DEAD RINGER

Undercover Texas Ranger Colter Blackthorn’s convinced Danielle Segovia is really a wanted criminal—until she’s nearly kidnapped right in front of him. Now Colter must keep her out of the clutches of the notorious drug cartel leader whose traitor sister is a dead ringer for Danielle. The drug czar wants the drugs he thinks the pretty shop owner stole from him. And with the younger brother Danielle is raising dragged into the crosshairs, Colt has to find a way to protect them both. But a showdown at Christmas—with Danielle as bait—may be the only way to make sure they all survive the holidays.

“I promise you as long as you’re with me, you’re safe, Danielle.”

Colt’s voice was warm, the Texas drawl thick, and his gaze caught hers and held. His brown eyes softened, sweeping her face. “I just needed you to know that.”

Colt Blackthorn swamped her with an emotion she couldn’t process, could only drown in.

“Danielle, I need to—”

A loud crack bounced through the cab of the truck as the rear window exploded behind Colt in a hail of glass and sound.

Reaching across the cab, Colt grabbed Danielle. “Get down!”

He rammed the truck into gear and blasted across the parking lot, tires squealing, the smell of burning rubber and asphalt filling the vehicle.

The bad guys were back. For her.

* * *

Texas Ranger Holidays: A Season of Danger

Thanksgiving Protector by Sharon Dunn

Christmas Double Cross by Jodie Baile

Texas Christmas Defender by Elizabeth Goddard

Dear Reader,

As I type this, I’m sitting on my couch watching it rain. Yesterday was the first day of 2017—though by the time you hold this in your hands, we’ll already be looking forward to 2018. I spend a lot of time thinking about the word “new” in my life, and how Jesus said He “makes all things new.”

To me, that is the most beautiful thing Christ ever said. I mean, really...our old is pretty rotten. The fact that Jesus takes our rotten old and makes it a fresh, new, beautiful thing constantly amazes me. It’s the theme of my life, repeated over and over.

It seems to show up in every book I write, even this one. Colt was in need of a big ol’ batch of “new.” He couldn’t let go of the misplaced guilt of his past. He couldn’t grasp the love of Jesus because he was so buried in his own hurt. Then God sent him someone to show him love...not only the love of another person but to usher him right back to the true love of Christ.

New.

Are you in need of a big dose of “new”? Believe me, nobody’s so far gone that Jesus can’t provide that cleansing, beautiful newness. As you look around at a more mature 2017 than I’m looking at, take a minute, set this book aside, and ask God what kind of new He has planned for you.

It will definitely be incredible. I’d love to hear all about it! Drop me a line at jodie@jodiebailey.com or swing by the website at www.jodiebailey.com and say hello. You’re awesome. Thanks for hanging out!

JODIE BAILEY writes novels about freedom and the heroes who fight for it. Her novel Crossfire won a 2015 RT Reviewers’ Choice Best Book Award. She is convinced a camping trip to the beach with her family, a good cup of coffee and a great book can cure all ills. Jodie lives in North Carolina with her husband, her daughter and two dogs.

Christmas Double Cross

Jodie Bailey

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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Brothers and sisters, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.

—Philippians 3:13–14

To Lesley...

Friend, confidante, cheerleader, truth speaker and all-around beautiful human. You cheered (in a parking lot!) when I finished my first book ever. Thank you for being “my person.”

I love you, girl.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

TWENTY

EPILOGUE

Extract

Copyright

ONE

Texas Ranger Colter Blackthorn shifted his borrowed Dodge Challenger into Park and left the engine running, the heater combating the near-freezing temperatures of an El Paso winter evening.

Pulling his neck to one side, he stretched the tight muscles and scanned the front of the small strip mall. The reflection of Christmas lights danced on the windows of the few cars in the lot as the center neared closing time. Somewhere in the distance a speaker piped “White Christmas” to the handful of shoppers rushing along the sidewalk on their last few days of preparation before the holiday hit full force.

He let his gaze linger on the store closest to him, on the end near the main road. Nothing moved in the shadows behind the building, but a figure moved inside by the front window, pausing to reposition a blanket beneath the D in Mexican Artifacts and Crafts by Danielle.

His fingers tightened on the steering wheel. It had to be her.

“Colt.” The voice shot through his earpiece. Ranger Austin Brewer’s voice was tight, not with anger, but with concern. “If you need to wave off, then let Major Vance know now, before you go in. We can send somebody—”

“I’m fine.” His voice came out more clipped than he’d meant it to, but really, he didn’t need to be babied. He was no rookie. This wasn’t his first time undercover, and it wasn’t as though he was going deep. All he had to do was confirm that the woman pretending to be Danielle Segovia was indeed Adriana Garcia.

The sister of notorious cartel boss Rio Garcia had been a proverbial thorn in the Rangers’ sides since she’d broken ties with her brother and gone to ground. Intel said Adriana Garcia had stolen an antique watch from her brother before disappearing, one that contained a key to a storage unit housing millions in cocaine and heroin—a storage unit that was empty when the Rangers raided it. When her brother Rio discovered what she’d done, he’d gone on a rampage that had brought in the elite Texas Ranger Reconnaissance Team to bring both Garcias to justice. With their training and undercover capabilities, the team was the best option for the job.

Battling Rio had been more than enough to keep them busy since the weeks leading up to Thanksgiving. The man crossed the border at will, always managing to evade capture, and he kept a steady supply of drugs flowing, as well. Intel said he was furious with his sister and would take her back by any means necessary. When crossed, he was a vicious killer, which made finding Adriana even more important and made this mission even more dangerous.

As much as they needed to protect Adriana Garcia—and hopefully convince her to supply evidence against her brother—the Rangers also had to stop her before she started distributing the drugs from that warehouse. If she got a toehold in the drug trade in the States and started trafficking, things were going to get uglier than they already were. West Texans would not only be preyed upon by a new drug kingpin in their midst, but they’d be caught in a blood feud between a sister and brother who’d already proven themselves to be cold-blooded killers.

As far as Colt was concerned, tonight was the beginning of the Garcias’ end.

“You still there?”

Colt had been quiet for too long. If he wasn’t careful, Austin would have him pulled before he could do his job. “Getting into character. Adriana is smart. She’s going to be looking for us.”

“Well, then you’d better stop thinking of her as Adriana Garcia and start thinking of her as Danielle Segovia, or you’re going to slip up.”

True. Colt glanced at the phone in his hand, where a picture of a woman looked up at him, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders. Large brown eyes stared intently at the camera as she posed for a passport photo. The man in him said, under other circumstances, she’d be gorgeous.

The Ranger in him couldn’t stomach the thought. All he wanted was to clasp handcuffs around her wrists and see her carted away. Forever.

Austin, of all people, should realize how important tonight was. This investigation’s violence had personally touched him. Austin’s fiancée, Border Patrol Agent Kylie Perry, had developed a bond with one of her informants, Valentina Hernandez, providing a college education in exchange for information. When Rio had the woman executed as a traitor, Valentina had left her baby Mercedes for Kylie to raise. No one had been ready for the chaos that ensued when the baby’s father, a low-level henchman in Garcia’s cartel, learned who had his daughter. Kylie, Austin, and Mercedes had all nearly paid the ultimate price.

They had survived...but Greg hadn’t, thanks to Adriana. Yes, it was true that Colt’s best friend Greg Gunn had turned his back on his oath as a Border Patrol officer and had aided the cartel—but that didn’t mean he deserved to die.

The evidence of Greg’s death in that warehouse pointed straight back to the woman who called herself Danielle Segovia, standing in a shop across the parking lot, hopefully enjoying her last few days of freedom.

“You’re sure you can handle this?”

