This situation is heating up

Women are disappearing in Adobe Creek, Arizona, and it’s up to Detective Meg Flores to stop it. But when New York detective Tico Butler is called in to take over the case, Meg feels threatened. Will he also take over her job? She’s prepared to hate him—but she’s not prepared for the intense chemistry between them!

From the moment Tico arrives, Meg is struck by his bad-boy good looks and his smooth-talking charm. She may not have wanted him here, but he’s proving hard to resist. And when they go undercover together, the desert isn’t the only thing getting hotter….

Tico lay with his eyes closed, trying to catch the breath that had been knocked out of him.

Meg Flores’s laughter mingled with her teammates’, penetrating his mind like a double shot of whiskey. If she spoke the same way she laughed, the woman had one sexy voice.

His senses homed in on the sound of footsteps coming toward him. A cowboy boot stride with attitude. He’d bet a month’s pay he knew who the boots belonged to. Wondering if she’d act the part of rescuer, he kept his eyes shut. All hope was dashed when, still chuckling, she whispered to his horse, “Good job for throwing this bozo, fella.”

He opened his eyes in time to see the sole of a cowboy boot press down on his chest. The curious stare of one Meg Flores flattened him more than he already was. Damn, she was smoking-hot! The reins dangled from her right hand. Diablo glared at him from over her shoulder.

Traitor horse.

“Can I get you a taxi back to New York, Detective?”

Dear Reader,

As many of you know, I find inspiration for my stories from real-life people and situations. Desert Heat grew from my unbounded admiration for my niece and her spouse, two California detectives who face danger practically every day to fight crime against two elements: gangs and drugs.

Amanda and Nic are only two people, but they work from a mind-set that it only takes one person to make a difference. These two professionals train and work tirelessly to be as skilled as possible to keep the streets safe. They have been targets of the criminal element, had bounties on their heads, and still go to work eager to make a change for good.

After I listened to Nic and Amanda’s stories, Tico Butler and Meg Flores came to life in an Arizona border town and took action against two of the most notorious crime elements: drugs and human trafficking. While hunting the bad guys, Tico, a former gang leader turned cop, clashes with the one woman sworn to run him off her turf: Adobe Creek detective team leader Meg Flores. Heat rises in more ways than one while these two battle danger from the criminal element and their own emotions to get the job done.

I hope you enjoy Desert Heat…it is hot in so many ways!

All the best,

Kathleen Pickering

Desert Heat

Kathleen Pickering

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

KATHLEEN PICKERING is an author whose goal is to touch readers’ hearts by creating worlds of adventure, love and intrigue. Given her upbringing with a strict Irish-Catholic mother and a gregarious German-Protestant father, coupled with a family tree about which one tends to only whisper, Kathleen is convinced she’s living proof that life is stranger than fiction. She brands herself as the author with more than just a story to tell and draws her characters and stories from real-life situations. She loves to travel and finds traveling to research her work an added perk. Just be aware, if Kathleen meets you, you may very well end up in one of her stories.

Dedicated to Amanda and Nic…and every law enforcement agent who refuses to let danger destroy the power of love.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

DETECTIVE TICO BUTLER stood outside a stable in the scorching southern Arizona heat, more out of his element than a scorpion in a snowbank.

His gaze slid from the dust-covered silver Harley Road Glide he’d ridden across the country to the strong, brown, wild-eyed stallion he’d rented to take him the final mile to his destination: the two-bit town of Adobe Creek.

He’d only been on a horse a few times as a kid in New York. It was something his father seemed to think was important, but the horses they’d ridden were from a local riding stable and docile. This horse looked much more muscled than the mounts Tico remembered and way too unmanageable.

The stable hand holding the reins eyed Tico’s leather vest and fake sheriff’s badge, letting his gaze rest on the cowboy hat as black as Tico’s hair. Shaking his head, the old man beckoned Tico closer. “Well, Sheriff. This here is Diablo. You good with animals?”

“Deal with ’em every day.” Tico didn’t want to mention the animals he dealt with were the two-legged kind and usually fleeing a crime scene in Brooklyn. “Are you Charlie Samuels?”

“Nope. Charlie’s off today. I’m Seth.” He held out the reins. “Diablo was out this morning. Gave him a good run. He should be a pussycat now.”

The grin on Seth’s face didn’t match the horse’s agitation; the animal threw his head back as Tico approached. Tico used two fingers to push his hat back on his forehead. “Got anything tamer?”

Seth shook his head. “You said you wanted to look like the Lone Ranger. Diablo is the closest I got to big and white.”

“This horse is brown!”

He spit a wad of chewing tobacco into the dirt. “Yep. Closest I’ve got.”

Tico took the reins. He wasn’t getting anywhere with this guy, and he was running late for his meeting at the Adobe Creek Police Department. The horse sidestepped as Tico put his foot into the stirrup.

“Hey! Easy, fella.”

Diablo continued to move away from him. With one foot in the stirrup, Tico had to hop on the other to keep from falling.

The stable hand chuckled. “Don’t worry. If Diablo tosses you out there, he’ll know his way back.”

The horseman’s gibe was all Tico needed. He grabbed the saddle horn and leaped into the seat, coming down hard on the horse’s back. Diablo bucked once, then bolted. Tico almost went flying.

“Whoa!”

Tico kept his seat, but the hard landing jammed his back something awful. Seth yelled, “Bring ’im back by five. He gets ornery without his dinner oats.”

The horse ran for a good quarter mile in the dirt along the two-lane highway that led into Adobe Creek. Tico bumped his butt for most of the ride until something clicked. He got a better grip with his legs, leaned forward and found a rhythm with the horse’s gallop. Reins wrapped around his hands, he continued to cling to the saddle horn—the only thing that saved him from falling on his ass when the horse had bucked. He wasn’t about to let go now. No telling if Diablo would buck again.

It was nothing short of a miracle that he was still in the saddle, and a sense of excitement zinged through his system. Riding those narrow paths in the reeds along Brooklyn’s shores as a kid had never offered the power and freedom of galloping in the open, barren desert. The sun was hot on his shoulders, and the air filling his lungs was cleaner than anything he’d known. It felt as if his Judumi blood was waking up. Not a good thought. If his father hadn’t been such a dirtbag, maybe Tico might have liked the idea of being half Indian.

No need for that nonsense now.

The unexpected flash of emotion about his Judumi heritage left him unsure whether he’d made a good decision taking this job or using this horse to break the ice with his hosts. He’d already gotten feedback on how the investigating team in Adobe Creek had blown a gasket when they’d learned he’d been brought in as a consultant. Opinions flew.

Ex–gang leader.

Strings pulled to place him in police boot camp.

A hard-ass cop who lost a partner in a drug raid.

Tico had been cleared of any wrong, but rumor on the force was that Tico had betrayed his partner to the gang they were breaking. Nobody except his mentor and the two remaining men on his team trusted Tico anymore. He was bone weary from having to prove himself over and over again. Even as a gang leader he hadn’t been all bad, just angry. He’d learned the difference a little too late.

So this time, he wanted to take the Adobe Creek team totally off guard. No doubt they expected a tough, opinionated, half-Judumi outcast to ride in and throw his weight around. Instead, Tico had decided to ditch his Harley for a horse and use comedy to make the team think twice before judging him. He didn’t have time to earn their trust. Too much was happening too fast on this case. He needed to win them over, complete this assignment and get his tail out of Dodge as quickly as possible. He had a job to do. It didn’t help that Adobe Creek was his father’s hometown and a place where Tico claimed he’d never step foot.

Ever.

Now it was time to take control of this damned animal if he was going to make his joke about being the lawman-to-the-rescue and get this frustrated team to work with him. The profile picture of the team leader rose in his mind. Meg Flores. Something about those dark brown eyes, the determination in her jaw, had him thinking she’d be just as stubborn as this damned horse. He sensed a kindred spirit there, and the idea had bothered him for the entire ride across the country. But he wouldn’t jump to any conclusions until he met her in person.

He focused his attention back on the horse, gently pulling both reins to slow Diablo, but the damned fiend bucked again. In a blink, Tico flew out of the saddle, giving him a bird’s-eye view of a police cruiser heading toward him before he hit the desert floor hard.

So much for being one with the animal. Good thing Tico was in shape. The momentum from the blow to his left side sent him rolling onto his feet. The fall had knocked his hat off. Half his hair had been pulled from his ponytail. With every inch of him aching, he watched the horse run toward the police cruiser. The car stopped. An officer leaped from the passenger side to intercept the horse. The animal slowed to a walk as if to greet the man.

“What the...?” Tico picked up his hat and slapped it on his leg. That damned horse liked everyone but him. Why should a horse be any different than anyone else he knew?

Taking a step, he felt as if he’d suddenly become bowlegged. He could already feel where the bruises would rise on his left hip. He made himself take shorter strides to keep from limping. The officer who detained the horse wore sunglasses, so Tico couldn’t read his eyes, but from the way his mouth twitched, the burly man was trying to keep from laughing.

“Your horse?”

Tico waved a hand. “Yeah. Thanks. We just met and aren’t getting along.”

The cop gave a pointed look at the sheriff star pinned to Tico’s vest. “Did the outfit come with the horse?”

Tico chuckled. This guy had a sense of humor. His police badge said Quinto. Tico turned his gaze to the mountains in the distance, doing his best John Wayne. “Never been out West. Trying to get a feel for the area.”

“You staying in Adobe Creek?”

“For a little while.” Tico put his hat back on his head to shelter his eyes from the glaring sun. “Been hired to work with your detective squad.”

The officer didn’t even flinch. “The expert from New York?”

Tico held out a hand. “Tico Butler. NYPD. I’m better with investigations than horses.”

Ignoring his offered hand, the officer gestured to the desert. “What are you trying to do, kill yourself out here?”

No surprise, the guy wouldn’t shake his hand. Wiping his palm on his pants, Tico stared at the unruly horse. “Thought I’d have a little fun before work. Didn’t think my horse would mind as much as he does.” He scratched his chin. “He sure seems to like you.”

“Horses have keen senses. If you’re afraid to ride, he’ll know.”

“I’m not afraid. Just been a long time since I’ve ridden.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll earn the horse’s respect by the time you get into town.”

Tico shook his head. “Can horses be bribed to behave?”

Not quite suppressing a grin, Quinto glanced at the horse. “This is Charlie Samuels’s mount. I’d say not a chance in hell.” He handed Tico the reins. “It’s about twenty minutes to the station. Good luck.”

Tico stared Diablo in the eye. “No more games, buster. We’ve got a job to do.”

This time, the horse let him mount, then stood there. Tico made sure his feet were secure in the stirrups. He flicked the reins. “Giddyap!”

The horse didn’t move.

Officer Quinto had already climbed back into the patrol car. Tico could see the driver shake his head slowly as Quinto no doubt explained to him what was going on.

Yeah. He looked like a clown to these guys. He didn’t mind, but he needed this damned horse to cooperate.

He kicked the horse’s flanks with both heels, and Diablo took off. “Whooooooaaaaa!”

Tico worked to keep his seat while the horse galloped along the road into town. He’d be one sore son of a gun when this was over, but he had no choice. It was taking Tico years to regain the respect of his New York peers with his hard-nosed, unflinching approach to detective work, but he didn’t have time to prove his worth here. He had to win over the Adobe Creek team. While humor had been his intent, he wanted to make his new colleagues laugh, not make a goddamn fool of himself.

The horse had taken to the pavement from the desert. He’d slowed his pace to a brisk walk but was hogging the center of the road. Tico used the reins as he remembered, but nothing he did convinced the horse to move over. From the way the traffic was being held up behind him, then passing him with dirty looks, it seemed that this freaking horse would sabotage his plans. He was losing to Diablo by the minute. Best he could do was pretend he wanted his mount to be unruly.

