you right back.”
Epilogue
Two months later
The kitchen in the big house at Dry Gulch Ranch was overflowing with food of every description. Ham, smoked brisket, fried chicken, potato salad, purple hull peas, butter beans, corn pudding and enough desserts to fill a bakery.
“Where shall I put this banana pudding?” a neighbor whose name Faith had forgotten asked.
“There’s room in the refrigerator in the mudroom,” Joni said.
Someone else came in and added a plate of cupcakes to the mix.
A boy who looked to be about eight years old grabbed one of them and kept walking.
“Is it like this every Fourth of July?” Faith asked.
“Not according to Caroline Lambert. She says the local Cattlemen’s Association’s annual Labor Day celebration is normally held at the Oak Grove Civic Center.”
“Why the change in venue?”
“There was a fire last month that destroyed the center’s kitchen. Apparently R.J. not only offered to have the fire damage repaired, but volunteered the Dry Gulch for the celebration.”
“That man never ceases to surprise me,” Faith said.
“He’s hoping you and Travis will surprise him soon with a wedding and a move to the Dry Gulch Ranch. He thinks ranch life would be good for Cornell.”
“Did he say that?”
“He did. He’s disappointed his other three children haven’t come around yet.”
“They still may,” Faith said.
“They’d best hurry if they expect to get to know him while he’s still healthy enough to interact with them. His bad days are becoming more and more frequent. Yet, weirdly, he seems more at peace every day.”
“I think so, too. I like him a lot and so does Cornell.”
A group of teenage girls wandered through the kitchen and asked where to find the soft drinks. Joni pointed them to a huge cooler on the back porch. “Let’s get out of here and find a place where we can talk without constant interruption,” she suggested to Faith. “I don’t get to see nearly enough of you lately.”
They moved to an upstairs sitting room.
“So tell me about Cornell. Has he regained all his memory yet?”
“For the most part. He’s still hazy on a few things that happened while he was living in Mexico. The doctor has given him permission to start school next week and I’ve hired a tutor to help him with his studies.”
“And Angela. Do they still see each other?”
“They stay in touch, mostly through social media. They both wisely decided they need to get their individual lives on track before they start making long-term commitments. She’s living with an aunt in Kentwood, Louisiana, and is working to earn her GED. When she does, she hopes to enroll at LSU, thanks to a scholarship R.J. provided.”
“And I heard on the news last week that Alex Salinger is cooperating with the police now that he’s facing the possibility of life in prison.”
“Travis said he’s spilling his guts about the crimes he and Georgio committed, even the murders Georgio ordered to keep his drug-lord status secure. Walt made murder number six. His body was discovered last week.”
“Travis must feel good about that.”
“I think so,” Faith said. “I haven’t really seen that much of him lately. I never realized that homicide cops keep such long and irregular hours.”
“He could probably take a desk job,” Joni mused. “Leif says he has lots of seniority.”
“He’d be miserable. He has the life he loves.” There was just no indication it was going to include marriage to her.
And yet when they were together, he rocked her world.
“We better go back and join the party,” Joni said. “It’s about time for the president of the Cattlemen’s Association to give his speech.”
“That, I could miss,” Faith admitted.
She ran into Travis on her way downstairs.
“I should have known you two were cooking up something,” he said. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”
“Am I missing something?”
“Yeah. Take a walk with me. I
have something to show you.”
“We’ll miss the speeches.”
“How’s that for perfect timing?”
He grasped her hand and led her outside and down the path to the horse barn.
“Don’t say no until you hear me out,” he cautioned.
“You’re talking in riddles.”
“I get that way when I’m nervous.”
They stopped at the door to the barn. “Close your eyes and hold my hand,” he instructed.
“Wait a minute,” she said. “If you’re going to give me that abandoned black Lab puppy you found wandering around the ranch last week, the answer is no. My landlady forbids pets.”
“No puppies,” he promised. “Though you have to admit he’s really cute and cuddly.”
Faith closed her eyes and let him lead her inside. When he told her to open them, she was standing in front of a stall. A scrawny colt stood next to its mother.
“What do you think?” Travis asked.
“My landlady definitely wouldn’t allow a colt in the house.”
“It’s not for you. It’s for Cornell. I think raising a horse of his own would be good for him.”
“If we lived on a ranch.”
“Yeah, about that. I’m thinking of building a cabin here at the Dry Gulch. I know it’ll mean long drives, sometimes in the middle of the night, but I can keep a small condo near the precinct for those times I can’t make it back to the ranch.”
“What does that have to do with giving Cornell a colt?” Her heart jumped ahead. Anticipation made her giddy. “Is this a proposal?”
“No. No way. Not yet.”
Faith’s spirits plummeted.
Travis dropped to one knee and pulled a ring from his pocket. “Now it’s a proposal. But first the warning label.”
“Okay.”
“Homicide detectives make lousy husbands. They work weird hours. They get too caught up in their cases. They usually see more of their partners than they do their spouses. But if you’ll have me, I’ll work on being the best husband to you and the best stepfather to Cornell I can be.
“I love you, Faith, more than I ever dreamed I could love anyone. I can’t imagine living without you. Will you marry me?”
“Yes. Yes! Oh, God, yes. I love you so much. I thought you’d never ask.”
He slipped an amethyst ring on her finger. “I know this isn’t the typical engagement ring, but it was my mother’s. She gave it to me before she died. I’d love for you to wear it. Unless you hate it.”
“How could I hate it? It’s beautiful. And it’s from you. I’ll wear it forever.”
