The Warrior's Way
Jenna Kernan
To trust and protect…Tribal police chief Jack Bear Den will do anything to stop ecoterrorists. But partnering with disgraced ex-FBI explosives expert Sophia Rivas is trouble even his trail-tested skills never anticipated. Her out-there deductions are blowing up false leads, exposing treacherous lies—and sparking an attraction too dangerous for even Jack to resist.By the book was never Sophia's style. To save lives, she has to gamble on her instincts more than ever. If Jack doesn't trust her, she can handle it—but letting him uncover her deepest secrets is a distraction neither can afford. And with the clock ticking down and disaster about to strike, getting too close may be the last move she and Jack ever make.
To trust and protect…
Tribal police chief Jack Bear Den will do anything to stop ecoterrorists. But partnering with disgraced ex-FBI explosives expert Sophia Rivas is trouble even his trail-tested skills never anticipated. Her out-there deductions are blowing up false leads, exposing treacherous lies—and sparking an attraction too dangerous for even Jack to resist.
By the book was never Sophia’s style. To save lives, she has to gamble on her instincts more than ever. If Jack doesn’t trust her, she can handle it—but letting him uncover her deepest secrets is a distraction neither can afford. And with the clock ticking down and disaster about to strike, getting too close may be the last move she and Jack ever make.
She couldn’t meet his gaze.
“Sophia?” He reached out to her, his big hand falling over her tightly laced ones. “It’s okay. It will be okay.”
The warmth and the way he leaned in as he dropped his voice was her undoing. The stuttering sob issued from her and she pulled her hands from beneath his in order to cover her face. Tears spilled and the sobs got worse. Right here on the squad floor, she realized, she was going to have the cry she had kept inside since that night.
Jack rolled his chair to her so his legs straddled hers, and he drew her forward. She nestled against his chest, clutching the soft fabric of his button-up shirt. His hands rubbed up and down her back. The man was really good at this. Was that why she’d finally let go—because she knew he’d be there to catch her?
The Warrior’s Way
Jenna Kernan
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
JENNA KERNAN has penned over two dozen novels and has received two RITA® Award nominations. Jenna is every bit as adventurous as her heroines. Her hobbies include recreational gold prospecting, scuba diving and gem hunting. Jenna grew up in the Catskills and currently lives in the Hudson Valley of New York State with her husband. Follow Jenna on Twitter, @jennakernan (https://twitter.com/jennakernan), on Facebook or at www.jennakernan.com (http://jennakernan.com/).
For Jim, always
Acknowledgments (#u6ede9a92-864d-5dec-af38-7ed713e92d4d)
Many thanks to Lt. Christopher Knurr of the Brown County Sheriff’s Office for his expertise and advice.
Any mistakes regarding the use of explosives are the author’s.
Contents
Cover (#uf6d554a4-ca90-5d4d-968a-728eab6a44a6)
Back Cover Text (#u4eb9d271-7648-508a-9a09-baafa683fe71)
Introduction (#u3c3e2daa-7c9c-56af-9ea2-bbc70ef00fba)
Title Page (#u0447f358-4cfb-58e0-8264-482b88067577)
About the Author (#u1701c86b-22db-5b8a-b812-deb06a565087)
Dedication (#u7e5fe588-ad81-549d-a514-971b6eb31b9c)
Acknowledgments (#u1e2f5844-fd3d-5268-b950-738a969e22f8)
Chapter One (#u8e6c1036-c917-5d33-a06d-d57abd66596f)
Chapter Two (#ue6cada76-4591-5674-8582-7dc0cb2bad24)
Chapter Three (#u13d9eeac-12b9-581f-875b-8e7435770108)
Chapter Four (#u188d32ce-4e41-554e-9123-1a22bb2c6053)
Chapter Five (#uebf00202-2aaf-5493-937f-2e34e3c79329)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#u6ede9a92-864d-5dec-af38-7ed713e92d4d)
Amazing how much a simple favor could cost you. FBI explosives expert Sophia Rivas waited for her escort to finish introductions. She held her tight smile firmly in place as she shook hands with the chief of tribal police, Wallace Tinnin. The man looked well past the age of retirement, judging from his deeply lined face. He ushered them from the station floor, such as it was, into his small, stuffy office, where everything seemed as old and worn-out as their chief.
Her gaze flashed to the CRT monitor on his desk that looked straight out of the 1990s. Those things still had cathodes and vacuum tubes inside.
Her escort, FBI agent Luke Forrest, had moved into the office and now gave her a look of warning.
Sophia met Luke’s gaze. He was her cousin and the reason she had been recruited into the Bureau. She owed him a lot, but that didn’t mean she agreed with him. This entire thing continued to feel like a bad idea.
She opted to remain standing in the chief’s office rather than sit in either of the stained chairs facing his overcrowded desk. Chief Tinnin headed the Turquoise Canyon Tribal Police Department, which consisted of nine officers, all male, and one dispatcher, female.
“He should be here soon,” the chief assured them.
Who were they waiting for again? Luke told her she’d be working with their best man. Best of nine, she realized. What was his name? Bear Trap. Bearton. Something like that.
With luck he could take her to the reservoir and she could give her opinion and be heading back to Flagstaff by dark. It was midafternoon on Friday and the days were still long. She’d be leaving well after the rush-hour traffic, but would still be heading back to the refuge of her little apartment after the longest week of her life. She usually loved the sanctuary of her place, but this week, on leave, it had become a kind of holding cell, where she paced and obsessed over the review team’s findings on her use of deadly force.
Forrest was more than a decade her senior and his short black hair and pressed suit did not hide the fact that, like her, he was Apache. But not of the Turquoise Canyon tribe. They were both Black Mountain, both spider clan, making them kin. They also shared a grandmother, so the connection was especially close. And even though Luke worked in the Phoenix field office, he had heard she was on leave during the investigation.
Had she made a mistake that night, one that could cost her the thing she valued most in this world—her job? No. They would clear her.
She glanced from her cousin to Wallace Tinnin, who moved behind his desk. She wondered why he used an old rusty spur as a paperweight. Had he once ridden in the rodeo? That would account for the limp.
What was happening back in Flagstaff? She knew the protocol because they’d explained it all to her. But she didn’t know how long the investigation process would take. “As long as it takes” was not very helpful, but was the only answer her supervisor provided before placing her on mandatory leave.
This was the process. She had to trust it. But she didn’t. She didn’t trust anything that threatened her job.
Tinnin set down a cup of water before her and asked her to take a seat. She politely declined both.
“Coffee?” asked Tinnin.
She glanced at the well-used drip coffeemaker on his sideboard.
“Maybe just water.”
It was delivered in a Dixie cup instead of an unopened bottle. Her smile remained but she cast her cousin a certain look. He seemed to be enjoying himself, judging from the smirk.
The chief opened the top drawer of his desk, drew out a silver foil packet that she recognized was for nicotine gum, popped a white cube into his mouth and chewed. The pouches beneath his eyes spoke of a man running a department that she knew must be understaffed and underfunded.
There was a polite knock and her cousin opened the door. In walked a mountainous man who surveyed the room with a quick sweep before he fixed his stare on her.
“Sophia?” said Forrest, motioning toward the new arrival. “This is Detective Jack Bear Den.”
The first thing she noticed—that anyone would notice—was how damn big he was. Big, tall and broad-shouldered, with a body type very unlike the men she knew from her reservation on Black Mountain. The second thing that she saw was the cut across his lifted eyebrow—not a cut really, but more like a blank spot where a tiny white scar bisected the brow and made him look roguish, like a pirate.
What he did not look like was Apache.
Was their best detective really from off the rez?
“A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Rivas. I’m roadrunner, born of snake.”
She answered automatically, giving her clan affiliation. “I’m butterfly, born of spider.”
Since the Turquoise Canyon people were Tonto Apache and she was Western Apache, they did not share linguistic roots, so she spoke in English, her second language.
Her brain was still sending her signals that he was not roadrunner or snake or Apache. He did not fit. Did not look like any other Apache man she had ever met. Still, she extended her hand.
He stepped forward, meeting her gaze. She saw his eyes were hazel with a shift of color toward brown near his pupil, which blasted outward to give way to a true green at the outer rim of his iris. Most Apache men did not have green eyes.