Tico let out a breath as he viewed the footprint of the small town nestled in the foothills. The mountains in the distance framed what looked like something out of an old Western mining town. From the elevation in the road, he could see Main Street—the busiest part of town. Not one high-rise dotted the vista. Just low adobe structures and wood-front buildings painted brown and white, or yellow or barn-red, with shutters on windows and signs over the doors.

In the foothills, the whitewashed adobe enclave of the Quarry sprawled like a wedge of Hollywood among the tumbleweeds. He’d read all about this celebrity hot spot in his review of the case. The Quarry, a now defunct silver mine, had been backfilled, landscaped and rebuilt into a spa community that managed to attract the rich and famous who wanted anonymity and seclusion. Celebrities owned private homes there, but vacation haciendas were available for anyone with means to pay the outrageous rent.

Tico used his sleeve to swipe the sweat off his brow. Damn climate roasted around here. He wished he’d thought to bring a canteen of water to round out his outfit. He looked like a goof in his City Slickers cowboy costume.

Softening his tough-guy reputation for the detectives of Adobe Creek had seemed like a good idea while driving across country. Especially for Meg Flores, who was the squad leader and hadn’t asked for Tico’s help. He’d been called in because the task force leader in that area wanted to make sure level heads led this sting. Once Meg Flores discovered who specifically had requested his help, she’d like him even less. That wouldn’t do when he needed everyone’s cooperation to get the job done.

Tico didn’t underestimate the loyalty investigative teams held for each other. He’d learned that fact early on through the gangs he’d once known all too well. He’d also learned that the way into enemy territory was easiest when your adversaries thought you were harmless. From the line of cars—including the police cruiser—following him now, he’d say he was achieving the desired effect. The derogatory comments flying from drivers’ windows were proof enough.

The procession on the two-lane road grew longer and agitated the horse even more. With every sounding horn Diablo grew more skittish. Thankfully, the Adobe Creek Police Department, the only modern facility in this currently one-horse town, was a stone’s throw away. And look there. A welcome committee stood in the shade of the carport by the front door, watching him. The woman standing between the two men was Meg Flores. And no surprise, she looked better in real life than in her photo—even from this distance.

Tico concentrated on maneuvering Diablo under the overhang. He pulled the reins to the left, leading them toward the entrance, when the stallion reared unexpectedly, came down hard, then reared again. Arms flailing, hat flying, Butler landed flat on his back in a cloud of dirt. Passersby in cars yelled for him to trade his horse for a car and sped on. Folks on the sidewalk clapped and hooted with glee.

Tico lay with his eyes closed, trying to catch the breath that had been knocked out of him. Meg Flores’s laughter blended with the guffaws of her two teammates. Her voice penetrated his mind like a double shot of whiskey. If she spoke the same way she laughed, the girl had one sexy voice. He would have laughed, too, if breathing wasn’t so difficult. Inwardly, he grinned, despite his discomfort. He’d gotten the reaction he wanted, although not exactly how he’d intended. If only it didn’t feel as though he’d just broken every bone in his body.

With eyes still closed, he absorbed the jokes flying at his expense. His senses homed in on the sound of footsteps coming toward him. A cowboy-boot stride with attitude. He’d bet a month’s pay he knew who the boots belonged to. Wondering if she’d act the part of rescuer, he kept his eyes shut. All expectations dashed when, still chuckling, she whispered to his horse, “Good job for throwing this bozo, fella.”

He opened his eyes in time to see the sole of a cowboy boot press down on his chest. The curious stare of one Meg Flores flattened him more than he already was. Damn, she was smoking hot! The reins dangled from her right hand. Diablo glared at him from over her shoulder.

Traitor horse.

“Can I get you a taxi back to New York, Detective?”

Tico laughed out loud. His sides ached. His butt hurt. He didn’t care. So, this was Meg Flores. Tough. Defensive. Acting exactly as he’d expected she would in the face of his arrival. He’d heard she had guts, but no amount of research could have prepared him for the way those dark, proud bedroom eyes leveled him faster than the horse had. For one dazed moment he forgot he was on his back as he inhaled a scorching breath. Unwilling to succumb to his reaction to her, he let an easy grin cross his mouth.

He pointed to the horse, who he swore was looking smug behind her. “You guys really ride those things around here?”

She watched him a moment, her face unreadable. “I’ve never seen a horse look more embarrassed in my life. This must be your first time out West.” She tapped the toy sheriff’s badge on his chest with the toe of her boot. “Did the kids at school give you that star as a goodbye gift?”

He pushed her foot away and pulled himself upright. He’d be sporting yet another fine bruise on his hip from this latest fall. He used his hat to dust himself off—especially her boot print on his shirt—only to give up. This dirt was impossible to remove. He totally ignored the insult that had been aimed at his ego.

He took a moment to size up Meg and liked what he saw. Curves in jeans, a tailored white shirt and a navy blazer. Fit. Judging from the roots at her part, her once dark brown hair about as long as his own had been dyed blond. A heart-shaped face, sweet lips and those big brown eyes made her look too gorgeous to be a police detective. She was just a few inches shorter than he, and, from her bearing alone, he could see she’d be able to hold her own in a tussle. Something in the challenge of her stance had him wanting to test her. Her chin might give away her attitude, but those pursed lips nipped at his heart in an unfamiliar way.

Tico ran a hand through his hair. “I thought anyone could just hop in the saddle and ride. It sure looked easy in the movies.”

Her laughter held a grudging tone. He didn’t mind a bit. Even more, he liked the sound of her voice.

“You’re the first out-of-town consultant to make a complete ass of himself at first sight. Well done,” she said.

He popped the hat back on his head. Damn cowboy hat. Hated them, but it was part of the getup. He stole a quick glance at the two men clearly enjoying the spectacle he’d created. Winning over the men wouldn’t take long. Cracking Meg Flores? Now, she would be a challenge.

Meanwhile, he could benefit from regaining some semblance of dignity. He hadn’t expected that he’d have so much trouble with the horse. When he’d come up with the plan, he’d imagined that the horse would behave and not have a personality completely foreign to him. And he wasn’t kidding about thinking anyone could simply jump on a horse and go. Damn. He’d ridden before. That beast was more of a bitch to ride than a rigid-frame chopper on city streets. He hesitated about claiming the reins from Meg, who already seemed to have tamed the animal. Yet, from the look on the detective’s face, he just might prefer to take his chances with the horse.

He reached for the reins. A smirk crossed Meg’s face as she handed them over. The horse turned his head away in total disinterest, pulling at the reins as if testing Tico one more time. Tico held firmly. The horse got the message and stood still. Looking the horse in the eye reinforced his earlier thoughts about riding. He’d never trade his Harley for a horse.

He cleared his throat. “I have an eleven o’clock appointment with Eric Longwood.”

One of the men, who looked to be of Mexican descent, thumbed toward the newly renovated precinct. If memory served Tico from the files he read, this was Jose Lopez, the rookie detective on this case.

Lopez gestured over his shoulder. “Inside. Chief’s expecting you.”

Tico made sure to have eye contact with each of them. “Thanks for the reception.”

Meg planted a hand on her hip. “We got a call that a circus act was riding in. Couldn’t resist.”

Ignoring her dig, he looked around. He wasn’t finished working the joker card. “Where does one park a horse around here?”

Meg shook her head. “Idiot.”

He liked the challenge in her derision. When she didn’t answer, he said, “I heard your precinct had a mounted unit. Can my demon on four legs hang out with your horses until I’m done?”

She gestured to the corner. “Stable is behind the building.” She glanced at her watch. “Better get a move on, cowboy. Eric doesn’t like to start late.”

Tico walked the horse away, leaving a wave of chuckles behind him for not mounting to ride. For once, Diablo followed dutifully behind him. The beast was probably glad he didn’t have to deal with Tico again. He rounded the corner to the stables. In any other city they could have been mistaken for a four-bay garage with doors that swung open instead of up.

The renovated police station reflected the wealth that funneled into Adobe Creek from the celebrity resort nestled in the foothills. While the rest of the city maintained its historic Southwestern architecture, the modern brick precinct looked out of place amid the older adobe and wood buildings and outdated warehouses farther down the narrow street. Adobe Creek needed about fifty years to catch up with the rest of the world.

Tico looked around with a sense of disbelief, unable to accept he’d taken this job. Yet, here he was, his hip already hurting from his two throws, facing off with the squad team that wanted nothing to do with him, and wondering what Meg Flores looked like when she wasn’t angry.

His reception had proven to be more or less what he’d expected. What had surprised him was the gut wrench that hit when he’d ridden his Harley past the Judumi reservation outside of Adobe Creek. His dad had told him stories of the Judumi tribe, but any group that had spit out his dad and forgotten about Tico, even though they knew he existed, was no group he ever wanted to join.

Yet, he’d come, even though he didn’t relish the meeting with Chief Eric Longwood and the detective team. Under other circumstances he’d bet Meg Flores could have been a friend, along with the rest of her team. But, no. Once again, he had to be the hired gun. He arrived as the threat to their reputations because they couldn’t move this investigation forward. None of them wanted him here. Diablo snorted behind him, pulling on the reins as if punctuating his thoughts. Tico picked up the pace. The sooner he unloaded this animal, the better he’d feel.

Did the team know that Tico had originally refused the job? It wasn’t until the man behind Longwood’s request had called him and explained the personal investment he had in solving this case that Tico did some soul searching and accepted the assignment. The huge pay hadn’t hurt either, but refusing would have been morally wrong.

He’d done stings similar to this before. He’d never tackled a group as far-reaching as the Mexican Carlito cartel, but stopping their drug and human trafficking ring in Adobe Creek outweighed his personal desires never to set foot in this part of the country. Diablo’s hooves clicked on the pavement as if counting out the seconds that would lead to the hours and then days he would spend in Adobe Creek. He’d get the job done as quickly as possible and get the hell out of town. Maybe take a long vacation. Ride his Harley up the Pacific coast. After fifteen years, he needed a break. He was so damned tired of playing the tough guy with his peers.

An older man with a day’s worth of stubble stood in the door of the stables. He took one look at Tico and began to laugh.

“Long ride from Tombstone, son?”

Another joker. Yeah. Maybe he shouldn’t have taken this job, even if he did set himself up as a fool. Why was he always right?

CHAPTER TWO

MEG SAT IN the conference room with her team members, Bill, Jose and Mitchell, awaiting her boss and the Rattlesnake—Tico Butler’s nickname in the underground world, according to his profile.

She swallowed a gulp of coffee with disgust. Wasn’t it her bad luck that even though he arrived dressed like a clown riding down Main Street, Butler looked like someone she’d find attractive? She’d worried about that since seeing his photo. Almost forty years old, Butler had a tough look, his face chiseled by a life lived hard, but there was something strong, magnetic and downright sexy about the expression in his eyes in the profile photo. His features smacked of his Judumi heritage. Her family ranch sat adjacent to the Judumi reservation. She’d been friends with the tribe her entire life.

She’d learned that Tico Butler’s father had belonged to the Judumi tribe. Her most trusted teammate, Bill Mewith, was also from the Judumi and had been her childhood friend. She glanced at him sitting beside her now. He’d mentioned that he was curious about the tribesman they were about to meet who’d never known his heritage. Meg had always admired everything about the Judumi native culture. She might be Mexican-American, but she’d spent her childhood with her Judumi neighbors and felt like one of them.

Bill caught her glance. “So, what if we’re wrong about this guy, Butler? I could see my brother pulling a stunt like his this morning.”

At Bill’s words, Jose sat back in his chair as if expecting bullets to fly.

Palms flat on the table, Meg leaned closer to Bill. “After all we discussed, you’re caving?”

“Not caving, girl. We have a serious issue here. Maybe we should rethink our opinion of him.”

“Because he made an ass of himself for all to see?” She waved in the direction of the street. “You don’t know who he is. I do. I did my research. Did any of you? That whole show was to get you on his side. And you’re playing right into his hands.”