Definitely. Colt was as deeply invested in this as anyone. “Who else would we send anyway? She’s seen Brent before. Alvarez is missing...” And if anything had happened to Ranger Carmen Alvarez, who’d recently vanished while undercover in the cartel, the whole team would make sure Adriana Garcia saw prison walls for the rest of her life. “The rest of the team is tied up elsewhere or lacks the experience to pull this off. It’s me or nobody.”

Austin huffed through the earpiece. “Listen. Greg was my friend, too. I nearly lost Kylie. You’re angry. You want justice. We all do. You can’t—”

“I’ll call when I’m clear.” Tapping the small button on the device, Colt ripped it from his ear and tossed it into the cup holder. He was tired of talking about Greg and how he’d sold himself out to the cartel. Tired of wondering when the other shoe would drop.

Tired of second-guessing his own instincts. For years, they’d gotten him where he needed to be. Until recently. He’d blown every call, starting when he missed the fact that his best friend was a traitor to his badge and his country.

That ended now. He was going to walk into that cutesy little shop where Adriana Garcia thought she was so safe, prove she was her fugitive self, and have his team on her so fast she’d never see it coming.

Then maybe he could sleep again.

With one more glance at the phone screen to cement her image in his memory, Colt tucked the device in his pocket and pushed open the door of the Challenger he’d borrowed for this operation. He missed his truck, but he couldn’t drive his own vehicle for an undercover assignment, and this loaner was only for a couple of hours. Shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his black leather jacket, he kept his head down, though his eyes never stopped watching as he walked quickly across the parking lot.

Relax. He rolled his shoulders and swallowed the anger that had burned in his chest for weeks now, ever since Greg was strangled with a woman’s scarf, a bracelet belonging to Adriana Garcia at his side.

Ever since Greg’s fiancée revealed his treachery. The pair had worked with the Garcia cartel to fund a lavish lifestyle and bankroll their expensive wedding until Greg was murdered...and Lena tried to kill Kylie.

Wincing, Colt pulled in another stinging cold breath. Nope. Now was not the time to dwell on those memories. When he opened the door to that shop, he had to become Colter Beckett, antiques collector and big-time drug runner.

And Austin was right. For his undercover persona to be convincing, he had to think of the woman in the shop as nothing more than who she pretended to be—Danielle Segovia, small business owner.

Even if he was dead certain she was one of his team’s most wanted fugitives.

A two-toned beep sounded in the back room as he pulled the door open and stepped inside, the warm air a rebellious blast against the chill outside.

No one greeted him.

Funny. Someone had been by the window a moment ago.

The shop was small, uncluttered, tastefully decorated, as though the owner took great care with each piece. Dark blue carpet, white walls and soft lighting gave the place the feel of an art gallery. Along the back wall, a low glass counter ran the width of the shop, housing small Mexican artifacts that appeared to be authentic. An open door stood behind the counter. Likely, his suspect had ducked in there.

He’d check, but he had to look like he was simply here for business. If he acted too nosy, she’d tuck tail and run, dragging the investigation back to its beginning.

Colt relaxed his shoulders, inhaling the slight smell of cinnamon and coffee that permeated the small space. Around the room, small cloth-covered tables held displays of pottery and small trinkets, most of which were replicas. Colt lifted a statuette and turned it over in his hands. Very well-done replicas. Was Adriana Garcia planning to go into counterfeiting, as well?

“May I help you?” The voice, low but confident and friendly, came from his right.

Colt reviewed a mental image of Adriana Garcia so he’d have it firmly in place when he turned toward this woman, untainted by her actual appearance. He wanted to be sure—dead sure—she was their target.

When he lifted his head, she stood near the counter. A bright red button-down shirt tucked into slim black pants accentuated her silhouette. Her height and build matched the profile. But it was the face, framed by that long dark hair, that truly caught his attention.

His heart thudded harder. He’d studied surveillance photos and official documents for days preparing for this moment.

There was no doubt. Danielle Segovia was Adriana Garcia.

She stood with one hand on the counter, her fingers curved around the back edge. Probably suspicious of everyone and wary of being caught, she likely had a gun just out of sight but at the ready.

Which meant he had to handle this delicately, when what he really wanted was to cuff her right now and drag her away. For having Kylie’s informant murdered. For turning his best friend to the dark side, and then discarding him like a broken toy when he’d outlived his usefulness. For a thousand other crimes they could pin squarely on the woman who stood in front of him with an air of fake innocence and manufactured friendliness.

But he couldn’t. Forcing a smile, he settled the statuette gently back to its pedestal and stepped toward her, keeping his posture relaxed even though every muscle in his body wanted to fight. At his side, the heft of his pistol tugged, a comfort as he stood facing a woman who’d dealt death without mercy.

Her past exploits said it all.

If Colt made one wrong move, there would be a gun battle. And in all likelihood, neither of them would survive.

* * *

Danielle Segovia tightened her fingers around the edge of the counter until the glass dug into her palm and tried to tell herself there was nothing to worry about. Likely, the man who was setting off every one of her internal alarm bells was browsing her shop right before closing only a few days before Christmas looking for a last-minute gift for his wife.

Except he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.

His girlfriend then. Her shop wasn’t cheap, which surely meant he was buying a present for someone he liked enough to splurge on. So why did she sense so much anger behind his eyes?

She kept her eyes from drifting to the can of Mace she’d purchased to appease her younger brother Justin, who kept insisting she buy a pistol instead. Since the shop had been ransacked by vandals a couple of weeks before, she’d felt eyes on her all of the time. Probably paranoia. Most likely nothing.

But this guy... He radiated a tension she couldn’t ignore.

The man looked at her without raising his head, his brown eyes finding hers under lashes that it was so not fair a man had gotten. His hair was short, but not military short like some of the soldiers from Fort Bliss. He was built like one of them, though. Even though he wore a dark leather jacket, she could tell. He was strong. Muscular. Like he’d earned his physique and not just sweated it out in a gym.

A slight smile tilted the corner of his mouth—knowing, almost like he’d read her thoughts from across the room.

Her face had better not be pinking up the way it felt. Danielle cleared her throat. “Were you looking for something in particular?”

“I’m sorry.” He finally lifted his chin, and the smile he’d quirked tilted both sides of his mouth. “I was noticing the replica you have here. It’s a very good one.”

“Thank you. I’ve been working in pottery and sculpture for years.” Finally, her stomach unclenched. If he was dangerous, he’d have attacked by now. “If you’re interested, that one’s not for sale, but I have some similar ones I can show you.”

He lifted the statuette again and cradled it gently, almost as though he understood the value it possessed. “What’s so special about this one?”

His gentleness undid the last of her apprehension, and she crossed the room toward him, standing on the other side of the pedestal where the piece usually rested, close enough to smell the spice of his cologne. “It has my mother’s thumbprint on the bottom.” She held out her hand and he laid the piece in it so she could turn it over and point to the small print at the corner of the base. “It’s the last one we did together before she died.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” The stranger nodded and took the statue back, running his thumb along the print, his eyes following the motion. “I understand, though. I lost someone close to me when I was a teenager. And if I had something like this...” He stopped, cleared his throat and settled the piece back onto the pedestal before he looked at her again, a teasing glint replacing the somber expression he’d worn a moment earlier. “So, would you happen to have one with your thumbprint on it?”

Wow. Just when she’d thought he might be different than all the rest, he had to go and flirt with her. Awkwardly. “Sorry. No.” Danielle huffed out a breath, done with this conversation. “I’m about to close. Were you interested in something or were you just ducking in to get out of the cold?”

