Native Born
Jenna Kernan
HERITAGE OR HEARTBREAK?Apache tribal counsel member Clyne Cosen needs the FBI’s protection. But having Agent Cassidy Walker as his personal bodyguard presents its own dangers. His involvement in the custody battle for Cassidy’s adopted Apache daughter muddled the lines between personal and professional. Now he has feelings for a woman who was not native born.Cassidy will do her job at any cost. But being so close to Clyne means the FBI agent sees him as more than just the man who could take her daughter—he might also steal her heart. Duty. Desire. Which path will Cassidy take…or will a bullet make that decision for her?
“My daughter is on her way to you now. I need you to promise to keep her safe. Don’t forget she’s just a child.” Cassidy turned toward the windows. “A child who should not have to make this choice.”
“She will be with us for her Sunrise Ceremony.”
“Are there drugs involved? Peyote or some such? Because I will bust you, all of you, so fast.”
Clyne rolled his eyes. “You see. This is the trouble. You don’t know anything about us.”
“I know it’s illegal to give drugs to a minor.”
“We won’t.”
“Fine. Dress her up in feathers and beads. It won’t change her.” She stomped across the room and then back, her arms flapping occasionally. Finally she stopped before him. “I can’t believe I kissed you.”
He gave her a satisfied smile. “Well, you did.”
Native Born
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 (http://www.twitter.com/jennakernan), on Facebook or at www.jennakernan.com (http://www.jennakernan.com).
For Jim, always.
Contents
Cover (#u1548c13e-afac-54c8-b2e2-778e64f71973)
Introduction (#u55fd4acd-8593-5968-b84c-8e7d248f6b55)
Title Page (#u9d5348d2-f29b-5bb6-b884-044ac3a80097)
About the Author (#ubbea216c-c46b-52ac-b1af-0416d5c9c464)
Dedication (#u29959d7f-99b3-5383-92f8-222428405f43)
Chapter One (#u542ccd2f-0efc-539d-b633-a72ec21df39f)
Chapter Two (#u5bc6daec-d9ff-51f9-87b7-8c8d1e2cf81b)
Chapter Three (#u43f1f39a-f131-552a-8785-bf6b4b3d63b3)
Chapter Four (#ud9be5926-5e03-58bd-b354-2504b6a9b0b5)
Chapter Five (#u54aace39-e081-5592-9b60-a5e47115badd)
Chapter Six (#uff4e4cec-1144-5181-9d12-78e748d25735)
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)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ulink_4eb0160f-226e-5a73-91e4-2ed4dba3f823)
If Cassidy Walker had known what would happen that Monday morning, she most certainly would not have worn her new suit. As an FBI field agent, Cassidy had drawn the short stick on assignments today or perhaps this was her boss’s idea of humor. He knew there was no love lost between her and Tribal Councillor Clyne Cosen. Yet here she was watching his back.
Did her boss think it was funny assigning her to Cosen’s protection or was this still payback for her bust in January? Was it her fault he was skiing in Vail when she and Luke had found both the precursor and the second meth lab? He’d gone back to the Organized Crime Drug Enforcement Task Force to report his agents had made the bust, but he hadn’t been there.
Another feather in Cassidy’s cap.
She glanced over at her supervisor, Donald Tully. Because of his dark glasses, she could not see his eyes. But his smirk was clear enough. The man could hold a grudge.
Cassidy adjusted her polarized lenses against the Arizona sun. From her place behind the speaker, she scanned her sector for any sign of threat. Her assignment was to protect the speaker from harm. This was not her usual duty, but today the stage was filled with a mix of state and national officials and that meant all hands on deck.
Outdoor venues were the most dangerous, but the Apache tribal leaders had insisted on staging the rally here in Tucson’s downtown river park.
As the next speaker took the podium she tried hard to ignore his rich melodious voice and the fine figure he cut in that suit jacket. The long braid down his back had been dressed with leather cords and silver beads. His elegant brown hands rested casually on either side of the podium. He had no speech. Clyne Cosen, tribal councilman for the Black Mountain Apache, didn’t need one.
She gritted her teeth as she forced her gaze to shift restlessly from one person to the next, looking for anyone lifting something other than a cell phone. Judging from the wide-eyed stares from most of the women in the crowd and the way they were using up their digital storage snapping photos of the handsome tribal leader, it seemed she was not the only one who admired the physical presence of this particular speaker.
Cassidy glanced at the cheery arrangement of sunflowers just before her feet and resisted the urge to kick them off the stage. She had a personal grudge with this speaker and was struggling to maintain her focus.
The next up would be Griffin Lipmann, the president of Obella Chemicals. The Bureau had already suited Lipmann in body armor as this latest spill had made him public enemy number one in the minds of many. He was the main reason the Bureau had lobbied to hold this rally indoors. Of course Clyne Cosen and his band of Apache activists wanted to be right beside the river that was now an unnatural shade of yellow.
Cosen knew the power of the television cameras and social media. Until he finished speaking, he was her damned assignment and the way he was going on and on, it didn’t look like he’d be stopping anytime soon.
She tried to set aside her personal issues with him and do her job. But her teeth kept gnashing and her hands kept balling into fists. Soon she’d be meeting Clyne in a personal capacity, him and all his brothers. Damn that Indian Child Welfare Act. It had left her with no options, no more appeals. Nothing but the judge’s final ruling. For the first time in her life she considered breaking the law and running for Mexico.
She glanced back to Clyne Cosen, who now motioned toward the ruined water. She knew he had spotted her before he took his place because his usually sure step had faltered and his generous smile had slipped. Did it make him nervous to have her behind him, watching his back? She hoped so.
Her gaze shifted again, from one face to the next. Watching the expressions, keeping track of their hands. The sunlight poured down on them. It was only a little past ten in the morning but the temperature was already climbing toward eighty. March in Arizona, her first one and hopefully her last. She’d planned to take the first assignment out of here, Washington hopefully or New York. She’d certainly earned a promotion after her last case. But now, if her daughter would be here she might... If they won, would she even be allowed to see her?
Cassidy jerked her attention back to her assignment. How she hated the outdoor venues. There were just an endless number of places to secure.
A woman wearing a cropped T-shirt reached into her purse. Cassidy leaned forward for a better look as Clyne lifted his voice, decrying the carelessness with which Obella Chemicals had released the toxic mix into their water. The woman lifted a silver cylinder from her bag and for one heart-stopping moment Cassidy thought it was the barrel of a gun. She reached under her blazer, gripping her pistol as the woman fumbled with a white cord. She plugged the cord into her cell phone and the other end into the cylinder. A charger, Cassidy realized and relaxed.
That was when the three-foot-tall vase of sunflowers beside the podium exploded.
“Shots!” she shouted, and took down her assignment, diving on Clyne’s back as other agents moved before the line of dignitaries on the stage, making a human shield.
Griffin Lipmann, the representative from Obella Chemicals, hit the stage unassisted. His personal security force sprang before him an instant later, hustling him off the stage.
Her weight pitched Clyne forward, but he kept his balance, spinning toward her and then hitting the second flower arrangement before toppling backward onto the stage with her sprawled on top of him. She pushed off his torso and drew her weapon.
He tried to sit up.
She pressed a hand into his chest.
“Down!” she ordered, ignoring the firm body beneath her as she lifted her weapon and rolled to a kneeling position.
Two more agents stepped before them. Below the stage the audience members screamed and many turned to run.
“What’s happening?” Clyne asked.
She didn’t know. It could have been a shooter or some kid with a slingshot.
“Up,” she snapped. “That way.”
Cassidy followed the plan, tugging Clyne up and guiding him off the back of the stage, pushing him before her. He was two steps down the staircase and she had reached the top step when something struck her in the back. It felt like someone hit her with a Louisville Slugger right below her left shoulder blade. The impact was so strong that it pitched her forward onto Clyne Cosen’s back. He staggered. Then he grabbed both her forearms and kept running, making for the cover of the side entrance of the waterfront hotel. Cassidy tried and failed to draw a breath. The blow had knocked the wind right out of her and all she could manage was a wheezing sound.
He carried her along like a monkey on his back, never slowing as he stretched his long legs into a full-out run that made the wind whistle in her ears. Those Apache moccasins he wore were tearing up the ground faster than any cross trainers she’d ever owned. Local law enforcement held open the door. Cassidy glanced backward as they charged into the corridor.