Jose whistled softly. “Cojones, man. His must be made of steel.”

Bill chuckled. “Especially with the way he was riding. An insult to his heritage, for sure.”

Meg cringed. She didn’t mind the slang. She minded that they were admiring Butler when they’d all agreed to be unified in their attempt to muscle him off the case.

“Look, I don’t argue that he’s probably good at what he does, but we don’t need him.”

Bill leaned toward her at eye level. “He took us by surprise with his antics. He’d probably be just as effective infiltrating a place we can’t get into.”

“Must have been quite an entrance. Sorry I missed it,” Mitchell said.

Meg swallowed her anger. “Look, he’ll be here any minute. I don’t want you wimping out on me when you were all outraged that we’d been circumvented. We can do this job without some city slicker.”

Mitchell cleared his throat. “We’ve been working to crack this ring for almost two years. It’s been a week since the latest women were taken, Meg. Not one stinking lead. We’ve probably already lost those three girls.”

“No!” Meg could feel her face flush. She didn’t like her emotional reaction one bit, but she couldn’t bring herself to accept the fact that the missing high school girls were gone for good. At least, not yet. Unsolved, the missing persons files could stay open forever. Meg didn’t want those ghosts haunting them. “I’m not willing to give up on these women yet, Mitchell. If they’ve been snatched by the cartel, too many bad things will happen to them. We have to keep looking.”

He shrugged. “Maybe you’re right. But we’ve combed the county. What’s your next great idea?”

The sarcasm in his voice had the other men looking up. Easy girl, she told herself. Mitchell might be Longwood’s hired consultant, but he wasn’t hers. In her mind, he’d retired two years ago. He didn’t need to be here now. She took a slug of coffee and let the hot liquid burn down her throat. “Seems to me, Mitch, that generating great ideas is why you’re still here. You know? Resident expert? Why are you asking me?”

The room fell silent. Mitchell was the longest-standing detective in the precinct. Although he had retired two years ago, he kept coming back as a consultant because he’d experienced more stings and busts than any of them, at least until this latest cartel. The cartel operated along the border but had never intruded on Adobe Creek. Until now.

Mitchell slammed the table with his fist. “Well, little girl, I’ve run out of ideas this time. Maybe that’s why your daddy enlisted Tico Butler.”

Her father had brought Tico Butler on to the case? No. Eric Longwood had hired him. She wasn’t going to split hairs with the man who always tried to push her buttons.

Meg slid back her seat. “Daddy my ass, Mitchell. Maybe if you spent less time with your buddy Jack Daniel’s, you’d be clear enough to respect that kids like us know what we’re doing.”

Her accusation was like a bucket of ice water thrown on the room. Everyone knew Mitchell tipped the bottle now and then, but no one dared talk about his problem since he didn’t venture into the field anymore. After all, he was a legend in his own time. Now that he did mostly desk work, what did the occasional drink matter?

Bill held up both hands. “Dammit, you two. Enough! Nothing productive is coming from this argument.”

Meg blew out a breath. Bill was right. She let herself drop back into her chair. “See? The snake hasn’t even gotten here, and we’re sniping at each other. I’m not backing down.”

“We don’t have a choice, Meg. Butler is here,” Bill said. He leaned toward her. Speaking quietly, he pulled his usual stunt when he thought she was wrong. “I’ll bet fifty bucks you’re the first one who caves to this guy.”

She shook his hand, gripping it more tightly than normal. This was one bet he’d lose. “You’re on.”

Jose looked apologetic. “Mitchell is right, Meg. We have to listen to what Butler has to say. We’ve run out of leads.”

She pointed a finger at each of them. “If you think Tico Butler is useful, then you get what you need from him before I send him packing.” She looked each man in the eye. “Are we all agreed on this?”

Bill nodded. “Might take longer than one meeting, but I get your drift.”

Jose held up a hand. “You’re the boss.”

Mitchell shook his head. “Good luck with that one.”

That was all she’d get out of Mitchell. She didn’t expect much else.

She listened with half an ear to Jose and Bill making small talk with Mitchell, which was pretty much the routine for clearing the air after a heated exchange. Football. The latest drug bust. But, now that she’d had an exchange with Butler, all she could think about was how to keep her balance and stand her ground, even if the others disagreed. Butler’s stunt with the horse was nothing any of them had expected. More reason to run his unwanted help out of town. A lot was at stake here. She wasn’t about to let an outsider screw things up, no matter what his reputation.

She addressed Mitchell. “What do you say we let Eric and Butler do all the talking before giving our input?”

Mitchell shrugged. “That’ll do.”

She sensed motion in the hallway outside the conference room windows. She sucked in a fortifying breath to settle her heart rate when Tico Butler looked right back at her.

“Okay, guys. Here comes trouble.”

* * *

PLASTERING A SERIOUS look on his face after joking with the amused officer at the desk, Tico followed the officer’s directions to the conference room down the hall. The blinds on the floor-to-ceiling windows were open. He registered the scene with a glance.

Meg Flores, her two teammates and Mitchell Blake were seated around the fake wood table, a pitcher of water, glasses and manila files on the table. An empty whiteboard filled the wall behind the head of the table. A red light blinked on a coffeemaker holding a freshly brewed pot.

From reading their profiles, Tico knew that Bill Mewith was the Judumi Indian seated next to Meg, his hair hanging in a braid down his back. Jose Lopez sat drumming his fingers on the table. Mitchell Blake looked worse than his profile picture. Stress lines around his eyes and mouth, faded red hair and the start of a paunch at his waistline made him look world-weary and badly in need of exercise. Tico had read that they were all good at their jobs. Right now, they all looked pissed as they watched him pass the window.

Exhaling a long breath, Tico was about to push through the door when someone called his name. He recognized Eric Longwood heading toward him. He was taller and rangier than he’d expected from the face-to-face Skype conversations they’d had last week. With blond hair in need of a trim, and a mustache that could rival any biker’s, Longwood was as distinguished as his light blue eyes, intent and intelligent.

Eric held out a hand. “Nice to finally meet you in person. Welcome.”

Tico let a grin play across his face. “I managed to arrive alive.”

Longwood motioned to his clothes. “What’s with the getup?”

“Trying to ruin my reputation.”

“How’d you do so far?”

Tico tapped his badge. “Stellar.”

Longwood shook his head, a look of disbelief crossing his features. “I can just imagine. I’ve seen the video already. Come in and meet the crew.”

Tico followed the chief into the conference room ripe with the smell of coffee and animosity. Inwardly, he sighed. Another round with the angry birds.

Longwood put his own folder at the head of the table. “Everyone, this is Tico Butler.”

“We met outside,” Meg said. She looked as though she was still stewing. From the subdued expressions on the other men’s faces, he figured she’d just given them a good tongue-lashing, as well.

The chief took a seat. “Good, then the introductions don’t need to be made. Tico, why don’t you have a seat.”

Tico pulled out the chair next to Meg. “I haven’t been formally introduced to anyone. My horse made that hard to do.”

Longwood shook his head. “I know. Your horse made quite a debut on the security cameras. Don’t be surprised if you end up on YouTube.”

Chuckling, Blake was the first to offer his hand. “Mitchell Blake. Retired. Not sure why I still hang with these kids.”

The younger man followed suit. “Jose Lopez.”

“Bill Mewith,” said the Judumi. His handshake was strong, and his eyes held the guarded look of a man recognizing a stranger as one of his own. “I read your profile. Your father was Judumi.”

Tico appreciated the guy’s direct approach. “So I’ve been told. You look like a tribesman.”

Mewith nodded. “As do you, brother. You’d fit right in around here.”

That hit Tico like a gut punch. Did he want to fit in where he didn’t want to be?

“Next you’ll be inviting him home for some fry bread and roasted quail,” Meg Flores said, looking miffed with her colleague.

Tico leaned back in his chair. “I can see we’ll get along just fine, Detective Flores.”

“You need riding lessons.”

“And you could use some manners.”

Chief Longwood took over. “That’s enough. Let’s get one thing straight right away, Meg. Tico didn’t ask for this assignment. He agreed to come after lots of persuasion. So a show of respect is expected. We have a job to do. Let’s all get along or go home.” He looked pointedly at Meg. “Am I clear?”

Meg nodded once. “Shall I pass out the latest files?”

Tico took a moment to peruse the file she handed him, even though the others probably knew he’d already seen a detailed report. Staying impassive when staring at the smiling faces of the three missing women was still hard for him to do. A case was simply a puzzle to be solved until photos revealed the people involved.

The kidnapped women in Adobe Creek were what had triggered the call for Tico to assist in breaking this case. The mayor of this town worked on a special task force to fight human trafficking, a crime that had become more prolific over the years. The miles of unpatrolled border made abductions child’s play for the underworld. Adobe Creek’s finest worked hard to keep the cartels away from their residents and, up to this point, had been successful, but someone had crossed the line. Not wanting to waste a minute, the locals had summoned Tico—three times until he’d finally agreed. Tico didn’t miss the set of the detectives’ jaws as they perused the files in front of them.

Chief Longwood began the discussion. “The Adobe Creek Police Department doesn’t like having women go missing within its boundaries. Heck, we don’t like women going missing at all, but when it happens on our turf, it’s war.

“Tico, as you know, we’ve been tracking the Carlito ring coming from Mexico for two years now without a whiff of a lead once they cross the border. Can’t even figure out where they’re crossing. Now that they’ve hit our town, they’re in our backyard. Not acceptable.”

“Where do you lose the trail?” Tico asked.

Longwood thumbed over his shoulder. “Adobe Creek is adjacent to the Nogales-Phoenix corridor, which has eight thousand square miles of the most inhospitable land in southern Arizona.”

“They also trespass across the reservation, coming on foot and with trucks that destroy fences and vegetation,” Bill Mewith added. “The tribe has men we call shadow wolves on the hunt all the time. Sometimes they get a lead, but the trail turns dry by the time they get over another rise.”

Mitchell said, “Last week a load of drones headed straight for the sensors, pulling every lawman in a five-mile radius. All bogus. We learned later that the drones were sent to distract our forces while they launched over fifty mule trains from different points. They get a kick out of jerking us around with decoys.”

Tico frowned. “They’re not using planes, I take it?”

Longwood shook his head. “The feds have some pretty sophisticated tracking equipment, but the cartel scouts have technology that hasn’t even hit the States yet. They don’t need to use planes. Too noisy. The ground works just fine.”

Meg Flores had been surprisingly quiet. Tico was glad when she finally spoke. “We’ve come up dry in all directions,” she said grudgingly.

Tico liked the velvet-smooth sound of her voice, like a blend of bourbon and honey. Her words lit a fire in her eyes. He didn’t blame her for being angry. What concerned him was whether or not her outrage would cloud her judgment.

“You investigated the celebrity resort?” He made a show of checking his file although he knew the name. “The Quarry?”

“Last time we checked the resort, everything looked clean,” Mitchell Blake said. “And none of the missing women live there.”

Meg looked at Tico. “The chief thinks you can infiltrate the area more easily than the rest of us.”

Tico tapped his badge. “Can I take my horse, too?”

Meg groaned. “God spare us.”

Bill leaned toward Tico. “Word of advice, brother? Don’t ever let a tribesman see you riding. They’d put you to shame for not being able to man a horse.”

Tico almost winced. Mewith had called him brother, twice. He didn’t like being recognized as a Judumi, even though he had the traditional almond-shaped eyes and angular face of his father’s people. He had enough of his mother’s New York Irish in him to stand apart in both attitude and lineage.

The other men laughed.

Tico pointed to the pitcher of water. “Mind if I help myself?”

At the chief’s nod, he reached for a glass and felt his muscles pull all the way down to his left hip. Damned horse. He wanted to groan but just kept reaching. The others kept silent as he poured water. He held up the pitcher. “Anyone else?”

