Главная страница | Современная зарубежная литература | Stargazer′s Woman

Stargazer's Woman
Aimee Thurlo


Highly regarded for his mystic prowess, Max Natoni took an oath to find lost people.For only he held the Navajo tribe's deepest senses and the strength to awe those who beheld the man in the flesh. Yet even his heightened awareness couldn't help him when it came to Kris Reynolds, who had her own sacred crusade to uphold….Kris had no need for secrets, yet the noble Navajo warrior was hers alone to unravel. He had the ability to guide her, but not without pushing Kris's desire to uncharted territory. Bound by honor, together they tracked a killer with the same ardor that they stalked each other.While Kris yearned for justice, Max sought to restore harmony to his nation…only to expose the passions of a woman who was more than his match.












Code name: Thunder


“Do you believe in women’s intuition?” she asked.

Max smiled slowly as the silence stretched between them. “What’s your intuition tell you about me?”

Kris measured her words carefully. “You define yourself by the work you do and the secrets you keep. You’ve made a home for yourself among these secrets. But someday you may find they’re not enough.”

Max started to answer, then changed his mind. In his gut, he knew the truth when he heard it. But she was wrong about one thing. He’d accepted the need to keep the secrets he guarded—especially one. But there was no peace or sense of home inside him because of it. He was a man of facts with a secret that facts didn’t support.

A stargazer.

He’d known what he wasn’t supposed to know…information that could get them both killed if he made one miscalculated move.




Stargazer's Woman

Aimée Thurlo








To Mitch, who knows where all the bodies are buried.

With special thanks to Lt. Col. Elizabeth S. Birch USMC

for her help.




ABOUT THE AUTHOR


Aimée Thurlo is a nationally known bestselling author. She’s written more than forty novels and is published in at least twenty countries worldwide. She has been nominated for the Reviewer’s Choice Award and the Career Achievement Award by Romantic Times BOOKreviews magazine.

She also cowrites the Ella Clah mainstream mystery series, which debuted with a starred review in Publishers Weekly and has been optioned by CBS.

Aimée was born in Havana, Cuba, and lives with her husband of thirty years in Corrales, New Mexico. Her husband, David, was raised on the Navajo Indian Reservation.




CAST OF CHARACTERS


Max Natoni—They said he was a stargazer, but he trusted his instincts as a former cop a lot more than the old medicine man’s hocus pocus. As a warrior for the Brotherhood, his own training would be enough to protect his dead partner’s sister.

Kris Reynolds—Her sister had been killed on assignment with Max Natoni while protecting a fortune in precious metal. Kris needed answers more than riches, but her heart kept getting in the way.

Hastiin Bigodii—The medicine man led by example, but Max followed his own rules.

John Harris—For a dead man, the former cop got around a lot. A killer who knew every trick in the book, even in death he couldn’t be trusted.

Bruce Talbot—His job was to find a way to get the missing platinum back and save the reputation of his company. Was he just overzealous, or could he be the inside man in a crime gone awry?

Detective Lassiter—The retired marine had it out for Max, but he cut Kris a break—marine to marine.

Jerry Parson—When he and his crew weren’t working over stolen cars, they were working over the competition—which included anyone who got in his face.

Deputy Robert Joe, aka Guardian—He was the Brotherhood of Warriors contact inside the sheriff’s department, so why was he getting in the way?




Contents


Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty




Prologue


Max Natoni joined the circle of men gathered inside the cave of secrets. The red sandstone walls that surrounded them held the echoes of tradition and honor. It was that core of strength that had sustained the Brotherhood of Warriors under all circumstances.

The pungent scent of piñon from the small campfire in the center of the chamber filled the air, and the flames cast fleeting shadows on the faces of those gathered there. He could see loyalty and courage—their life’s blood—indelibly etched on the features of each man present.

Max knew most of those gathered around the fire only by their code names—the only form of identification that would be used tonight. He’d be addressed as “Thunder,” the name given to him by Hastiin Bigodii, the medicine man who currently served as their leader.

The Brotherhood of Warriors, established during the time of Kit Carson, was an impenetrable line of defense that stood between the tribe and its enemies. This elite force worked in the shadows—rarely seen but always felt. It existed so that the Diné, the Navajo people, could walk in beauty.

Much was demanded of anyone wanting to join their ranks. They’d undergo trials meant to break all but the strongest. Most ultimately failed. In the end, only the best of the best remained and earned the right to join the Brotherhood of Warriors.