“Actually, I was looking for something.” Seeming to realize he’d gone too far, he took a step away from her and surveyed the room as though he knew exactly what he wanted. “A buddy of mine was in here a couple of weeks ago and said you had a standing stone figure from Mezcala.”

It was the most expensive piece she possessed, on consignment from an elderly woman at her church. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. What did this man want, showing up late, asking specifically about the stone figure so soon after someone ransacked the place looking for...something? “I have one on consignment, but it’s not here. It’s a rare piece, and the shop is not secure enough to house it. If you’d like to see it, I can make arrangements for us to meet elsewhere, but I should tell you the owner is asking for ten thousand, and she’s not willing to negotiate that price.” Actually, if left on her own with a smooth talker, Senora Noguerra would likely wind up giving the priceless artifact away. That was the main reason Danielle had convinced the older lady to let her handle the sale, even though she didn’t generally work with consignments or deal in artifacts worth that much money.

“Understandable. If you have a business card, I can call you after the holidays and set up a time. I definitely want to see it. If someone else expresses interest before we can meet, let them know I’ll beat any price.”

“Certainly.” Her voice stayed level. Amazing, given the way her chest tightened in anticipation. She’d get Senora Noguerra a good price, maybe even higher than she’d dreamed, and finally allow the elderly lady some breathing room in her finances. Danielle pulled a card from her pocket and handed it over.

He took it by the edge and glanced at it. “Danielle Segovia.” When he lifted his eyes again, he found hers immediately, reading her expression. The full force of those brown eyes was almost more than she could handle. She nodded and said a quick prayer he’d leave soon, before she asked him to walk next door for coffee or something stupid like that.

Which she couldn’t do. Justin was due back to the apartment soon, and Danielle had a few things to say about the late nights her younger brother had been keeping lately. She’d gotten the automatic email from the school today. His grades were dipping. This wasn’t the time to be flirting with a man, even if he did take the time to honor her mother’s memory, unlike everyone else who came in and plunked the statue down when they found out it wasn’t genuine.

The stranger extended his hand. “I’m Colter Beckett.” His grip was strong and warm, and he held on tightly for an instant longer than he should have, spiking electricity up her arm before he pulled away. “I’ll talk to you in a few days.” He turned and left the store, disappearing up the sidewalk toward the end of the building.

Danielle slumped against the pedestal and whistled low. Wow. Wait until she told Zoe about this guy. She balled her fist to hold on to the warmth of his hand, then shook it out just as quickly. Stupid. She had better things to do than give in to the impulse to run to the window and watch Colter Beckett walk away.

She had a fifteen-year-old brother to raise.

Puffing out one more breath, Danielle locked the front of the shop and killed the lights. Grabbing her purse from the back, she set the alarm and stepped out into the chilled El Paso night, straining to see the stars overhead. If this cold snap kept up much longer, they might actually get snow for Christmas. A genuine rarity.

As she pulled her keys from her purse, an engine started in the small alley behind the shop. When she lifted her head, headlights blinded her.

Danielle froze instinctively, even as she tried to tell herself that there was no reason to believe she was in danger. Maybe it was some kids using her back lot to hang out. Maybe one of the cops who’d said they’d drive by after the break-in had finally made good on the promise. It would be the first time.

But then a huge man, broad and bulky, stepped into the headlights and stalked toward her, his silhouette a hulk in the brightness.

Danielle backed up two steps before she bumped into the locked door of her shop, dropping her purse. She turned to run for the parking lot.

But the man was faster. A thick arm wrapped around her waist and jerked her backward against a beefy chest, crushing the air from her lungs before she could scream.

TWO

“It’s her.” Colt switched the phone to his earpiece then turned the key in the ignition, speaking before Austin could say hello. “I had her give me a business card. We can pull a print to be sure. I’m to get in touch with her after the holiday, and we’ll see how much intel I can gather before we take her in. Once she trusts me as a runner for hire, we’re in.”

“Brent’s not going to like this.”

The muscle under Colt’s eye jumped, the place where his stress seemed to show the most. Ranger Brent McCord had once been a close friend, but this Adriana Garcia thing had fractured that friendship. McCord said the woman had once saved his life, and based on that single encounter, he refused to credit any of the evidence against her—even when it came to Greg’s murder.

Colt didn’t dispute that her actions had prevented Brent’s execution...but she’d probably had some darker, hidden motive for it. A woman who could kill so indiscriminately would only save a Ranger if the choice in some way benefitted her. Maybe she’d even planned for this to happen—for Brent’s defense of her to create cracks in their Ranger team.

“He saw Adriana Garcia five years ago for under two minutes. Not enough time to be a reliable judge of her character. Brent needs to remember to be objective.”

“So do you.”

“This woman is the reason Valentina Hernandez was killed. She killed Greg with—”

“Nobody knows the stakes more than I do, Blackthorn. Believe me.” Austin ground out the words. “But we don’t have concrete proof that Adriana killed Greg. No matter what we feel, we have to remember, innocent until—”

“Got it.”

“Loosen up, or you’re going to tip her off. Either that, or Vance is going to pull all of us and bring in another team.”

“I said I’ve got it.” Only Colt wasn’t so certain anymore. Through his whole career, his instincts had been his guide. He was known as the man who could feel danger before it happened. Now? He’d missed the fact that his best friend was a traitor. Colt dropped his head against the headrest and glared at the ceiling.

But he was right this time. As pleasant as she seemed, as soft as her eyes had gotten when she’d spun that story about her mother, as much as her supposed grief had tugged for just a second at Colt’s own, he knew they had their woman.

With a deep breath, he reached for his seat belt and tilted his head forward, movement catching at the edges of his vision.

At the back of the shopping center, a man dragged a woman toward a dark blue two-door sedan that had seen better days.

The woman twisted and fought with all she had. With a massive head thrust backward, she caught the brute in the jaw and broke free, crashing to her knees on the cracked asphalt, a dark curtain of hair falling across her face.

Recognition jolted through Colt and his jaw tightened as he ran through his options for intervening. Jump out and run for the fight without knowing what he was getting into, or gun the engine and blow in through tire-squealing smoke.

The would-be captor reached down and hauled Colt’s suspect to her feet, backhanding her so hard she fell against the open trunk of the car, where he stuffed her in the rest of the way and slammed the lid.

No time to make it on foot now.

“We’ve got trouble.” He clicked his seat belt and jammed the car into Drive, tires squealing as he gunned the engine and raced toward the man trying to take their suspect away. The blood rushed hot in his veins as he relayed what he was seeing to Austin, who called for backup.

He couldn’t let the driver get away. The team was counting on him to bring Adriana in. Professionally, they needed to know where she was stashing the drugs she’d stolen from her brother so they could keep the supply from hitting the market. Personally, he knew that only her confession could truly give him closure about Greg’s death.

At the sound of the roaring engine, the passenger leapt into the blue car as the driver whirled toward Colt and lifted his arm.

Colt instinctively ducked as a bullet ricocheted off the roof. The others went wide. He didn’t slow, aiming head-on in a game of chicken, man versus machine.

Colt knew he had more nerve than the brute stealing one of Rangers’ most wanted had ever dreamed.

Sure enough, the other man dove into his front seat and gunned the engine, whipping the car into a skid and racing down the narrow alley behind the shops toward the back service road.

This had to stop before they went too far and hit the main road, where bystanders could get hurt.

“Status?” Austin had clearly heard the hit.

“I’m right behind him.” Colt called out street names as the lead car hung a right, deeper into an older neighborhood. The highway waited on the other side.

As Colt skidded the Challenger around the corner and gunned the engine to keep up with the small sedan, the passenger leaned out the window, firing wildly at Colt.

“Are you kidding me?” He muttered under his breath. This guy was an idiot.

“What?”