Blake stood and headed for the coffeepot. Flores already had a cup of coffee. No one else answered. Tico drank, glad to wash the road dust out of his throat. “Who reported the missing women?”

“Family. Tina Marks and Cheryl Hall are high school seniors from Bisbee. Came to Adobe Creek to tube on the river with friends. They went out on an errand to the shopping mall and never came back.”

Tico appraised the three photos. The high school seniors were blonde and brunette. Both long hair, but different looks. The other woman was a local resident, a mother of two small children. Janice Carlton was older than the other two but not by more than five or six years. Again, with dyed blond hair falling at her jawline, she had a different look. So, no common element here except for the fact that they were women.

“You’ve questioned boyfriends, neighbors? Janice Carlton’s ex-husband and friends?”

Meg shot him a quelling glance. “All of our investigations are in the report. We’ve been to all suspected areas—twice. Did you not read your copy?”

He let a grin play on his face. “Night reading. I usually fell asleep before finishing.”

She slapped her forehead. “Chief, I beg you. Do we really have to talk to this guy?”

Eric let his gaze slide from Meg to Tico. “What are you getting at, Tico?”

“I’m suggesting that perhaps we need to go back to all the original points of investigation one more time.”

The room fell quiet. The burnt smell of coffee invaded Tico’s nostrils. The hot plate sizzled with coffee Blake had spilled when pouring his cup. Tico took another sip of water, if only to give the others time to digest his suggestion.

“See if there are any contradictions the third time around?” Bill asked.

“Yes. It’s hard for people to remember the details they tell when they’re lying. And sometimes when the stress lets up a bit, people have time to remember facts.” Tico tapped the page. “I see the mother was recently divorced. Lived alone with her children.”

“Lives alone,” Meg said, sending a heated glance in Tico’s direction. “She’s still alive.”

Tico ignored her but changed his verb tense. “Does she have a morning routine? Stop for coffee before work? Work out? Walk a dog?”

Meg answered in clipped tones, “No pets. Has a gym at home. Doesn’t drink coffee. We’ve covered all that.”

Taking a fortifying breath, Tico gestured to Bill and Meg. He was about to ruin their day asking a question they wouldn’t want to hear. “I understand your impatience. It must feel like hell sitting here when there are three women missing and no leads. The pressure can make a detective edgy—especially when another woman goes missing after two years of investigating the ring. Can you handle this case?”

Bill’s face grew stone cold. Meg’s jaw dropped. She turned to Longwood.

“Chief, are you going to let him insinuate that we are incapable of conducting this investigation?”

Longwood brushed his fingers along his mustache. “I know we’ve been over this, Meg, but I’d like to hear you answer him.” He nodded toward Bill. “You, too. For the record.”

Meg scoffed. “For the record? I’m sure Mr. Rattlesnake here knows all the details from his discussions with you before he got here.”

Bill sat straighter in his chair. “Is this really necessary, Chief?” When Eric didn’t answer, Bill turned to Tico. The cut in his voice made it perfectly clear that he’d been insulted. “My neighbor and two other tribal elders were murdered by passing drug dealers while they were harvesting ceremonial plants in the desert last year. Meg and I tracked and caught the bastards without shooting a bullet or losing a man. Do you seriously think I need to answer your question?”

Meg pointed to Tico. “And you want us to be nice to this guy?” She leaned back in her chair. “Look, Detective Butler. We are working against all odds here. We know it might be too late to rescue these women. But I believe their captors still have them holed up locally, waiting for a window of opportunity to funnel them to safer ground.” She stared at Tico as if he were a dung heap. “As you know, the women are probably being drugged to keep them docile. Once the abductors get them away from here, they will be raped, beaten and tormented to break their spirits.”

Tico didn’t flinch. “I understand your concern better than you think, Detective Flores. However, you didn’t answer my question.”

He saw her decision to hate him flick like a switch in her eyes. The tension in her face drew those full, kissable lips into a fine line. He watched her, unblinking. This was what Longwood had hired him to do. He’d dealt with anger, death threats and his share of fights. Yet, seeing her animosity rise was like swallowing battery acid. A new reaction. The feeling jolted his senses. That irritated him something fierce.

The other men might recognize that he was only doing his job, but this woman and Mewith were taking his question personally. He had to admit—he’d do the same if some out-of-town show-off tried to take over his investigation when he had so much at stake. But Tico already knew Mewith’s story. He also knew that Meg’s family had lost women to human trafficking. He needed to make sure these two could be impartial, not caught up in a vendetta. Feeling everyone’s eyes on him, he watched Meg Flores while tension thrummed the air, waiting patiently for her to answer.

* * *

MEG SEETHED INSIDE but she kept her expression as neutral as possible. No wonder they called Butler the Rattlesnake. He’d sat perfectly still during the case discussion. Only the flash in his eyes had warned her he’d been about to strike. This son of a bitch pushed her buttons on first contact. She didn’t need a ruggedly sexy jerk from New York pointing out the possibility of her own shortcomings in front of her boss and her team.

Sure, this case was critical. Sure, Butler had street know-how that her team could use. But damn it all. She didn’t want to have to answer to him. She was the team leader—and now she was feeling as emotionally unfit as he suggested she might be. Yes, she was pissed.

This investigation needed to move forward—and now. Everyone around this table needed to quit flexing their muscles. Someone had to give, but Meg couldn’t relent. Not yet. Not until she knew that she could trust this one-time gang leader from New York. Rumor had it that he didn’t even have the required high school education to get into the police academy. Guts alone and the recommendation of his mentor had gotten him accepted, and not without a fight.

Could she trust a man like that? The only way to find out was to not back down.

Meg closed her file. Laying a hand on the folder as if it were a Bible, she looked pointedly at Butler and said in a low, controlled voice, “I am more than capable of executing my duties in bringing these women home quickly and efficiently. Do you have a problem with that, Detective?”

Tico closed his file, returning the stare. “Not at all, Detective. That’s all I wanted to know.”

Butler swallowed. The movement had Meg staring at his neck. Corded. Defined. His collar, open at the neck, hinted at muscles beneath the denim shirt with her boot print still shadowing the front. His black hair, pulled into a ponytail as with most Judumi men, glistened beneath the overhead light. That intrigued her. If the man was as set against his heritage as he seemed, why did he imitate his people, who believed long hair enhanced their senses? His dark eyes seemed dangerous, probing, and watched her with an unsettling curiosity.

Lines etched around his eyes and mouth betrayed his expressiveness. A scar crossed his jaw. He had a nice mouth. Good teeth. Gawd! She was checking him out as if he was horseflesh. Worse, he realized she was staring and simply stared back. The room had gone quiet while these two appraised each other.

Eric Longwood cleared his throat.

Tico kept his attention trained on Meg. His voice lowered. “Okay, then, Detective. What’s your plan?”

Just like that? He was giving up after putting her and Bill on the spot? She shook her head. This guy was not going to manipulate them into cooperating by intimidation.

“Is this a test, Detective Butler, or are you already out of ideas?”

Tico smiled. “I’m full of ideas, Detective. I’m simply wondering if you are ready to listen to them.”

CHAPTER THREE

MEG PRACTICALLY TURNED her white pickup on two wheels into the quarter-mile drive for Rio Plata Ranch. A cloud of dust rose behind her. The open, arid land on either side of the road passed without notice. Meg couldn’t get her mind off the meeting at the precinct, where Tico Butler had invaded her world. Her concentration had been shot for the rest of the day while she’d stewed over what to do.

The answer had struck like lightning. Now she headed for her parents’ house. The only way she’d be able to get Butler off the case was to ask for her father’s help. Don Francisco Flores was mayor of Adobe Creek. Next to the Judumi reservation, Don Francisco was the largest landholder in the county. He also owned the Rio Plata silver mine in Mexico on which he’d built his fortune. Don Francisco knew every public official within a one-hundred-mile radius and had funded the Adobe Creek unit against drug and human trafficking years ago. If anyone could send Butler packing, Don Francisco could—and would if Meg asked him to.

Meg reduced her speed to lessen the dust as she passed the cabins for the ranch hands. Two horses were still in the split-rail corral next to the courtyard and cantered to the fence at the sight of her truck. Her parents must have been riding before dinner. Nice. They really knew how to enjoy their life now that they’d both retired from the mining industry. Well, her father would never truly retire. But Meg’s brother was doing a fine job of running the business in Mexico, which freed Don Francisco to concentrate on his twin passions—politics and Adobe Creek.

Pulling her truck up to the courtyard leading to the front door of the low-slung, rambling adobe ranch, Meg caught sight of a silver Harley-Davidson parked in the shade of a mesquite tree. Her breath caught in her throat. The bike had a New York tag.

She froze. “No way in hell.”

She pushed open the arched heavy wooden door, ready for battle. The familiar, sage-scented coolness of the living room welcomed her, but no one was around.

No one person in particular.

She headed for the kitchen at the back of the house. “Mom? Dad?”

“Señorita Flores, is that you?”

The housekeeper’s teenage daughter came bursting through the kitchen door. Her eyes were bright with excitement.

“Hola, Ana. Where are my parents?”

“Oh, Señorita. We have a guest. Such an interesting man.”

Of course. A rugged, sexy stranger rides in on a Harley looking as if every inch of him offers excitement, and any teenage girl would go gaga.

“Easy now, Ana. Where are they?”

“The veranda. Mama is preparing ropa vieja.”

No way was that creep eating dinner in her house. Meg took the few steps to the back doors and looked out. Sure enough, Tico Butler sat beneath the shade of the roofed pergola at the far end of the stone-walled veranda, holding a glass of beer, leaning back in the upholstered chair, looking very much at home in her parents’ company, attentively listening to something her mother was saying.

Damn his bones. Meg charged out the door. All three looked up at the sound of her footsteps. Barbara Flores smiled at her daughter’s approach. Once she sensed Meg’s intention, her brow creased with distress. Though her mother could read her every mood, anyone watching would know Meg was angry. Her father and Tico seemed to share the same expectant, if not guarded, look.

She smelled foul play at her expense. There was more going on here than she suspected. She pointed to Butler. “Dad, what is he doing here?”

Still wearing her riding clothes, Barbara Flores sat straighter, if possible. With her silver-streaked black hair pulled back in an elegant chignon, her blue eyes a striking contrast to her hair, her mother was a woman of sophistication who always stood her ground, especially in the world of academia, where she’d made a name for herself. She would not tolerate Meg’s impoliteness, unless she understood her daughter’s reasoning.

“Meg?”

Meg didn’t want to cause a scene, but really? Did she have to come home looking for help, only to find the root of her problem charming her parents before she even had the chance to talk with them?

“I don’t mean to be rude, but I can’t think of anything else to say.” She gestured to Butler. “We met today and do not get along. I can’t understand why he is here.”

Don Francisco stood. At sixty-four, of medium height and build, he was every bit the dark, handsome Mexican aristocrat in his jeans, boots and crisp white cowboy shirt. He’d worked his way up from the streets to earn his fortune and carried his success with pride. He took Meg’s hands, kissed her cheek. “It distresses me to see you upset.”

Her father’s patronizing tone was way too familiar. “You haven’t answered me.”

He ignored her prod. “Detective Butler told us about the meeting this morning. We understand your concern.”

“But that doesn’t explain why he’s here.”

“Because I invited him to dinner.”

Meg looked from her father to her mother, who didn’t look happy with Meg. At all. “You what?”

Tico stood, placed his beer on the low table. “I don’t want to cause any trouble. I’ll be happy to take a rain check on dinner.”

Don Francisco held up a hand. “Unnecessary, Tico. Meg will regain her manners, and we shall continue our conversation.”

“Dad!”

Don Francisco signaled to Ana, who hovered in the doorway. “The beer is ice-cold. I think you can use one.”

Ana acknowledged Don Francisco’s request for Meg’s beer and shot Tico a smile before leaving.

