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Christmas Double Cross

By Jodie Bailey

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Chapter 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 in 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 next 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 was 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, Señora 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 Señora 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 onto 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 backwards against a beefy chest, crushing the air from her lungs before she could scream.

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