Though he was staring at the fire, Max could feel Hastiin Bigodii’s gaze on him.

“Thunder,” Hastiin Bigodii said at last, “you’re named for Yellow Thunder, who had the power to find things. You, too, have that gift, though you still haven’t accepted it and learned how to use your ability.”

Max started to argue, then clamped his mouth shut. He was a man who relied on facts. Logic was the only foundation he trusted. That’s why he’d become a police officer, and later a detective, for an Anglo department outside the Rez.

Then the unimaginable had happened.

After that, Max had been forced to carve out a new life for himself. The land between the sacred mountains, the Rez, was his home now, and the men around him were his brothers in every way that counted. He wouldn’t fail them.

“I am the man for this job,” Max said. “John Harris, the ex-detective from the Farmington Police, betrayed us. Though my partner paid with her life, she also made sure Harris didn’t find what he tried to steal—the tribe’s platinum. I know the way my partner thinks—thought—and can figure out where she hid it.” He released a deep breath. “She and I worked together as police officers for many years. That makes me the logical choice for this assignment. I ask the Brotherhood to give me a chance to complete what we started. Let me restore the harmony and balance, the hózhg.”

“Pride—and revenge—that’s what’s really driving you, isn’t it?” The challenge came from a warrior known as Wind. Although Max and he were also first cousins, here, they were bound by something deeper than kinship—an unqualified allegiance to the Brotherhood of Warriors.

“It’s more than that,” Max replied firmly. “My partner died defending that platinum, but now her reputation’s in question. Too many are convinced that she was involved in the theft, even though she forfeited her life protecting that shipment. Her sacrifice cries out for justice.”

“You’re too personally involved. That’ll decrease your effectiveness. She was a well-paid courier who was hired to deliver the platinum our tribe purchased. That’s all,” another warrior he knew only as Smoke said, his voice a mere whisper. “She knew the risks.”

Max looked at Hastiin Bigodii. In Navajo, the words simply meant “man with the bad knee.” But his real name had power and would never be used lightly.

“I can fix this—I can right what went wrong,” Max said in an even stronger voice.

“It’s your gift—what brought you back here to us, Stargazer. That may, in the end, prove invaluable,” Hastiin Bigodii said quietly, adjusting a piece of pine at the edge of the fire.

Max didn’t answer. Gift? He had many words for it, but that had sure never been one of them.

“But you haven’t developed your abilities, and without that…” Hastiin Bigodii added, leaving the sentence hanging.

“As you yourself have admitted on many occasions,” Smoke pressed, “your abilities as a stargazer are questionable. Under the circumstances it’s not much of an advantage. You’re also saddled with personal baggage that could interfere with what you have to do. Someone with no ties to this case may be a better choice.”

Smoke was lean and built for speed. Once during training, Max had seen him take down three of the Brotherhood’s top fighters in a move so quick no one had even seen it coming. Max knew Smoke wanted the case, but this one was his.

“My connection to my partner’s family will open doors that’ll remain closed to anyone else,” Max insisted.

“I’ll be seeing my partner’s sister soon. She may not know me personally, but she’s heard about me from her sister for years. That’ll help foster trust between us. She’s an asset I can use to help me do what needs to be done.”

Silence settled over all the ones gathered there. At long last Hastiin Bigodii spoke. “Thunder, you are my choice. The insurance companies will take their time responding to the Tribal claim, and without the jewelry sales that platinum represents, our craftsmen will go hungry this winter. The tribe can’t afford to wait.” Though his voice dropped to a whisper, his words reverberated with conviction. “It’s time for us to get to work. You’ll have the full support of the Brotherhood behind you.”

As the warriors left the chamber, Max hung back, knowing Hastiin Bigodii would have some final words for him.

Hastiin Bigodii remained seated next to the fire and across from Max. He didn’t speak again until they were alone.

“Your jish,” Hastiin Bigodii said, pointing Navajo-style with his lips to the medicine bundle at Max’s waist. “Is the crystal there along with the other items I gave you?”

“Yes. I’ve also made sure the crystal is well coated in the pollen you gathered for me.”

Hastiin Bigodii nodded in approval. “Keep the jish with you at all times and under all circumstances. During the time of the beginning, a crystal was placed in the mouths of our people so that their spoken words would come true. Pollen represents safety and well-being. Together, they become a prayer that’ll draw those blessings to you.”