Barbara tapped the orange cushion on the wicker chair next to hers. “Sit down, Meg. We were having an interesting conversation about horses.”

Tico’s easy grin did nothing to sway her. Meg understood exactly why Butler had arrived on horseback, and it was for no one else’s benefit but his. “Maybe another time, Mom. I won’t stay. I’ll catch you in the morning.” She turned to go.

“Meg, stay. You most certainly do not want to miss our conversation,” Don Francisco said.

Her father’s displeasure wasn’t lost on her. He was a man of few words, but when he spoke, he made his point. “Why not?”

“Because it concerns you.”

Tico was still standing, watching her. He stood maybe three or four inches taller than her, but his strong physique made him seem bigger. He’d lost the goofy vest, and she couldn’t help but notice how his denim shirt fit the planes of his tanned chest.

The curiosity in his eyes was unsettling. He lifted a hand as if in a gesture of peace. “I’m not the enemy, Meg. I swear.”

Oh, hell, no. He wasn’t going to win her over with false sincerity in front of her parents. “Yet you questioned my integrity in the presence of my boss and my team?”

Barbara frowned. “Meg, is this necessary?”

Her mother’s soft voice made her uncomfortably aware of the venom in her own words. She released a breath. “Look, everyone. I apologize. I’m a bit keyed up. Women are missing, and we’re getting nowhere because everyone is trying to prove who is tougher. Meanwhile, those women could be suffering. I don’t like seeing important business neglected while everyone jockeys for control. I just want to get back to work.”

Her father gestured to the seat his wife had offered Meg. “Sit. Let’s talk.”

Reluctantly, she took the seat as Ana returned with a frosty mug of beer on a tray. Meg took a long draft of the cool amber liquid and let her gaze fall past the veranda to the acres of open land framed by the mountains. The lowering sun cast a golden glow on the arid ground and low trees, the cattle in the north acres settling in for the evening. Two ducks paddled across the still lake bordering her own two acres on the back lot. The sun reflected on the windows of her cabin nestled among paloverde trees at the lake’s edge. She’d love to take Whisper on a run before sunset, but not tonight.

When she turned her focus back to the veranda, Tico was watching her. Again.

“What?”

“I’d heard this land was beautiful, but I never imagined how much.”

Adobe Creek didn’t need another resident, especially one whose rugged sex appeal was derailing her intentions. “Don’t get too comfortable.”

“Meg! I’ve never heard you be so unkind.” Barbara fanned herself.

Don Francisco sat once more. “No more of this nonsense, Meg. You will have to find some common ground with Detective Butler. He came to Adobe Creek at my insistence. It doesn’t help anything to have my own daughter disrespect his ability to get the job done.”

Meg’s jaw dropped. So, once again Mitchell Blake was right. “You brought him here?” She blew out a hot breath. “I can’t believe my ears! What makes you think my team can’t do our job?”

“Mi hija, in my life, I’ve already lost two sisters to human trafficking. I will not stand idle at the possibility that you could be in harm’s way, expressly because someone may want to target me to stop this investigation.”

“I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself!”

Don Francisco nodded. “I believe you are, but you are my only daughter. I will not take the chance.” He gestured to Tico. “I believe with Tico’s help you will not only be safer, but more efficient.”

“I don’t need a chaperone. That’s why I became a police officer in the first place. God knows you hammered self-defense into my head since I could walk.”

“In this situation, your training does not matter.”

She knew what was coming but had to stop it. “Dad, nothing will have me taken off a case faster than insinuating to Eric that I can’t handle this task on my own. If there’s any doubt whatsoever, I’m removed. You know this.” She pointed to Butler. “He knows this. Do you want me to lose my job?”

Don Francisco grew silent. Her mother said nothing.

Her parents’ silence said it all. Holy crow. The two of them had been reluctant to support her decision to become a detective because of the dangers involved, but they had supported her. From their grim expressions now, they were about to betray her. They’d never been comfortable with the fact that she put herself in harm’s way, but they were never ones to dissuade her from her vocation. Now, because of the abductions, Don Francisco was panicking based on his own personal losses.

She scoffed. “You can’t be serious.”

Barbara laid a hand on Meg’s knee. “We don’t want you to lose your job, honey. It’s just this case. It’s too dangerous.”

Meg could have been hit with a wrecking ball. She sat back in her chair, using every ounce of willpower to keep her cool. One glance at Tico and she saw he’d already had this conversation with her parents. A single line furrowed the brow on his poker face. Was that concern about her reaction? Did he like the idea of taking over her case? Was that why he was here? Was that why Eric hadn’t defended her against Tico’s question at this morning’s meeting? Was the plan to remove her already in place? How could Butler sit there so cool and unflappable? What would he do if he was in her situation?

Inwardly shaking herself, she leaned forward to keep her mother’s attention. “Mother, this is my job. I am completely qualified, with or without this so-called expert.” She hoped Butler saw the anger and distrust burning in her eyes.

His voice gentle, Tico said, “I can help, Meg.”

She sat back in her chair. He actually sounded as if he cared. What a load of horse manure. Refusing to look at him again, she glanced from her mother to her father. “I can’t believe you two have turned on me like this. What is wrong with you?”

Don Francisco expelled a breath. “I have every confidence in your ability as a law enforcer, Meg. But the Carlito cartel? They are arrogant. Ruthless. They will think nothing of infiltrating your unit and hurting everyone they can possibly reach. I already told you. Because I am mayor and I lead the Mexican task force, you are a prime target for revenge. This group has deep pockets and moles everywhere. I’d rather you step aside this one time and let Detective Butler do his job.”

“His job is in New York. My team can do this.”

“My dear, the only way I will permit you to stay on the case is if you let Detective Butler lead the squad. You follow his instructions, or Eric will pull you off. Your mother and I prefer you work this case from a desk, anyway.”

And she’d thought this morning’s meeting was bad. She’d just been sideswiped by the two people she trusted most in the world while the object of her derision watched. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “And to think I came here to ask your help to remove Detective Butler from the case.”

Don Francisco shook his head. “No, Meg. He’s our guest. I’ve invited him to stay in one of the vacant cabins.”

That did it.

She stood, placed the half-finished beer glass on the table, her insides quaking with anger. “I’ve heard enough. Enjoy your ropa vieja. Good night.”

* * *

TICO SAT IN the rocking chair on the porch of his cabin, feet on the rail, roasting the end of a Catelli cigar for lighting. The orange tip glowed in the dark as he drew on the cigar. Slowly exhaling the smoke, he relaxed his muscles, letting the stillness of the evening settle into his senses.

He’d showered off the day’s dust and bad attitude, and changed into his favorite worn jeans, black T-shirt and boots. With his hair tied back, he felt physically refreshed, but his thoughts were weary.

Once again, he was the odd man out. As much as he could have happily spent the evening alone, especially after pissing off the sexiest woman he’d seen in a very long time, he’d stayed for dinner with Don Francisco and Barbara.

They’d seemed genuinely interested in learning more about him, asking in-depth questions about his parents and his upbringing, which Tico patiently answered, though he didn’t appreciate the invasion of his privacy. He suspected Don Francisco already knew the answers, but figured the man wanted to see Tico’s take on his childhood. Tico could understand the man’s motives, which was why he’d answered. He wouldn’t have been as understanding with anyone else. As his employer and the father of the sultry team leader he’d been hired to supplant, Don Francisco deserved respect and ease of mind.

He’d worn his long-sleeve shirt through dinner because he hadn’t wanted Barbara Flores to see the rattlesnake tattoo circling his forearm. The ink was a permanent reminder of a time he was no longer proud of. But the tat? The snake’s meaning had changed with him.

Now, in the dark, he didn’t care. He needed to unwind from the day but was too wired. His newly relaxed muscles tightened up once more as he thought about Meg’s fine ass as she strode from the veranda tonight. He really liked everything about her. Felt a pull toward the woman in a way he’d never known. If the situation were different, they’d make one helluva team.

He took a moment to exhale a stream of cigar smoke. His entire left side ached from the falls this morning. He’d been so outraged at the horse after the morning meeting, he’d called Charlie Samuels and told him he’d pay extra if Charlie would send someone to pick up the horse and give Tico a ride back to his Harley. The son of a bitch had laughed on the other end of the phone, but sent Seth with a horse trailer.

A chuckle escaped his throat. The look of amusement on Meg’s face before the horse threw him had been priceless. She may have treated him rough, but he’d seen the intense way she had checked him out while all huffy and pissed. The others might have been fooled, but he could tell she was arming herself against her own thoughts in his favor.

He’d take a chance on that instinct in the near future.

Even though her father had hired him, the last thing Tico wanted was to ambush Meg as team leader of the investigation. Don Francisco had brought him in as a top detective, but not until tonight had he made it clear that his desire to keep his daughter safe from the cartel was enough for him to sanction Tico taking over Meg’s job—permanently. He’d couched his concern by saying that he wanted Tico to do anything necessary to keep his daughter unharmed. Tico had heard Don Francisco’s veiled message loud and clear, and didn’t like it. At all. In an equally correct manner, he’d replied that Meg had an excellent reputation, and he looked forward to working with her.

Tico had no desire to take Meg’s job. He wanted to get the bad guys. Period. Don Francisco’s double standard put Tico in a difficult position with both Meg and her father. Would he be able to solve this case and keep his integrity intact with either party?

In the past, Tico had never had trouble bulldozing anyone out of the way if they impeded an investigation, but Meg hadn’t done anything wrong. In fact, she and her team had done everything right. Smugglers had the upper hand with stealth and technology, and were terrorizing local residents to remain invisible—and untouchable. The cartel’s advantage made law enforcement almost impossible. Every detective knew that no matter how big the sting, they could only scratch the surface of the black market. The answer to killing the underworld was to have public demand dry up. People had to stop feeding their addictions—and their dark sides—in order for the good guys to win.

That would mean changing the world. Given the world he came from, Tico was determined to do just that, one case at a time. The one person he thought who didn’t need changing at all was Meg Flores. He’d seen how she had put her heart and soul into this investigation. He’d react exactly as she had, if the tables were turned. No doubt, Meg’s helplessness at her powerful father’s demands was infuriating.

He stood and leaned against the railing. Overhead, stars filled the night. Until driving across the country, he’d had no idea what the night sky truly looked like. Now the inky darkness attracted him with a haunting familiarity, though he’d never seen anything quite like the stark blackness littered with so many points of light. His imagination soared as he looked into the depths of the sky.

Maybe it was the dry, hot air. Maybe the occasional lowing of cattle on the range, or coyotes howling in the foothills. Whatever the reason, this place stirred a need in him he’d never known. He wanted to belong to an environment as wide and clear as this place. Nights like this simply did not exist in one-bedroom apartments in the lower Bronx with car horns blaring, trains clanking and kids who yelled to each other from the sidewalks. He exhaled a long breath. He could get used to life in the desert.

His gut knotted at the realization. Inwardly, he shook himself. This place was haunting his good senses. He’d learned early on not to attach himself to anyone or anything. He’d chosen to be an undercover detective because his parents had been crack addicts. Unsupervised, with a lot of pent-up anger, he’d run with gangs until he was finally arrested in his early twenties and scared straight. Even then, working for the law, he found no sanctuary.

Tico was tough. Running with gangs had made him that way. But he was honorable and got the job done. Then, when he lost his partner in a gunfight with a gang, prejudice toward him spiked, and Tico’s defenses rose right along with his peers’ reactions. He’d learned as a kid and again as a cop that no place was home.

Yet, basking in the peaceful night on the most beautiful grounds he’d ever seen, Tico found himself wishing for the first time in a long time that he had roots—a home like this one. Maybe not so grand, but a place to belong. He hadn’t entertained thoughts like these since he was small. Now desires like these did him no good at all.

Yeah. Coming here was a bad idea.

