Jodie Bailey - Christmas Double Cross

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.