“We’re in a very bad action movie here. Get me some backup before this guy kills somebody. We’re way too close to Gateway Boulevard.”

“Local law enforcement is on the way. Hang on.”

A wild shot pinged off the passenger mirror, and Colt pulled into the other lane, one eye on the lookout for oncoming traffic on the narrow neighborhood street and one on the kidnappers. His engine had a whole lot more power than the ancient beat up two-door he was tailing. If he could get closer, maybe he’d be able to tap the rear corner and spin the vehicle.

But if the car flipped, or spun and hit anything trunk first, then the woman masquerading as Danielle Segovia could be killed.

More blood on his hands.

Colt gripped the steering wheel tighter, maintaining enough distance to keep the passenger from getting a clear shot but close enough to hold his options open. If they got to Gateway where a higher volume of traffic became a factor, he could lose them. Worse, someone else could be killed.

This had to be Rio Garcia’s men, out to bring his sister in for stealing from the cartel. If they somehow managed to cross the border or they reached the airport... “Tell the LEOs to get in tight at the airport. And let Border Patrol know not to let this guy cross. If he somehow manages to get away from me—”

“They might kill her.”

“No. They want her alive. They won’t find out where Garcia’s money or drugs are if she’s dead.”

“On it.”

Think, Blackthorn. He had to stop this guy. For the past week, he’d cruised these streets, looking for potential ways Danielle Segovia could escape, planning for a moment when he’d have to give chase if she ran. Now he’d have to show his hand and use his knowledge not to capture her, but to save her.

Another bullet pinged off the passenger door. It was now or never. Punching the pedal to the floor, Colt raced up on the rear of the sedan and roared past to the next intersection, pulling the car into a skid that left him facing the other car, leaving the driver with nowhere to go except through Colt.

Another game of chicken. His heart pounded as the headlights roared closer. He held the steering wheel tight. If he died trying to save a killer...

The blue sedan skidded to the side, the driver’s door slamming into the corner of a Dumpster, sliding the massive hulk of metal backward as the car bounced to an abrupt stop.

Dust peppered the air as Colt threw open the door of the sports car and ran for the other vehicle. One look at the driver was more than enough to haunt his nightmares for a very long time. Without air bags or a seatbelt, he’d felt the full force of the Dumpster’s crushing blow.

The wavering smell of gasoline permeated the air. He was running out of time.

The passenger door hung open, the seat empty, and pounding feet raced between the two buildings closest to Colt. A trail of blood droplets led from the scene. The passenger might be hurt, but he was fast and chasing after him would take time Colt didn’t have to spare. As much as Colt would love to pursue, there were bigger things to worry about. With gas leaking from the vehicle, anything could happen before he got the woman out of the trunk.

As sirens wailed in the distance, closing fast, he reached across and pulled the keys from the ignition, then rounded the rear of the vehicle. Popping the key in the lock, he held his breath, praying that what he found inside wouldn’t be as bad as he feared.

The woman lay in the corner, her arms wrapped around her knees. She shook uncontrollably, eyes wide with fear as she stared up at Colt. “Please...” The word rasped from a dry throat and tugged at Colt’s conscience.

Gently, Colt scooped her into his arms as several black and white El Paso police Chargers raced toward the scene, their red and blue lights flashing in the night.

She clung to him, her fingers digging into his arms as she shuddered repeatedly. She was in shock. Terrified.

The ambulance hadn’t arrived yet, and Colt had to get her to the hospital. Sliding her gently into the front seat of his car, he buckled her in and shut the door, then turned to answer to the police officers who skidded to a stop in front of him. Although identifying himself as a Ranger could jeopardize his entire undercover persona, he had no choice. He had to make sure Adriana survived.

* * *

Slamming the door of the sports car, Colt stared over the top at the entrance to the emergency room where, not three minutes earlier, nurses and orderlies had rushed his suspect into the hospital.

His goal had been to keep her close during transport and to stay by her side at the hospital, but he’d lost her anyway when medical personnel refused to let him follow her. Right now, she could be making her way out some entrance he couldn’t see.

Colt slammed his palm onto the car’s roof. Nothing was going the way he’d thought it would. He should have known something was wrong before she was attacked, should have been able to sense it in the air. But no. He’d missed this attempt on their suspect’s life, just like he’d missed Greg’s treachery.

Tipping his head toward the sky, where the stars were muted by the lights of downtown El Paso, he shook his head. Greg. They’d been best friends for years. Fate, God, whatever you wanted to call it, had led them to work together on a few cases, had made them buddies. Cookouts. Football games. All of that male bonding stuff. Colt was supposed to be the best man at his wedding, which had been planned for only a few short days from today.

Now, as the wedding date drew near, Greg’s fiancée was behind bars for attempting to kill Kylie Perry.

And Greg was dead. A traitor to his country, a man who’d taken a small fortune in order to turn his head as drug runners crossed the very borders he’d sworn to defend.

Dead. At the hands of the woman who was somewhere in the guts of the hospital in front of him.

Dragging his hand from the top of the car, Colt’s finger caught in the divot left behind when a bullet had bounced off the roof. He winced and stepped back, for the first time inspecting the black Challenger. The roof had taken a couple of hits. The metal along the passenger side of the windshield sported damage, and a crack wound its way across the top of the windshield on the driver’s side.

He whistled low between pursed lips. Thought about thanking God for not letting any of those hit him. Decided against it. It wasn’t like God was paying attention anyway.

But Major Vance sure would be, and he wasn’t going to like it when Colt brought back yet another loaner with damage.

It wasn’t like he could help it. Getting involved in a shootout hadn’t been part of the plan.

Neither was losing their target.

He jogged across the parking lot, determined to find Adriana even if it meant going toe to toe with anyone who tried to stand in his way. He’d likely tipped his hand by showing off his skills in the chase and his badge to the police when he’d rescued her. He sure didn’t need her running now.

Just before the entrance, a shrill whistle echoed off the buildings. His feet slowed and his jaw set. He knew that sound. Knew who was behind it.

He wasn’t ready for this fight. Not now.

Before Colt stopped, he caught his breath and swallowed his frustration. No need to take this annoyance out on his teammates, even if they didn’t see eye to eye on this one.

When he turned, Brent McCord was almost at his side, his expression dark, his brown hair wild under his Stetson as though he’d ridden all the way here with the windows down.

Behind Brent, Ford Manning kept his gaze on the parking lot, his cowboy hat shading his face so that Colt couldn’t read his expression. He probably didn’t want to play peacemaker between his two teammates.

Colt jerked his head toward the door. “She’s inside. I’m on my way to find out where.”

“How is she?” Brent’s words were rushed, urgent. “She hurt?”

Balling his fists, Colt fought the urge to bite out a sarcastic response. “I don’t know. She was in shock when I pulled her out of the trunk, but she was conscious, coherent. The guy who stuffed her in the trunk hit her pretty hard though, and that was before that wild ride she took.”

“Was wrecking the car with her in the trunk your only option?”

That was it. Colt stepped closer to Brent, meeting green eyes at the exact same height as his own. “Would you prefer I opened fire? Took the risk of shooting her?” His voice was low, the words gravel in his mouth. Challenging Brent was another blow to his emotions, but he wasn’t going to be questioned. Not now. Not when the stakes were this high. “You weren’t there. I did the best I could. I’m sorry you’re girlfr—”

“Okay, enough.” Ford appeared in Colt’s peripheral vision and laid a hand on each man’s shoulder. “Do I need to remind you again that you’re on the same side? Or that you’re in public in front of the hospital and two of us are dressed in uniform so the whole world can identify us on social media as brawling Rangers?”

