Texas Lightning Page 3

  Four of the men also carried automatic rifles strapped across their backs.

  The standoff lasted only a couple of seconds. One of the men yelled and swung his rifle around his chest.

  Andie threw her shoulder into Chase, pushing him against the rock wall, and drew her side arm. A bloody six-shot revolver.

  Chase cursed.

  He drew his own semi-automatic pistol from its holster at the small of his back and gripped Andie around her waist. A volley of rifle fire hit the rock and dirt around them as he swung her around and out of the group’s line of sight. He pulled her down behind a squat boulder and looked for their horses.

  Being the intelligent animals they were, Chase could only see the cloud of dust they left behind them as they ran from the gunfire.

  Andie shrugged from his grip and peered over the rock. Another burst of rifle fire kicked up dust and rained down chips of rock from the cliff wall behind them. She leaned around the rock and fired off three shots.

  He grabbed the back of her belt and pulled her back.

  She narrowed her eyes, but when he yelled for her to call it in, she nodded. She grabbed her hand-held radio from its pouch attached to her holster.

  At the next pause in gunfire, Chase peered around the rock. Most of the men raced for the hills, their packs flopping heavily on their backs. The four coyotes stood guard over their retreating figures, shooting sporadic volleys toward Chase and Andie’s position.

  Four heavily armed men to escort twenty or so illegal immigrants? Those numbers didn’t add up. The coyotes didn’t give a shit about protecting the immigrants’ lives. They were protecting whatever was in those backpacks.

  Andie finished her conversation and replaced the radio in her belt. She fired off her remaining three shots then grabbed a speed-loader and took aim again.

  Chase braced his arm on top of their boulder and together they laid down a ground fire that sent the four men diving for cover.

  The next time he and Andie paused to reload, their world got lit up.

  All four men fired at their location at once. Amid the dirt and dust clogging the air, Chase took Andie to the ground and covered her with his body. For the next thirty seconds his world was noise and throat-clogging grit and the soft form enveloped beneath him.

  When the silence came, his ears didn’t believe it. They still rang with remembered echoes. He levered his body forward to peer around the far side of the rock. The men were running, away from him and Andie thankfully.

  He heaved a deep sigh of relief then howled in pain. Andie dug her fingers into his ear and yanked again. He lifted onto his forearms and glared down into Andie’s red face.

  She pushed at his chest with her other hand. “I can’t breathe, you idiot.” She sucked in deep lungfuls of air. “You’re crushing me.”

  Immediately he sat back, kneeling astride her body. “Sorry.”

  She turned under him and got to her hand and knees. She leaned forward to grab her gun, holstered it, then rocked back. Her ass brushed against the front of his jeans as she climbed to her feet.

  He followed her up. It had to be the near-death experience of a gunfight that sent his blood pulsing to his dick. That must be the reason why he wanted to take her back down to the dirt and have his way with her, reaffirming they were both alive.

  Thank God he didn’t have the same urges with his sometimes partner in ARC, Jack Slade. That would have been awkward.

  Bending over to pick up her dented hat, she glared at him. “What the hell was that?”

  “What was what?” Shit, could she see he was hard? Maybe she’d felt it.

  “You, piling on top of me like I’m a fumbled football on the two-yard line!” She pulled out her radio and gave him a disgusted look as she stepped out from behind the rock.

  Chase’s shoulders inched toward his ears. “I’m not going to apologize for—”

  The hand that was holding her hat shot up and waved him to silence. “Look.”

  He followed her gaze out to the receding group of men, now looking like mere ants on the landscape. “What am I looking at?”

  “There’s only three men catching up to the group.”

  He narrowed his eyes and looked again. It did look like only three trails of dust were heading toward the immigrants.

  She gave a quick update of their situation to Weslaco headquarters on the radio then slapped her hat back on her head and unholstered her revolver. “Let’s spread out and look for him,” she tossed over her shoulder as she walked away.