The rest of him was equally appealing, particularly his strong square jaw and welcoming smile, which disappeared as their hands brushed. Tingling awareness zinged from their melded palms all the way up her arm. His eyes glittered and his brows descended. Then he broke the contact as if reconsidering the wisdom of a custom of the white world and not of theirs. He drew back, wiping his palm across his middle as if the touch was somehow dangerous. He left his hand stretched across his flat stomach for a moment, his long fingers splayed on the blue cotton fabric of his button-up shirt. Her stomach did a nervous little flutter as her senses came alive. His fingers were thick with a dusting of hair near each knuckle. His fifth finger brushed the top edge of the silver belt buckle bearing a medicine wheel inlaid in black, red, yellow and white. The four directions, the circle of life, the seasons and a compass to guide a man as he walked through life. Why did he wear that symbol?
Her attention dipped below the buckle and stayed fixed long enough for the room to fall silent. The detective’s hand shifted toward his personal weapon. Holstered at his hip was a .45 caliber. Then his hand dropped to his side, at the ready.
They’d taken her Glock for the investigation and offered a replacement weapon—a .45 caliber, just like his. She didn’t like the stronger recoil. It affected her aim on multiple discharges.
Tinnin cleared his throat and motioned Jack forward. He took a position near her, in front of the desk between Tinnin and Forrest, in only three strides.
Her hand continued to tingle as if she had touched the hot wire of a horse pasture.
She wasn’t attracted to Jack Bear Den. She couldn’t be. She didn’t mix business with pleasure and she wasn’t planning to stay one minute more than it took to deliver the bad news.
All three of them were now staring at her. Had they asked her a question?
“What’s that now?” she said, her voice sounding odd above the constant buzzing in her ears.
Tinnin fielded that one. “I said, we would like you to advise us on where we might be vulnerable. Specifically, how to protect the reservoirs above us.”
“You’re on low ground. No protecting you if any of the dams blow.” She gritted her teeth as both Tinnin and Bear Den exchanged glances. She should have thought before she spoke.
The councilors told her that she was bound to feel some anxiety after the shooting and that she would question her own judgment. They hadn’t even a clue at how this investigation was messing with her. She was usually way more thoughtful.
“I’m sorry. I spoke out of turn,” she said.
She met Bear Den’s steady gaze. Her skin felt clammy as the stirring sexual desire crashed against her determination to avoid entanglements. If she’d met him in a different place and time, maybe. But he still looked dangerous. Some part of her liked that, but not the part that liked to eat. Protecting her job meant keeping things professional. What would they say at headquarters if they heard she’d used her leave to bed this guy? Her stomach tightened in dread.
Sophia glanced away from temptation, past the window and the dusty venetian blinds. It was a fine bright September day. The air was cooler at this elevation and it made her homesick for Black Mountain. Everything was green now after the annual monsoonal rains and those, too, reminded her of home.
“I’m sure I can make some useful suggestions,” she said. Suggestions like recommending they all move to higher ground if they believed the threat was viable.
She looked to the yellow-and-white rock face that rose on the far plain beyond the flowing water. The Hakathi River threaded through the wide plain. This land, even this office, had once been river bottom. But that was before the dam had captured the water—before the government stole this land and then gave it back to the Turquoise Canyon people.
Bright September sunlight glinted on the glassy surface. The placid winding river didn’t fool her. It was dangerous, the vanguard of what lay above their settlements.
“Will that be all right, Sophia?” A man’s voice snapped her back to attention. It was Luke who had posed the question.
She lifted her brow at Luke in a gesture that she hoped would alert him that she had not heard a word.
Luke steepled his hands together as if preparing for prayer. “Sophia has been in all the recent briefings, but the Bureau did not put forth your theory. I think it would be of benefit to share it now.”
She agreed with that. And listening to their problems sure beat worrying about hers. The minimum administrative leave was five days. But she was already past that. Was that bad? And when exactly would they give her the “pertinent information” they promised her? Last she’d heard the autopsy was complete. When would they release her weapon?
“Yes, I’d appreciate that,” she said as she turned to the chief, but she could not resist another look at the detective.
His hair was short, dark and thick with a definite wave. She’d like to rake her hands through that hair.
Chief Tinnin pushed the gum to his cheek, placing it there like chewing tobacco.
“Ms. Rivas, our tribe isn’t convinced that the threat of the eco-extremist group BEAR has been neutralized by the death of their leader, Theron Wrangler.”
Her office had gone over this in a briefing before the shooting. During the devastating wildfires in July, a prominent citizen and eco-advocate had been murdered. Suspicion had been cast on his wife, Lupe Wrangler, but no evidence was found and she was cleared.
“We feel BEAR is alive and well and that our reservoir system is a likely target for attack.”
BEAR was the acronym for Bringing Earth Apocalyptic Restoration. In layman’s terms, they wanted to blow man back to the Stone Age, where he couldn’t destroy the planet. Some part of her believed man was the earth’s biggest threat. But she was no eco-warrior.
Luke surprised her by revealing information she felt proprietary.
“The FBI believes that the death of Theron Wrangler has crippled their organization,” said Luke.
Bear Den took it from there. “A member of our society witnessed Lupe Wrangler shoot her husband.”
Luke rubbed his forehead and then picked up where Bear Den had left off. “We could find no proof, no evidence to support this man’s claim that Lupe Wrangler killed her husband.”
Bear Den broke in, his voice now containing a dangerous edge. “Her daughter also witnessed the shooting. You have two witnesses.”
“Nonetheless, the Bureau could not break Lupe Wrangler’s alibi.”
“She should be in custody,” said Tinnin.
“I agree and I’m here doing what I can.” He had his hand on his neck again, massaging away the tension that now crackled in the room.
“We believe the witnesses. It’s not over.”
She now recalled the theory that Wrangler’s death might trigger sleeper cells to action. Could these men be right? She decided to proceed as if the threat was viable, as she had been trained to do, until she knew otherwise.
“Tribal Thunder contends that this is not over,” said Jack Bear Den.
“Tribal Thunder?” she asked.
“These men are Tribal Thunder.” Luke motioned to Tinnin and Bear Den. “It’s the warrior sect of their medicine society.”
She knew about medicine societies—mostly that they were misogynistic groups, all male and secret as heck. Sophia looked from one to the other and speculated on their activities. Certainly protecting their people would be their prime objective.
“Just a few ground rules before you two visit the dam.” Tinnin pinned her with his eyes—he no longer looked tired, but was rather deadly serious. “You will be with one of my men at all times.”
Her gaze went to Bear Den. It was him, of course. She knew it and the prospect excited and terrified her.
“Detective Bear Den will escort you.”
“That’s not necessary.”
Tinnin glanced to Luke and then back to her. “Your cousin wants assurances you are protected because of the recent incident. He and your supervisors feel there may be an ongoing threat.”
She doubted that. Sophia glanced at Bear Den. He looked capable, but an FBI agent did not need the protection of a small-town cop.
“Detective Bear Den is very good and knows the territory,” said her cousin. “He’s an ex-marine. Weapons specialist. He’s been a tribal detective for seven years here and knows the terrain. He is an honored member of his medicine society, the Turquoise Guardians, and of the elite warrior society, Tribal Thunder. He’s their best.”
Best of nine, she thought.
“You can trust him to keep you safe.”
Bear Den spoke to her and his voice was deep and rich as dark coffee. She loved the sound.
“My honor,” he said.
She cast him a dubious look and he inclined his chin, as if readying for a fight.
“Detective Bear Den will make sure you are safe,” said Luke. “It’s a condition of your consultation.”
“My supervisor onboard with this?”
“He had no objections.”
She blew out her frustration. “Fine.”
“So you will have protection 24/7,” said Tinnin.
“Maybe twenty-four. Certainly not seven. This won’t take as long as you think,” Sophia assured him. Her confident smile was met with silence. “I’d like to get started.”
Because the sooner they started, the sooner she could get out of here.
“Detective Bear Den will bring you up to the closest reservoir now,” said Luke. Bear Den cast her a wicked smile.
And that was when it happened. Her body, always reliable, and her mind, always predictable, both short-circuited at once. Her stomach flipped as she squinted at him trying to figure how the upturning of his lips could make her go all jittery inside. She met the steady stare and the challenge with a smile of her own. The connection grew. He had an air of confidence and a physicality that inspired her to all kinds of bad ideas.
“Check in with me tonight, okay?” said her cousin. “Let me know when you expect to be finished your consultation and I’ll come get you.”
She tore her gaze from the detective.
“Sure thing,” she promised.
“We’ll make sure she stays in touch,” said Tinnin.
He handed her a large boxy black Motorola radio that looked a decade old. She clipped it to the waistband of her slacks.
“You ready for a tour?” asked the detective.
“Absolutely. I look forward to it.” She didn’t, because the idea of being trapped in a vehicle with him made her skin itch.