Colt hesitated half a second, then took a step back, hating that Ford was right on both counts. Bad publicity for the department was the last thing they needed. “Fine.”

Brent didn’t back down, but he did ease his stance, looking a little less like he was about to put a fist into Colt’s jaw. “Look, we have a problem.”

“From where I stand, we have a lot of problems.” Number one being their most wanted suspect was out of sight while they stood here debating her guilt.

“Enough.” Ford repeated the word, then shook his head. “I’m not the daddy of either one of you, but I’ll knock some sense into both of you if I have to.”

That did it. Colt’s mouth tipped into a grin, but it faded just as quickly. “What’s the problem?”

“Major Vance had a few of our guys track Danielle Segovia to a routine physical and was able to get a blood sample from the doctor a few days ago. We rushed it through and Lizzie just called. The DNA doesn’t match what we found at Greg’s crime scene.”

Colt took two more steps back, his hands loose at his sides. He wasn’t hearing this. If the DNA didn’t match, that meant Danielle Segovia wasn’t at the scene where Greg Gunn was killed. Or at least, that wasn’t her DNA on the scarf used to strangle him. “That doesn’t mean she didn’t kill Greg, and it doesn’t mean she’s not Adriana Garcia. With the Garcia name behind her, she can get plenty of henchmen to do her dirty work. We have that bracelet, too, the one she was wearing in surveillance videos and found right next to Greg’s body. Right there, we’ve got proof—”

“Convenient proof—maybe even planted.” Brent paced up the sidewalk away from the door and motioned for the other two men to follow.

Not this again. Colt glanced at the glass door, itching to head inside and find out where the supposed Danielle Segovia was before she vanished like smoke.

Ford jerked his head toward Brent and waited for Colt to follow.

He bristled at being treated like a bratty teenager, then puffed out a breath. He deserved it. He was acting like one.

Brent turned and pinned Colt with a hard gaze. “I still say her brother set her up. Rio Garcia wants his sister alive. She has his stash and he needs it back. If he set up Adriana, then all he has to do is watch where we go and we’ll lead him right to her.”

“He’ll have to be watching close.” Colt didn’t buy the whole Adriana Garcia is innocent thing. Brent was infatuated with a killer. “It would be hard for him to track us.”

“There’s no reason to think he doesn’t have somebody else on the inside. He had Greg.”

“Hey, now. Low blow there, McCord.” Ford’s drawl cut into the conversation before Colt could bristle and respond. Ford turned to Colt. “Ethan’s on his way over. He swept the area behind the store, and we’re waiting for a team to go into the Segovia apartment. He found her purse—she dropped it in the struggle. But he said the only ID in this girl’s wallet is Danielle Segovia. No links to Adriana Garcia at all.”

Colt wasn’t ready to believe the woman he’d hauled to the hospital babbling about her brother wasn’t their suspect. “We’ve been through this already. You and I both know how easy it is to manufacture a fake identity.” He was done here. He had an assignment and, right now, it lay inside that hospital, not out here rehashing what they already knew. “Y’all do what you have to do out here. I’m going to make sure Danielle Segovia or Adriana Garcia or whatever her name is doesn’t slip out while we’re not looking.”

Before either of his teammates could argue, he stalked toward the door, falling in behind a young kid with floppy dark hair, wearing a black T-shirt and blue jeans, who rushed to the counter ahead of Colt.

The kid reached for ID and passed it to the security guard at the desk. “I’m looking for my sister, Danielle Segovia.”

Colt froze. Adriana Garcia only had one brother. Rio. This kid was definitely not the cartel lord. He edged closer and glanced at the ID on the counter. Justin Segovia. The same address as Danielle’s apartment.

If Danielle Segovia really was Adriana Garcia, then who was this kid? And what did he want with her?

THREE

Danielle’s head pounded.

No. That wasn’t it.

She squeezed her eyes shut tighter. It wasn’t just her head. It was every part of her body. Even her hair hurt. For sure her head took the prize, though. Every time she managed to crack her eyes open, the light in the hospital room drilled into her skull. But mixed in with the pain was fear.

What had happened to the man who had manhandled her to the ground? Was he still here? Waiting for her? Lurking in the hallway? Her memories were too muddled to make any sense. She remembered darkness. Chaotic, whirling darkness. Slamming against objects. A dull roar that rose and fell until it lapsed into eerie, shuddering silence with a final crash. Then...light. And a face she recognized, arms lifting and cradling her as she tried to bring reality back into focus.

The man from her shop. He’d spoken very little, only a few words she couldn’t piece together. He’d brought her to the hospital.

He’d saved her life.

Why?

Her breaths came faster. Maybe he was in on the attack against her.

But no. His face when he’d spoken of her mother... No. He wasn’t that kind of man. Haunted maybe, but not evil.

Not like the man who’d apparently tried to kill her.

She fought to sit up, wanting to feel less vulnerable and helpless, but her muscles protested. Her whole body was too heavy to move, the pain amplifying her panic.

Gentle hands on her shoulders eased her back, and someone laid a hand on the top of her head. “Dani. It’s okay. You’re safe.”

Dani. Only one person was allowed to call her that.

Relaxing into the pillows, she turned her face toward the voice. “Lights?”

“Want me to see if I can turn ’em off?”

She nodded slightly and the sound of his feet in those ever-present Vans padded across the room, then the light in front of her eyelids dimmed considerably. She eased them open as her brother sat in a chair beside the bed and slouched against the back, stretching his legs out.

Danielle almost smiled, and would have if her jaw didn’t ache so badly. Now that he knew she was awake, all signs of concern or affection from Justin would probably cease. They were in public, after all.

The twinge of amusement didn’t last long. His brown eyes were dark with something that had to be fear as he stared at her. His too-long brown hair fell over the creases in his forehead. He was upset, even if he’d never say it out loud.

“I’m fine. Really. Don’t look at me like that.” Even though it was painful, Danielle pressed the button to ease the bed up, trying to prove to both of them that she’d survived the ordeal mostly unscathed. Still, if she hurt this bad tonight, what would tomorrow feel like?

“Somebody tried to kidnap you. They stuffed you in a trunk, Dani. And when that car wrecked, you could have been...” He shoved out of the chair and paced to the window, shoving his hand through the mop of hair she kept begging him to cut. “Somebody has to look out for you. I should have been at the shop tonight.”

Fear threatened to rip Danielle’s chest open, but she managed to keep her voice level. In spite of her own trauma, she had to stay strong for her brother. He’d been through enough, losing both parents when he was younger. Nearly losing his sister in a car accident had to be weighing on him now. But she was entitled to her fear, too, and the thought of those dangerous men anywhere near her brother twisted her stomach into knots. “What were you going to do? You’re fifteen, and those guys had guns.”

“Maybe I should start carrying.”

“Absolutely not.”

“All I’m saying is—”

“No.” She pushed every ounce of the parental authority the state had given her into her voice. “All I’m saying is you’re too young. And you’re letting that crew you hang around with fill your head with the idea—”

“They’d have helped me save you tonight.”

“They’ll drag you to jail with them.” She’d seen him on the corner and in the little Mexican take-out place in the shopping center, hanging out with a whole new group of friends who gave her insomnia. They were a rough bunch. While she believed Justin hadn’t done anything crazy yet, sometimes she thought it was only a matter of time before they convinced her soft-hearted brother that he needed the group’s “protection.” Or their cash. They flashed a lot of it. Was that what drew him? “Justin—”

“The cops want to ask you some questions. Wanted to know when you had your head on straight and were awake.” He huffed out a sigh without turning away from the window. “I’ll go tell them you’re back to your old self again.”

She huffed. The police hadn’t been any help so far. “I won’t talk to them.”