The crowd erupted into chaos as men and women scrambled to clear the riverfront park that had turned into a shooting gallery. A bullet struck the building beside the exit and a chunk of concrete flew into the air. The officer holding the door moved to cover as Clyne grasped the closing door and hurtled inside.
Cassidy peered over his shoulder as the striped wallpaper and heavily painted desert scenes flashed past. She wanted to tell him to put her down or to make for the safe room. But she still hadn’t succeeded in drawing a breath and now feared she was going to faint.
Finally he slowed, moving to the wall and swinging her around as if she were a dance partner instead of a rag doll. He made her feel small by comparison. Clyne Cosen had to be six-four in his flat footwear.
He lowered her to the ground in an alcove beside one of the restrooms. She slumped against the wall. Only then did she regain her breath. It came in a tortured gasp. Her eyes watered but she could see he’d gone pale.
Dignitaries and FBI agents rushed past them toward the rendezvous point. Cassidy still gripped her pistol.
“I think I’m hit,” she said.
Clyne pulled off her blazer, sticking his finger through a hole in the back as he did so.
“Damn, that was Armani,” she said.
“The shooter?” he asked.
She shook her head. Clearly Councillor Cosen did not know fashion. He dropped the blazer in her lap and she stroked the gray pinstripe like a sick cat. Then she holstered her weapon.
He expertly unclipped her shoulder holster and she grasped his wrist.
“Don’t touch the gun,” she said.
He met her scowl for scowl.
“Fine. You do it.” He lifted his hands as if he was surrendering to her custody.
She did and the motion made her wince, but she managed to slip out of her holster and draw it down into her lap. When she finished she was trembling and sweat glistened on her skin.
Cosen tugged her blouse from the waistband of her slacks. A moment later she heard a rending sound as he tore her pristine white blouse straight down the center of her back. Then he leaned her forward to drag her blouse down off both shoulders so they puddled at her wrists. She now sat in only her slacks, practical shoes, body armor and her turquoise lace bra.
She flushed the color of ripe strawberries, a hazard of those with fair skin and felt her face heat as his eyebrows lifted. He hesitated only a moment and muttered something that sounded like “none of the guys in my unit wore lace.”
She felt the pressure of his hand on her back.
“Perforation,” he said, pressing on the sore place on her back. “Got you here.”
She bit her lip to keep from whimpering. More people ran past in the corridor but she could see only trousers and dark shoes.
“Get me up,” she said.
He ignored her, splaying a hand over her chest and pitching her forward like a ventriloquist’s dummy. A moment later his other hand slipped under her vest at the back, rooting around.
“Vest is distorted right over your heart,” he said. He released a long breath. “Didn’t penetrate,” he said. His hand stroked her back, skimming over her bra and out from beneath her vest. “No blood. Your vest caught it.”
He eased her back until she leaned against the wall. He was propped on one knee as he looked down at her, his eyes were the color of polished mahogany.
“Still need a hospital,” he said.
She flapped her arms, now decorated with what was left of her Ann Taylor white blouse. He’d torn the collar right off the back as if he were tearing tissue paper.
She tried for a full breath and didn’t make it.
“Hurts like hell, doesn’t it?” he asked.
It did.
How did he know that?
But then she remembered. Clyne Cosen was a former US marine. His jacket didn’t mention that he had taken lead.
His smile held and she felt herself drawn in. Three words from his character profile bounced around in her head like a Ping-Pong ball dropped on concrete.
Charismatic.
Charming.
Persuasive.
“Took one here and here.” He pointed to his stomach and ribs. Making them part of an elite club, she supposed. The two of them. Only she was the one struggling with her breathing.
“A vest saved my life once before.”
She didn’t understand. He hadn’t been hit. She’d kept him from that, protecting him like she was in the secret service and he was the president.
“Before?” she asked.
He pressed his open palm over her middle, his fingers splayed over her abdomen and she swore she could feel his touch even through the body armor. He met her stare.
“Agent Walker, you just saved my life.”
Chapter Two (#ulink_f139c7b6-a8c6-5139-912d-6ce87405d92d)
“You can thank me later,” Cassidy said. The bullet meant for Cosen had struck her in the back. She’d done her job, acted like a human shield and was trying very hard not to feel pissed about it.
Who wanted him dead? she wondered.
Cassidy slipped the shoulder harness over her right side and winced as she reached to get that left arm through. She managed it.
“Let me help,” he said, reaching for the buckle.
“Did I warn you about the gun?”
He drew back. Once she had it clipped she was sweating like a marathon runner. But she still managed to drag her gray pinstripe blazer over her body armor, removing the view of turquoise lace from Clyne and any of the persons in the hallway. The tattered remains of her sleeves peeked out from the cuff of her ruined jacket.
She pushed off and he helped her up. Cassidy resisted the urge to bat his hand away.
“You’re uninjured?” she asked.
“Yes. But you need to see a doctor.”
“You carrying?” she asked, trying to surmise if he wore a holster under his blazer or clipped to the belt that sported an elaborate turquoise and red coral buckle. Her gaze dipped south of his buckle and she flushed. And wouldn’t you know it, when she lifted her gaze it was to find Cosen’s gaze intent and his body perfectly still. Only now the tension in his tightly coiled muscles seemed sexual and arousing as all get-out.
“Sorry,” she said.
He made a sound in his throat that fell somewhere between a growl and an acknowledgment.
She shook her head to clear the unwelcome arousal that stole through her. “Rendezvous point. Come on. Not safe here.” Man, it hurt to talk.
Cassidy motioned for him to proceed down the hall. They’d made it about halfway when two of the field agents from her unit, Pauling and Harvey, appeared in the hall. Pauling came first, jogging so the sides of his suit coat flapped open to reveal both the shield on his belt and the butt of his pistol under his left arm. Keith Pauling was young, hungry and a former army ranger, with neatly trimmed hair and a hard angular face that screamed Fed from a hundred yards. Behind him came Louis Harvey, more experienced, heavier set but the haircut was a dead ringer.
“She’s been shot,” said Clyne.
Harvey took charge of Clyne and Pauling flanked Cassidy as they ushered them to the rendezvous room and her supervisor, who no longer looked smug.
“Walker. What took you so long?” he asked.
“She’s been shot,” Clyne said again.
Cassidy cast him a look. She didn’t need him as her mouthpiece. Her ribs were feeling better and she’d be damned if she was going to spend the afternoon in the hospital when they had a shooter out there.
Clyne was herded away. He gave her one last long look over his shoulder, his braid swinging as he went. He was one of the most handsome men she had ever met and for just a moment, the confident mask slipped and she saw her daughter’s face. The resemblance took her breath away.
Amanda. The arch of the brow, the worry in those big brown eyes. And then he was gone.
She scowled after him. If she had saved his life, then he had also protected hers. When other speakers on stage had run or fallen or flattened to the platform, Clyne had acted like a soldier, recognized that she was injured and carried her to safety.
She hated to owe him anything and wondered if he felt the same. She had met him before this. On a snowy evening on the Black Mountain reservation while investigating a meth ring. And again in court when her attorneys succeeded in delaying the process for challenging her daughter’s adoption.
Cassidy saw a medic first, who decided that her ribs were bruised. The slug that they dug from her vest appeared to be a thirty caliber. She declined transport and borrowed an FBI T-shirt from Pauling that was still miles too big for her. The navy blue T said FBI in bold yellow lettering across the front and back. She covered what she could with the blazer.
Her people had already found the location of the shooter, now long gone. He’d left at least one rifle cartridge behind, despite taking two shots.
“He was on the roof of the adjacent hotel,” said Tully. Her new boss peered at her with striking blue eyes. His hairline had receded to the point that it was now only a pale fringe clipped short at the sides of his head, but his face was thin and angular with a strong jaw and eyes that reminded her of a bird of prey.
She knew from his previous comments that he liked running their unit and didn’t like that she wanted out. He took it as some kind of black mark that she was not satisfied to bake out in this godforsaken pile of sand called Arizona. But Cassidy wanted to join a team that chased the big fish, not the endless flow of traffickers and illegals that ebbed and flowed over the boarder like a tide.
