The Gentrys: Cinco. Linda Conrad
that this was his whole world now, dang it. Security was the one thing Cinco had become really good at over the years. He’d even managed to excel at the online security business with Kyle.
Now, if only he could also convince his younger brother and sister that he knew what would be safest for them, too.
An hour later, with the coffee brewing, the kitchen warmed and the dishes shoved into the sink, Cinco was beginning to wonder if maybe he should’ve given Kyle some driving directions. After all, his partner hadn’t been to the ranch in several years.
Cinco grabbed his coat and hat and pulled the keys to one of the trucks off a peg on his way out the mudroom door. There was only one way into the main house by road. If Kyle was lost, Cinco would find him easily enough.
Just as he stepped out onto the wide, wooden back-porch stairs, a cloud of noisy dust roared into the caliche-covered yard. Through the cloud, Cinco could make out the vague outline of an expensive British-racing-green-colored sedan. Long, low and sleek, the car seemed as foreign in this country as a cowpoke riding an elephant would’ve been.
Cinco knew the Gentry family’s ranching operation was as modern and up-to-date as any in the country, but he also knew what kind of impression any spread like this one made on city boys like Kyle. He wondered what this Frosty fellow would think of the place.
The sedan pulled to a stop on the other side of the yard as Cinco tried to get a glance at Kyle’s old buddy through the windshield. Tinted dark, none of the windows offered him any kind of hint about the man who needed his protection.
Cinco headed out across the yard, choking on the particles of West Texas dust kicked up by the car and lingering in the crisp autumn air. Kyle stepped from the driver’s door and said something to the other man. Cinco watched the passenger door open as the stranger turned, backing out of his seat before Cinco could get a good look.
The guy must’ve been trying to collect something from the front seat because his upper body was still bent over inside the car while his feet stood on the caliche outside the door. A khaki-covered backside was all Cinco could make out from this angle.
The remnants of the gray-colored cloud of dust slowly filtered back to earth and Cinco got a better look—at one of the shapeliest, sexiest behinds that he’d ever had the grand fortune to behold. What the heck? Who…?
Kyle came around the car, grinning like a damned idiot while the sexy bottom slowly straightened and transformed into a tall, fair-skinned woman who turned to face Cinco. Wearing black aviator glasses that covered most of the deadly serious expression on her face, the woman remained ramrod straight as she scanned the yard and buildings.
This was Frosty Powell? Hoo boy. Just wait until he got Kyle alone. No way was she staying on the ranch.
Kyle reached his side and slapped him on the back. “Great to see you, Gentry.”
Cinco stood his ground, gawking silently at the woman dressed in plain, khaki slacks and shirt, covered over by a tobacco-colored, leather flight jacket. Tall, at least five ten in flat-heeled shoes, her chin would probably hit him about shoulder level.
Whipping off the sunglasses, she took a quick glance around at the house behind him and then at the outbuildings and barns in the distance, finally letting her gaze settle on his body. She perused him from the tip of his old work hat to the soles of his scuffed lizard boots.
Immediately he felt compelled to try shining up his boots by rubbing them against the backs of his jean-clad calves. Resisting the urge, he stared back at her with his best scowl. After all, this was his place—not hers.
He noticed her chin come up ever so slightly and knew she’d felt his challenge and the tension.
He’d never seen anything quite like her. She looked like a Viking queen. Golden hair, pulled back in a thick braid, hung over her right shoulder feathering her breasts. Fiery blue eyes shot sparks of energy and, at the moment, appeared to be spitting mad. Her stance left little doubt she was more than capable of taking care of herself.
“Frosty, this is Cinco Gentry.” Kyle turned to introduce the two of them. “Cinco, this is my old buddy—”
“Frosty Powell?” Cinco cut in, with as much disbelief in his voice as he could manage without embarrassing himself.
“Well, yeah.”
The woman stepped closer and stuck out her hand. “Captain Meredith Powell, United States Air Force, retired. Pleased to finally meet you Mr. Cinco Gentry. Sorry about Kyle. We’ve just known each other too long. He sometimes forgets that I have a real name.” A semblance of a smile cracked the corners of her mouth but never reached her eyes.
Cinco managed to shake her hand but, apparently, he was struck dumb because he found his mouth sagging open. Her voice had been deep and musical, full of secret connotations. When she’d said his name, a purple haze of quick desire flashed through him, leaving him unsettled and frustrated.
He tried to pull himself together. The way she looked and the way she sounded were so incongruent that he felt pushed off balance. He didn’t like the feeling at all.
Her handshake was firm, polite while at the same time a little too strong. He seldom shook hands with women, and when he did, his impressions were usually of softness and silk. Rather wishy-washy and tentative. Nothing about Captain Meredith Powell’s handshake was hesitant—or wimpy.
In fact, nothing about her seemed familiar at all. Not like any woman he’d ever known. A fleeting image of the one true love of his life, Ellen, the woman he’d expected to love and protect forever but failed, spun through his mind. Dark, luscious hair and soft frilly clothes, that had been more Ellen’s style. The tall blonde before him wasn’t anything like that.
He coughed, trying to swallow any unwanted images. Felt in his throat every particle of the dust that had been dislodged by Kyle’s car. Then he coughed again.
Pulling his hand free, he tried to ignore her and turned to Kyle. “Let’s go inside for coffee.”
“I need to get Frosty’s bag from the trunk. Just a minute.” Kyle swiveled toward the car.
Cinco grabbed his elbow and squeezed. “Inside first…buddy. Then you and I need to have a little chat.”
When Meredith stepped inside the back door of the ranch house, she felt, more than ever, the eerie feeling of being Alice as she moved through the looking glass into Wonderland. The whole place, the entire atmosphere of the surrounding area, had started off feeling backward and weird.
During her career, she’d been stationed in several foreign countries and had even spent a few special deployments on third-world bases. But this? She could’ve sworn someone had accidentally dropped her into the middle of the movie set of an old Western.
With Cinco Gentry starring as the cowboy.
Kyle had failed to mention how authentically Western this part of Texas truly was. It absolutely reeked of raw-hide and leather. As did the man in charge.
Cinco, whatever kind of name that might be, had not been precisely what Meredith expected either. With his well-washed, tight-fitting jeans and black cowboy hat pulled low on his forehead, he looked exactly like she’d always pictured an old-fashioned Western movie star.
Then…his hand had gripped hers and she’d really gotten a look at his eyes. Warm chestnut brown at first glance, but the longer she’d stared into them, the darker and more intelligent and dangerous they’d become. He quickly ranked right up there as one of the most important reasons why she couldn’t stay out here in this wilderness.
“Let me take your coats.” Cinco tugged at the back of her flight jacket as she jammed her sunglasses into the pocket and shrugged her shoulders free.
He grabbed Kyle’s coat and hung both their jackets on pegs that jutted out from the rough, wood-paneled walls in the small hallway that was lined with boots along the floorboards. The shoes stood like little sentinels, guarding the entry.
“Go