He needed to get his job done and get out as fast as possible. He’d planned on cracking Meg’s defenses and winning her over, but he’d liked her and her team on sight. They looked like honest, straightforward folk with whom he’d like to be on good terms. Bill Mewith and he had the Judumi in common, but was his lost heritage something he wanted to explore further?

It didn’t matter. Tico had been perceived and received as the enemy. An uphill battle, one more time. It was ironic the way he’d been more accepted in gangs than in the world of law enforcement. The old adage of being judged by the friends one kept followed him everywhere he went.

Don Francisco had set the stage one more time for Tico to be the outsider. But what the hell. He’d do it. The pay was certainly worth it. He’d ignore the pull of the land, of his Judumi heritage, of Meg Flores’s soulful eyes. There was nothing here for him except a job to do.

He’d get it done.

His instincts were already giving him ideas for directions he should pursue. Only this time, for the first time in his career, he wouldn’t bulldoze the team leader. Again, unfamiliar territory. But he’d read the reports. Met Detective Flores and her team. No matter what Don Francisco wanted, he’d make sure Meg worked with him on this investigation. Somehow, he’d appease Don Francisco. Meg deserved the recognition. Tico could protect her. He had no goddamn idea why he was even remotely entertaining that thought, but he was.

Maybe it was the swirl of stars overhead. Maybe it was this excellent cigar. Whatever. At the moment he felt inclined to meet this challenge. Who knew how he’d feel tomorrow.

The pounding rhythm of hoofbeats rose from behind the ranch house. One horse. One rider. He’d watched Meg’s truck pull up to a cabin on the lake in the distance after she’d left her parents’ veranda this evening. Sounded as if the rider was coming from that direction.

A rush heated his blood. Damnation, he hoped so.

Standing perfectly still, he watched as Meg rode around the house, heading for his porch. She looked sexy and wild in the shadowed light, her hair flying behind her, the air pushing a white Mexican shirt against her body as she moved—and what a body she had. He moved the cigar to the other side of his mouth. A sweet sight in the saddle, Meg handled the horse as if they were one. The power of the gallop meant she was still fuming. That brought a grin to his face.

She reined in the horse in front of the railing, just a hair’s breadth from where Tico stood. In the small cloud of dust, the musky heat from the horse’s hide vibrated the air between them but did nothing to match the heat from Meg’s flinty stare. He didn’t move a muscle. She looked sweet as hell.

He took a draw on the cigar. “Nice night for a ride.”

Her voice thrummed with barely suppressed hostility. “As if you’d know.”

“Did you race all the way here to discuss my riding abilities?”

“You have none.”

He chuckled. “A little rusty. I’ll give you that.”

“We have to talk, Detective.”

She was still pissed. He would be, too. Time to get to the bottom of their first encounter. Tico gestured to the rocking chair next to the one he’d been sitting in. He’d like to know if his inclination to help Meg had been misplaced.

He flicked the ash of his cigar into the dirt. “You climb down off that thing, and I’ll be happy to listen.”

CHAPTER FOUR

THE SMUG LOOK on Tico’s face had Meg questioning her reason for coming here. Needing to keep her anger, she refused to ignore his jest. Meg laid a propriety hand on the horse’s neck. “She’s not a thing. Her name is Whisper.”

“Sounded more like thunder to me.”

Okay. So maybe she’d ridden Whisper hard on the five-minute run over here. She didn’t want to have this conversation but had no other choice. “Very funny.”

He addressed the horse. “Okay, then, Whisper, why don’t you deposit your mistress so we can have an eye-level conversation.”

“She won’t answer. She knows better than to converse with a man who considered himself above the law for most of his life.”

He frowned. “Did you really just try to insult me?”

Of course she did. Tico looked like the same type of hard-edged criminal she’d busted dozens of times over the years. The worse ones to handle were the dudes with attitude because they had sex appeal. Those Romeos thought their shit didn’t stink. She was sure that Tico fell into that camp. But there was something compelling about him. Attitude had its allure.

The fact that Tico was one of the good guys now made him a curiosity. One she had no time or inclination to explore, though, dammit all, her curiosity egged her on. She felt stupid when her heart thumped as she watched him stand there all arrogant and hot in his tight black shirt and jeans.

She spotted the rattlesnake tattoo immediately and used all her cop training not to stare. Given the many run-ins she’d had with rattlers in the desert, Butler’s lifelike tat, which curled around his forearm with the head and forked tongue resting just above his wrist, unsettled her right down to her toes. She honored nature in all its forms, especially with what she’d learned living closely with the Judumi, but she wasn’t a fan of snakes. Even more, she wasn’t one for tattoos. But that lean, golden brown rattler circling Tico’s forearm downright suited him.

She gestured to his tat. “Didn’t know you had a pet.”

He took a drag on his cigar and exhaled the smoke while watching her, but said nothing. The ash on the cigar between his fingers burned orange in the dark.

If he thought he was intimidating her, he was dead wrong. Meg swung from the saddle and looped the horse’s reins around the porch rail. Why did this guy bring out the worst in her?

Tico pointed to the horse’s reins. “Do you really believe a single loop will keep her from bolting?”

“She’s my horse. She won’t go anywhere.”

“Like mine obeyed me so well this morning?”

Meg thought it prudent not to comment on his horse abilities this time. “He wasn’t really yours. I’ve had Whisper since she was a filly. If you had a dog you raised from a pup, wouldn’t he stay by your side without a leash?”

Tico shrugged. “Wouldn’t know. Never had a dog.”

A boy and no dog? She couldn’t imagine. “Guess city living doesn’t make it easy for a dog.”

“My grandmother had a Chihuahua, but that’s not a dog.”

She laughed. “My roommate has one. He’s rather charming.”

“Charming is not how I’d describe a dog.” He waved her up the one step to the porch. “Have a seat. Do you mind if I smoke?”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “That’s a stupid question. You already are.”

He stuck the cigar back in his mouth. “Just being polite, ma’am.”

Meg took the one step to meet him square on. Crossing into his territory seemed appropriate under the circumstances.

“Polite would be for you to back away from the investigation.”

He shook his head. “Sorry. No can do.”

She planted her hands on her hips. “Are you here to take my job?”

He bit down on the cigar. “Do you want the party-line response, or my true intentions?”

“I want to know why the hell you’re in my way.”

He leaned back on the railing and tugged the cigar from his mouth. “I am here because I plan on stopping some sewer rats from stealing and destroying innocent women. Drugs and human trafficking are disgusting, and I can help with the investigation.”

“That sounds like the party line.”

His gaze slid to a point over her right shoulder. A momentary frown creased his brow. “Despite what you may think of me or my motives, I came to get a job done.”

“What I think of you doesn’t matter at all. What did my father offer you?”

“I’m not going to discuss your father.”

“Then tell me about yours.”

A short, amused laugh escaped him. “Not a chance.” He cocked a brow. “What are you fishing for?”

She stared a long moment, growing uncomfortable as those restless Judumi eyes focused on her mouth, then her neck, before dropping slowly along the flower-embroidered neckline of her Mexican blouse. The scrutiny of men was nothing new to Meg, but Butler’s attention irritated her. No, she was wrong. His attention intrigued her.

Was that why she stood her ground in the dead of night, knowing she’d get his attention? Was her intention to do battle with the enemy—or to entice him so she would get her way? Her chin rose higher when his gaze slid down to her hips and trailed the length of her faded denims, stopping at the hole above her knee. She released a breath when his gaze finally fell to her well-worn but cherished tooled boots, then snapped back to hers.

He puffed on his cigar, just one small, easy draw. From behind the veil of smoke she caught his grin as he said, “Nice boots.”

She tapped her foot. “I’m not here for your amusement.”

“Then why are you here?”

“To tell you to go home. I have a damned good team, and we know what we’re doing. Despite what others may think, we can break this case.”

Tico used thumb and forefinger to take a piece a tobacco from the tip of his tongue. Did she see regret in his eyes?

“You obviously don’t get it. I was hired to come here. This is my job. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Then stay out of my way.”

“Look, Detective. Why don’t we make an effort to unroll this investigation by working together? I see no threat here. The problem is yours.”

Meg actually snorted. “Clearly you are not familiar with small towns, Detective.” She exaggerated his title to make her point. “I know my father. I know Eric Longwood. Eric would never have let you question my credibility in front of my team if the three of you didn’t have a plan that’s been kept from me.”

Tico began to speak, but she stopped him with a raised hand. “I worked my ass off to get where I am today. I’ve chewed up and spit out men with far more brass than yours. Your brash attitude and stupid stunts don’t fool me.” She repeated her words. “Stay. Out. Of. My. Way.”

She’d gone so far as to poke his chest with a pointed finger to emphasize her words and met with sheer solid muscle. Without warning, he grabbed her hand, the snake on his arm flexing with his action. His grip was firm, his long fingers and wide palm warm—and surprisingly soft. A shiver ran along her spine. Damn. Damn. Damn.

“You’ve got this scenario all wrong, my dear.”

My dear? “Let go of my hand.”

He grinned again, and she wanted to slap his face. God, how he riled her! She wrenched her hand away just as he let go, and she lost her balance.

Again, with unexpected speed, he gripped her waist to keep her from falling. He took a moment to push a lock of her hair from her shoulder and dusted off her sleeve as if she’d fallen. When he spoke to her again, his tone was low and dangerous. “The mayor brought me in for this job. If you think you have enough influence with him, why don’t you have me sent home? Until then, I’m working with or without you.”

He pointed from her to himself. “The way I see it, we have a tough job ahead of us. So, it’s in your best interest to be nice to me.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Oh, no. You’d recognize a threat, Meg.”

She hated the sound of her name on his lips. “I should have known better than to try to reason with you. And I’m Detective Flores.”

She climbed onto Whisper, her heart racing. The horse sensed her tension and tossed her head. Meg shifted her weight in the saddle, and with a flick of the reins, Whisper turned back toward home. Reining her in, Meg stole one last look at the outsider watching her from the porch of her father’s cabin.

Tico held up a hand. “Do cowboy cops eat donuts? I’ll bring some to the meeting tomorrow.”

“Rot in hell, Butler.”

Meg kicked the horse’s flanks. Whisper bolted, but not before she heard him grumble, “I’m already there, lady.”

* * *

TICO DROPPED THE cigar into the ashtray, disgusted. He’d let Meg goad him into another argument, the last thing he wanted with her. Damn it all. They had a very serious and very dangerous case to crack, and now they were in a pissing match. If she couldn’t get her emotions under control, she would have to step aside. He’d read the reports. She and her team had done everything right. All he wanted to do was advise them. Why did she have such a hornet in her hat over his arrival? He’d come a long way to help.

He’d done a lot of self-talk the entire ride from New York to convince himself he could blend with this group. Having team members bucking him was the norm. He was comfortable with that. Yet, for some reason, he didn’t like crossing swords with this woman. He’d done his research. He understood how Detective Flores had poured her heart and soul into a law enforcement career despite only grudging approval from her demanding father. And now, Don Francisco was withdrawing his support because he was afraid.

When all was said and done, Tico was a loner, but he wanted to work with Meg. Curiosity more than anything had him wanting to spend more time in her company, and damn it all, if she blew this case, her career could tank. That would devastate her. Which was why she was attacking him now. He understood that. But he wasn’t the enemy. How to make her believe that?

Earlier, while watching her with hands on hips, hair tossed back, chin high, he’d noticed that she’d traded her work clothes for faded blue second-skin jeans and a Mexican shirt that could bring an angel to tears. He imagined her on the back of his Harley, arms wrapped around him. When he’d saved her from losing her balance, he’d had an urge to slide one arm around that tight little waist of hers and pull her against him so she could read his lips when he answered her challenge. Instead, he’d stood there and they fought.

What did he care? This place was doing strange things to his very set, very comfortable convictions. He had to get out of here as soon as possible.