“It’s a powerful gift. Thank you,” Max said with a nod.

Hastiin Bigodii said nothing for several long moments, then at long last spoke again. “Remember one thing. Your greatest strength is inside you. Honor who and what you are, and everything else will fall into place.”

Max knew what he was referring to and felt obliged to point out a hard truth. “I’ve tried crystal gazing several times to find the answers we need, but nothing’s come to me. Maybe I don’t have the ability anymore…if I ever really did, that is.”

“The missing child you found owes his life to your gift. What you did back then was not a product of logic and you know it,” Hastiin Bigodii answered. “Let go—trust that there’s more to life than what the eyes can see. In your heart you already know this.”

Max didn’t meet his gaze. To do so would have been seen as a sign of great disrespect. “The mind works better when the heart is kept out of the equation.”

Hastiin Bigodii smiled, but said nothing as he stood and left.

Though Max had found the elder’s reaction unsettling, he refused to dwell on it now. He had a job to finish.

Max smothered the burning embers with a bucket of sand left for that purpose, and departed the cave shortly thereafter. With the fading glow of the moon to show him the way, he climbed down the ladder to the piñon juniper forest below.

Clouds covered the blue-black sky and, as he reached the ground, thunder shook the earth beneath his feet. Max glanced at the growing storm clouds above him. Their anger mirrored his own. Sound and fury would be his soul’s dark companions as he searched for answers in the days ahead.




Chapter One


Kris Reynolds adjusted her baseball cap, protecting her light brown eyes with the bill, and continued repotting a Great Basin Sage into a larger decorative pot.

She loved working with growing things—plants that would add character to any garden or household and give their new owners pleasure for years to come. It was part of the reason she’d opened Smiling Cactus Nursery, a place where she’d be sharing gardener’s tips instead of survival tactics.

Though she’d served her hitch as a marine in a supposedly noncombat role, she’d seen more than her share of violence. She’d come home eager to find peace, and a healing of those wartime memories, but fate had stepped in and more tragedy had followed. Only a few days after her return, her only sister had been murdered. Death had been waiting by the roadside again just as it had been so often overseas. But there was one big difference. This time it was personal.

Thinking of Tina filled her with a familiar heaviness of spirit, and she swallowed quickly, hoping to stem the tears that usually followed. Tina had been her best friend, not just her sister. Kris could feel her absence every second of the day.

“You’re thinking of Tina again, aren’t you?” Maria Lucero observed, seeing Kris adjusting the gold four-leaf clover pendant that hung around her neck. On each leaf was a single letter—one side spelled Kris, the other, Tina.

Kris sighed. She missed Tina so much. Looking at her assistant, she nodded. “I can’t believe she’s really gone. What makes it even harder is that I still don’t know why Tina died. The police won’t tell me anything, except that she was on a courier run and on her way to the Rez from Arizona.”

“You’ll get the information out of them eventually,” Maria said somberly. “It’s not in your nature to give up.”

Kris smiled. “It’s the Marine in me. We never surrender.”

“But, remember, you’re not in the Corps anymore,” Maria said softly.

Kris smiled. “Once you earn the title Marine, it’s yours for life.”

It was that discipline that would sustain her now. Before she was through, she’d know exactly why her sister had died. And if Tina had left unfinished business, she’d see it done as well. It would be her way of honoring her sister’s memory.

Kris looked around her nursery for the umpteenth time. Her heart was home, and through this nursery she’d learn to welcome each new day again. But first there was one more duty to fulfill.



MAX PARKED IN FRONT of the Smiling Cactus Nursery and walked toward the open greenhouse door. As he stepped inside, he suddenly bumped into someone coming out, a woman wearing a baseball cap and shouldering a large plastic bag of potting soil.

As she fell back, the woman lost her grip on her bag and it came crashing down on top of his foot.

“Sorry,” she said quickly, bending over to pick up the bag.

Unfortunately, he bent down at the same time and their heads collided with a resounding thud.

“My fault, sir, I’m so sorry! How about a ten-percent discount on anything you buy today?” she added, checking the bag for holes.

Stepping back to avoid another bump and rubbing his forehead, he took a closer look at the woman’s face. “It’s you, isn’t it? Kris Reynolds?”