Tully plopped her down before a computer and made her write her report. While the others moved out to investigate; she sat in the control room. The reporting didn’t take long. After she finished, she went over the footage of the event with one of the techs, watching her movements when the vase exploded from the first blast and then the proceeding mayhem. They had not stationed on the roofs because the threat was not deemed great enough to warrant the added security. If they had, her people might have been in place when the shooter arrived.
Her partner returned. Luke Forrest was Black Mountain Apache and Clyne’s uncle, though as she understood it, he was Clyne’s father’s half brother and born of a different father and clan, though she didn’t understand the clan system very well. Luke had not applied to the Bureau, but had been recruited right out of the US marines.
“How you feeling?” he asked.
“Bored,” she said.
He laughed, his generous smile coming easily on his broad mouth.
“Well, there’s worse things,” said Luke.
His hair was short, his frame was athletic and slim and he only vaguely resembled Clyne around the eyes and brows.
Cassidy stared at Luke and wondered what Clyne’s mother had looked like because she was Amanda’s biological mother, too.
“What?” said Luke.
“Did you know Clyne’s mother?”
“Of course.”
“What was she like?”
He gave her an odd look, but answered. “Beautiful. Strong. Protective of her kids.”
Cassidy nodded. Strong and beautiful, just like Clyne, she realized.
Why was she comparing everyone to Clyne Cosen? With any luck she wouldn’t have to see him again. Her stomach twisted, knowing from her attorney that she would lose. Clinging to the only loophole allowed in the Indian Child Welfare Act. Thank God her daughter had turned twelve last June. Of course neither had known her real birthday until recently and had always celebrated on her adoption day on February 19.
“Where’ve you been?” she asked.
His eyes did that thing, the quick narrowing before his face returned to a congenial expression.
“Luke?”
He chuckled. “I must be losing my edge. I was with Tully and with Gabe Cosen. They’re both on the joint task force.”
She knew that Gabe had been invited belatedly to the joint drug enforcement task force that had been behind the operation to find the mobile meth lab and precursor needed to make the drugs. They had done an end run around Gabe, the chief of the tribal police force, and her partner because they were both Black Mountain Apache and therefore also suspects. Reasonable precaution, she had thought at the time. Now she felt differently.
“Listen, I’m sorry they left you out of the loop,” she said.
“Yeah. Me, too.” He gave her a long look. “You sure you’re okay? You had a close call today.”
“Yeah.” Cassidy waved away his concerns as if they were smoke.
She refused to think about it, refused to consider that her daughter might have been left without a mother, again. Would Amanda then be turned over to her birth family?
She focused on what Luke had said. “So does Tully think this has to do with the bust on Black Mountain?”
“It might. Might be someone after Obella Chemicals. Hell, it might be someone from Obella Chemicals.”
“In other words, they have no leads.”
Forrest shook his head.
“Tully said that he thinks Clyne Cosen was the target. Gabe Cosen agrees and wants his brother to have added security detail when off the rez.”
“Reasonable,” said Cassidy.
Forrest rubbed his chin and Cassidy knew he was holding back.
“Spill it.”
“Your name came up as a possibility, too.” He gave an apologetic shrug.
Her first reaction was indignation but she reined that in. “They figure how I shot myself in the back?”
Forrest chuckled. “Yeah, that did put a chink in their theory.”
“Anyway, we’re trying to get Clyne to accept protection. He’s resisting,” said Forrest.
“You think Tully will pick you?” Luke Forrest would make sense. He spoke Apache, knew the culture and the tribe. He’d blend in while the other agents would stick out like flies on rice.
“Don’t know. Doesn’t matter if Clyne won’t take us up on the offer. Plus we’re still on cleanup with the Raggar case.”
Which was proving much easier now that Gabe Cosen was on board. They had the meth lab and the precursor and were working on shutting down the distribution ring, run by mob boss Cesaro Raggar, currently in federal prison. She knew this because she’d been pissed not to get that assignment herself, when she was the one who’d responded to Gabe Cosen’s call for backup once the precursor had been located. “How’s the youngest brother doing?”
“Kino?” Luke rubbed his neck reflexively in the place his youngest nephew had taken a bullet. “Healing. And back to work on the tribal force.”
As a tribal police officer, she knew. He’d also been a Shadow Wolf working on the border, tracking smugglers with his brother Clay. The Shadow Wolves were an elite team of Native American trackers working under Immigration and Customs Enforcement to hunt and apprehend drug traffickers on the Arizona border.
“Anyway, Gabe mentioned to Tully about the petition to overturn.”
Cassidy’s gaze flashed to Forrest and held.
“You should have told him, Cassidy. He’s talking about pulling you off the Raggar case.”
Which was exactly why she had not told Tully about the custody battle.
“That has nothing to do with me doing my job. Damn it, Luke. I’ve been on this since the beginning. I’ve put in the time and I deserve to see it through.” Plus she knew bringing down Raggar and Manny Escalanti would give her the commendation she needed to earn a promotion to a major field office. Escalanti was the leader of the Black Mountain’s only gang, the Wolf Posse. He’d managed to insulate himself on the reservation and by using others to run his errands. Cassidy wanted him bad.
Forrest shrugged. “It’s a problem.”
Clyne burst back into the room with her boss and his brother Gabe Cosen on his heels. Gabe scanned the room, met her gaze and did a quick clinical sweep before moving on. He kept his gun hand clear and immediately stepped out of the doorway to a position where he could see anyone approach the entrance. She smiled in admiration. The man would make a good agent, she decided, thinking that being the chief of police on the rez seemed a waste of his talents.
“Councilman Cosen, please,” said Tully. “We can’t guarantee your safety.”
“Your guarantee. We all know what a guarantee from the federal government is worth.”
Man, she could see the chip on his shoulder from clear across the room. If she had it right, his tribe was one of the few that had remained on their land because they had succeeded in making a deal with the federal government that had been kept.
“It would be easier with your consent,” said Gabe. “We are only talking about the times when you come down off Black Mountain.”
“I’d rather have you,” said Clyne, his dark eyes flicking to his younger brother.
“Well, I already have a job on the rez. These folks are much better prepared to watch your back, as evidenced by Agent Walker here.”
Clyne came up short when he spotted her.
Gabe’s comment forced Clyne to look at her. Cassidy sucked in a breath and felt the twinge at her ribs. Why did the simple connection of his gaze and hers make her skin buzz with an electricity? Oh, this was really bad.
He looked away and Cassidy exhaled. Unfortunately her skin still tingled. It was his charisma. Had to be. Because she refused to consider that she was attracted to Clyne Cosen.
“It’s bad enough that you’ve got DOJ and these agents swarming all over Black Mountain,” said Clyne. She knew that he didn’t like Department of Justice or FBI, really any federal agency, on Indian land. But his words lacked the authority of a moment before and his gaze slipped to meet hers again before bouncing away. He wiped his mouth. If she didn’t know better she would say he was rattled.
“Yes, and one of them died taking that load of chemicals. And you didn’t mind them using their helicopter to transport Kino to the hospital down here.”
Cassidy had arrived on scene just after the shooting Gabe mentioned. Kino had been hit in the neck. He would have bled to death if not for the transport.
Clyne scowled and damn if she didn’t find him even more appealing. Now Cassidy was scowling, too.
“I won’t object to protection for gatherings off the rez,” he said at last. “Are we done?”
It seemed Clyne was as anxious to be away from them as she was to see his back.
“Almost,” said Gabe. “I want to request a new DOJ agent be appointed to the joint task force to replace the fallen agent, Matt Dryer.”
“Easily done,” said Tully.
“And,” said Gabe glancing first to his brother and then to Cassidy. He held her gaze as he spoke. “I request that Luke Forrest and Cassidy Walker be assigned to Black Mountain to assist in our investigation and report back to the joint task force.”
“No,” said Clyne.
Gabe turned to his elder brother as the two faced off. Clyne was slightly taller. Gabe slightly broader.
“I am required to notify tribal council of the presence of federal authorities on the reservation. I am not required to obtain their permission. This is your notice.”
Clyne’s teeth locked and his jaw bulged. Cassidy had to force herself not to step back. If the man could summon thunder it would surely have been rumbling over his head.
“Perhaps an agent other than Walker?” suggested Tully.
Gabe shook his head, his gaze still locked on Clyne. “Her.”