Travis stood, pulled her into his arms and kissed her. Her heart sang.
“It’s been a long, hard ride for me,” he said, “but I feel like I’m finally home. Home to Dry Gulch and home to you.”
“Home to love,” she whispered. “And, okay, home to a newborn colt and a black Lab puppy, too.”
One more Dalton son back in the saddle again and he wanted her at his side. She couldn’t wait to start the ride.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from UNDERCOVER WARRIOR by Aimée Thurlo.
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Chapter One
Kyle Goodluck liked living on the edge. He carried his NCIS badge with honor, stood tall and faced things squarely. He’d served his country well, first as a marine and now as a federal agent. This time the case he was working on had brought him back home.
Kyle watched his brother, Hartley Police Detective Preston Bowman, take a call. Preston’s face was characteristically impassive and hard. Once finished, he put the cell phone back in his pocket.
“Sorry for the interruption,” Preston said. “Now talk to me. What’s going on? I thought you were going to turn in your badge and come home for good this time.”
He wouldn’t lie to his brother, but Kyle wasn’t above sidestepping the issue. “You know how it goes. Sometimes you have to step back and think hard about long-term decisions, particularly ones that’ll affect your future.”
“So you’re not ready to talk about what’s really going on.”
He laughed. “Nothing much gets past you, does it? Forgot who I was dealing with for a sec.”
“You and I have always been able to read each other,” Preston said. “I’m guessing you’re under orders, but this is my turf. You may need my help and HPD’s cooperation somewhere along the way. Keeping us in the dark is a bad idea.”
“I hear you—loud and clear.” Preston’s warning was unmistakable. He wouldn’t take it well if an undercover op went down under his nose and he knew nothing about it. Unfortunately, orders were orders.
“I better be shoving off,” Preston said. “Where are you planning to stay? You can use the ranch house at Copper Canyon, if you want. We’ve continued with the upgrades and it’s in pretty decent shape right now. You’ve also got Hosteen Silver’s letter waiting for you there...,” he said, pausing for a reaction.
“No way I’m opening that, buddy. The first four of us who did ended up getting married. I’m leaving that envelope unopened in the desk drawer for the foreseeable future.”
“Coward.”
“Guilty,” Kyle answered laughing. “Hosteen Silver was a good hataalii,” he said, using the Navajo word for medicine man. “He could do some amazing things, like predicting future events, but sometimes it’s better not to know.”
“There’s a lot to be said for advance notice,” Preston said. “Forewarned is forearmed.”
“Maybe, but my work, my life, is all based on what happens minute by minute. The future...well, it’s still going to be there waiting for me to arrive.”
“I hear you,” Preston answered.
Kyle phone’s rang, and seeing the display, he glanced back at his brother. “I’ve got to take this.”
Preston stood. “I’m going to work. You know how to get hold of me if you need me.”
As Preston left the table, Kyle answered the call. “Kyle here.”
“We’ve had a new development,” Martin Hamilton said. “Call me back on a secure phone.”
The next thing he heard was a dial tone.
Slipping into his black leather jacket—the early-morning fall breeze was brisk—Kyle walked out to his service-provided SUV. He’d arrived about three hours ahead of the man he was supposed to tail, and had found the $100K prize waiting for him at the airport. His ride had come equipped with bulletproof windows, integral ceramic and Kevlar armor, a special mobile data terminal and satellite phone in the center console. GPS tracking gear was also hidden within the body, so his exact location would always be known to any agency with the right equipment.
Under the seat was an easy access M4 selective fire assault rifle with night vision capability and three thirty-round magazines. The spare-tire compartment contained tear gas, smoke and flashbang grenades beside a first-aid and survival kit that would provide a week of food and water for two people. No spare tire was
needed because they were all run-flat, immune to road hazards, spike belts and any weapons smaller than fifty caliber.
He picked up the satellite phone and entered the number. It was answered almost immediately at the other end by a female voice he recognized.
“Hello, Kyle,” a rich, sultry voice greeted. “In place yet?”
“You bet. Just heard the boss wants to talk.”
“I know. Don’t I always? Patching you through now.”
A moment later, a male voice came through clearly. “Regarding your target, Lieutenant Henry Leland. Any suspicious activity, any contacts?”
“No. This morning Leland’s at Secure Construction. I’ve monitored his movements since his arrival. I’m currently down the street. He’s there with his regular staff.”
“Unless there’s a specific reason for keeping him under surveillance, I suggest you break cover and meet up with him. He just called NCIS and asked for our help. He says he’s being blackmailed by terrorists.”
“Interesting development. What are my orders?”
“Check out his story, then stick to him like glue. Find out every detail of what’s going on, and keep me in the loop. Leland just spent weeks in Spain at a U.S. naval base, working in restricted areas. We could be talking about a major breach in security.”
“Copy that.”
Kyle switched on the ignition, pulled out of the parking lot and drove down the street, alert for anything that might seem off or unusual. Nothing drew his attention. It was just another weekday morning in Hartley, New Mexico, a town just off the rez in the Four Corners region of the state.
This section of town was industrial, and most of the businesses were oil and gas field related. There were container-storage or building-supply warehouses and the occasional hole-in-the-wall fast-food place or gas station.
Kyle approached Secure Construction’s five-acre, fenced compound from the east, passing the large warehouse and model structures, which were facing the street for maximum exposure. Ahead was the big double gate, parking lot and offices. All the buildings were constructed from the strong, corrugated metal-ceramic laminate components the company had built its reputation upon.