As her gaze went up to his face, recognition flashed in her eyes. “Max Natoni? I went to see you at the hospital, but you were pretty much out of it at the time. How are you feeling?”

She was his former partner’s spitting image—or nearly so. Yet where Tina’s honey-brown eyes had been cold and hard—the long-term results of being a police officer—Kris’s were lighter and softer somehow, like the scent of flowers that clung to her. All in all, not what he’d expected from a former marine.

“I’m doing much better, thanks,” he said at last.

Max reached to pick up the bag, but she was faster. She grabbed it by the corners with perfectly manicured hands, and swung it into a nearby wheelbarrow before he could help. He’d always liked capable women, and Kris was obviously no exception. Her blend of toughness and femininity was an appealing contradiction.

“I’ve been hoping for a chance to talk to you,” she said. “Why don’t we go into my office?”

As she led the way, Max saw the huge smiling cactus on the back of her denim work shirt. Prickly but sweet? As his gaze drifted downward, he observed the way she filled out her jeans. The soft curve of her hips, and the way they swayed with each stride certainly held his attention. Definitely sweet—a few thorns never hurt anyone.



THE SECOND THEY ENTERED her small office, Kris stepped around her desk and reached for the bottle of aspirin she kept in her drawer. She offered him two, but he declined.

Kris made herself comfortable in her chair and regarded Max Natoni thoughtfully as he took the seat by the window, shifting it around to face her directly. The dimples that flashed at the corners of his mouth whenever he smiled contrasted with the scar on his left cheek. There was something infinitely masculine about the man…and that killer smile…. It made her heart beat a little faster—something a battalion of jarheads had never quite managed to do.

Irritated with herself for getting soft, she glanced down at her desk. Heatstroke. That’s why her heart was acting weird. Where was that water bottle? Since leaving the Middle East she’d stopped hydrating enough.

“I’ve been hoping for the chance to talk to you alone,” Max said quietly, slipping his leather jacket off with a shrug and tossing it casually onto the corner coat rack’s hook.

Kris knew that if she wanted to find out what had happened to her sister, Max was the key. “Tina respected you,” she started, then saw him flinch. “Is that a surprise?” she asked.

He shook his head. “That’s not it. Navajos don’t speak the name of the dead out loud, particularly this soon after their passing.”

Kris nodded. “I’m sorry. I’d forgotten about that. I meant no disrespect. I know how important it is to cling to your own culture—to the things that define you.” She paused, organizing her thoughts. “My sister spoke highly of you—and often, too, I should add. That’s why I’m hoping you’ll help me now. I need to know what happened to her. Everyone I’ve spoken to so far, the sheriff’s department, the Farmington police, the Tribal cops, give me the same answer. They’re not free to talk about a case under investigation.”

“What exactly have they told you so far about the way she died?”

“I know my sister was working with you and another man—another courier named Harris. Your objective was to protect some tribal assets. From the bits and pieces I overheard at the station, those assets were some kind of jewelry. Now I want the rest of the details.”

“What led you to think jewelry was involved?” Max asked her.

“I overheard one of the detectives saying that the missing suitcase is worth over a half-million dollars. Then a few days later an investigator working for a company called Jewelry Outlet, a tall redhead by the name of Bruce Talbot, came by,” she said. “The man was a pain in the butt. He hung around questioning my employees, and then tried to grill me. From his questions I know he believes that my sister—and I—had something to do with the robbery.”

She met his gaze and saw how his dark brown eyes could change at a moment’s notice. Yet it was his air of self-possession that intrigued her most.

“I won’t allow that cloud of suspicion to remain over my sister or on me,” she continued. “I have every intention of finding out exactly what went down. Then I’m going to prove that my sister’s innocent, and that she died doing her job.”

“Do you have any background in investigative work?”

“I have a logical mind and I was an intelligence analyst in the Corps. That’ll be enough.” She paused, then continued. “Honor is more than just a word to me. It’s worth dying for.”

“Your sister gave her life to protect tribal assets. Next time Talbot comes around, send him to me.”

“I know you work for the tribe. But in what capacity? A courier? Security guard?” Judging from his neutral expression and his questions, he’d come with more than a social visit in mind.

He took out his card and handed it to her.

She studied it for a moment. “Security. Office of the Navajo Tribal President. That doesn’t tell me much.”

“I work on the President’s behalf, carrying out whatever assignments come up,” he answered, leaning back in his chair and stretching his long legs. “I’m an investigator who answers only to the tribe.”