Chapter Two (#u6ede9a92-864d-5dec-af38-7ed713e92d4d)
“Agent Forrest said you were on leave. But he was unclear why you were on leave.”
She glanced at him cautiously, perhaps recognizing a fishing expedition when she heard one.
“Was he?” She made no excuses and offered no answers.
He snorted at her posture. Jack Bear Den slowed his stride to match that of his charge. Sophia Rivas was a beauty, but she wasn’t very big, reaching only to his shoulder.
She looked straight ahead with her chin up, as if nothing bothered her. Well, she bothered him. Had certainly gotten under his skin in record time.
Jack accelerated to reach the passenger side door of his SUV before she did. She increased her speed and then let him go. He had the vehicle door open when she reached him.
She looked younger than thirty-three, with wide dark eyes that shifted to scan the vehicle’s interior before she cast him a dubious gaze.
“Is that your mobile data terminal?”
The laptop was old and looked like it had been kicked down a flight of stairs, but it worked. Mostly.
“What about it?” He knew he sounded defensive. The FBI had all the toys and nearly unlimited resources, and he’d had to fix his side mirror with duct tape.
“Nothing,” she said, wisely closing her mouth.
Her gaze met his and locked in like a sniper zeroing in on her target.
For a moment he saw the trained FBI agent instead of the most appealing woman he’d seen in...forever. He was just dying to know why she was on administrative leave. He was also dying to know what she looked like naked, but that was an incredibly bad idea. He’d been assigned as her protector. It was a sacred duty and nothing came before his duty.
She carried no weapon at her hip. So she preferred a shoulder holster beneath her blazer. He couldn’t see it, but could see just a little honey-brown skin at the modest scoop of her collar. His higher vantage allowed him to also see the slope of her breasts. He glanced away, placing a hand over his own service weapon, which was clipped in a leather holster to his belt. You had to rock it backward to get it clear. Most folks wouldn’t know that. But Sophia Rivas sure would.
She glanced at his hand, his thumb locked under the belt just before his weapon. Then her gaze swept up over him in a way that made his entire body flash between alertness and sexual arousal. Finally her gaze held his. She had big amber eyes framed with dark spiked lashes and the kind of mouth that made a man do stupid stuff.
Oh, no. This was not happening. He was not having sexual fantasies about a woman who looked at his headquarters, vehicle and person with a cool disdain.
How had she ended up in explosives? Forensic explosives expert. Odd choice, that.
He reached for her elbow to assist her and she gave him a certain look that made him hesitate.
“I can make it,” she said and climbed into his vehicle. He moved to close the door, resisting the pull to step nearer to her. Then he rounded his SUV and slid into the driver’s seat.
He wiped his damp palm on his trousers before turning the key. He gave a cough meant to clear his dry throat.
“Thank you for agreeing to help us.”
“I’m not sure how much help I can be. The canyon walls are steep on both sides and we are clearly in a gap in what used to be riverbed.”
“You wouldn’t want to be here if any of the three reservoirs go.”
“Can we tour the interior workings of the dam system?”
“Yes. I’ve arranged a tour for tomorrow.”
She gave a little laugh and shook her head.
“What?”
“My cousin knows that we aren’t seeing the interior until tomorrow?”
“Yes, I mentioned it to him.”
“And yet he sent me up here today. Where is it I will be staying? I didn’t see a hotel or casino.”
“Yeah, we don’t have a hotel, or rather we do and it is connected to the casino, but it’s being renovated. Grand opening is this November. Maybe you can come back.”
“I highly doubt that.”
“Don’t worry, I have a bed for you.”
Agent Rivas was out of the car and marching toward the station before he could turn off the ignition. He didn’t see her again until he reached the squad room and that was only her back as she entered his chief’s office without knocking.
He slowed as Olivia, their dispatcher, gave him a look.
“I wouldn’t,” she advised.
He took her advice and waited. It didn’t take long. Rivas emerged red-faced and panting, her fists clenched. She cast him a murderous look and continued past him. He let her stride away, following until he returned to his seat beside her in his SUV.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Not even close,” she said. “Why didn’t you tell me that we would not be alone?”
“You didn’t really give me a chance. It’s on our tribal gathering grounds. There are several cabins. I’ll be there along with some of the members of Tribal Thunder. But you’ll have a private cabin. It’s a beautiful place beside the river and we have a lodge with a generator for gathering at nights.”
“Nights? I only packed an overnight bag. You think there will be more than one?”
“Tinnin said we’d have you until Tuesday. Time enough to see all four dams, inside and out.”
She rubbed her slender neck and looked straight ahead. “Four days. After that I’m going home, even if I have to walk.”
They sat in silence, the A/C blowing in their heated faces. The air between them seemed to move with currents all their own. He hadn’t felt this kind of attraction, ever.
“Can I call you Jack?” she asked.
“Sounds fine. Shall I call you Sophia?”
“Fine.”
“You want to know why I’m stuck up here in the hinterland instead of working on a case?” she asked.
Jack shifted in his seat. “Sure.”
“I was involved in an incident of fatal force.”
That was a euphemism that told him she’d killed someone. Likely shot them.
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“So I’m on administrative leave until they finish the investigation and clear me.”
“FBI conducts their own investigations, right?”
“Yes.”
“So you should be fine.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? You think they’ll sweep any mistake I made under some rug bearing the FBI seal?”
He shrugged and set his vehicle in motion.
“Well, they won’t. I could be relieved of duty, permanently. And that can’t happen.”
“If you say so.”
“And they wanted me to see a shrink. When I said no, they extended my leave.
“It wasn’t even the assignment I’m working, which is going to hell, I’m sure. Luke thought I might like to go home to our rez.” She shook her head. “Can’t do that so he came up with this to distract me. A welcome diversion. Ha. Oh, anyway, it doesn’t matter. I’m stuck here until they take me back.”
“You can’t go home?” he asked.
She cast him a look and then turned to stare out the window. Only then did he realize he had asked Luke nothing about her upbringing. All he knew was that she was of the Black Mountain people, butterfly born of spider.
But who was she deep down, where it mattered? Jack wanted answers.
“You want to talk about it—the investigation?”
She shook her head.
“Okay. I’m a good listener. Just saying. So, do you have brothers and sisters?”
She didn’t look at him. “Yeah. And tons of cousins. My mom came from a big family. Where are we going?”
“Top of the canyon. I thought I’d give you an overview. Okay?”
She nodded.
“I’ve got three brothers,” said Jack. “Carter is the oldest. He’s my twin and he’s coming home soon. He’s under protection by the Department of Justice.”
That sure got her attention. Her posture changed and she half turned to stare at him.
“Why?”
“Witness. He went with his wife, Amber, who survived the mass shooting at Lilac copper mine. She was going to testify in a federal case against Theron Wrangler.”
“But Wrangler is dead and so they don’t need witnesses.”
“That’s right.” She was quick and pretty.
“Then there are Tommy and Kurt. They are younger. Kurt flies in the air ambulance out of Darabee. Next town over. And Tommy is a Shadow Wolf on the border.”
“Border patrol?”
“They work under Immigration and Customs Enforcement—ICE. But he works with border patrol, too.”
“Shadow Wolves. That’s the all–Native American outfit, right?”
“Exactly. They’re on the Tohono Oodham lands.”
“I’ve been down there. It’s hot.”
“Most of Arizona is.”
“But not here and not Black Mountain.” She seemed to have lost some of her bristle. “Listen, I’m sorry your people feel threatened by BEAR.”
“What’s your take on it?”
“I’m not briefed. Really, I only know that group has been connected with the Lilac shooting and might be involved with the Pine View wildfire in July.”
On the drive he told her what he could. Carter had rescued Amber Kitcheyan from the Lilac copper mine and placed himself between her and BEAR’s assassins, and the Lilac shooter had been caught. She knew that the mass murderer had been subsequently executed and that the assassin was a member of the Turquoise Canyon Apache tribe, Detective Bear Den’s tribe. She did not know that the shooter had been terminally ill, or that his death had brought suspicion on his daughter, Morgan Hooke.
“Our men set up protection for Morgan Hooke as a precaution.”
“What happened?”
“She helped us recover the blood money paid to her dad. And she and her daughter are safe. You’ll meet Ray Strong soon. He’s one of our men and her assigned bodyguard. Soon he’ll be her husband.”
She made a face that showed her disapproval of that turn of events.
“You know about Meadow Wrangler?” he asked.
“More than you do, I’d suspect.”
“She witnessed her father’s death.”
“I know that. I also know she has a history of substance abuse resulting in rehab.”