“Dani, you have to. They’ll find these guys so they don’t hurt you again. Somebody has to figure out why this happened.”

“Somebody has been zero help since the shop was hit by vandals. For whatever reason, the police aren’t doing anything. When they do talk to me, they treat me like I did something wrong. Tell them to go away.”

“I won’t.” He whipped around so fast his hair flopped across his forehead. “Somebody tried to kidnap you. Don’t you think that’s a little bit worse than tearing apart the store? You know what they keep talking about at school, warning the girls about? It’s not drugs these guys are after now. It’s pretty girls. Young girls. Wanna know why?”

“Stop it.” Nausea whirled in her stomach, overwhelming the pain with a fear that might take her out. If those guys were human traffickers...

Justin’s expression softened and he came back to her, resting his hand on her head again, the way their father had done when they were kids. “Help stop these guys. Make sure they don’t target somebody else, somebody who doesn’t have a hero willing to chase them down. One of them... One of them got away.”

“Then they can question the other one.”

His fingers tightened on her scalp. “The driver’s dead. He didn’t have an ID on him.”

Dead. It was a final, awful word, even for a man who had harmed her. “Who told you that?”

“The guy who saved your life.” His words bit off at the end. He was trying to bury his fear underneath anger.

Danielle’s eyes widened. “He’s here?”

“At the end of the hall in a huddle with a bunch of official-looking types. I think he’s a cop. Or something bigger. There’s some cowboy hats, boots, leather belts out there...”

Texas Rangers? They handled things the police wouldn’t touch.

Maybe that was what she needed. “I’ll talk to Colter Beckett. But only him. Nobody else comes in this room.” Something in his demeanor at the store had tugged at her, had said that despite the odd air about him, she could trust him.

And he had, after all, been the one to rescue her.

Justin headed for the door, then stopped at the entrance and hung his head. He glanced back at her, all traces of his earlier anger and frustration gone. “I’m glad you’re okay. If you weren’t...”

If she could get out of bed and go to him, she would. Even if he tried to pull away, she’d hug him hard enough to reassure both of them. “God’s got us, Justin.”

“Sure He does.” He was gone before she could say anything else.

Spent after trying to be strong for him, Danielle shut her eyes and let the weight of her head pull her into the pillow. All she wanted was to go home, but she hadn’t seen a doctor or a nurse to ask how long she’d be here.

A soft tap at the door opened her eyes again.

Colter Beckett stood there. Tall. Muscular. His brown eyes just as unreadable now as they had been in the shop. But the set of his jaw was a whole lot different.

Guarded. Cautious. Angry.

But at whom?

Stepping into the room, he shut the door and strode in with a defiant confidence he hadn’t carried earlier. He stopped at the foot of her bed and looked down at her as though he was holding back a whole lot of what he really wanted to say.

She suddenly wished she hadn’t let him in the room.

With practiced efficiency, he held out identification that included the familiar star-shaped badge of the Texas Rangers. “Ranger Colter Blackthorn. Who were those men?”

The abrupt question tensed her shoulders and raked across her already aching head. “I’m sorry?”

“Did you recognize either one of them? Have you seen them before? Anywhere?”

Danielle shook her head, her eyebrows furrowing and tugging on the bruise that was bound to be forming in her check and jaw. Something was wrong. The way he was looking at her, questioning her... It was exactly like the police had treated her when the shop was vandalized.

She wasn’t the victim in his mind.

Somehow, she was the criminal.

* * *

The barely controlled anger coursing through Colt wasn’t something he was used to. Looking down at the woman who was responsible for so much betrayal and death and pain... His fingers wrapped around the hard plastic at the foot of the bed and dug in, his jaw clenched so tight the tension radiated into his temples.

She had no right to look up at him with eyes so wide and frightened, tugging at his sympathy and making him want to ease up on his questions. He was starting to understand how Brent could have fallen for her manipulations. But he wouldn’t be that easily trapped.

He pulled a deep breath in through his nose and fixed his gaze on hers.

She shrunk further into herself. For half a second, he almost relented, but then he remembered who he was dealing with. A woman cold-blooded enough to kill for what she wanted, greedy enough to funnel drugs into the country without care for the harm she was doing.

Colt forced his jaw to work. “If I were you, I’d start talking now, Danielle.” Her name ground out on a wave of sarcasm so heavy, it nearly sank in the air. “We already have the warrant for your apartment. Your prints and DNA are being run as we speak, courtesy of that same warrant. You’re caught. It’s over.”

Her mouth opened, closed. Wide brown eyes narrowed, a deep V writing confusion between her eyes as she shook her head. “What is... I don’t...” She exhaled loudly and leaned her head back toward the ceiling, muttering something softly in Spanish. Colt picked up only a few words. Jesus. Help me.

Wow. She was a better actress than he’d thought. She’d have to be to fool Rio, who wasn’t known for being the trusting type. But appealing to Jesus? Colt hadn’t been on speaking terms with God in many years, but even he knew that was a low blow.

Still, she looked helpless. Scared.

The fear in her eyes drew him, made him want to dial back his aggression and comfort her, make her feel better.

But she couldn’t drag him in. He’d long ago grown cold.

Tucking his elbows closer to his sides, he pulled his gaze from her to a spot just above her head. Forgetting who he was dealing with would be dangerous. “Why me? Why talk to me?”

“Because I thought you were someone who could be trusted. When it comes to the authorities, I’m picky lately.”

She’d found her voice, and it was rising fast.

“Seems to me, if I were you, I’d be picky, too.” Colt let himself pin her eyes again. “You chose the wrong person to trust, because I’m the one you ought to fear the most.”

Her eyes widened as her head jerked back. She winced from the movement, tears edging to the corners of her eyes.

He turned his head to look out the window at the El Paso skyline. “Listen, I’ll lay it out for you. What we want is—”

“Colt.” The voice came from behind him, low and loaded with authority.

Forcing his fingers to unlock from the foot of the bed, Colt turned to face Austin Brewer, who stood in the doorway, imposing in his unofficial uniform of khaki pants and a white button-down, his Stetson at his side. Normally, Austin was smiling, but not now. Something in his expression said things had gotten a whole lot worse than someone trying to kidnap the suspect the Rangers had been hunting.

His gut twisted. Was it Carmen? Since going undercover in the Garcia cartel over a month ago, Ranger Carmen Alvarez had been missing. No contact. No nothing. The greatest fear among the team was that she’d been taken... Or worse. And the look on Austin’s face right now hinted that Colt might need to steel himself.

If they’d lost Carmen because of the woman behind him... He fisted his hands and walked toward Austin, who fell into step beside him.

“You can’t question her like that. You’re way out of line.” Austin kept his voice low, a reminder, not a reprimand.

Digging his teeth into his lower lip, Colt stayed quiet. Austin spoke the truth. They had to tread lightly or a technicality would wreck this case in court.

“Now come with me—there are some things you should know,” Austin continued, leading Colt a short distance up the hallway where Rangers Trevor Street and Ethan Hilliard waited.

Trevor’s glance raked over Colt’s then stuck to a bulletin board on the wall, something like pity, maybe even frustration, in the look.

Ethan just watched.

“Carmen?” Colt wasn’t going to wait for someone to lob the grenade. He was going to pull the pin himself.

Ethan shook his head. “No word on that front.”

That was either good...or very, very bad. Bad news meant closure. No news meant she was still out there, and no one knew her condition. But Colt knew Carmen. She was smart. Tough. Savvy enough to keep from being found out. Knowing her, she was hiding, waiting for the right time to come in and blow this whole thing wide open.

If that was the case, why did everyone look as though someone had keyed their pickups?

Austin blew out a loud breath and scratched the top of his head. “No easy way to say this, Blackthorn.”