Cassidy swallowed. She didn’t understand why Police Chief Cosen would make such a play when his brother was against it. Her boss looked leery as well, likely because he now knew of the custody battle boiling between them. But she wanted the assignment because she wanted to continue her investigation and there was only so much she could do from Phoenix when the main player, Manny Escalanti, never left his nest on Black Mountain.
But why would Gabe Cosen want her? It didn’t make sense and she suspected a trap. Was he trying to gain some advantage in the adoption battle? If so, she couldn’t see it.
Clyne now leaned toward Gabe with a hand on his hip, which was thankfully clear of any weapon. Gabe settled for folding his arms over his chest and smiling like a man who knew he had won this round. Cassidy didn’t think it was over, because Clyne looked like a bull buffalo just before a charge.
Their uncle Luke Forrest stepped between them, placing a hand on the shoulder of each brother.
“It won’t be so bad,” he said to his nephew. “Just like I’m visiting. And I sure won’t mind sitting at your grandmother’s table a time or two.”
Tully glanced at her with an open look of assessment. She thought he was trying to puzzle this out as well and had also come up empty.
“All right, then,” said Tully and pointed at Cassidy. “Agents Walker and Forrest, you are reassigned to Black Mountain until further notice.”
Clyne glared at her and her wide eyes narrowed to meet the challenge in his gaze.
“Yes, sir,” she said.
Chapter Three (#ulink_ce281aac-7aa2-5a4f-99ae-19ecb2368926)
“But why would he choose me?” Cassidy asked.
“Damned if I know,” said Tully. “Because you saved his brother’s life?”
Her partner, Luke Forrest, spoke up. “Don’t you see a conflict of interest here?”
“It’s Chief Cosen’s call,” said Tully. “One thing I know about Agent Walker is that she does her job. She proved it again today.”
She couldn’t tell if he was proud of her or still annoyed. But it was true. If she wanted Clyne Cosen dead, that had been her chance.
“Yes, sir.” It was automatic, her response. Inside her head she was shouting, No! But that was the voice of emotion. The one that she ignored whenever possible.
“Walker. Forrest. You are assigned to the Organized Crime Drug Enforcement Task Force.”
“Yes, sir.”
Cassidy groaned. She didn’t need to be on another committee. Especially one made up of state, local and federal authorities. What she needed was to be in the field. They’d been getting close to Ronnie Hare and that bust might be all she needed to gain her transfer.
“Since you are Apache, I expect you to be able to do some recon and find out if there is anything going on up there that would lead someone to take a shot at Tribal Councillor Cosen.”
“Yes, sir,” said Agent Forrest.
Her daughter. The basketball game that she’d promised she would attend.
“I need to make arrangements for my daughter.”
“Go on, then.”
Clyne’s scowl deepened.
Cassidy moved to the far side of the room to make a call to her mother-in-law. After Cassidy’s husband, Gerard, had been killed in action, Diane Walker had moved west to help her pick up the slack. Cassidy had no family of her own, and Gerard had been Diane’s only child. She made the call, apologized and disconnected. It was not the first time she had been unexpectedly sent on an assignment. It was the first time that that assignment was challenging her custody in federal court.
Cassidy glanced back to the waiting three men. She had one more important call to make to Amanda, the only thing more important than her job.
“Hi, pumpkin. You at school?”
“Mom, school ended hours ago. I’m at the rec center. The game. Remember? Where are you? Warm-up is almost over.”
She glanced at her watch and saw it was nearly four in the afternoon.
“Right. You all warmed up?” she asked, turning her back on the men.
“Where are you?” asked Amanda.
“I’m still in Tucson.” Her daughter groaned. “Grandma is on the way.”
“Oh, Mom!”
“Listen. There was some trouble. You’ll see it on the news.”
“Mom?” Her daughter’s voice was now calm. Unlike some of her fellows, she had never hidden what she did from her daughter. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, fine. But I’m still in Tucson.”
“Did you see my brothers?”
She glanced to Gabe and then to Clyne. “Yes.” She gripped her neck with her opposite hand so hard that her back began to ache.
“I want to meet them!” Her daughter’s voice filled with longing.
“Maybe soon.”
And maybe forever. Cassidy’s heart ached low down and deep, reminding her of a pain she had not felt since she’d discovered her husband had been killed in action.
She needed to get them out of Arizona. If only that would work. But she knew that moving wouldn’t protect Amanda from one particular threat. The ICWA, Indian Child Welfare Act. Sovereign rights. Tribal rights.
“Are you listening to me?” asked Amanda.
“What was that, pumpkin?”
“I asked if you will be back in time for Saturday’s game?”
She glanced to Clyne, the newest of the tribal council and enemy number one in her book. Oh, if she could just find something to bury them but all she’d come up with was something ancient on the third brother, Clay. She stiffened. A brow arched as she looked at Clyne, who narrowed his eyes at her.
“I’ll try, pumpkin.”
“Oh, Mom!”
From the phone, Cassidy heard the sound of a scoreboard buzzer.
“I’ve got to go.”
Cassidy pictured her in her red-and-white basketball uniform, her dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, her lips tinted pink from the colored lip gloss her daughter had begun wearing. It was her last year of elementary school. Her last year of eligibility in the youth basketball league. Next year Cassidy would have a teenager on her hands. She hoped.
“I love you,” said Cassidy.
“You, too.” The line went dead.
She held the phone to her chest for just a moment, eyes closed against the darkness that crept into her heart. What would she do if they took her daughter away?
“Was that her?”
The gruff male voice brought her about and she faced Clyne, who had snuck up on her without a sound.
Cassidy straightened for a fight with Clyne—her daughter’s eldest brother and the first name on the complaint petitioning to have her daughter’s closed adoption opened and overturned. She knew he’d win. He knew it, too. She saw not an ounce of pity for her in those deep brown eyes. Just the alert stare of a confident man facing a foe.
His face was all angles where her daughter’s was all soft curves and the promise of the woman she would soon become.
An Apache woman. Not if she could help it. Amanda would be whatever she wanted and not be limited to one place and one clannish tribe who clung to that mountain as if it were more than just another outcropping of stone. Cold as his heart, she suspected. What did he know about Amanda, anyway? Nothing. According to his records he’d been deployed with the US Marines when his sister had been born and hadn’t been discharged until after the accident that took his mother.
“Was that who?” she asked. But she knew. Still she made him say it.
“Jovanna?” he said, breathing the word, just a whisper.
Her skin prickled at the hushed intimate tone.
“Her name is Amanda Gail Walker.”
“Amanda?” Clyne spat the word as he threw up his hands. “I’ve never met an Apache woman named Amanda.”
“And you won’t meet this one if I have any say in it.”
“We are her family,” said Clyne. “Her real family.”
“Hey, I’m just as real as the family that didn’t even know she was alive for twelve years.”
“Nine,” he corrected. Nine years on July 4 since his mother had died in that auto accident.
“If it were up to you all, she would have been raised in a series of group homes in South Dakota.”
“You are not a mother. You’re a field agent.”
“And?”
“You have no husband, no other children.”
“What’s your point?”
“You are alone raising my sister and you have a very dangerous job. You were shot today! You could get killed at any moment. A good mother doesn’t put her child at that kind of risk.”
“It’s an important job.”
“So is motherhood,” said Clyne. “So is teaching her who she is, who her people are, where she comes from. She belongs where her tribe has lived for centuries. You move her around like she’s a canary.”
“You finished? Because it isn’t up to you. It’s up to the judge. Until then I do my job and you keep away from my daughter.”
“Walker!” She turned to see her boss closing in. “Outside. Now.”
She followed him out into the hallway.
“What was that?” asked Tully.
“Custody battle,” she said.
“I know all about that. What I’m asking about is why are you fighting with a tribal councilman?”
“Perhaps I’m not the right one for this assignment,” she said, hating herself for saying it. She’d never turned down an assignment before.
“I agree. But I need an agent up there on Black Mountain. One who is not Apache and Chief Cosen just gave me an in. So you’re it. Find out what’s going on up there. You got it? We’ve got permission for two agents on that rez. That’s never happened before. So shut your mouth and do your job.”
“Yes, sir.” Cassidy had a thought. “Do you think the Cosens might be involved with the distribution ring?”
“How do I know? That’s for you to find out.”
Cassidy’s mood brightened.
If she were up there, in his home, in his community, perhaps she could find some chink in the Cosen armor, something to make them unfit to raise a twelve-year-old child.