She held his gaze. The man was holding back. Instinct and training told her that, and much more. Keeping secrets was second nature to him. His body language attested to his ease with them.

While serving in the military, she’d had to do the same thing. She wondered if Max knew what a toll secrets eventually took on those who guarded them.

Almost as quickly as the thought had formed, she focused back on the situation at hand. “Those assets you won’t identify—let’s just call them jewelry for now. Talbot intimated that I might know where they are, so he’s talking conspiracy.”

“What did you tell him?”

“Not much. I, shall we say, escorted him off my property?” She watched his gaze skim over her lips, then drop lower, grazing her neck, and taking in the soft swell of her breasts. The look hadn’t been insolent or disrespectful. It had been…appreciative.

Kris suppressed the shiver that touched her spine. He was playing her. He knew that nature had given him a certain amount of power over the opposite sex and he’d learned to use it. She wouldn’t be taken in.

“Back to my sister…what happened?” she pressed again. “At one point, Talbot had the nerve to suggest that I’d previously met with Harris and that I knew where the stolen merchandise was.” She paused. “He’s lucky he can still walk upright.”

“Harris is dead, but he was the key player. He betrayed the tribe, your sister and me,” he said, then taking a breath continued. “We all set out in the same vehicle with our cargo, Harris driving. Our route took us through Four Corners, and you know how desolate that stretch is. Not long after we passed into New Mexico, he insisted on pulling over. He claimed that there was something wrong with the steering and he wanted to stop and take a look. We all got out and he suddenly pulled a gun on us. He shot me, then fired at your sister as she scrambled out of the backseat. I went down, but managed to return fire and force him back, giving your sister the chance to drive away with the cargo. Unfortunately, her only option was to head down a dirt road, not the highway.”

She could picture it clearly. Tina would have done everything in her power to keep what had been entrusted to her out of a thief’s hands. “What happened to you then?”

“I took a hit to the head, maybe from a second gunman, and passed out. I didn’t wake up until the next day. Evidence at the scene suggests that Harris either had another vehicle hidden nearby, or was met shortly thereafter by a partner. We also have reason to believe Harris caught up to your sister after she hid the cargo.”

“You found the car she drove off in,” Kris commented thoughtfully. “Wasn’t there any other evidence in or around it?”

“It had rained that afternoon, so the tracks in the area were almost indistinguishable by the time she was located. But I’m absolutely certain that your sister hid the assets we were protecting—and died with honor protecting them. Which brings me to the reason I’m here,” he added. “My job now is to find out where she went, who she spoke to or saw, and where those assets ended up.”

“So to you, this is mostly a matter of finding the missing cargo,” she concluded. “But why do you need me for that? Why don’t you just expand the search until you find the stuff?” She paused, suddenly reminded of Talbot. “Or did you come to me because you also think I had something to do with the theft?” Angry, she faced him squarely.

“No, that’s not it.” He rose to his feet and placed both his hands on her shoulders, capturing her gaze.

“I’m here because I remember the way your sister spoke about you. She told me that you were two of a kind. I believe that if anyone can second-guess what she did that day, it’ll be you.”

Max was telling her the truth. She could feel it. But she was just as sure that there was a lot more he wasn’t saying. “You two shared a working relationship,” she said at last. “You were partners in the police force at one time, too. That should give you all the edge you need.”

“Your sister and I respected each other, and we worked well as partners, but we were never anything more than that.”

“My priority isn’t finding those precious assets. I want to know exactly what happened to my sister that day and why she was killed. Since we have different goals, I can’t see us working together.”

“We’ll have a better chance of finding answers—and staying alive—if we work together,” he replied in quiet voice.

She gazed into his eyes, then shook her head and turned away. “I won’t work with someone who’s holding out on me. If you want us on the same team, then start by telling me what was stolen. I know how to keep things under wraps. If the United States Marine Corps trusted me, so can you.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” he began.

“Then stop playing games,” she interrupted sharply, bringing forth the bark that had served her so well as a marine. “If you want my help, then put me in the picture, and tell me everything you know. Otherwise, you’re on your own.”

“We’re not overseas now, giving orders, or fighting a war. This type of case isn’t part of your training. You’re out of your element,” he said, his eyes narrowed, his gaze sharp.