“She got drunk at eighteen and swam in a country club’s fountain.”
“She’s an unreliable witness.”
“We believe her.”
Sophia shrugged. “Your prerogative.”
They crested the top of the canyon rim and Jack brought them to a halt.
“This is it. From here you can see Skeleton Cliff Dam above our land and also Piñon Forks and Koun’nde, our two main settlements. Turquoise Ridge is out of sight and also above flood level.”
“Let’s have a look.” She exited the vehicle and their doors closed simultaneously.
Jack walked easily to the edge of the rim, where the rock bluff ended, leaving the dizzying drop to the valley below. The river had once cut this canyon from solid stone and spanned the gap where the town of Piñon Forks now stood. He had never seen the river roar with the yearly monsoonal rains because the dam and reservoir system had been installed in the 1920s, long before the stretch of his memory. But the old ones remembered. Few had seen it tumble and rage and then shrink like the belly of a woman after giving birth. The floods left rich fertile soil deposited yearly. They also left wetlands that burst with mosquitoes and that brought yellow fever. Crops were raised in the rich earth, but now the land was fit only for grazing livestock and none died from yellow fever. Was it better now than before the river was tamed?
He didn’t know. He only knew it was different. They had electricity, mobile phones and no crops.
“That’s quite a drop,” she said.
“Nine hundred meters from that point above us. Over a half-mile deep.” Jack smiled. “See that spot over there?” He pointed to the arched cut in the yellow sandstone. From here it looked close to the water. “That’s just short of eleven meters—higher than an Olympic diving platform. We used to jump off it into the deep water.”
“That’s foolish.”
“Fun. It was fun.”
“You and your friends sound reckless. I don’t take such chances.”
“Too bad. It was a thrill. What did you do up on Black Mountain for fun?”
Her eyes went sad and then she looked away, leaving Jack to wonder what kind of a childhood she’d had on her rez.
“So what do you want to show me?”
Back to business then. He pointed out the landmarks, towns and road system along the river and bridge east of the reservation. Beyond sat the great gray wall of Skeleton Cliff Dam that allowed just enough water to keep their livestock alive and their towns above the waterline.
“That looks like a very healthy vein of turquoise,” she said, motioning to the line of blue threading through the canyon wall beyond the river.
“Yes. It is good quality, too. We don’t mine by the river anymore. Too much overburden,” he said, pointing to the dangerous overhang of rock created by undercutting the hill to retrieve the turquoise below. “But we have some nice veins farther north at Turquoise Ridge. Very hard and nice nodules. Turquoise varies by looks and quality. That over there is brilliant blue with a webbing pattern called ‘bird’s eye.’”
“I know it.”
“We also have bright blue with flecks of iron pyrite up on Turquoise Ridge. That’s our main mining sight now. It’s pale blue to dark blue. We get a little green sometimes. But that’s rare.”
“You wear it on your belt,” she said.
He tilted the buckle. “Yeah. This is from that ridge,” he said, grazing a thumb over the brilliant blue outer inlay that surrounded the medicine wheel. Then he lifted his hand to brush the grey Stetson on his head. “My hatband, this paler blue with the fleck of black chert matrix, this is from Turquoise Ridge.”
“Chert?”
“Those are the blackish inclusion of the host rock that makes the cut stones more valuable, similar to spider web veining. Some collectors prefer the veining and inclusions to the solid blue stone.”
“You know your turquoise,” she said.
“Major biz here. Digging it, selling it at the rock-and-mineral shows. We go as far as Australia for shows. And we make jewelry.” He looked back over the rim to the blue river of turquoise that threaded through the dark stone. He pointed. “We derived our name from that vein of turquoise. It would be a shame to cut it all away. We do collect what erodes and you’d be surprised.”
He followed the direction of her gaze as she glanced from the mineral vein down to Piñon Forks and then returned her attention to the opposite rim a mile up from where they stood, pausing on the yellow rim of rock. This was the narrowest section of the canyon. Here the walls became pinched so the canyon was wide enough only for the river that touched the cliffs on both sides. He always thought that this spot must have been a heck of a rapid before the dam.
He tried to picture the surging torrent that once climbed far of the smooth walls and hoped he’d never see the water forced through that narrow gap.
Now her attention flicked to the wide flood plain, where his rez had placed their major settlement, Piñon Forks, then lifted to fix on the Skeleton Cliff Dam.
“That is really close,” she said, folding her arms before her. The gesture lifted the tops of her breasts so that he saw the mounds of firm tempting flesh over the scoop of her maroon blouse. His mouth went as dry as the cliff stone.
She turned to him and opened her mouth to speak, then caught the direction of his stare. Her hands dropped to her sides. Her amber eyes and sinking brows sent a clear message of displeasure.
“Sorry,” he said.
“I was about to say that the reservoir system in total is at a high-water point for the year. August rainfall set a new record and so a break in any of the dams would theoretically compromise the one below. If I was trying to destroy the system I would focus on Alchesay Canyon Dam because it’s the largest and holds back Goodwin Lake.”
“Your cousin told us that the FBI presence is focused on that dam as well. But what if they hit this one? Skeleton Cliff Dam is very close to our land. It wasn’t even land before they dammed this river.”
“Listen, with the force of that water and the speed, I have to be honest. If the dam goes, there would not be time to evacuate. And that break would carry enough water and debris to at least overflow Red Rock Dam below your lands. Likely Mesa Salado Dam, too.”
“That one is above the Yavapi Indian Reservation.”
“It would shut down the power grid for Phoenix.” Her hushed voice relayed the gravity of her thoughts.
“Your cousin told us he can’t discuss the surveillance methods on the dam system, just that they do have eyes on all the dams, have taken preventative action and established rapid response for various scenarios.”
“We do our job, Jack.”
“So what steps do we take?”
“Other than evacuate all low-land areas indefinitely, I can’t really offer suggestions.” She waved her hand toward the opposite rim. “Your best hope is to protect the dams.”
“They aren’t our dams. We can’t protect them.”
“We’re protecting them.”
Jack sent a look her way that he hoped relayed his lack of faith in the government protecting his people—history was on his side on that one. She rolled her eyes, returning her attention to the flood plan.
“Evacuate now,” she said.
“We have nowhere to go.” She made a face. Then she shook her head and her voice took on a sarcastic edge. “Well, you could blow up that entire ridge up there. That would stop anything. Theoretically.”
He’d never considered fighting an explosion with another one. But it could work.
Her eyes rounded. “Jack, it was a joke. Just a stupid offhanded remark. You can’t blow up that canyon wall.”
“I can’t. But you could.”
Chapter Three (#u6ede9a92-864d-5dec-af38-7ed713e92d4d)
“That’s crazy. I’m not blowing up anything. I’m here to advise you,” said Sophia. She was sweating now, but it was a cold sweat and her skin had gone to gooseflesh.
One thing she knew with certainty—there was no way in hell she was ever, under any circumstances, doing anything that could affect the outcome of her fatal force investigation. Destroying federal land in a massive unauthorized explosion qualified.
“No,” she said. “No way and hell no.”
Jack’s smile told her that this wasn’t over and she felt like kicking herself for opening her big mouth. What if they did something incredibly stupid, like tried to blow that opposite wall and then they told her supervisors that it was her suggestion?
“You can’t be seriously considering this.” She tried to make her voice reflect her incredulity, but instead there was a definite tremor.
“I’ll consider anything that keeps my people from drowning.”
“We’re protecting the dam system, Jack. You and your warrior society don’t have to do anything. This is federal land. All of it. It falls under federal jurisdiction.”
He pointed toward Piñon Forks. “That’s Apache land and we will protect it as we see fit.”
“I hope you like federal prisons, because that’s where you’re heading if you blow one single rock of this canyon. This is a wetland system. It’s crucial to the power grid and it’s beautiful.”
“You have a better idea?”
“That wasn’t an idea! It was a joke.”
“How would you set the blasts, in your joke?” he asked.
“You must think I’m crazy to answer a question like that. Besides you don’t have access to the kind of explosives you’d need.”
“We have mining explosives, det cord, blasting caps and rolls of shock tubing.”
He used the abbreviation for detonation cord, used to trigger explosions of the main charge and his knowledge caused her to lift her brows in surprise. “Turquoise mining,” he said, answering her unspoken question. “The community operation is mostly underground now, following the veins as they run deeper. Plus we have lots of smaller claims. My friend Dylan Tehauno has a really good one up there on Turquoise Ridge. Lots of blasting material here.”
“If you are considering this, I have to report you.”
He smiled as his eyes challenged her. “Just a joke. Like yours.” He glanced toward the west. The town below was already cast in shadows, but up here it blazed orange as the sun made its final descent.