“Then spit it out.”

“That woman is not Adriana Garcia. Not even close.”

Colt backed off and stalked up the hallway away from his teammates, dragging his hand through his hair. No way. The woman in that hospital bed had to be Adriana Garcia. The photo wouldn’t lie. Neither would his gut.

Except his gut had proven wrong one too many times recently, which was probably why Trevor couldn’t look him in the eye.

Colt turned back to his team but didn’t step closer. “Prove it.”

“The print we lifted off the business card? It belongs to Danielle Segovia. The same one that’s been showing up in the database all along. Twenty-six. Born and raised here in El Paso. Mother was Mexican. Father an American she met when he was stationed at Bliss. Both died in a car wreck a few years ago. She’s raising a younger brother. We have school records, taxes filed. She’s solid. The print doesn’t match Garcia’s.”

“A good cover.” Except fingerprints didn’t typically lie.

“There’s more. Lizzie called. Preliminary DNA testing on the blood found in the car’s trunk is way off. Danielle Segovia is not even a twelfth cousin to the Garcias.”

The words hit Colt in the chest, forcing the air from his lungs. He gripped his cheeks and dragged his hand along his mouth, tugging at the tension in his jaws. “So why did someone try to take her?”

“Same reason we came after her. Same reason local law enforcement tipped us when she called them about the break-in at her store and she looked just like the BOLO we put out on Adriana.” Ethan straightened and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I glanced through the window of the room just now while you two were talking.” He held his phone up, open to the passport photo of Adriana Garcia that they all carried. “She’s a dead ringer, right down to the way she parts her hair.”

Trevor sniffed and finally spoke. “Which means Manning and Rook are at the wrong apartment right now, searching for evidence they’re never going to find.”

“Major Vance already called them off,” Ethan said. “They’re headed here, because we’ve got bigger problems in that hospital room right now.”

Colt dropped his chin and shook his head. Bigger problems was an understatement. Not only had they not found the woman half of the state was hunting, they’d led Rio Garcia here and put a civilian in danger. That meant Danielle Segovia was one more complication in the hunt for Adriana Garcia.

One that could prove deadly for the woman they had placed in harm’s way.

FOUR

Pain, fear and confusion spun into a cocktail that threatened to swamp Danielle.

When the door closed behind the two men, the tension in the room dropped palpably. Danielle sank into the pillow and closed her eyes, willing the world to stop spinning. A Texas Ranger had gone undercover in her shop, then rescued her from kidnappers only to interrogate her now. This had to be a trauma-induced nightmare. The way he’d talked to her, it was clear that he believed she’d done something wrong, but he’d never said what it was.

The only thing she knew with certainty was that she wanted out of here before Colter Blackthorn came back. If he started in on her again, she didn’t know what she’d do. Too much had happened in the past few hours. The last thing she needed was to fall apart in front of the angry Ranger. He’d probably view the weakness as some sort of confession.

Her finger hovered over the call button for the nurse. They couldn’t keep her here. She could refuse treatment, tell them she wanted to be discharged. There were plenty of people from church who’d be willing to drive her home.

But the Rangers knew where to find her. This wouldn’t be over until they got whatever it was they wanted from her.

Dropping her hand to the bed beside her, Danielle gave up and closed her eyes. She’d have to ride this out and pray she didn’t wind up in jail for someone else’s crimes.

Jesus, I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t understand anything that’s happened tonight. But, Lord, give Colter Blackthorn the truth about me. Don’t let me go to jail and leave Justin on his own.

There it was. Her biggest fear. If something happened to her, who would take care of her brother? Especially now, when he was spending more and more time with those friends of his who now had him believing he needed a gun at fifteen. None of this boded well.

Two light taps on the door drifted across the room, followed by a slight shuffling sound.

Danielle didn’t even open her eyes. It was probably the doctor. Finally. He could discharge her and get her out of here.

“Ms. Segovia?” The male voice was quiet, but its speaker was unmistakable.

Danielle stiffened. He was back.

She had a choice. Knuckle under and collapse in front of him or put up the brave front she’d used when her parents died, the one that had gotten her custody of her brother when she’d fought for him in front of the family court judge.

Easing her eyes open, Danielle prepared for battle. She wasn’t backing down to a lie. Fixing a hard gaze on Colt, she bit out her next words. “I have nothing more to say to you.” The fire was unfamiliar on her tongue. She was used to being customer-service-oriented and friendly at all times, used to cooperating with law enforcement even when they didn’t cooperate with her.

The tiniest fringes of regret blew across her heart. He’d seemed so nice earlier, and to think it had all been an act...

Disappointment she really shouldn’t feel chewed at her, lighting a fire under a righteous indignation. He deserved her anger. “You can go now. I’ll speak to you when I have an attorney.”

Standing near the door, Colter Blackthorn stared straight at her, his brown eyes serious but lacking the rage they’d held earlier. Something else was there now, something like regret and possibly sadness. His jaw worked slightly, probably in frustration. Finally, he pulled his phone from his pocket and glanced at it, then looked at the chair Justin had pulled up beside her bed. “May I?”

She should tell him no after the way he’d charged in here the first time, accusing her of vague crimes. But there was something about the air around him that said this time was different. It might be a tactic to get her talking, but he had her curiosity. “If you can be civil, you can sit.”

His mouth twitched, and a flash of amusement skipped across his face before he could reset his stern Ranger look.

It was cute.

Before she could stop herself, Danielle rolled her eyes. Zoe was right. She needed to go on a date soon. Really soon if she was going to think the Ranger who’d just tormented her was in any way attractive. He needed to say his piece and get out the door. That was all.

Settling in the chair, Colt stared at the window across the room, his thumb tapping his phone screen, but he said nothing.

The silence stretched so thin Danielle thought she might snap in two. “Is this an interrogation tactic? Stay quiet until I talk? I’ve watched TV, you know. I understand how this works. I get my rights read. I get a lawyer. I get a whole lot of things you haven’t given me, Mr. Blackthorn.”

This time, a slow smile did lift his lips. Not a big one. Just enough to give a hint of what it would look like if he ever gave up his rigid control and let himself be fully amused by something. “Call me Colt. And you’re right. I charged in here earlier and treated you worse than I should treat anyone—whether they are or aren’t a criminal. You’ve been through a lot this evening, and I apologize.”

Danielle’s mouth fell open, tugging painfully at the bruise on her cheek. This was the last thing she’d expected. The man before her was contrite and humble, more like the man who’d walked into her shop and shared a moment with her about her mother. “Is it true? You lost someone?” The question popped out before she could catch it. Something in her had connected with him in that moment over her mother’s statue, and she wanted it back.

His smile faded. “There are some things I won’t lie about even when I’m undercover. That’s one of them.” The heaviness of his voice dropped it into bass territory, the tone thrumming across Danielle’s heart.

Whatever meds they had pumped into her, she needed to be off them fast. They were making her delusional enough to think she was attracted to this man. “Why would you have to go undercover for me? What exactly is it you think I did wrong?”

“Ms. Segovia.” Colt leaned forward, his dark eyes serious. “We have a problem.”

Adrenaline jolted against Danielle’s chest and throbbed in the bruise on her cheek. “Whatever you think I did, I didn’t. I’ve never—”

“It’s not you.” Glancing down at his cell phone and flicking through a couple of screens, he said, “Do you know who Rio Garcia is?”

Danielle’s head jerked back in shock. Rio Garcia was the leader of a notorious, murderous drug cartel. Everyone in the state, maybe even in the country, knew that name. In these parts, it brought fear to most who heard it. He was known for his calculated cunning and his murderous rages, for his ability to slip away from the authorities even when they believed they had him cornered. She lay awake at night worrying the group her brother had gotten tangled up with was somehow tied to the cartel, because Garcia had his hands in nearly all of the criminal activity in the area. He squashed any criminal who didn’t answer to him.

