ONE

      A hand clamped over her mouth, startling Adriana Garcia and muffling her scream. The muzzle of a gun pressed against her forehead. Her throat constricted.

      Though she couldn’t see who held the gun to her head, she knew it had to be her drug-lord brother, Rio Garcia, come to extract his revenge.

      She couldn’t breathe.

      The large hands and muscled arms dragged her back and away from Kiana, the pregnant llama she’d been feeding. Adriana dropped the bucket of grain. Kiana stretched her neck, wanting to spit at the intruder. Llamas were excellent “guard dogs” and Kiana had been subtly signaling that something was wrong for several minutes now, but Adriana had misinterpreted her earlier agitation.

      Adriana’s heart lodged in her throat. Her worst nightmare was unfolding this very moment. Her greatest fear had come true—her brother had found her. He would kill her now.

      But not before he obtained the information he needed. Then he would show no mercy.

      She should have known it would come to this.

      I’m not ready to die. Oh, God, help me! Jesucristo, save me!

      Even though she’d feared this day would come, and she’d prepared for it in every possible way with the booby traps and a security system, at this moment she realized she hadn’t prepared for it in earnest—from the deepest part of her soul.

      Adriana had not prepared to die at her brother’s hand.

      But could she beg for his mercy?

      She’d had so many dreams, so many plans after her escape from her home in Juarez and the family drug cartel. Now all of those dreams were turning to dust. Why hadn’t she moved much farther away?

      It’s too late now.

      He forced her into the shadows of the barn, his hand still pressed hard against her mouth. The weapon bit into her temple.

      “I’m going to remove my hand. Don’t scream,” he said, keeping his voice low.

      His voice...it wasn’t Rio, her brother. But no matter. Rio had sent one of his enforcers...except his trusted lieutenants were all Mexican, and this man hadn’t spoken in Spanish. Didn’t have an accent.

      “Did you hear me? I said, don’t scream.” He repeated it in Spanish this time, but he was still missing the expected accent.

      She nodded. She lost nothing by agreeing. No one would hear her scream except possibly Inez Ramirez, the older woman from whom Adriana leased the llama ranch she someday hoped to own. But this man wouldn’t be afraid of Inez.

      He slowly lowered his hand from her mouth. The weapon remained aimed at her head as the man carefully stepped around her and into view.

      Adriana gasped. Even relaxed a little, because she recognized her captor, and it wasn’t Rio or one of his minions.

      This man was the Texas Ranger she’d saved two years ago in Mexico. Maybe...maybe today wasn’t her day to die, after all. Thank You, Jesucristo.

      “What...what are you doing here?”

      “I’m Texas Ranger Brent McCord, and I’m looking for Adriana Garcia.”

      “I know who you are.” She could never forget the intensity of his green eyes. “And you know who I am, too. Don’t you remember me?”

      “Are you Adriana Garcia?” He repeated the question, his gaze remaining hard, his tension palpable.

      The question stung her as she stared down the muzzle of his handgun. He didn’t remember her or what she’d done for him? He’d been a stranger to her when she’d risked her life to save his by distracting one of Rio’s high-level henchmen. Or hatchet men, as she thought of them.

      The guy would have seen the Ranger and would have killed him without hesitation. Not only had she distracted the goon, but she’d concealed the Ranger in her own home until it was safe to lead him away from the danger.

      Her palms slicked, even now, at the memory of the risk to her own life. Her brother had learned of her betrayal only a few months ago, and that had sent her on the run, fleeing to Texas. The truth was she’d wanted an out from their family’s horrible, deadly business, though she wasn’t personally involved with her brother’s cartel. She’d lived in fear for far too long, and helping the Ranger had propelled her on a path to freedom, but she still wasn’t completely free. Not yet. Her long-dead American mother would have been relieved Adriana had made it this far out of Rio’s grip. That she had even tried.

      Had the Ranger known that she’d been forced to run in fear for her life because she’d aided him? He must know something of her circumstances to even be aware that she was in Texas. Apparently he’d been searching for her. Even more disturbing—he’d found her.

      She sagged. “You don’t remember.”

      Oh, but she’d forgotten she now wore a disguise—her hair dyed auburn and permed with short curls. Her fake tortoiseshell glasses. She wasn’t supposed to look familiar to anyone who could recognize her—that was the whole point. So why had she spoken to him the way she had? Did she want him to remember or recognize her?

      If he truly didn’t