But if that were so, then why in the wide world would Chief Gabe Cosen allow her up in his territory?
She had a terrible thought. What if the Cosen brothers wanted her up there, away from the protection of other agents, so that something bad could happen to her? That would remove her from the equation when it came to the custody of her daughter.
Cassidy drew in a breath and faced her boss. It was a gamble. But it was the only way she could see to keep Amanda without putting her daughter in the position to choose.
A twelve-year-old should not have to choose between her mother and her brothers. It wasn’t fair to ask a child to make such a choice. But Amanda would have to, if it came down to that.
Cassidy squared her shoulders as if she were still at attention in lineup. Then she met the analytical gaze of Donald Tully.
“If I do this, will you put in that recommendation for my transfer to DC?” she asked.
Tully’s mouth went tight, but the glimmer in his eyes showed he knew she had won. “You know we do some good work here, too.”
“Answer the question.”
“Yes, damn it. I will.”
“All right. I’ll do it.”
* * *
HIS BROTHER ANSWERED on the first ring.
“I got her!” he said, his voice full of jubilation.
“You sure?” asked his brother, Johnny.
“Gray Volvo station wagon, right?”
“That’s what I said.”
Johnny had tailed her the day she’d shown up in court to testify on a big case. She’d lost the tail easily but now they knew the make and model of her personal vehicle.
“She heading to the hospital?” Johnny asked.
“Don’t know,” he said.
“Damned, I hit her dead center. Should have knocked her down, at least. Then I would have had another shot,” said Johnny.
“We need to get that tungsten ammo.”
“We don’t. Common caliber will get the job done.”
“If it’s a head shot.”
“It was a head shot,” said Johnny. “She moved. Jumped on him.”
“What about a bigger caliber or a hollow point?”
“We buy that and we might as well wave a red flag in front of the Feds’ eyes. No reason to buy that ammo but one.”
“No guts, no glory,” he said, using Johnny’s favorite expression.
“Hey, I’m all about hitting the target. Just don’t want a spot next to Brett’s.”
“What do you mean?”
“In the cemetery, stupid,” said Johnny.
“Right,” he said. Johnny was always the smart one. “She’s heading for the interstate.”
“Heading home, maybe. That’d be a break. Get her address if you can,” said Johnny.
“Sure. Sure.”
“Hey, kid? Finding her car? Ya done good.”
He basked in the praise. Truth was, he didn’t mind a cell next to Johnny’s. Just so long as he took care of business first.
Chapter Four (#ulink_1c503032-ad78-5bde-80af-b1cad8a6e440)
Seemed you only needed to get shot to get the rest of the day off. Cassidy’s boss sent her to the hospital. But she didn’t go. Instead, she went home to her daughter. The drive from Tucson to Phoenix took three hours, but it didn’t matter. She made it in time for supper.
She arrived with pizza and found Diane waiting with the table set. Amanda bounded off the couch and accepted a kiss and then the boxes, which she carried to the kitchen dinette.
Gerard’s mother retrieved the milk from the refrigerator for Amanda and then took her seat. Diane had many good qualities. Cooking was not one of them. But she was the only other family Amanda had. Cassidy gritted her teeth at the lie. The only family that Cassidy wanted her to have. Was that selfish?
“Finally,” said Diane. “I’m starving.”
Diane was sixty-three, black and didn’t look a day over fifty. She had taken an early retirement from UPS five years ago when her only son had been killed in action. Her skin was a lighter brown than her son’s had been and she chose to straighten her hair, instead of leaving it natural, as Gerard had.
When Cassidy had transferred from California to Arizona, Diane had joined them. Her decision to help raise Amanda had allowed Cassidy to take Amanda out of the school keeper’s programs and allowed Cassidy to move into fieldwork, which she truly loved.
Cassidy excused herself to change. Using a mirror, she checked the sight of the impact and noted the purplish bruise that spread across her back. She took four ibuprofens and slipped into a button-up blouse because it hurt too much to lift her arms over her head. Then she rejoined her mother-in-law and daughter.
After dinner it was past nine on a school night. Amanda headed off to bed. Cassidy joined her, sitting on the foot of the twin bed, trying not to look at the photo of her husband on his second deployment that rested on Amanda’s nightstand.
“You’re leaving again, aren’t you?” said Amanda.
Cassidy stroked her daughter’s glossy black hair away from her face. Clyne’s hair had been just this color. Gabe and Kino kept their hair so short it was hard to compare and she had yet to meet Clay, the middle brother.
“Yes, doodlebug. I have to pack tonight. I’ll be gone before you get up.”
“We have another game on Wednesday.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Where?” Her daughter knew that her mother couldn’t say much about her assignments. But this time, somehow, it seemed important that she know.
“Black Mountain.”
“On the reservation?” Her daughter’s voice now rose with excitement. “Oh, Mom. Why didn’t you tell me?”
Because she tried to keep her daughter away from the people who were attempting to take Amanda away from her.
“Can I come?”
“Of course you can’t come.”
Her daughter continued on and Cassidy wished she had not mentioned the location of her assignment.
“Are you going to Pinyon Fort? Will you see the museum? There are two hotels on Black Mountain, the ski resort and the casino. Where will you stay?”
It was like watching a train pick up speed and having no way to slow it down.
Ever since Cassidy had told her daughter that she was not really Sioux, as they had been told, but Apache, Amanda had been Googling the Black Mountain tribe’s website and studying Apache history.
“I’m not sure yet.” Cassidy pressed a hand to her forehead.
“You have to tell me everything, what it’s like. They had snow there today. I checked. I haven’t seen snow since we left South Dakota. I wish I could come, too.”
Cassidy stroked her daughter’s head and forced a smile.
“Maybe next time.”
“Will you see them?”
“Yes.”
Amanda’s eyes widened. “Oh, I want to go!”
“I know.”
“What if the judge says I have to go with them? Wouldn’t it be better if I had at least met them?”
Cassidy’s heart ached at the possibility of losing her daughter.
“They can’t take you for long. Even if the judge overturns my custody, you remember what I told you?”
“I’m twelve.”
Cassidy nodded.
Amanda recited by memory. “Twelve-year-olds can request to be adopted away from their tribe.”
“That’s right.”
Amanda frowned. Ever since they’d discovered who she really was and that she had another family out there, Amanda had been increasingly unhappy. Of course the opening of her adoption and the challenge for custody upset her. Why wouldn’t it?
“They can’t win,” said Cassidy. “Because you are old enough to choose.”
Amanda moved her legs restlessly under the covers and seemed to want to say something.
Cassidy waited.
“Can you at least take a picture of them?”
“What? Why?”
“So I can see if they look like me?”
How she wished she could go back to the time when they both thought she had no one but her mom and dad and Grandma Diane. When there was no one else.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” said Cassidy.
“Please?” asked Amanda.
Cassidy tucked the covers back in place. “I have to go pack and you have to go to sleep. Good night, sweetheart.”
Amanda kissed her mother and then flopped to her side. She said nothing more as Cassidy walked to the bedroom door and waited.
She was about to give up when Amanda flopped back to face her.
“Be careful up there, Mom.”
“I will. I love you.”
“You, too.”
Cassidy closed the door and headed to her bedroom to pack. She was good at packing. A tour of duty with the US Army had taught her that. And also how to fly helicopters. She’d put in for a transfer from her first assignment with the FBI after Gerard died because she couldn’t stand to live in the home they had chosen together. They’d ended up in Southern California.
After she had finished in her room, she carried her suitcase, briefcase and duffel down to the hallway. She told Diane all she could about where she was going. But she didn’t tell her that after this assignment she would finally get her transfer. Would Diane come with them or would it be just the two of them again?
She didn’t know. What she did know was she needed the custody decision so that Amanda could tell the judge she wanted to be adopted again by her mother. Then she needed to get away from this part of the country. As far as possible from the Apache tribe. Until then, she was keeping her daughter away from the Cosen brothers.
* * *
“SO YOU WON’T change your mind?” Clyne asked Gabe.
“Do you know how many officers I have?”
Clyne did, of course. Twelve officers for twenty-six hundred square miles. Only it was eleven since he’d lost a man in January.
“I need help, Clyne. Not just on processing evidence in the Arizona crime labs. I need investigators. Because if you think this is over with you are mistaken. All we did was slow them down. They’ll be back and I don’t want my guys killed in gun battles with Mexican cartel killers.”