Kris was sure that not many people could have stood up to one of those icy looks of his, but she held her ground. “I’m a quick study. I intend to start by examining my sister’s personal effects as soon as the police release them. I’ll also have a talk with our senator and congresswoman and ask for their help in loosening some lips. I’ve got it covered, so it looks like we’re through here,” she added, gesturing to the door. “I’ve got a long day ahead of me.”

“Give me a few more minutes of your time,” Max said, slipping his jacket back on and jamming his hands into the pockets. “My pickup is parked right out the side door. Walk with me, and we’ll talk. You’ve got nothing to lose.”



MAX WAITED FOR HER as she stepped over to speak to the woman at the cash register. Kris was one tough lady. Women usually liked him, but he’d tried charm and that hadn’t worked. He’d also tried logic, but her points had been valid, too. He needed a new tactic—and fast.

A moment later she fell into step beside him. “Don’t even think of trying to play me, Max. I’ve been dealing with men trying to tell me what to do for years.”

The challenge sparked something inside him. She had fire, this one. He brought his thoughts under control quickly. Without control and finesse, he’d get nowhere.

“So talk,” she said. “Time’s wasting and I’ve got other work to do.”

He was so completely focused on Kris that he didn’t pay much attention to the van parked behind his pickup until the side door slid open. By then, it was too late.

Two men wearing topcoats and ski masks jumped out, the first one firing a taser directly at him.

The jolt stunned him instantly, like an electric sledgehammer. Then one of the contacts slipped out, having hit the button on his leather jacket instead of lodging in place. Shaking off the attack, he reacted, striking out with a jab even before turning to face his assailant.

Dropping the taser, the man advanced with his fists. Max’s defense was quick. He blocked a jab, then delivered a hard uppercut to the surprised man’s jaw.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a quick glimpse of Kris. As the other thug made a grab for her arm, she landed a spearlike kick to his left thigh, barely missing a crippling strike to the groin. The man sagged back.

Catching a glimpse of movement out of the corner of his eye, Max glanced back at his own opponent, and saw him reach for a sawed-off shotgun inside his topcoat.

“Gun!” Max yelled, knowing he was too far away to grab the weapon in time.

Leaping to one side, he grabbed Kris by the arm and pulled her around the front bumper of a small SUV. They fell to the gravel just as the shotgun blast shattered the driver’s side window.




Chapter Two


Max had rolled to the left, simultaneously reaching for the gun at his waist. Kris immediately reached down her right side for her service Beretta. Old habits died hard. All she found now were pruning shears in a leather holder at her belt.

Two more shotgun blasts shook the vehicle they were hugging. “We need them alive,” one of the men called to the other.

Kris saw Max’s reaction and wondered if he’d recognized the voice. But there was no time to discuss that now.

They waited, back to back, crouched low beside the passenger’s side front tire. “Stay close to the tire so they can’t see our feet. Let them come to us,” she whispered, taking a quick look underneath the vehicle, trying to locate their assailants. “I can take down the one who came after me. He’s an amateur.”

Max turned toward the back end of the SUV. “I’m going to the rear axle and take a quick look. Maybe I can get a drop on the one with the shotgun.”

“No, stick close and cover my back. You can’t fire in that direction anyway. A stray bullet could kill a civilian. Make them come to us,” she repeated.

He glanced back at her and realized that he was taking tactical advice from a woman wearing a shirt with a smiling cactus. Before he could give that further thought, she reached into her shirt pocket for her cell phone and dialed 9-1-1.

“Deputies are on their way,” she called out a second later.

They heard running footsteps, followed by the distinctive slam of the van door being pulled shut.

As the van’s engine started up with a roar and they heard the squeal of tires, Max stood.

Kris did the same. “They’re making a run for it,” she said, watching the van accelerate out of the lot. “Wimps!”

“I’ll pursue,” Max said, running to his truck. He suddenly stopped, seeing where the other shotgun blasts had gone. Both his rear tires had been flattened—shredded by the buckshot.

Kris, half a step behind him, grabbed his arm and tugged. “Come on. We’ll take my truck!”

He raced after her. As she opened the driver’s side door, he made a move to edge past her, but she jumped in ahead of him, waving the key in her hand. “Nobody drives my truck but me. Take shotgun.”

“I’ve been trained in pursuit.”

She gave him a level stare. “I’ve threaded my way through ambushes in a Humvee. You want them to get away while we debate our credentials? Go around.”