In the silence, a coyote howl rose from the foothills. Farther away another howl echoed in response. It was as if the pack was calling to gather. Overhead, the stars still held their ground. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket to check the time. Nine-thirty. Damn. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

MEG SLAMMED HER heavy front door. She was still so damned frustrated from getting nowhere with Tico Butler. The smell of popcorn invaded her senses. Her roommate, Penny Riggs, appeared from the kitchen, bowl in hand. Bruno, her Chihuahua, scurried around her feet, focused on the bowl of popcorn. Behind her the television was on, volume muted.

Penny frowned. “I waited for you to start the movie, but from the look on your face, you’re in no mood for watching a romance.”

A mocking laugh rose in Meg’s throat as she reached down to pet the dog. “A murder mystery would be better.”

“Your detective didn’t cooperate, I take it?”

“Nothing but aggravation.” Meg turned in a circle out of sheer frustration, fists clenched. “I could just scream!”

Where Meg had curves to her athletic, lithe figure and long hair, Penny’s petite frame was lean and trim like a ballerina’s. Tonight she’d gelled her short platinum hair into spikes. Gleaming silver hoops dangled from her ears, complementing her turquoise camisole and brown gypsy skirt. Penny had been blessed with green eyes that usually held mirth. She offered her hand and led her friend into the den. Glass doors opened to the night, warming the room decorated with Indian pottery, overstuffed furniture and woven rugs.

“Why do you have the doors open, Pen?”

Penny grinned. “Because there’s something you should see. Step outside.”

Penny led Meg to a cactus garden bordering the covered patio. The light from the den glowed softly on the cholla, barrel and fishhook cacti beneath the bottlebrush tree that was meant to shade the area during the hottest part of the day. In the center of the narrow garden, a hip-high, barren-looking, tangled and twiggy cactus of no real beauty held center stage.

Pen pointed to the small bulbs dotting the ends of the plant’s sticklike branches. “Look what happened today!”

Meg caught her breath, immediately forgetting her anger. “The Queen of the Night is going to bloom!”

The women grinned at each other. Penny said, “It’s been almost two years. The bulbs look ready. If we sit out here, we may witness it firsthand.”

Meg let out a breath. “That would be the first nice thing to happen all day.”

“It’s a beautiful night. I’ll pour us some wine, and we’ll wait and see if she opens.”

Penny put the bowl of popcorn on the table. Bruno followed her into the kitchen. Meg moved two of the patio chairs to the edge of the garden.

This particular cactus was a rarity in the desert. Meg had planted the Queen of the Night herself when she’d moved into the cabin six years ago. Back then the plant had been simply a round tuber root with a stick. It had grown and spread into this sparse, leggy plant. Unless you knew what it was, you’d think it was dead. When those buds opened, the beautiful blossoms were large and white with yellow centers. Their vanilla fragrance suffused the air like heaven. The flowers hadn’t appeared last year. Now more buds emerged on the plant than she’d ever seen.

Penny returned with two glasses of white wine and a camera hanging from her shoulder. She handed Meg her wine, then scooped up Bruno and dropped into the chair beside her. She rested the camera next to the chair. “This sure beats watching the movie.”

As she spoke the first bulb popped open. “Oh!” Meg leaned forward. The rest of the unfurling would be slower, but once one opened, the others would follow. It was as if the plant had some sort of communication system where all the buds waited for each other. She stood, not wanting to miss a moment of this precious event. “Look, they’re all opening.”

Pen grabbed her camera and began clicking photos of Meg smelling the blossoms. She shook her head. “I can’t believe they waited for you. Don’t they usually open after sunset?”

“They must have known I needed their magic.” She inhaled a deep, sweet breath, feeling as if her lungs were taking oxygen for the first time today. “How I missed this amazing fragrance.”

Pen leaned forward to breathe the flower’s essence. “Nothing like it in the world.”

Meg sat back in her chair, ready to let the conflict of the day fall away. She let her gaze roam into the distance where a few dim lights shone from her parents’ house on the other side of the lake. They’d disappointed her today beyond belief. They’d always known her line of work was dangerous, but had always had faith in her abilities to do her job. She’d simply have to stand her ground with them until they understood she wasn’t to be swayed.

Butler’s cabin wasn’t visible from where she sat, but she knew he was out there. She tried to push the thought of him from her mind. She wanted to relax, but he kept crowding her thoughts. Dammit. Returning her focus to the blossoms, she sipped her wine.

“How was work today, Penny?”

Pen ran a hand through her hair. “Busy.” She sat back down, but not before clicking another photo of Meg.

Meg shielded her face to stop Pen from taking any more. “You still like the job?”

“Oh, yeah. As a matter of fact, today was my six-month anniversary. Enrique finally gave me keys to the spa this morning.”

“Sounds like you passed the training period.”

“With flying colors, according to Enrique.”

Pen had always wanted to move from the small salon in town to the spa in the foothills that attended to the elite residents of the Quarry. With her friendly personality and keen fashion sense, Pen had a style and sassiness that made her a perfect match for the spa community.

She managed to hide the fact that she was a celebrity groupie. Nothing excited her more than primping the hair and nails of a movie or rock star, politician or business tycoon. Yet, to all outward appearances, she behaved with sophistication and the perfect touch of reserve around those who preferred anonymity at the Quarry.

Meg tapped Pen’s wineglass with her own. “Congratulations, girl. You’ve reached the top.”

Penny chuckled. “I can’t tell you how hard it was resisting the urge to ask Katrina Ripley for an autograph while prepping her for a pedi-wrap.”

Meg laughed out loud. Katrina Ripley was well known in the fashion world as the latest leggy, angel-faced model. She’d been discovered living on the streets in Berlin by a French photographer when documenting the city. That photographer had done an exclusive on Katrina with photos before and after he cleaned her up, which shot her to international fame.

Any clothes, accessories or jewelry she modeled sold out so quickly that one lingerie mega-store had nabbed her, offering an obscene annual salary to be their exclusive representative. She’d met and married Josh Ripley in a fast and furious love affair that had been plastered all over the tabloids for months. “Wow. Even I’m impressed.”

“I know! Katrina Ripley is amazing.”

Meg shook her head. “No. I’m impressed that you made it through two hours with the woman and didn’t ask her to sign your arm.”

“Or ask her for a pass for tonight’s concert. Enrique would have fired me on the spot. Bothering the celebrities is the best way to lose your job.” Penny tapped her lip with a finger. “But it might have been worth it for front-row seats to see Joshua Ripley perform.”

“I’d prefer an Eagles concert any day.”

Penny grinned. “Well, sure, but he’s here, and they’re not.”

Meg reached for some popcorn. “So, do you like working with Enrique?”

“He can be a ballbuster, but he’s protecting the privacy of the residents. Once you get his motives, he’s pretty easy.”

“I guess he’s like Eric Longwood. In charge of everything, so has to run a tight ship.”

“Exactly. I like Enrique. He’s not bad on the eyes, either.” Pen’s attention fell on the cactus blooms. “I can’t believe that by morning, these beautiful flowers will be withered and gone.”

Meg got up from her chair to touch one silky flower petal. This moment wouldn’t come again for another year—or longer. Cupping the bloom with a hand, she bent to inhale the intoxicating fragrance, her hair falling about her shoulders.

Pen clicked another photo of her. “That’s a good one.”

Meg took the camera. “Go ahead, Pen. Strike a pose. Let’s prove to your spa friends that you really saw a Queen of the Night in bloom.”

Pen’s eyes lit up. “Great idea.” While she angled herself by the cactus blooms, careful not to get too close to the spines, she said, “I saw Mitchell Blake talking with Enrique by the pool this afternoon. Are you guys coming back to the spa to investigate?”

“Butler is insisting we retrace our steps, but I don’t think Mitchell was there because of the case. More likely a disgruntled resident with a complaint.” Meg snapped a profile shot of Pen sniffing the bloom. “Okay, Pen. Look at the camera. Big smile.”

Pen took the camera Meg returned to her and checked out the photo in the viewer. “I know Enrique works with the police department to keep security tight at the Quarry, but Mitchell looked annoyed.”

“Mitchell and I argued this morning, but that had nothing to do with the spa.”

Pen chuckled. “Well, we all know what he thinks of rock stars. The Ripleys have been having some pretty wild parties at their house. I think some of their neighbors were complaining.”

Meg could just imagine Mitchell’s irritation at needing to placate some snooty resident because their neighbor’s music was too loud. “Enrique usually goes straight to Mitchell. The spa likes to get the big guns in the department to deal with their own breed of riffraff.”

Meg inhaled a deep breath at the thought of Tico Butler. Funny how he popped into her mind with the mention of riffraff. Two more blossoms opened, filling the air with their essence. She closed her eyes, letting the scent of the flower embed itself in her mind. She wanted to discuss Butler with her best friend and not get agitated all over again because he, like the flower, would soon be gone.

Pen must have sensed her agitation. “So, talk. Let me hear what’s bothering you.”

Meg shook her head. “Butler was pretty clear in letting me know my father wants me off the case.”

“What about Butler? Does he want you off?”

Meg shrugged. “Oddly enough, I get the feeling he wants to work with me and the team, though I haven’t missed his veiled threats.”

“Threats?”

“That he’s not going anywhere since Dad hired him. And that either I work with him or he’ll follow Dad’s wishes and take me off the case.”

Pen shook her head. “It’s awful that Don Francisco lost confidence.”

Meg released a long breath. “I wouldn’t have minded Dad bringing in an expert, except for the way he did it. He and Mom are scheming and actually want me to stop doing undercover work.”

“Like they could make you stop?”

Meg sighed. “They’d simply force me to move to another city. They want me to find a guy and settle down. I’m not meant to stay home, marry and have a passel of babies.”

“Ever?”

Meg laughed at the concern in her friend’s face. “You know I’m not the marrying type.”

Pen shook her head in amazement. “You’ve said that for years, but I can’t believe it. Nothing would make me happier.”

“Then you get married and have babies.”

“That’s what I mean. Nothing would make me happier.”

Meg grinned. “I know. You’ve told me that for years, too.”

“Now all I need is to find someone worth marrying.”

Meg turned her attention back to the blossoms. “Happy hunting, my friend.”

“Is your detective Butler a handsome man?”

“He’s not my detective Butler.”

Pen waved a dismissing hand. “You know what I mean.”

Was Butler handsome? Meg mused as she realized the first flower had opened completely. “He’s not stud-handsome like in the GQ magazine sort of way. But sexy? Yeah. He has an imposing presence.”

Grinning, Penny raised a brow. “How imposing?”

“Hmm. Oh, I don’t know. Like no woman has been able to tame him yet. He’s half Judumi and looks Native American. About fortyish. He’s had a tough life. His face is strong and angular, but the stress lines around his mouth go all soft when he smiles, and his eyes get a mischievous look.”

“Eye color?”

“Brown. Almost black. Expressive.” She thought about it. “I’d go so far as to say soulful.”

“Hair?”

“Long and black. Ponytail.”

She had Penny’s attention. “And his body?”

Despite her anger earlier tonight, Meg hadn’t missed how snugly Butler’s jeans fit his muscled thighs while seated on her parents’ veranda, or how his denim shirt, opened just enough at the neck, stretched across his chest, or how his lean, strong hands looked as if they knew the power of touch.

And tonight. With the rattlesnake tattoo circling across his tanned forearm. The way he’d watched her with those dark eyes while toying with his cigar. Then when he’d saved her from losing her balance, she found herself breathing deep to get enough of the fresh-soap scent of his skin beneath the cigar smoke.

Meg blew out a long breath. Not good to indulge such thoughts, and Pen’s grin irritated her. “I’ve been so busy arguing with him that I really haven’t noticed his body.”

“After the blow-by-blow description you just gave me on his looks, you expect me to believe that?” Pen narrowed her eyes. “Come on now. It’s me you’re talking to here, kiddo.”