He sat on the canyon rim and glanced up at her. “Want to watch the sunset?”
She sat beside him, close enough to feel the heat of his body but not quite touching him.
“Turns the river into a ribbon of gold.” He pointed to where the river flowed a deep orange color that changed by the minute.
“Jack, I’m in the middle of a fatal-force investigation. I cannot be involved in blowing anything up. This is a consult. Remember?”
“Back to the investigation again. Why are you so worried? Did you screw up?”
“No. I—well, I don’t think so. Maybe.”
“You can tell me, Sophia.”
She lowered her head, staring at nothing that he could see.
“I’m a former US Marine. I’ve shot people before.”
“That’s different.” She waved a dismissive hand. Then squared her shoulders and drew a breath. She was going to tell him and the realization filled her with both hope and terror.
“Do you know that there is not one person in my office that has even discharged their weapon, let alone been engaged in a significant-use-of-force incident? Well, Mel drew on a pit bull but he didn’t shoot because he got over a fence in time.”
“It happens to a lot of us,” he said again. “And if you can’t sleep or think or eat, that’s all just part of it. The crappy part, but it’s necessary. Eventually, you live with it. Mostly the memories stay down.”
He sat beside her overlooking the river as the clouds changed colors before her eyes. Clouds, she thought. That meant more rains would be coming.
“I shot a young Hispanic male,” she said.
He nodded. Saying nothing but somehow his silence encouraged her to continue.
“Here’s what happened. I’m going to say it fast so I don’t have to think about it all night.” She drew a breath as if preparing to submerge in deep water, then let it out. “Okay, I was off-duty and in my new car. I had just leased a BMW, black, Two Series. I mean I just left the dealership and I got bumped. I considered that it was a scam and so I had my weapon out when I left the vehicle. The male driver told me to step away from my BMW. Actually he said, ‘Give me the keys.’ And then he called me a...well, it doesn’t matter. He demanded the keys and reached for something in his coat. I saw the handgun before I fired. He died at the scene.”
Jack scratched his chin, feeling the stubble growing there. Seemed like a home run to him. She’d defended herself and from her version he saw no reason for her to worry.
“Seems justified.”
“But it wasn’t a handgun. It was a phone. He did have an unregistered handgun on his person. But that was not what he pointed at me. And he kept the phone pointed at me, even when he went to his knees.”
“You think he meant to photograph the damage?”
“I’ll never know.”
“Sophia, he told you to give him your keys. There is only one reason to hit a new Beamer and then demand the keys. He was boosting your car.”
“Probably.”
Jack’s anger took him totally by surprise. He tried to understand why he was so furious at this unknown perp. And then it struck him. He’d be murderous with anyone who threatened her. How had she gotten under his skin so fast?
She could have died and he would never have had a chance to know her. He wanted that chance. Trouble was, she didn’t. She had made it very clear that she could not wait to be out of here and back on the job.
“Does he have a criminal record or history of stealing cars?”
“I don’t know. They won’t tell me anything, and I don’t have access to the system. I do know his name. Nothing else yet. I’ve made my formal statement. I met with the union rep and our attorney. They gave me the protocol.”
“Referral to mental-health professional?”
“Sure. And contact with an agent who also had a deadly force encounter in Phoenix. But he was on a raid of a grow house and everyone inside was dirty and heavily armed. Not the same.”
A grow house was a home, usually abandoned, taken over and converted to an indoor greenhouse to grow marijuana. The drug producers were often well armed and prepared to defend their crop.
He said nothing. No one’s life experiences were the same, but all could be used to help every person find their path.
The silence stretched as the first star, Venus, appeared in the western sky.
“They’ve been investigating since Sunday. SAC said he’d keep me updated. He really hasn’t.”
“SAC?”
“Special agent in charge. He’s my liaison to the thirteen-member SIRG. That’s ‘shooting incident review group.’”
“Really?” Thirteen seemed like overkill. But this was the FBI. He knew that their investigation would be exhaustive and in-house.
“I haven’t heard anything since Thursday, when he told me the autopsy had been completed and that I should get my personal weapon back next week.”
“Any results from the autopsy?”
“He’s still dead.”
Jack almost laughed, but reined it in. She looked so grim.
“So what’s next?”
“Interviews with the two witnesses. Photographs. Diagrams and the report by the administrative director of the office of inspections.”
“That’s a real thing?”
She cast him a scowl. “Of course. He’s chairman of SIRG.”
“Supervising the cast of thirteen.”
“Twelve, minus himself.”
“I can see why you’re nervous.”
“No. You can’t. Your shooter had fired at you. My shooter was pointing a camera. One of the witnesses also had a phone and may have taken a photograph or video.”
“More evidence.”
“Yes.”
“You feel you made a mistake?”
“No. But what matters is what SIRG thinks. If they rule my actions unjustified, I could lose my job. Everything.”
There was a definite note of panic in her voice.
“All the schooling, training, work...gone.” She snapped her fingers. “Like that. And I’m not going back...” Her words trailed off.
Back where? To her reservation? He cast her a questioning look, but Sophia had clamped her mouth shut and laced her fingers so tightly in her lap her fingernails were going blue.
Jack offered her the only thing he could think of. “You have his name. I can run him through our system.”
Her eyes shifted to him.
“You’d do that?”
Jack didn’t say so aloud, but he’d do a lot more than that for her because despite knowing that she could not wait to put him and his tribe in her rearview mirror, he was desperately attracted to her.
“I would.”
She wrapped her arms around her knees and rocked back and forth. He lay a hand on her shoulder and she stilled and glanced up at him.
“Thank you.” She placed a hand over his. It wasn’t until her hand slid away that he could breathe again.
“Yeah. Don’t mention it. Name?”
“Martin Nequam.”
Jack asked for the spelling and she provided it.
The light had changed again, casting the sky in bright fuchsia and red. He glanced away from her, taking in their surroundings.
“It gets pretty dark up here at night,” he said. “And the road can be tricky. We’d best head down. Get you settled. And I want to introduce you to the others.”
She followed him back to the SUV. “What others?”
“The men of Tribal Thunder, Dylan, Ray and my brother Kurt. Carter, when he gets home. And Ray’s wife, Morgan.”
“You’re not talking about the daughter of the man who murdered the Lilac gunman?”
“The very same. Also Dylan’s fiancé, Meadow Wrangler.”
“The Meadow Wrangler? As in, daughter of the murdered prime suspect and leader of BEAR.”
“It’s her mom. Even Meadow says so.”
“Interesting attack team. You have at least two members who might be working for BEAR.”
“They’re not.”
Sophia got back into his vehicle and clipped her seat belt, saying nothing to that. She would not be offering any more advice and she would sure as heck not be making any more jokes.
“You wanted to be sure we weren’t alone.”
“So instead we have a party.”
“Planning committee.”
“If you really feel threatened, then they should be planning an evacuation.”
They drove along the road that was more switchback than straightway. The angle of descent was jarring and Sophia had to hold on to the handgrip above her passenger window to keep from jostling into Jack Bear Den, whose wide body spilled across the center console and into her personal space.
She was not sure what to make of him. He was a detective, sworn to protect and serve. Did blowing the opposite ridge qualify? Only if he was right and the dam failed. But then there would be no time to set the charges. They would have to be placed early.
Why was he so darn big? She was attracted to big, muscular men. Jack unfortunately ticked all the right boxes except for one—he was trying to get her mixed up in a career-ender. She’d worked too long and hard to get off the Black Mountain rez to jeopardize that. Having a career gave her money, respect and purpose, and it kept her from having to ever rely on the system to protect her.
He held the wheel as he flexed his arm muscles and stretched, showing thick fingers nicked with white scars on the knuckles in the golden light of sundown. He had strong hands to match the rest of him.
Sophia liked men, but she didn’t depend on them. She glanced at Jack, his face now cast in shadows as they crossed below the line of sunlight. Sleeping with him would be dangerous, but perhaps the thrill would be worth the risk. As long as she remembered that after she toured the dam system, she was out of here and he was not coming along for the ride.
Jack angled his head and shoulders, making his joints give a popping sound, without ever releasing the steering wheel.
“We’ll be down soon.”
The road did finally level out to a rolling pasture. He flipped on his headlights. They continued through the town. She glanced at the tribal headquarters, which had lights illuminating the great seal of his people. It featured the river, of course, the cliffs and a single sacred eagle above them both.
They continued downriver as the sun set, and drove past the neat houses and fences that held the cattle. Cattle, ranching and rodeo were all a way of life for her people as well. Signs warned to watch for horses.