  He took two big strides to catch up to her, then walked beside her. “The fourth man does still have an automatic rifle. We’ll stick together.” Her back drew up ramrod straight. “That’s not optional,” he added.

  Her lips pressed into a white slash. “Fine.” They walked side by side, scanning the desert for any sign of movement.

  Chase knew the man couldn’t be far. His body felt as tight as a coiled spring. His fingers itched to holster his gun and light up his real weapon. He was a decent enough shot, but when the shit hit the fan, his electrical ability was what he trusted to protect himself.

  He looked down at the woman beside him. The brim of her hat was crumpled like an accordion on the side nearest to him but her confident posture and determined stride dared anyone to laugh. This Texan had her feet firmly planted in the corporeal world, and Chase didn’t think someone like her could easily accept his paranormal ability. If it came down to protecting her or outing himself, however, that decision was an easy one to make.

  She stilled, and he stopped beside her. Looking where she pointed, Chase noticed a three-inch wide groove in the dirt lining the desert floor. It was broken up here and there but even his negligible city-slicker tracking skills could tell the trail was made by someone dragging a bum leg behind him. One of their shots must have hit its mark.

  Andie put a finger to her lips and pointed to herself and then to the left, then to him and to the right.

  He shook his head.

  She made the motions again, this time her finger stabbing at the air.

  He bit back a curse. He didn’t want to leave her side, his stomach twisting at the thought. But she was right. Presenting an armed man with two targets instead of just one was the smarter play. He jerked his head down in the barest of nods.

  She turned to walk away and he grabbed her arm. Bending down so his lips were brushing her ear, he whispered, “Be. Careful.”

  She looked up at him, her compelling blue eyes not holding any anger for the first time in minutes. She patted his hand gently and gave her own nod.

  His fingers relaxed fractionally and it was enough for her to escape his grip. He blew out a breath and headed right, making his own arc to the circle they were creating. Sometimes his job just sucked. Leaving Andie to take care of herself to track down an armed man was one of those times.

  She was only about forty feet from him when he spotted the man sitting behind a shrubby bush, cradling his ankle. She must have seen the coyote, too, if her laser-like focus on the bush was any indication.

  Chase looked for nearby cover and moved behind the trunk of a barren tree. Trees were few and far between in this part of Texas, and he wondered how this one had ever come to grow in the desert in the first place. The dried tree would probably explode from a bullet strike, but it was better than nothing.

  Andie crouched behind a large rock, and he nodded in approval.

  She announced herself in a loud, clear voice and the man snapped his rifle to his shoulder and pointed it in her direction. She repeated the information in Spanish, telling him to put down his gun, that he was under arrest.

  The man fired off a shot, wide of her position by twenty feet, but still Chase’s heart pounded with fury. Maybe she wouldn’t see if he lobbed an electrical ball at the dirtbag and zapped him unconscious. With the adrenalin coursing through his veins, Chase would have to be careful not to fry the man.

  “You’
re surrounded,” she called out. “I’ve radioed the federal government for air and ground support and it won’t be long ’til you have thirty guns pointed at you. That’s a lot of twitchy fingers that could end you in a second. Throw your gun down now, and I’ll make sure you get in safe.”

  The man didn’t say anything but he didn’t shoot anymore either. His chest heaved up and down, his labored breathing telling Chase the coyote was close to panicking.

  “We’ll even get you a doctor to fix up that busted ankle.” Her dark blond head peaked up over the rock. At some point she had taken off her hat. “That’s the best offer you’re going to get. The rest of your options don’t end so well.”

  The man shifted, trying to get his knees up and under him. Chase shoved his pistol back in the holster and a ball of blue flame replaced the gun in his hand. If the man fired one more shot toward Andie, he was going down, to hell with what she saw.

  “Your friends have left you,” she said, her voice softer, lower now. “They’re not coming back. If you want to live to see tomorrow, you will put down your weapon. If you try to fight your way out of here, you will be killed. The choice is yours.”