Clyne did not want that, either.
“But why her?” He meant Agent Walker.
“Do you know anything about her?”
“All I need to know.”
“That’s bull. She’s highly qualified and she knows what she is doing. She knows all the players. You have to trust me on this.”
Clyne tried for humor. “She’s a real company man, huh? She probably wears that FBI T-shirt to bed.”
That gave him a strong image of pale legs peeking out from beneath a navy blue T-shirt that ended right below her slender hips.
Clyne growled. He stood with his four brothers, all now wrapped in blankets and perched as close to the fire as possible as their uncle Luke added the stones to the fire. The stones were among the Great Spirit’s creations and so had a life force and power like all things in nature. Luke would be tending the fire and passing the hot stones into their wikiup for the ceremony of purification. Their uncle was the only one dressed appropriately for the chilly night air, warm enough to unzip his parka and remove his gloves.
“When will she be here?” he asked.
His uncle took that one. “Tomorrow morning. Late morning, I think. In time for the BIA presentation.”
Their people had a love-hate relationship with the Bureau of Indian Affairs, who oversaw business on the reservation for the federal government. But the BIA had money Clyne needed for their water treatment facility so he would do his best to play nice.
Luke poked at the coals, judging the heat. “Almost ready.”
Clyne began to shiver and Clay was now jumping up and down to keep warm.
Kino nudged between Clay and Gabe. He still had a white bandage on his throat. A visible reminder of how close they had been to losing him. Clyne remembered Gabe’s words about not wanting to lose any more officers to this war with traffickers. He knew from Gabe that his men had been outgunned. The cartel killers had automatic weapons and the tribal police force was issued rifles, shotguns and sidearms. It was not a fair fight.
Clyne looked from Gabe to Kino. Would the FBI presence on the rez help keep them safe or put them at greater risk?
“Will she bring Jovanna?” asked Kino.
Gabe cast him an impatient look. “She doesn’t want her to meet us.”
“But the attorney says we’ll win,” said Kino. “Any day and we’ll win.”
“And she’ll slap a petition to allow Jovanna to choose to be adopted,” said Clay. “Our attorney said so.”
“Nothing we can do about that,” said Gabe.
They all looked to Clyne, as they had since he’d came home from the endless fighting in the Middle East to assume his place as head of this household.
“We have a petition, too. I spoke to our attorney yesterday.”
Before he was almost killed. She wouldn’t do something like that. Set him up, would she? Killing him wouldn’t stop this. She must know that.
“Our sister can’t make a fair choice unless she has had an opportunity to meet us,” said Clyne.
Clay grinned. “Think that will work?”
“I do. It’s logical. It’s appropriate.”
“How long will we have her?” asked Kino.
A lifetime, Clyne hoped. His sister belonged here with them in the place of their ancestors.
“I’ve asked for a year,” said Clyne.
Kino gave a whistle.
Luke poked at the stones. “You boys ready?”
They shucked off their blankets and ducked into the domed structure. All of the brothers had built this sweat lodge. The stone foundation lined the hollow they dug into the earth and the saplings arched beneath the bark-and-leather covering.
Clay and Kino moved to sit across the nest of fresh pinon pine and cedar branches. Clyne was glad the two had somehow managed to leave their pretty new wives for the evening to join their elder brothers in the sweat lodge.
Outside the entrance to the east, the sacred fire burned. Their uncle would stand watch, providing hot stones, protecting the ceremony.
Clyne sat in a breechclout made from white cotton. Both Gabe and Kino preferred loose gym shorts and Clay sat in his boxers, having forgotten his shorts. Luke passed in the first stone, using a forked cedar branch. Clyne moved it to the bed of sage, filling the lodge with the sweet scent. More stones followed as Clyne and his brothers began to sing. When the stones were all in place Luke dropped the flap to cover the entrance and the lodge went dark, black as a cave, the earth, a womb, the place where they had come from and would one day return. Here their voices joined as they sang their prayer.
Gabe used a horn cup to pour the water of life over the stone people, the ones who came before Changing Woman made the Apache from her skin.
Steam rose all about them and their voices blended as sweat ran from their bodies with the impurities. Clyne breathed in the scent of sweet pine and cedar and prayed for the return of their sister.
Chapter Five (#ulink_e1c59a44-0aa9-5a26-8ee4-bbc028220227)
Cassidy Walker called ahead so the tribal police wouldn’t pull her over like they did the last time. She made it to Black Mountain but did not have time to make it to her room at the Black Mountain Casino. This was one of two hotels on the property. The other was clear up in Wind River where the tribe had a ski resort, but that was too far from Clyne’s home.
From her former partner, she knew the Cosens all lived near the main town. Clyne and Gabe lived with their mother Tessa’s mother, Glendora Clawson. Both the younger brothers were newlyweds and had their own homes. Kino was expecting his first child.
Amanda is about to become an aunt.
The realization came like a kick to her gut.
It didn’t matter, she told herself. That petition would hit the minute the judge ruled. A week or two up here in the hinterland and she’d have her promotion. The judge would rule against her but the petition would reverse Amanda’s placement. In six months she and her daughter would be living in DC or lower Manhattan. One thing was certain, Amanda would have an education and opportunities she would not likely receive on the reservation. Amanda would have the chance to become whatever she wished.
The ringing phone made her jump clear out of her seat. The ID said it was Tully. She hit the speak button on her phone.
“Good morning, sir.”
“You there yet?”
“Nearly.” She had decided to catch a few hours’ sleep at home and leave at five in the morning, rather than drive up last night as Tully had suggested. “Anything on the shooting?”
She couldn’t help stretching and then winced. Sitting made her ribs hurt. Breathing made her ribs hurt. Talking made her ribs hurt. She glanced at the ibuprofen bottle and then the clock. One more hour before she could have another dose.
“Yes. One shooter, .30 caliber. Positioned on the Star of Tucson Hotel. We now have three cartridges. Forensics has everything we could pull from up there. Garbage mostly, we think. But maybe we’ll get a hit.”
“Let’s hope,” she said.
“Change of plans for today.”
Cassidy tensed. She didn’t like surprises and so tried to be ready for every eventuality. But she hadn’t seen this assignment coming. That was certain.
“Gabe Cosen called. His brother has a ground-breaking on the rez today. He wants you and Forrest on hand in case there is trouble.”
“I thought we were up here to pursue leads to apprehend Ronald Hare and investigate the—”
Her boss cut in. “Yeah. Yeah. But today try to be sure Cosen doesn’t get shot.” He provided her with the coordinates given to him by Police Chief Cosen. “Clyne Cosen has another rally off-reservation in Phoenix on Wednesday. Damned victory tour. You and Forrest are accompanying him from Black Mountain to the rally.”
“Does he know this?”
“Not yet.”
Cassidy grimaced. This wasn’t going to be good. She knew Clyne Cosen well enough to know that. But she also didn’t like the bait and switch. She was here to investigate the ongoing drug activity here. Not play nursemaid to a bristly Apache who didn’t want her within a mile of him.
“We’ll be on-site for the next rally. This one is indoors, so no BS. Love to find the shooter before then.”
“You and me both.” She couldn’t help but twist to check the sore muscles and ribs. Yup. They still hurt. “I’m here. Gotta go.”
“Check in after the event.”
“Yes, sir.” She disconnected and said, “And keep that transfer request front and center.”
Cassidy pulled into the barren patch of ground her GPS had brought her to. She would have been certain she was off course but there was a series of fluttering triangular flags flapping briskly in the March breeze. She dragged her winter coat from the rear seat. Down in Phoenix it was sixty degrees. But up here fourteen thousand feet above sea level there was ice on the ground.
“That’s why they call themselves Mountain Apache,” she muttered.
A leaning white sign advertised the future site of the Black Mountain water treatment facility. Whoo-hoo, she thought and climbed from the vehicle. The wind tore a strand of hair from her ponytail and no amount of recovery could make it stay in place. Her chin-length hair was just too short for a pony and she’d be damned if she’d be seen outside the house in either pigtails or a headband.
She glanced at her watch and saw she’d arrived forty-five minutes early. That gave her time to check the perimeter and to wish she had worn thicker socks. The open field left few places to hide and the lack of any obvious vehicle was encouraging. But with a scope, a shooter could easily be in range. Clyne had agreed to wear body armor for this event. Cassidy adjusted hers, her backup. The one without the distortion over her heart.