“You don’t pen the horses, either?” she asked.
“No. The river and canyon does that,” said Jack. “We’re just up here.” He slowed and turned onto a dirt road, lined with barbed wire on each side. She could see the cattle, dark shapes in the fields. The headlights made their eyes glow green as they passed.
She lifted her phone and called her cousin, checking in as he requested. But she didn’t tell him about the misunderstanding about her flippant suggestion which the detective seemed to be seriously considering.
Jack pulled off the main road and drove toward the river again.
“This is the place where our medicine society gathers. It has a large outdoor meeting space, sweat lodge and fire pit. But most importantly for you, the tribe uses it for ceremonies, so we have several cabins on site. You’ll have a one-bedroom with working bathroom. Hot and cold water, too. I’ll take the one beside yours. Ray Strong has the one on your opposite side and Dylan Tehauno the one after that. Ray’s wife, Morgan, and her girl will be here for dinner, then she’s got to get their daughter back home. Lisa is Ray’s stepdaughter, actually. But Meadow Wrangler will be spending the night. Couldn’t keep her away.”
“I see.”
She was about to say that it wasn’t necessary for the others to chaperone. But the way he looked at her gave her pause. He seemed hungry and that simple glance was all it took for her heart to pound and her stomach to twist. Oh, she wanted Jack Bear Den in all the ways a woman wanted a man. And since she could not leave, having chaperones might be a really wise idea. She needed to either stay away from Jack or get it over with. After all, he was just a man. Getting him out of her system might be the wisest course. There was no regulation against sleeping with him. He was not a colleague or a suspect. He was the friend of her cousin.
Fair game.
Sophia ignored the internal warning alarm sounding in her mind. She’d had short affairs before. They were the best kind, allowing her the excitement and physical contact of a man’s company without the entanglements. Leaving before they did was just self-preservation, because, sooner or later, they all left. But she’d never been this interested before. In fact, she had intentionally picked men she had minimal interest in. Made leaving easier.
“Sophia? Will that arrangement work for you?”
“Seems fine, but not Wrangler. She’s connected to an ongoing investigation. It would be best if I had no contact with her.”
“See, I’d think you’d want contact. Especially if you think she’s involved.”
“Not my investigation,” she said.
“We don’t think she’s involved.”
“Why is she still up here? I’d think a woman like her would be bored to death.”
“Well, if she leaves, the highway patrol or Flagstaff PD will arrest her as a person of interest in the Pine View fire.”
“Ah,” said Sophia.
“She didn’t do it. But you make up your own mind. If you don’t want her to stay, I can speak to Dylan. But it’s an insult and he’s my friend.”
“They’re a couple?”
“Yes, but they don’t live together.”
That surprised Sophia. From all accounts Meadow was a wild woman with numerous short, public affairs.
Sophia took the irresistible bait to meet the infamous heiress, Meadow Wrangler.
“She’s your guest,” said Sophia.
He gave a toot on his horn and hit the lights of the SUV. A moment later the headlights illuminated a large square structure, the lodge she supposed. Onto the porch spilled five men, two women and a child. She recognized only one—Wallace Tinnin.
“That’s our tribal director in red. The rest are all members of Tribal Thunder.”
“The men, you mean.”
“No, all. Our warrior sect includes women. But not children. Lisa, the girl, is not yet a member. But if we are successful, she will live to join someday.”
The gravity of his words struck her. What for Sophia was a hypothetical problem to be considered and quickly set aside was for the Turquoise Canyon Tribe a matter of life and death.
Jack made introductions on the porch. Sophia shook every hand as if she was running for public office. She recognized Meadow Wrangler from her photo, but the blue hair was new. Sophia tried not to stare. When she met the executive council president, she both shook his hand and bowed her head in respect. She did the same when she met Kenshaw Little Falcon, their shaman and leader of their medicine society.
The formalities complete, Morgan Hooke offered to take Sophia to her cabin to freshen up.
“Where’s Agent Forrest?” asked Sophia.
Kenshaw Little Falcon took the question.
“He had to return to Phoenix. I drove him to the airport in Darabee. But he left the car for you.” He motioned toward the dark portion of the field, where she had seen the vehicles parked when they’d arrived.
Luke had abandoned her. Nasty trick, she thought. Sophia tugged at the hem of her blazer and forced a smile. She was now alone among strangers.
“I see.”
Morgan lifted a lantern from a nail and motioned Sophia down the steps.
Sophia knew of Morgan since her cousin had been lead on the FBI investigation into the shooting of the Lilac gunman. Morgan’s father had killed the shooter, a paid assassin, according to Luke. How had that affected this woman and her child?
“Let me show you to your cabin so you can freshen up before supper,” Morgan said again.
Under the bright starlight, they picked their way to the cabin. Morgan preceded her through the door and set her lantern on a small wooden table. Then she fished in her pocket for a book of matches, lifted a second lantern from a nail beside the cabin door and lighted the wick. The smell sent Sophia right back to the home of her childhood, making her stomach roil.
“Everything all right?” asked Morgan. “It’s not much, but Dylan cleaned it up and Meadow changed the bedding. It’s all new.”
Meadow changed the bedding? The woman she believed to be a spoiled little rich girl had made a bed? Sophia couldn’t believe it.
“Meadow?”
“Yeah. She’s not so bad.”
Oh, Sophia had to disagree. If she wasn’t bad, she lived in the same house with bad for most of her life.
“It’s lovely,” said Sophia.
And it was so much nicer than her childhood home on the Black Mountain rez had been.
“Well, you can’t beat the view of the river and the canyons across the way. You can’t see it now, but tomorrow, from the porch, it’s beautiful.”
The river again. It seemed to be taunting her now.
“Plumbing works. Hot water, too. Just no electric. You know how to light a kerosene lamp?”
Sophia was all too familiar with how to do so, but had hoped she would never have to use a lantern again.
She forced a smile. “Absolutely.”
“They brought your bag in. It’s by the bed.”
Sophia followed the direction Morgan indicated and found both her briefcase and the bag Luke suggested she pack “in case things run long.”
“Do you want me to wait for you and bring you back to the lodge?” asked Morgan.
“I can find my way.”
“Well, I’ll leave you to get settled.”
Sophia just wanted to slip into her yoga pants and a loose T-shirt and climb into bed. It had already been a long day.
“I’ll be over in a few minutes.”
“Bring a lamp,” said Morgan as she hesitated at the door. “We are so grateful to you for coming to help us. Luke told us all about you, and we are hopeful you can give us advice so we can protect ourselves. I don’t know if Jack told you but I lost my father to cancer. But before that I lost him to BEAR. It’s a dangerous group and none of us believe they are done. They still have the Lilac explosives. If this is their target, we are in terrible danger.”
Sophia did not have the first idea how to reply. Mostly she felt guilty for wanting nothing more than to get out of here. Being so close to the river now gave her the creeps. And she realized why. Because she believed her cousin and Morgan. BEAR was still out there. How would she feel if she could not pack up and leave in four days?
Had they planned all this, Luke and their shaman, Little Falcon? To show her the pastures that lined the river and the town and this gathering place, the very heart of the reservation, so she could see what would be lost? The problem that had been theoretical was now all too tangible.
Morgan hesitated, lingering. “I have a little girl. We live right in Piñon Forks. Her school is there, too.” Morgan’s hand went to her stomach and Sophia saw the definite bump she had not seen before. Morgan was expecting a child.
The two women stared across the silent cabin.
“I’ll do what I can,” said Sophia.
Morgan cast her a sad smile and left her with her troubled thoughts. For the first time in five days, the investigation was not the most important thing on Sophia’s mind.
Chapter Four (#u6ede9a92-864d-5dec-af38-7ed713e92d4d)
Sophia unpacked, then used the bathroom, checked her hair and reworked her ponytail before heading back across the open ground with the darn kerosene lamp held high to light her way.
She knocked and entered. The smell of fry bread made her mouth water and brought her back to some of her earliest memories. Meadow motioned her to a chair and the group sat to eat baked chicken with a tangy sauce, mashed potatoes, corn, three different types of casseroles, including one of a noodle pudding that was especially good, and the fry bread, golden brown and piping hot. Sophia knew how much trouble it was to turn the simple ingredients for fry bread into dough and appreciated the effort as much as the flavor.
After the meal, several newcomers arrived and both Morgan and Meadow were absent. Their shaman greeted her formally, as if they had not just shared a meal, his smile flanked with vertical lines. Then he motioned her forward to meet an older man, who wore his hair cut blunt at the shoulder. About his neck was a bolo of the tribe’s great shield inlayed with stone. The river, she noted, was a fine blue spiderweb turquoise.