“Okay. So he has a hot body and a wicked rattlesnake tattoo on his right forearm. But believe me. Tico Butler holds no appeal to me.”

Penny used her glass to shield her grin. “Sure. I can tell you mean every word.” She chuckled. “Wish I could be a fly on the wall for your team meeting tomorrow morning.”

It’s in your best interest to be nice to me.

Butler’s words invaded Meg’s mind. He’d said them playfully, but she’d been able to tell he was serious. “My last words to him were an invitation to rot in hell.”

Pen practically choked on her wine. “You’re kidding!”

“No. Clearly my anger is doing nothing but causing trouble between us. I’ve got to keep a level head when around that man.”

“Good idea.” Pen pulled Bruno into her lap to keep him from licking her ankles. “Maybe you can call a truce or something.”

“He said something about donuts. Maybe I’ll bring that New York bozo a box of his own tomorrow.” She let a dangerous grin spread across her face. Oh, she could play so nice that Butler would never see the precinct door hitting him in the butt on his way out of town. “Think donuts for a New York cop would work as a peace offering?”

CHAPTER FIVE

MEG MOVED A bit more slowly than usual on the treadmill at the gym this morning. She and Penny had finished that bottle of wine last night. She didn’t drink often, but the combination of the blooms, the scented air and the wine had worked wonders on calming her after the insanity of the day.

Now she was paying for the indulgence. She usually ran on the treadmill. This morning, jogging made for an easier pace, but she set the timer for an extra twenty minutes to make up for lack of speed.

In two hours she’d be face-to-face with Butler at the team meeting. God only knew what direction the investigation would take. She’d spent part of yesterday rehashing the notes on the people interviewed who’d last seen the young mother and two teens. There had to be a lead somewhere, though she still couldn’t find it. She wondered what Butler would suggest they do when there were no clues, and nothing but miles of barren desert filled with caves, nooks and crannies in the hills surrounding the town.

On the other side of the gym, Penny traveled from one weight machine to the other on the cross-training circuit, her usual routine. Meg would do the same after she finished her cardio segment. The girls went to the gym together but worked out separately. Penny had a longer commute than Meg, so they’d decided they could forgo gossip for efficiency. They had plenty of time to talk at home.

It felt good to be in motion. Meg closed her eyes, concentrating on her movements. The perspiration rising on her skin felt good. Cleansing. She’d pulled her hair into a knot on her head; a sweatband circled her forehead. The new running shoes she’d purchased felt like clouds on her feet. She reached for her water bottle to take another swig and stopped with her hand in midair.

Penny had just gotten off one of the machines and was chatting up none other than Tico Butler, looking particularly buff in a blue T-shirt and baggy gray gym shorts. His hair, caught in the usual ponytail, gleamed under the overhead lights. He’d fastened his attention on Penny with that intensity Meg was coming to recognize as Butler’s style. As a former object of his scrutiny, she knew it could be either disquieting or comforting, depending on his intent. Penny must have been feeling his welcoming side. By the look on her face she was flirting, big-time.

Shit!

Pen’s focus moved from Tico’s face to the tattoo on his right forearm. The momentary widening of Pen’s eyes and her quick glance at Meg betrayed that she’d realized who he was. Butler followed Pen’s gaze, saw Meg and gave her a curt two-finger salute.

Ignoring him, she continued to drink water, her insides heating up. From Pen’s gestures, it was easy to tell that Pen was explaining her relationship to Meg. Tico nodded, smiled at her roommate and moved on to one of the other machines.

Wiping her mouth, Meg acknowledged that the man took his physical well-being seriously—his honed physique was a dead giveaway. Any good investigator active in the field would. Darn it all if now her gaze didn’t wander in Butler’s direction over and over. The man was clearly familiar with the equipment; his bulging biceps responded to the repetitive motion as he exercised. Nice. Angry at her gut reaction, she punched the buttons on the treadmill, increasing the speed.

A major run ought to distract her.

Ten minutes later, sweating buckets, Meg slowed the treadmill for the cooldown. She glanced across the room. Butler, seated at an ab cruncher, blatantly watched her with admiration on his face. Penny had finished her circuit and, bless her heart, headed toward Meg, blissfully distracting her from the urge to flash Butler a rude hand gesture. So much for last night’s decision to be nice.

Penny jerked a thumb in Butler’s direction. “Look who I just met.”

Meg slanted her an impatient glance. “You mean, hit on?”

Unapologetic, Penny fanned herself. “A new face. A new possibility. Sorry, Meggie, but he is hot!”

When Meg glared at her, Penny laughed. “Twenty more minutes before we go?”

Meg peered over Penny’s shoulder. Butler concentrated on his crunches. She refused to start her routine on the circuit with him nearby. “I can leave now.”

“Oh, don’t be a spoilsport. I told him we’re roommates.”

“Not best friends?”

A devilish grin tugged on Pen’s lips. “He might not like me if he knows how close we are.”

Meg swatted Pen’s arm. “Traitor!”

“No way! Desperate.”

Meg laughed. Pen was stunning with her dancer’s body, glowing skin and bright green eyes set against hair mussed just enough to look like sex and fun rolled into one. “Prospecting is more like it. Guys usually don’t know what hit them when they meet you.”

“So bring ’em on!”

Meg stopped the treadmill, taking a moment to blot her face with a hand towel. “Butler isn’t going to be in Adobe Creek long. Don’t waste your time.”

Pen stole a glance in his direction. “I think you should heed Detective Butler’s suggestion and work very, very closely with him, Meg.” She tapped her friend’s hand with a perfectly manicured finger. “A bit of advice from someone who cares.”

* * *

BOX IN HAND of a dozen homemade donuts from the coolest little bakery he’d ever seen, Tico barged into the conference room to find everyone present except Eric Longwood. The guys grinned at the sight of the pure white box with the red bow.

Not Meg.

She looked as sexy as ever in a black V-neck shirt beneath her gray suit. That alone was enough to make him think one more time that he’d love to see her perched on the back of his Harley.

But her glare ruined any fantasy of the kind. He saw why when his attention fell on an identical box of donuts already opened and half empty on the table in front of her.

Tico laughed. “Hey, I said I’d bring the donuts.”

Meg shrugged. “I took you for a plain-donut type of guy. I didn’t want to be disappointed, so I brought the jelly-filled and the éclairs.”

Damn. She’d pegged him. “Nothing in here but glazes, plains and cinnamons. Good character read, Detective.”

Mitchell reached for a glazed donut when Tico opened the box. “I’ll take one. A real donut doesn’t need a dressing.”

Meg held out a hand. “Then I’ll take back the two jellies you just inhaled.”

Mitchell grinned. “Check with me after lunch, sweetheart.”

Jose grimaced. “Oh, that’s disgusting, Mitchell.”

Bill lifted a hand. “What is this, a donut face-off?”

Meg’s phone rang. She checked the caller ID, then clicked the phone off without answering.

“Another bad date trying for a second time?” Mitchell kept just enough playfulness in his voice to keep from sounding patronizing. Tico shook his head, surprised at the animosity this man was showing toward Meg. And here he’d thought this was a tight-knit team.

Meg shot Mitchell an impatient look. “No. My roommate has developed a sudden interest in this investigation. She can leave a message.”

“Speaking of roommates.” Tico took the seat next to Meg’s and crooked a finger to beckon her closer. He liked the reluctance in her body language before she finally leaned toward him, a lock of hair falling on her forehead. Was she wearing perfume, or did her skin smell like heaven? He indulged in a slow, deep inhale before speaking. He felt strongly about what he had to say and hoped Meg wouldn’t take it wrong.

“Your roommate was flirting with me this morning.”

Meg lifted a brow. “And?”

“You might want to warn her that starting conversations with strangers around here could be more dangerous than she thinks.”

“Penny can take care of herself.”

“I’m sure the woman who disappeared a few days ago felt she could take care of herself, too. Just do me a favor and warn her to lay off the friendliness. She didn’t know me from the devil. She’s asking for trouble.”

Meg didn’t get a chance to reply. Eric Longwood entered the conference room, looking disgusted. He dropped his file on the desk. “Bad news. Another woman was reported missing this morning. A twenty-three-year-old. Melissa Collins from the ranch lands outside town.”

Tico sat back in his chair, quick to gauge the reactions of the team. What he saw surprised him. For now, he’d keep his counsel. While Meg, Bill and Jose looked surprised and as disgusted as their chief, Mitchell Blake sat back in his chair with an expectant look on his face, as if he already knew. When Mitchell saw Tico watching him, he leaned forward and gave Chief Longwood his full attention.

Eric continued, “Mitchell, Bill, Jose, I want you to check out the Collins woman’s car found in the mall parking lot. Talk to people. Look for leads. Tico, Meg, come with me to speak with the family. Let’s go.”

Out front, Tico opened the door to the backseat of the unmarked sedan Longwood brought from the precinct garage. Again, Meg gave him that lifted brow. “Not going to fight for shotgun?”

He grinned. “And have a dangerous blonde sitting behind me? Not today.”

Eric put the car into gear. “So, are we working any closer toward camaraderie among teammates?”

When neither answered, Eric heaved a heavy sigh. “I had a complaint from Mitchell yesterday, Meg. Says you sniped at him.”

Meg shook her head. “Sorry about that, Chief. I’m just trying to hold my own here. I’m getting flak on all sides. My career may not be as long as Mitchell’s, but I’ve earned my place, and he keeps trying to slap me down.”

“Your bio is pretty impressive,” Tico added in a show of support.

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Detective,” Meg said over her shoulder. “Besides, Chief, I have a bone to pick with you.”

Tico leaned back in his seat, waiting to see how Eric handled Meg. He knew exactly where she was steering this conversation.

Longwood reached for a pair of sunglasses from the dashboard and slid them on, shielding his eyes from the desert glare. “Before you jump to conclusions, Meg, you need to understand that Don Francisco may tell me what he wants done and as mayor can fire me if I don’t follow orders, but he respects me enough that I believe he’ll trust my decisions. I simply need your cooperation.”

She thumbed to Tico in the backseat. “You mean cooperate with him?”

“There’s a good start.”

“Meg and I had a conversation last night that I’m sure helped bridge that gap between us,” Tico said.

At the look of disbelief on her face, he added, “And you have to admit, Eric, you and I would be pretty upset if our credibility was being challenged. Detective Flores and I are finding a common ground.”

“We don’t have time for you two to find common ground. You need to own it. Now. Do you understand me, Meg?”

“I’m being coerced here.”

When Meg folded her arms across her chest, Tico found himself stretching his neck to see what effect that had on her cleavage. He rolled his eyes at his own actions and sat back.

“Look, Eric. No team leader likes to be circumvented. I get that. What’s worse is that Don Francisco is making decisions based on his own fears when his daughter is the most qualified detective for the job. I say, we offer the mayor lip service and get the job done with Meg’s team as fast as we can before he can object.”

Silence fell like dead weight in the car. From the look on Meg’s face he’d stunned her. Good. With another woman missing as of this morning, it was time to pull the team together.

Meg cleared her throat. “Sounds like you’re undercutting the mayor, but I thank you for the vote of support, Detective.”

“You’re welcome.” He held out a hand. “Now, let’s get to work.”

Meg looked at his hand a long moment before shaking it. Her hand felt small, soft and warm in his, triggering some foreign desire to keep her safe. Where the hell did that come from?

He cleared his throat. “So, what are your thoughts?”

Meg glanced from Eric to Tico. “If another woman went missing this morning, I’d say the others are still around. Seems like some arrogant son of a bitch is rounding out a stable of women to ship out all at once.”

Tico nodded. “Agreed.”

“Here in Adobe Creek?” Eric asked.

Meg nodded. “If not here, then in that damned barren corridor. My gut tells me if they’re using the corridor, there’s a hole somewhere close to our boundary. Well hidden and soundproof or locals would have reported unusual activity.”

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