  The man howled, the sound clawing over Chase’s skin. It sounded as though he was being chased by the devil himself.

  The coyote tossed the rifle away and slumped to the ground, the fight visibly draining out of him.

  Chase closed his fist and the electricity from the ball flowed back into his skin and zipped up his arm. He took out his gun and approached the man, Andie closing in from the other side. Together, they handcuffed the coyote and waited for border patrol to arrive.

  Chase secured the rifle. “I don’t suppose the horses will come if I call for them.”

  Andie punched out the dents in her hat and slapped it back on her head. “They’re not dogs, but don’t worry. They’re smart. They’ll find their way home.”

  Chase rubbed his chest. Home. It was more than a place. It was a feeling. One he’d longed for his whole life. He didn’t think he’d ever felt it except with—

  He turned away from Andie and stared at the horizon. The endless stretch of bleached earth burned his eyes.

  He’d come here to find who was behind Heaven. Maybe he’d get lucky and get an invite into Andie’s bed again.

  But nothing more could come from his trip to Texas. He was a fool to even dream of it.

  Chapter Three

  The interview room they were granted at the Immigration and Customs Enforcement office was air-conditioned past the point of comfort. Chase would never understand why people insisted on cooling their homes or businesses to sub-arctic temperatures just because it was hotter than hell outside.

  The one benefit to this utilitarian room being refrigerated was the enticing outlines the cold teased out from beneath the front of Andie’s cotton blouse.

  The downside was that ICE Special Agent Jeffries was enjoying the view as well.

  “So,” the lecherous little man said, “did you end up going to that film festival last month, Andie? My ex-girlfriend dragged me to it. Didn’t like any of the movies but the garlic fries were good.” This guy’s idea of small talk while they waited for the perp to be brought in consisted of not so subtle hints that he was no longer in a relationship.

  He also seemed to be talking to Andie’s rack, and it was starting to piss Chase off. It was a good thing for the ICE agent’s welfare that Andie seemed oblivious to his come-ons; otherwise Chase would be tempted to act on his fantasy of smashing the man’s head into the tan cinderblock walls.

  “Didn’t make it,” she replied, her head never rising from the small notebook she flipped through.

  The agent shifted in his seat. “So, next weekend, I hear there’s a—”

  The door swung open and the man they arrested in the desert, one Eduardo Ramos, was pushed in on a wheelchair, interrupting what was sure to be a sad attempt to ask Andie out on a date.

  The coyote’s foot was encased in an orthopedic boot, and a metal bracelet chained the man to the armrest of his chair. A sullen frown cut across his tan face that, when he caught sight of Chase and Andie, turned into a scowl.

  “Fuck no. I don’t wanna talk to these two. Jus’ send me home.”

  Andie crossed her long legs. “So you can cross the border again with more guns and drugs? Not gonna happen.”

  The man tried to cross his arms, forgetting about the handcuff, and settled for resting one arm across his stomach. “No drugs. You don’t see no drugs. Can’t prove it.”

  He was right about that. The only things the man had carried in his own backpack were water, ammunition, and granola bars.

  Agent Jeffries leaned forward. “We don’t need to prove the drugs charge, you piece of shit. We’ve got you dead to rights with illegal entry into the United States, human smuggling, possession of an unregistered weapon, possession of an illegal weapon, assault, and attempted murder of law enforcement agents.” He smiled at Ramos, his incisors as sharp as a wolf’s. “Do you know what the sentence is for the attempted murder of a cop? Thirty years to life. Add on the sentences for all your other crimes, and you won’t be shitting in privacy ever again.”

  Chase had to hand it to the agent. He might be an unprofessional horndog, but he did a decent job of intimidation. Maybe he wasn’t a total waste of space.

  “No, you jus’ deport me. Right?” Ramos’ voice inched into the next octave. “Right? You jus’ send me home like always.”