Back at her sedan, Cassidy was just lifting her phone to call Luke when a line of vehicles, mostly pickups, arrived in a long train of bright color. The wind pushed her forward and she had to widen her stance to keep from losing her footing. The sudden movement made her ribs ache.
She watched the men and women emerge from their vehicles. Clyne was easy to spot. She didn’t know exactly why. Perhaps his height or the crisp way he walked. He joined some men dressed in trenches, walking with them along the flapping flags.
Luke walked slightly behind them. She knew the instant Clyne spotted her because his ready smile dipped with his brow. Then he turned his attention back to his conversation with his guests.
She heard him say, “Self-sustaining and by using local labor we expect to come in below the estimate.”
She fell into stride behind him, ignoring the heady scent of pine that reached her as Clyne passed. He’d smelled like that yesterday, she recalled, when he had carried her into the hotel. Cassidy inhaled deeply, enjoying the appealing fragrance.
“Hey,” said Luke.
“How was last night?” she asked.
“Quiet. You?”
“Good.”
“What did they say at the hospital?”
She didn’t answer.
“Cassidy?”
She fessed up. “I went home.”
Luke’s smile seemed sad. He had met Amanda more than once in the times before she knew he was her uncle. Amanda’s father’s half brother. If it were only him, she wouldn’t mind Amanda getting to know him better. Luke, she knew and trusted.
“I got Gabe to put someone on Manny Escalanti. Told him our office would pick up the overtime.”
Manny Escalanti was the new head of the Wolf Posse, the Apache gang operating on the rez. It had been this gang that had held the chemicals for production and moved the mobile meth labs to keep them ahead of tribal police.
“We need ears on him, too. Do we know if the Mexican cartels are still working with them?”
“DOJ says that they are working with both the Salt River gang and the Wolf Posse.”
In January, the cartel had decided to move operations to Salt River but failed to capture the chemicals needed because Gabe and his very connected fiancée, Selena Dosela, had succeeded in stopping them. Selena was also Black Mountain Apache and her father, Frasco, had ties to the Wolf Posse and American distributor, Cesaro Raggar. Good thing Dosela was working with them now.
“What do you think of Selena?” she asked.
“I think she’s very brave and very lucky.”
“I mean, do you think she is working with the cartels?”
“No. Not at all.”
His answer was a little too quick as if that was what he hoped to be true, rather than what was true.
“Her father was recruited by Raggar.”
Raggar was the head of the American distribution operation running the business from federal prison.
“And Frasco went to DOJ and made a deal.”
“To save his hide,” said Cassidy.
“It’s a valid reason to come to us. Kept his family safe and got them out of the operation.”
“Unless Raggar retaliates.”
“Gabe is very worried about that. Even asked me about witness protection for Selena’s entire family.”
That was new information.
“But her father won’t leave the rez.”
The sentiment seemed endemic up here, she thought.
The group formed a rough circle around nothing she could see other than that this was the place that their tribal councilman had chosen to stop moving forward into the barren field.
She and Forrest stepped back, just outside the circle, scanning the audience and the surrounding area.
“Too far from cover,” she said to Forrest.
“Too cold, as well. We won’t be out long.”
But it didn’t take long for a bullet to travel through a person’s flesh and bone.
Cassidy scanned the faces, checked the hands and listened to Clyne lift his voice to describe the fantastical water treatment plant as if it were some shining tower sitting on a hill instead of a pit that strained excrement.
Cassidy scanned the faces and realized that she and the two representatives from the BIA, Bureau of Indian Affairs, were the only white people in the gathering.
Clyne spoke loud enough for the gathering to hear and she had to admit his argument for the funding was eloquent, thoughtful and timely, but perhaps wasted on the men who were wearing the equivalent of raincoats in the unceasing wind. They stomped their feet restlessly as she swept the crowd, impressed with the practical clothing of the rest of the gathering.
Clyne finished and the men all shook hands. Photos were taken for the Black Mountain webpage and Cassidy made sure she was not in any of them. The procession retreated to the string of vehicles that reminded her of a wagon train for some reason. She shadowed Clyne to his vehicle where he stopped to glare at her.
“Would you like me to follow you or accompany you?”
“Neither,” said Clyne.
“Then I’ll follow.” She stepped away so he could open his door. “Shouldn’t Gabe be here, too?”
He smirked at her and just that simple upturning of his mouth made her insides twitch in a most unwelcome physical reaction to a man in whom she refused to have any interest.
“He is here. He told me to tell you that you did a pretty good job of scouting the perimeter. Though not too good, obviously.” With that he climbed in the navy blue pickup and swung the door closed.
The truck rode high, leaving her at shoulder level with the decal of the great seal of the Black Mountain tribe that was affixed to the door panel and showed a chunk missing at the top right. The seal included Black Mountain in the background with a pine tree, eagle feather and something that looked like a brown toadstool in the foreground.
“Try and keep up,” he said and led the procession back toward town, leaving her to scurry along the icy shoulder to reach her vehicle. Her time in South Dakota had taught her about driving in snow, but she still skidded on the icy patch as she pulled into place. Clearly Clyne was as thrilled at her current assignment as she was. Somehow she didn’t think that commonality would bring them any closer together. If she could just find something that would connect the Cosens to the mobile meth ring or something that made their home unfit, she could challenge custody, collect her transfer and be on her way.
She made the drive at the end of the snake of cars, parked in the lot beside tribal headquarters and followed the remains of the procession inside, where she was asked to present her credentials, sign in and wear a paper name badge.
Hi, My Name Is... Pissed Off, she thought.
Gabe Cosen appeared through the doors and paused only to speak to the receptionist in Apache before coming to meet her.
“Agent Walker. Nice to see you again.”
She accepted his offered hand. The handshake was firm and brief. Chief Cosen stepped back from her. Gabe had none of his brother’s swagger. He had bedroom eyes that made Cassidy uneasy and the same full mouth as Clyne. But his gaze was completely different. She saw no hint of distain or banked resentment.
“Chief Cosen. I understand this isn’t the first time you have seen me today.”
“That’s true.” Chief Cosen grinned and she felt nothing. Why did Clyne’s attention stir her up like ice in a blender?
Chief Cosen removed his gray Stetson and gave it a spin on one hand. His hair was cut very short, which was so different from the long, managed braids of his older brother.
“Police headquarters is right across the street. I’m going to get you and Luke set up right after lunch. Say one o’clock?”
“That’s fine.”
“I’ve got to speak to Clyne. Would you mind?” He motioned for her to accompany him.
She forced a smile. Why had she been hoping she would not have to see Clyne again today?
Cassidy kept pace with Gabe as they walked down the hall and through the outer offices of the tribal council. She resisted the urge to look at Clyne through the bank of glass that skirted the door to his office.
Gabe paused before the assistant’s desk. The Apache woman sat with her legs slightly splayed to accommodate her swollen belly. Cassidy thought she looked ready to deliver at any moment. The woman held the phone wedged between her ear and shoulder as she wrote something on a memo pad. She still had time to lift a finger to Gabe in a silent request that he wait.
Gabe stepped back and faced Cassidy.
“You settling in?” asked Gabe.
“I haven’t been to the casino hotel yet.”
“Oh, it was my understanding that you would arrive last night.”
“Personal business. Delayed.”
His smile faded. “Of course. How are you feeling?”
She shifted testing her ribs and felt the sting of healing muscle. “Fine.”
He peered at her from under his brow and she felt he did not quite believe her.
“Well. On behalf of myself and my family, I want to thank you personally for protecting our older brother yesterday.”
The display of manners, so divergent from those of his older brother, shocked her into speechlessness.
“Ah,” she struggled. “You’re welcome.”
“Strange, don’t you think, that you would be the one responsible for his protection?”
Was there an accusation there or a hint of suspicion?
“It was a rotation.”
“Yes. So I understand.” Gabe didn’t try to hold on to his smile.
“I thought you’d be more present today,” she said.
“Clyne didn’t want the BIA feeling unsafe.”
Had she and Luke been too obvious? She didn’t think the BIA officials even noticed her.
“He’s been courting them for months and was afraid my force would raise questions about security. He has another rally tomorrow. Phoenix this time. Then Friday, some folks from a home-building charity visiting. Another outdoor gathering, touring the proposed building site here on Black Mountain.”