“Sophia, this is our executive director, Zachery Gill.” The older man extended his hand as Kenshaw continued speaking. “Gill is the new leader of our tribal council. Zach, this is field agent and explosives expert Sophia Rivas.”
Gill had a fleshy tanned face and was dressed simply in a cotton shirt and jeans with no indication of his rank outside the ornate bolo.
“Welcome to Turquoise Canyon, Agent Rivas. Thank you for answering our call for help,” said Gill. He motioned a broad hand to the empty chair and she took a seat. Gill sat to her left as everyone took their seats. The circular dining table had transformed into a war room.
Each attendee introduced themselves by clan, family name and first name, and ended with their position. They were tribal law enforcement, tribal council and warriors of Tribal Thunder.
When Jack spoke her stomach fluttered and she mentally scolded herself for her very physical reaction to the man that was seated on the far side of the table, which she now realized resembled a medicine wheel with each section made from a different color of wood. Jack sat at one point and she at another of the four directions. Did he notice that the line bisecting the table seemed to connect them?
Finally the circle came back to their shaman. Kenshaw rose as he addressed the gathering. “Some of our tribe have been elected to protect the language, some care for and teach our young people, and still others guard our heritage. These men and women have one mission, the survival of our people, and each and every one is prepared to defend our tribe with their lives. They are at your service, Agent Rivas.”
“While I appreciate the offer, no one is going to die as a result of my visit. I’m just here to have a look at the reservoir system. I’ll report back to my field office if I see any gaps in their existing protective plan. I can assure you that no one is going to compromise the power grid.”
There was a general shifting of chairs and postures. You didn’t have to be a master at reading a room to know that the tribe members here disagreed.
Director Gill spoke to Sophia. “Jack was just telling us about your plan to create a makeshift dam with a series of controlled blasts at the narrow point of our canyon.”
Her eyes flashed to Jack’s and held. “That was not at all what I advised.”
Gill continued as if she had not made an objection.
“We feel, that should the Skeleton Cliff Dam fail, we would not have time to evacuate our people.”
“I can assure you, it is very safe, protected by our Bureau and the state highway patrol.”
“Yes, we know. We have seen them and our warriors have gotten past them. Back to my point—if the dam was to fail, how long would we have to evacuate?”
Gotten past them? That wasn’t good at all.
“That would depend on the scale of the breach.”
Gill lifted his thin brow at her. “Total breach.”
She drew a breath and released it. There was no way to deliver hard news but directly.
“Minutes,” she said.
* * *
JACK WATCHED SOPHIA’S face as she delivered the news that the two settlements along the river, Piñon Forks and Koun’nde, would not have enough warning to evacuate.
“But they could be moved to higher ground now. You have three towns. Those in the lower two could move to...” She lifted her gaze to the ceiling as she tried to retrieve the name of their third and smallest town.
“Turquoise Ridge,” Jack said.
She smiled at him and his stomach trembled in a way that he hadn’t experienced since middle school, when all his hormones had been popping in different directions. He grimaced. The woman was near desperate to be clear of them all. He knew that, but still he could not deny that, even knowing she couldn’t wait to be rid of him, he was still imagining what she’d look like out of that suit.
“They could relocate there,” said Sophia.
Zachery Gill took that one. “We have only sixteen hundred members. Over nine hundred live on the rez, nearly all of whom live along the river. Turquoise Ridge is for our miners and loggers. There’s nothing up there but rock and ponderosa pine.”
“But it’s high ground,” she said.
“It’s impossible. We even asked FEMA for temporary housing. I’ll bet you can guess the answer.”
Judging from the pressing of her full lips, Jack felt that she did. FEMA would not provide emergency housing before an emergency and the federal and state officials had indicated that all was safe regarding the reservoir system.
“Did you say you got men past the security?” she asked.
“Men and women. The road across the top of the dam is blocked with one concrete barrier on each side and a state police vehicle on the east side. We were allowed on tours with only our tribal identification cards and saw the inner workings of each dam during public tours. We were allowed to walk up to the top of the dam.”
“Single individuals could not carry enough explosives to destroy a dam. At worst they’d damage the power station.”
“We have a twenty-four-foot police boat, which had been seized from the property of a drug dealer convicted on their rez. We use it for water rescues and search-and-rescue.”
He had her attention.
“We were able to bring it and a flat fifteen-foot Zodiac with a load capacity of 250 pounds simultaneously within ten feet of the base of the dam. We were there nearly forty-five minutes before there was a response.”
Sophia was no longer meeting the director’s gaze. Instead she was staring into space. A moment later she reached for her phone.
“I need to check in.”
“You’re on leave,” reminded the shaman.
“But if what you say is true then I need to report this.”
Zach smiled. “We tell you this for two reasons. One, because we wish you to see that we are vulnerable.”
They waited but Zach said no more. Sophia glanced at Jack, the look of confusion evident. He did nothing but glance back to the executive director. But now there seemed to be a steel band around his ribs squeezing away the air from his lungs and making it hard to draw a full breath. If just looking at her did this to him, he really, really needed to avoid touching her. Yet he could think of nothing else.
Sophia inadvertently rescued him by directing her expressive dark eyes at Gill.
“What is the other reason?”
“You are here and you are listening.”
“Yes, but I can’t help you blow up the canyon. It would be an ecological disaster for the river, not to mention destroying the water supply to both Red Rock and Mesa Salado Dams below this position.”
“We disagree,” said Kenshaw. “Creating a temporary dam of rock and debris would actually save both dams from the flood and debris that would at best test the limits of their infrastructure. All reservoirs are at their limits now after a record rain. We believe this is what BEAR has been waiting for. The rains have come and gone and the water is high.”
“I can’t help you do this.” She folded her arms. The action lifted her breasts.
Jack stared and when he finally tore his gaze away, it was to meet Ray’s knowing glance. Jack wanted to knock the smirk off his face. Ray had settled down since marrying Morgan and taking on the role as father to Lisa. They were now expecting their first child, but there was still devilment in him. Ray leaned toward Dylan Tehauno and whispered something. Dylan’s gaze snapped to Jack, and he stared with wide eyes full of surprise. Jack had a reputation for being very selective when it came to women. Jack shook the thoughts from his head and realized Kenshaw was speaking, his voice as hypnotic as the wavering notes of a flute.
“No need to decide and no action to take. Tonight we will pray and dance and perhaps then know better what direction to go.”
“Folks will be arriving soon,” said Gill to Sophia. “You are welcome to join us. Tomorrow Jack will take you to the reservoir system. You can see if you think the protection is adequate. After that we will talk again.”
Sophia stood. “Then if you’ll excuse me, I think I will turn in. Early start tomorrow.”
Actually they would start late. Jack wanted her to see the day tours, but also night surveillance because Kenshaw was right. It was not that hard to get past one state police car parked at one end of each dam. Closing the bridge spanning the dam was a predictable security measure. But one Humvee followed by a tractor trailer could knock the concrete barrier aside without even slowing down.
There were many things Jack wanted to show Sophia Rivas. But he would stick to the ones relating to the reservoir system. For now.
Jack followed Sophia out of the council lodge. He paused to grab her kerosene lantern. The lantern was unnecessary really, because of the waning moon, now in its quarter. The silvery light reflected back on the placid surface of the Hakathi River.
“You forgot your lantern,” he said and offered her the handle.
She made a sniffing sound. “I don’t like them.”
“Lanterns?”
“Yes, lanterns—they smell,” she said.
“I like it—it smells like—”
“Poverty,” she said, finishing his sentence.
He cocked his head at the odd association. Did she mean that people used kerosene when they had no electricity? For him the association of the lantern brought back memories of camping along the river as a boy, but perhaps she did not have electricity in her home on Black Mountain. His tribe had some homes on propane up in Turquoise Ridge, but most everyone had electricity and septic tanks. Hadn’t she?
“Well, we don’t need it. It’s bright enough.”
She just kept walking until she reached the front porch facing the river. All the cabins faced the river so he understood why she had picked the wrong one. Close, just one off, but this was his cabin for as long as she stayed with them.
“Um,” he said. Should he tell her or let her figure it out on her own?
She rounded on him. “You had no right to take an offhanded comment and present it to everyone as if I had suggested blowing up your reservation as a viable option.”
“Seemed like a plan.”
“It’s a disaster. It will ruin the canyon and it will boomerang back to me. Your little stunt in there could cost me my job.”
She worried about protecting her career while he worried about safeguarding the lives of everyone here.