  “There is no more ‘like always.’” Chase jumped into the interrogation. “You’ve pissed off the American government once too often, and we’re not letting you go this time.” The feds and the rangers had agreed to offer him a plea deal in exchange for information on his drug trade, but it was usually more effective to scare the hell out of the perp first before offering him a ray of hope.

  Chase turned to Andie. “Will he spend the rest of his life in a federal penitentiary or will the great state of Texas offer him its hospitality? I hear Texas’ prison system isn’t for sissies. I don’t know if I’d wish either one of those options on my worst enemy. Inmate safety isn’t much of a priority.”

  Andie opened her mouth to respond, but Ramos jumped in. “Wait. Jus’ wait. I jus’ help people get to a better life. America is great. I love U.S.A. No need for all this.”

  “Señor Ramos, I’m afraid that the U.S.A. doesn’t love you back,” Andie said, heat seeping into her voice. “And if you loved our country so much, you wouldn’t be bringing dope in by the backpackful and poisoning our kids.” She slapped her notebook shut and slipped it into her belt. She made to rise from her chair. “It’s been a pleasure putting your ass behind bars.”

  The handcuff chain rattled against the metal chair. “Please. Por favor, wait.” They all stared at the man, the hum of the air conditioner the only sound. Ramos closed his eyes and whispered, “I don’t wanna die in jail.”

  She settled back into her seat and re-crossed her legs, once again the unflappable ranger.

  The woman had so many sides to her. Deep passion for her job warred with her innate self-control. Both were powerful weapons in law enforcement. Chase enjoyed watching the discipline it took to rein in her temper, but blood pooled low in his groin when he remembered how hot it was when she let herself go.

  Chase steeled his expression. Ramos and Jeffries didn’t need to see his appreciation of her, and Andie sure as hell shouldn’t. If she knew what he thought of her, she’d have power over him, and he worked hard not to give anyone that power.

  “That can only be avoided with your cooperation.” She pulled out her notebook and flipped it open, a pen poised over its pages. “Tell us about the drugs your men were carrying.”

  ***

  Andie took a deep breath and looked at the Dallas skyline from the small balcony of her hotel room. The lights from the high rises cut through the dark and while she appreciated the view, she missed the twinkle of stars more, each one all but blocke
d out by the city’s light pollution. The humid night air enveloped her skin like a warm blanket, the cold beer in her hand a refreshing contrast.

  She pressed the bottle to her lips and took another draught. It had been one hell of a long day. Even as a Texas Ranger, engaging in fire fights were extraordinary events, and the hand that held the bottle trembled minutely when she thought about four rifles firing at her and Chase.

  The shakes calmed when she remembered Chase pulling her body beneath his, the protection he had offered, the heat seeping from his large frame into hers. That heat had eased some of her panic, her training kicking in to conquer the rest. She smiled grudgingly when she remembered him trying to herd Sam into a horse trailer, the Shire horse not having any of it. The two giants of each species had come to a stand-off, the same stubborn look in both their eyes. That had been the high-point of her day.

  The interview had gone better than expected. The coyote they had caught didn’t seem to have the innate fear of the drug Heaven and anyone associated with it as everyone else she’d talked with. Whether from ignorance of the man behind the drug or from bravado, she didn’t know. Ramos didn’t want to die in a cell, and that had made him cooperative.

  Which was the reason why she and Chase were now in Dallas.

  Ramos had given them a name. Tito Garcia. A mid-level dealer who worked the streets in Dallas and was making himself a niche market in pushing Heaven.

  With that name in her pocket, she had left Ramos with the feds to deal with and went straight to her captain. He had agreed a trip to Dallas was important enough to fit into their tight budget.

  Unfortunately, he also thought Detective McGovern should accompany her. On Michigan’s dime of course.

  She leaned against the metal railing and sucked in the moist air. Glancing at the lit room next to hers that was partially hidden behind balcony curtains, she frowned. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust the man to watch her back. He had proven this morning that he was level-headed under fire and that he was smart enough to be an asset to her investigation. No, the reason she wanted him on the other side of Texas had nothing to do with business.