Spitting out an oath, he raced to the other side and climbed in. “They headed east, toward Farmington,” he said and pointed to the right.

She tossed him the phone. “Update the sheriff.”

Showing restraint with the gas pedal, she didn’t waste momentum spinning the tires in the gravel parking lot. Yet once she hit the pavement, Kris accelerated rapidly, going through the gears of the manual transmission like she’d been raised on high-performance engines. This was the old highway, two narrow lanes worn by decades of traffic, but she took the corners right on the center line, not wasting a single foot of road, yet staying in their lane—barely.

“Seat belt,” she said, without looking over. He’d forgotten in the rush, but she hadn’t.

He reached over and brought down the belt, snapping it in place. Glancing over, he could see they were going eighty-five, whipping around slower-moving traffic on the old road, now more of a country lane passing through the rural community of Water-flow. The van, a bluish-green Chevy, was in sight now, and they were closing the gap.

“Reach down beneath my seat,” she said, “and grab my Beretta. I can’t take my eyes off the road or my hands off the wheel right now.”

He did as she’d asked, still trying to take in the fact that she was behind the wheel and doing some seriously skilled high-pursuit driving. The nine-millimeter pistol in a nylon tactical holster that was held high on the thigh was nearly identical to his own handgun. It would figure she’d make that choice, considering the military supplied a nearly identical weapon to its troops.

“It’s got a key pad lock mechanism,” she said, noticing he’d retrieved the weapon. She called out the numbers—the date of her induction into the Corps.

“And in case you’re wondering, I’ve got a concealed carry permit.”

The road ahead rose sharply for a short distance, and humped up over an old irrigation canal. As they watched, the van left the ground slightly, brushing against the low branches of an ancient cottonwood. Dozens of golden leaves showered down onto the road.

“There’s an elementary school ahead. What time is it?” she asked.

He looked at his watch. “Ten-thirty. The children should be inside, and the parents gone by now.”

“Hope you’re right. Those morons are going to be flying through a school zone at three times the limit.” She eased off on the gas as the low, one-story cinder-block building came into view. “Where’d they go? I can’t see the van.”

“There!” He pointed. “They took a left on the side road. They’re heading for the main highway.”

She took the turn at forty-five, but the tires held, despite the squeal of protest. The van, obviously souped up, accelerated down the straight lane like a drag racer, widening the gap.

“That heap has some serious power,” Max commented. “Once they get to the good roads they’ll leave us in the dust.”

The truck was going eighty, but they were still losing ground, and the four-lane highway was less than a half mile ahead. Max knew there was no entrance ramp, just a stoplight. “Think he’ll try and run it? There’s no way he’ll make the turn.”

“He still hasn’t hit the brakes,” Kris yelled. “He’s gonna get hit for sure, or T-bone somebody.”

Cursing, Kris let off on the gas, touched the brakes, then started gearing down, the transmission roaring in protest. The image ahead of them was surreal, like watching a train wreck about to occur, but in slow motion.

Finally the brake lights on the van flashed as red as the traffic signal. The vehicle fishtailed violently, then entered onto the highway. The van slipped right in front of a big SUV, forcing the driver to practically stand on his brakes, then the lucky pair whipped across three more lanes of traffic like a bullet, untouched. Max could hear the scream of tires from an eighth of a mile away, and blue smoke and dust filled the intersection.

“Hang on, it’s gonna be close,” she yelled as her pickup’s brakes pulsed and stopped them cold after three sharp jerks. By the time it was all said and done, they were on the crosswalk, just feet from the stream of cars hurtling past in front of them. Cars continued to whiz by, although the SUV that had been nearly transfixed by the van had pulled over by the shoulder farther to the west.

The van, now racing up the hill toward an old natural gas plant, was nearly out of sight.

“Any way we can get across?” Max yelled, looking both ways and seeing nothing but traffic.

“Wanna run out there and blow a whistle? My truck and I will join you after the light changes.”

He slammed his hand down hard on the dashboard and cursed, seeing that the van had disappeared. “Why did you insist on driving if you weren’t willing to do what had to be done?”

“You would have played dodge car with my truck and my life? No way! I just saved both of our lives by not running that gauntlet. Instead of backseat driving you should be on the phone updating the police so they can pick up the chase.”

He knew there weren’t enough officers around to cut off every avenue of escape, but he called it in anyway, updating dispatch, then hung up. “We’ll have to go to the sheriff’s office and make a statement.”