Her stomach roiled. This was about Justin, about his friends. This was her worst nightmare. “I don’t have any connection to him.”

“But the men who tried to kidnap you tonight may.”

Danielle’s muscles went weak. If she wasn’t already lying down, she’d melt to the floor. “Why?”

Colt didn’t answer the question immediately. He stared at his cell phone for what felt like an eternity, then studied Danielle’s face before passing the device to her without a word.

Hand trembling, Danielle took the phone but didn’t look at it. Instead, she studied the silent man beside her, trying to decide if he was friend or foe. Whatever she was holding in her hand, something told her she was about to need a friend in a very big way.

The screen went dark, and Danielle swiped her thumb to bring it back to life. At first glance, the woman staring back up at her could be her twin sister. They had the same hair, the same eyes, but the other woman had a small scar next to her ear. Still, the resemblance was enough to make her feel she’d fallen out of reality into a very bad horror movie. “Who is this?” She couldn’t take her eyes from the picture. If the picture didn’t include an outfit she’d never owned and a setting she’d never before seen, she’d swear the woman was her.

Colt studied her as though her reaction to what he was about to say was of vital importance. “Her name is Adriana Garcia.”

Garcia. Heart pounding, Danielle stared at the woman. “She looks like me.”

Holding out his hand, Colt took the phone and pocketed it. “She’s Rio Garcia’s sister. She’s wanted by both sides of the law for multiple reasons, and both sides will do whatever it takes to get to her first.”

“Why is he having to search for his own sister?” She couldn’t fathom that sort of distance between siblings. “I don’t understand.”

“The most I can tell you is that she stole something from him, and he wants it back.” He laid a hand on hers, his fingers warm as hers grew increasingly chilled. “We had intel that suggested you were her, but as you know, that intel was bad. The problem is, we believe Rio Garcia received the same intel, and that those were his men who came after you.”

Danielle shook her head. Over and over again, back and forth. She wasn’t hearing this. It couldn’t be true.

Because if a killer like Rio Garcia believed she was the person he wanted, he would stop at nothing to drag her to him.

* * *

Over the years in the military, in police work, and in his newly minted career as a Texas Ranger, Colt had encountered his share of females in distress. While his heart normally went out to them, it always remained mostly untouched. He’d always been able to stay completely focused and professional.

When the gravity of her situation hit Danielle Segovia, draining the color from her face, his heart clinched in his chest and threatened to stop beating. It was a feeling he hadn’t experienced since he was a teenager, watching as his mother suffered with the news that his brother Caleb was gone.

If he’d doubted Danielle’s innocence before, there was no more question. A person could fake a lot of things, but unless they were very well trained, they couldn’t make their skin pale with fear. He couldn’t imagine how the news was hitting her. Learning that the leader of one of the most dangerous drug cartels in North America had you in his sights would give even the bravest man pause. The blow he’d just delivered to Danielle in the wake of her attempted abduction ought to be enough to slay her.

For the longest time, she stared at the door as though she expected it to be kicked open by Garcia’s henchmen at any second. It was as though she’d forgotten Colt was there.

He squeezed her fingers, half surprised to find her hand still in his. “Ms. Segovia...”

“Danielle.” Gently, she extracted her hand from his, though she didn’t look at him. “What do I do now?”

Sitting back in the chair, Colt puffed out a heavy breath. This was the tricky part. With Carmen missing, the team was already short a member. He’d love to offer Danielle a twenty-four-hour guard, but he wasn’t sure it was feasible, and it wasn’t something he could do without Major Vance’s permission. “That’s up to you. We can try to locate a safe house, if you’d like.”

“A safe house?” She blinked twice, and her gaze swung to him. “As in disappear?” She shook her head. “I can’t do that. Justin has school. My shop can’t simply shut down during our busiest time. I’m volunteering at the Mission and, this close to Christmas, they need me. And...Christmas.” Her voice faded into nothing as the reality of her situation dug deeper. “Is there anything else I can do?”

Their options were limited, especially with all available resources dedicated to the hunt for Adriana Garcia. They had to keep their attention on their target. The last thing they needed was another Garcia funneling drugs into the country.

Additionally, taking down Rio Garcia had been a top priority of E Company for years and would represent a major blow to the drug trade on the US-Mexican border. He’d been on the move more than usual lately, tracking his sister. Sooner or later, he’d slip up enough for the Rangers to snap the trap. Until that occurred, they couldn’t afford to lose their focus.

Except...

Colt stared at the woman in front of him. The Rangers knew Danielle wasn’t Adriana, but Rio had no idea. He’d tried to take her once, and the chances were high he would come after her again. Not only was her safety as a civilian precious, but her very existence might lead Rio Garcia straight to them. She couldn’t be bait—Colt would never suggest putting a civilian in danger like that—but since they knew Garcia was bold enough to try again, they might as well put someone into place to not only protect Danielle but to keep an eye out for the cartel leader’s next move.

Colt was on his feet and headed for the door. He had to talk to the team, then call Major Vance. If they could have a Ranger stick close to Danielle, then Rio Garcia might play right into their hands.

“Colt?” Danielle’s voice, thin and questioning, caught his ear as his hand landed on the doorknob.

He stopped. What must she think of him, practically running for the door when she’d asked him for help? “I’m sorry.” He turned to her, trying to control his excitement. Adriana Garcia might have slipped through their fingers, but her brother was closer than ever. “I need to talk to my team. I have an idea about how to protect you.” He probably shouldn’t have said that and gotten her hopes up, but she needed to know he wasn’t running out on her when she needed someone close.

Though he had no idea why he cared how she felt.

“Trust me. We’ll find a way to have someone watch over you.”

“And my brother.”

The request jolted through Colt so hard, she had to have seen the way his head jerked. For a second, he couldn’t get his voice to cooperate, the plea so close to the one his own heart had once cried. “Your—Yes. Your brother, too.” He couldn’t deny her that.

“Then I want you.”

“Excuse me?” Colt’s head tilted. “You want me for what?”

“I want you to be the one protecting Justin and me.”

Colt’s mouth opened then closed, no words leaking out. He couldn’t be placed on a protection detail, not even if it meant catching Rio Garcia. He’d failed to be a sufficient protector in the past, when it had mattered the most. He couldn’t risk another life by failing again. “I’m not... That’s not my wheelhouse. I can make sure it’s someone you’re—”

“When my store was vandalized, I called the police. They came and did nothing other than apparently call the Rangers to tell them I was a wanted felon.” The woman before him might still be weak in a hospital bed, but there was a strength in her expression and in her words that brooked no argument. Danielle Segovia was serious, and she wasn’t going to back down. “It’s you or nobody.”

“I’ll do my best.” Turning his back on a request that carried the weight of history, Colt pulled the door open, then turned back to Danielle. “Why me?”

“You were sincere about my mother’s memory, about the statue in my shop. You understood that. I could tell.” The determination in her expression wavered and her gaze flicked to the window before resting somewhere above Colt’s head. “I trust you.”

The corner of Colt’s eye twitched. Those were rare words. He’d never heard them from a stranger, and no one in his family had said them in years. They lay like a blanket over him, alternately warming and suffocating him. The air in the room seemed charged with something he would never be able to define.

Seldom was he at a loss for words, but everything about the moment rendered him speechless. There was no way to answer what Danielle was saying. With a curt nod, he turned and walked out the door to find his team and to attempt to convince them to give him the one job at which he was guaranteed to fail.

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