“It wasn’t a stunt, Sophia. I’m trying to save my people.”
“That’s our job—the FBI’s. And we can do our work more efficiently without a bunch of lunatics performing a ghost dance and then blowing themselves to smithereens.”
The ghost dances had been used in a vain attempt to remove the scourge of white men from the west by the Sioux people, who followed the great spiritual leader the Anglos called Crazy Horse. His real name was
which literally meant “His Horse is Crazy.” But Jack understood the reference. Their shaman called for all the people to come and pray and dance tonight. Like Crazy Horse, Kenshaw Little Falcon believed in the old ways. But he also honored the new. In other words, pray but also act. Her comparing his tribe’s gathering to the ghost dance was both insult and honor.
“How about you wait until tomorrow to see what you think of the job the authorities are doing?”
She stiffened and placed a hand on the latch.
Behind them the string of headlights marked the arrival of the tribe, as they wound along the river road like a great, brilliant snake.
On the great open area between the main lodge and the cabins, the central fire was being lit.
“Are you sure you won’t come?” Jack motioned to the gathering place. “I’d love to watch you dance.”
“I haven’t danced for a long time.” She sounded wistful.
Dancing was a form of prayer for their people, a way to communicate to the great divine while still connecting to the earth.
“You could just sit on your porch and watch. Then come join us if you like,” he said.
“Maybe.” She pulled the latch and the door cracked open. She regarded him now, really looking up at him.
He went still under her inspection, hoping that she liked what she saw. His nostrils flared as he tried to bring enough air to sustain him, but each breath brought her delicate floral scent to him. He breathed it in, making it a part of him. He swallowed but his throat was still dry. He was looking at her mouth now, thinking what it might be like to kiss her slowly at first and then...
“I’d better go,” she said.
“Sophia?”
She stepped closer. Oh, boy. He was about to tell her that she was at the wrong door, but maybe it was no mistake. Maybe she knew exactly which cabin this was. That thought made his wiring short-circuit. His blood rushed and his breathing quickened as the desire drowned the rational part of his mind.
“Yes?” She brushed the tips of her fingers down the center of his chest.
“This isn’t your cabin.”
She stepped back. Damn, he should have kissed her first and then told her. But then he might not have wanted to tell her. Not when his bed was only a few short steps away.
He wanted her in that bed more than he had wanted anything in a long time.
Car doors slammed and headlights swung into the field they used for parking. Voices reached them as the people began to gather.
Sophia looked around her. “Which one is mine?”
Jack pointed and watched her go. He didn’t follow. Not just because he was needed in the drum circle, but because they needed Sophia’s help. Kissing her, sleeping with her, might make it easier to convince her. But it also would lead to the bloody same questions women always asked.
Why don’t you look like your brothers? Why are you so big? Have you ever thought about speaking to your parents?
Jack let his hand trail over his wallet. Inside were the answers. But he just couldn’t bear confirmation that his mother had deceived his father and he was the visible sign of that infidelity. Everyone suspected. No one spoke about it. Except the women he dated. That seemed to make them feel they had some right to turn him inside out. It didn’t. Never had. Never would.
Chapter Five (#u6ede9a92-864d-5dec-af38-7ed713e92d4d)
Sophia stood on the porch of the little cabin and listened. The men sat in a circle around a huge drum, each with a leather-tipped drumstick, collectively beating the rhythm for the dance. She could see them all by firelight and recognized many; Ray sat next to Dylan, who was beside Kurt Bear Den. Then came three men she could not see because their backs were toward her. Adjacent to them, Jack Bear Den sat in profile. He was a full head taller than any of the others and that was while he was sitting down. His appearance raised all sorts of obvious questions. The investigator in her wanted answers. But the part of her that kept her own secrets did not.
Much of her childhood had been horrific and blocking it out just made sense. No different than blocking someone on social media. Except those drums. They brought back something she hadn’t remembered, the good part. Belonging to something bigger than herself. Walling herself off, avoiding going home, it was logical but now she felt a longing that made her weep.
So here she stood, leaning against the porch rail and watching the Turquoise Canyon tribe dance in unison around the central fire. Her head bobbed in time and her feet shuffled from side to side. She knew this dance, knew the meaning and the purpose.
There in the light of the fire went Morgan Hooke and beside her was the Anglo Meadow Wrangler. She did not seem to care that she was an outsider, as she matched her steps perfectly to the others. Sophia studied Meadow and how the other women reacted to her. From Sophia’s perspective, it seemed that this tribe accepted the heiress despite her outlandish ocean-blue hair and relations with the known head of BEAR. Sophia longed to join them but something kept her rooted to the porch. If she were similarly welcomed, it would be harder to leave.
She wiped away the dampness on her cheeks and straightened. It didn’t matter. She didn’t need to move in slow harmony around the fire or sing the songs to earth and sky. But a prayer might help the outcome of the internal investigation. A song sung with so many voices was a powerful thing. Was it strong enough to give her back what was taken...her badge, her gun, her position?
She needed them. Needed to be away from here and back where she belonged. On the job.
Sophia sang softly to herself. The song was a prayer, her tiny voice mingling with the people. Their languages were different. She hoped it wouldn’t matter as she returned to the language of her youth, her terrible wonderful youth beside the high black-capped mountain. She sang the next song as well and was still there when the logs fell inward and the drums went silent. Still there clinging to the porch rail when the gathering broke and the engines of the cars and trucks started. She watched the vehicles cruise away. Saw Jack Bear Den lift the drum as big as a truck tire and carry it single-handed into the lodge.
She retreated to the shadows as his friends made their way to their cabins. Ray chased his new wife past her door as Morgan giggled like a girl.
Next came Dylan and Meadow, strolling arm in arm, their heads inclined so they touched. They paused at the river and shared a long kiss that was so full of love and desire that Sophia had to look away. She turned toward the lodge and saw Jack Bear Den standing before the steps leading to the cabin beside hers. His eyes were pinned on her. The shroud of darkness wasn’t cover enough to keep him from locating her.
“You didn’t come,” Jack said. His voice was low and only for her. Had he been watching for her? That thought made her tingle all over.
She glanced over at Dylan and Meadow and was surprised when Meadow kissed Dylan good-night and then retreated alone through the doorway. Sophia blinked in confusion as what she knew of Meadow’s wild reputation for men and parties clashed with the chaste kiss. Dylan walked alone to the next lodge and vanished inside.
“They don’t?” Sophia asked.
Jack shook his head. “Nope.”
“But why? They are clearly in love.”
“Because to marry her is to give Meadow federal protection from the local wants and warrants regarding the wildfire. Meadow won’t have the people thinking she married Dylan for that reason. Someday, she will marry him. When the matter is settled.”
“That could be years.” Sophia looked at the dark lodge. Beyond the window Sophia thought that Meadow must be preparing to sleep in her empty bed. “It could be never.”
“Her choice,” said Jack. “And a difficult one. But one that has earned her much respect here.”
Sophia returned her gaze to Jack, taking in the readiness of his stance and the way he was now angled away from his cabin and toward hers.
“I was hoping you would join us,” he said.
“I did not want to intrude.”
“We want you here, Sophia. Everyone. And they want to meet you.”
“I won’t be here that long.”
He nodded. “More reason.”
“You want to sit awhile?” He motioned to the bench beneath the single window on his porch.
Sophia knew with certainty what would happen if she crossed the distance between them. It wouldn’t be sitting.
“Detective Bear Den, I want you to know that I’m not in a relationship at present.”
His brows lifted at this change of direction.
“By choice. I like men, I just don’t like them encroaching, you know, on my space. I need privacy.”
“I wouldn’t think I’d be encroaching for long. Like you said, you’re leaving.”
“Yes.”
“Just as well. I need my space, too.”
She was so tempted to walk right over to him and lace her hands behind his neck and kiss him with everything she had. That’s what she wanted. But it wasn’t wise.
“I’m not getting mixed up with you,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him.
He walked to her porch, placing one large foot on the bottom step as he gripped the rail and broke into her personal space.
“If you say so.”
She backed toward her door.
“If you change your mind on the encroachment thing, you know where to find me.”
Men were like that, just like stray cats. But they didn’t stay. Not for long, and a woman who was wise knew to take care of herself. Relying on a man was a lot like working with explosives. You kept clear if you could and if you couldn’t you wore protective gear.
“Good night, Detective.”
“Good night, Agent Rivas.” He followed her with his eyes. “Did you hear me singing to you?”
She had—his voice was low and deep and distinctive. He’d sung one full song alone. It had made her insides ache.
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