“So you don’t want help with the investigation. You asked for us to protect your brother?”
“No. I need investigators. But someone just tried to kill Clyne yesterday. I could use the help keeping him safe.”
“But why me, specifically?”
He watched her for a moment that stretched on to eternity.
“Can’t you guess?”
“I don’t like guessing games, Chief Cosen. Any games, really.”
“Miss Walker, you have been a mother to my sister for most of her life. Perhaps the only mother she remembers. It seemed to me that we should know something about you and that you might want to know something about us.”
She knew all she needed to know about them, or wanted to. “This has nothing to do with the investigation.”
“It does. But two birds, so to speak.”
“Do your brothers feel the same?”
Gabe rubbed the back of his neck and she had her answer.
“Gabe!” Clyne’s voice was much louder than it needed to be when he called from the open door.
“Excuse me.” Gabe stepped into his brother’s office and shut the door.
She could hear their words but did not understand Apache. The angry voices and the flailing arm gestures were clear enough as both men engaged in an epic battle of wills.
Gabe eventually reached for the knob. Clyne stood with both fists planted on the surface of his desk. Gabe cleared the threshold and planted his hat on his head. His breathing was fast and his nostrils flared as he turned his attention to her.
“My brother would like to take you to lunch,” he said.
The office assistant lifted her brows at this announcement and glanced from Gabe to Cassidy still waiting.
“I was meeting Luke for lunch.”
“He told me that he will see you after lunch,” said Gabe.
Cassidy reached for her phone and sent Luke a text. The reply was immediate.
C U after lunch.
Cassidy squared her shoulders and marched into the lion’s den.
Chapter Six (#ulink_5f9eebf1-ca32-53e6-b214-dc71c03bf999)
Clyne looked back to Field Agent Walker, who glared at him from the outer office, her eyes now glinting like sunlight on a blue gemstone. She held her navy parka in her lap, because he had not offered to hang it and wore a blazer, presumably a different one. One without a bullet hole in the back. Her drab gray button-up shirt did not quite hide the flak jacket beneath, and her practical lace-up nylon boots showed salt stains on the toes. Fully erect, she didn’t even reach Clyne’s chin. Her blond hair had again been yanked back into a severe ponytail but the March wind had tugged the side strands away and they now floated down about her pink face. If she were Swedish, he did not think her skin could be any paler. Outwardly, they were completely different, but they had one thing in common. They were both fighters. So why did his chest ache every time he forced himself to look at her?
She seemed ready to spit nails. He lifted one of the fists he had been braced upon from his desk and motioned her forward as a Tai Chi master summoned his next challenger.
Walker’s fine golden brow arched and her pointed chin dipped. He lowered his chin as well, as one ram does when preparing to butt heads with another. He thought he welcomed the fight, but her proximity raised a completely different kind of anticipation. He identified the curling tension of sexual desire and nearly groaned out loud. Not for this woman. No. Absolutely not.
Her stride was staccato and devoid of any female wiles. So why was he breathing so fast?
Now he noticed how her eyes seemed not quite sapphire, but more ocean blue and flashing like a thunderstorm.
She marched into his office with her coat clutched at her left hip, leaving her gun hand free.
“Just so we are clear,” said Clyne, “I haven’t changed my mind.”
“Good afternoon to you, too, Councilman.”
He ground his teeth. Something about her made him forget his manners. He had a reputation for charm but this woman stripped away that veneer like paint thinner on varnish. He felt about as enchanting as a prickly cactus. He glared at her, deciding if he should retreat, advance or return her greeting.
“I don’t need protection,” he said.
“I have a slug in my body armor that says otherwise.”
“That was down there in your world.”
She lifted a brow. “Well, I really don’t own the whole thing. I’m just a renter.”
He scowled because if he didn’t he feared he might laugh.
“So do you want to tell me if your problem is with my world, the FBI or just me?”
“You don’t have that kind of time.”
“Try me.” She folded her arms and braced against the door frame.
“Well, let’s start with single white women adopting poor little Indian children.”
She sucked in a breath as his first blow struck home. “I was married when we adopted our daughter.”
That announcement set him back and he didn’t think he hid the surprise. Clyne quickly reevaluated. He’d assumed she was one of those career women who wanted it all and had decided that if she didn’t want the physical inconvenience of being pregnant, she could just buy a baby.
“Was?” he said.
FBI personal records were sealed. Even Gabe, the tribal police chief, could find very little information about her. That put him at a disadvantage here because she likely knew a great deal about him. Perhaps his brother was right. They should know what kind of a woman had raised their sister.
Was she one of those modern women who thought life came as an all-you-could-eat buffet? Clyne knew better. Life was all about difficult choices.
Should he press or drop it? He studied her body language, arms folded, legs crossed at the ankle as she braced against the solid wooden frame. She was in full-out protective mode. But he was off balance now, fighting with a hand tied behind his back.
“Yes, was,” she said.
“So you are now unmarried?”
She inclined her head like a queen consenting to give a response.
“But you have sole custody. Jovanna’s only guardian?” asked Clyne, refusing to use the word parent as he considered the possibility of having to go through another custody battle with her husband.
“Guardian? I’m her mother. And yes, I am her sole guardian.”
“Then you should take a desk job,” he said. Her flashing eyes made it clear what she thought of his suggestion.
“Risk comes with living. Your mother’s death should have taught you that. And this reservation doesn’t have magic properties. You’re not safe hiding up here on this mountain, either.”
“We aren’t hiding. We’re living and we choose to be separate. To preserve our culture and teach our children where they come from and who they are.” Even to his own ears his words sounded like a speech given from rote.
She had uncrossed her arms and now tilted her head. Her hair shone yellow as corn silk. He saw something in her eyes.
“Doing fabulously well by all accounts. What’s the teen pregnancy rate now?”
“Irrelevant.”
“Not if you have a teenage daughter it isn’t. And where you come from is not as important as where you end up,” she said. He’d heard the sentiment before, frequently from those who did not know where they came from or needed to forget. Which was she? A terrible childhood or one without roots?
“Does she even know about us?” he asked.
Her eyes narrowed and that cool demeanor slipped. “She does.”
“And about the challenge?”
“Yes, again.”
What did Jovanna think about that, to learn she was not an orphan but had an entire family waiting for her? Did she feel betrayed that they had not come for her sooner?
They had gotten little information from their attorney about their sister’s life. Mainly facts. Nothing that would tell him how she felt or if she had been happy.
Jovanna had been removed from the vehicle after their mother’s death by a state trooper, who had turned her over to child welfare, who had seen her in her dance competition dress and turned her over to BIA. The trooper’s writing, “One survivor,” had been transposed to read “No survivors” and they had learned, incorrectly, that they had lost both their mother and sister to a drunk driver.
Jovanna had disappeared into the system. Only after their grandmother had insisted they place a stone lamb on Jovanna’s grave to mark her tenth birthday, had they learned that only their mother was buried in that grave. The search had begun. He had flown to South Dakota and hired an investigator. Gabe had used his badge to get more information. Kino had followed the procedures to open the adoption and Clay now waited for a ruling from the judge on their motion.
But during those nine years, Jovanna had been listed as a member of the Sweetgrass tribe of Sioux Indians. No kin had come forward, so she was placed in an orphanage at age two and then in a foster home with a Sioux family at age three. Then Jovanna had been adopted just after she turned four.
“We want to meet her,” said Clyne.
Her hand settled on the grip of her pistol and her eyes met his. “No.”
“Why not?”
“Because it will only make it harder when we leave.”
Leave? Where was she going? And then he remembered what his uncle had said about his new partner. A hotshot. A firecracker. Destined to be promoted and transferred to a major field office. And if that happened, they might lose Jovanna again.
“You’re leaving?” he asked.
She nodded. “Just as soon and as far from here as possible.”
He took a step in her direction, leaving the authority of his desk. She sidestepped until she was beyond his grasp. He lifted his top from the coat rack, his attention still on her. She rolled those crystal-blue eyes at him and exhaled.
“My brother says I am to take you to lunch.”
Cassidy did not like the twinkle in his eyes one little bit. But she was a guest here and if Chief Cosen wanted her to dine with his brother, she could do that. She wondered if anyone else found that funny.
“You ready?” he asked.
She lifted her arms, still bundled in her jacket. “Seems so.”
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