The light finally changed, and she turned right, heading toward Farmington, the closest community with a sheriff’s department office.

Turning to glance at him, she saw that he’d placed the trigger lock back on her pistol and was returning it to its place beneath the seat. “Who were those guys, anyway? They can’t be my enemies, so they must be yours.”

Making a split-second decision, he decided she’d earned the right to know what was at stake. “Don’t be so sure of anything, not at this point. I believe those men were connected to the theft of the platinum.”

“The what?”

“The cargo, the merchandise, the stuff your sister and I were trying to deliver for the tribe. About a half-million dollars worth of jewelry-grade platinum was in that metal case, destined to be made into high-end jewelry by our craftsmen at the new tribal design facility.” He met her gaze. “And that’s for your ears only. The tribe doesn’t want half the state of New Mexico running around looking for the stuff. We’re searching for the raw material, not the finished designs. Tracing it would be impossible.”

“Platinum is worth a lot more than gold, too. Finally you’re giving me facts. So how about another? Why would those men come after us?” she demanded, as she continued driving east. “Or were they just after you? And if so, why?”

“Your sister hid the platinum before she died so it wouldn’t fall into the wrong hands. I’m guessing those men were hoping we could lead them to it.”

“I get it,” she said, nodding slowly. “They want you, because you were there and knew my sister, and me, because they think I can second-guess her.”

He didn’t answer right away. “That’s the way I see it,” he said, after a beat.

His pause hadn’t escaped her. He was holding something else back—there was another secret tied to the mystery that had claimed her sister’s life. “There’s more to your story. Tell me the rest or you’re on your own from this point on.”

“There is something else,” he said, giving her a look of grudging admiration. “Your sister left a note, but only managed to get one word down—Remember— before she had to make a run for it,” he said.

“Remember what?” Kris asked, mulling it over in her mind. “That’s not much of a clue. Any idea what it means?”

“No, and that’s why I came to you. I thought that maybe together we could figure things out.”

“Was the note addressed to anyone in particular?”

“No, but at the time she probably thought I was either dead—or as good as. It would have made sense for her to have left that message for you.”

“And she didn’t address it because she was afraid that if Harris found it, he’d come after me?”

“That’s one theory I’ve been tossing around,” he admitted.

“And now you’re thinking that Harris’s partners found out about the note and that’s why they came after us? If that’s true, at least one of them must be working from the inside then.”

He nodded. “That’s what I was afraid of.”

They rode in silence for the next several minutes, traffic getting heavier as they approached the city of Farmington, the largest community in the area.

“There’s something I need to know,” Max said at last. “What would you have done if we’d actually caught up to them, and you’d learned that those men had been involved in your sister’s death?”

“I would have done whatever was necessary to hold them for the police.” She glanced at him, then back at the road. “If you’re thinking I’d want revenge, you’re wrong. I’ve seen enough tit-for-tat killings in the past two years. But those people made a big mistake. They came after me. And by doing that, they’ve ensured I’ll go after them. When it comes to defending myself, I believe in being proactive.”

Max considered what she’d said. He agreed with it and found his respect for her growing. “So what are you plans?” he asked.

“I’m going to finish this,” Kris answered firmly.

“I’m going to find the men who killed my sister and bring them in. After that, if the platinum still hasn’t been found, I’ll concentrate on finding it so I can return it to the tribe. I’m sure that’s the way my sister would have liked me to honor her memory.”

He said nothing for several long moments. Finally he spoke. “Police business is filled with ambiguous lines. If you choose to cross those lines, you better have a clear idea of what you’re trying to do and how far you’re willing to go to get what you want. Things can get very messy, believe me.”

“Is that why you wanted to pursue them yourself?”

He regarded her silently for some time. She was smart and good at reading between the lines. Yet what he liked most about her was her confidence. She wouldn’t take crap from anyone. A man would have a lot to measure up to before she let him get close, and that was the kind of challenge he thrived under. A sudden primitive need he hadn’t counted on swept through him.

He forced himself to focus. This was no time to indulge in distractions—no matter how beautiful. “You just left a war zone,” he said in a firm, reasonable tone. “To go after the man who killed your sister will put you right back into the line of fire. Are you really ready for this?”

“Yes, I am. I had hoped to leave the violence far behind me once and for all. But this is something I have to see through.”

“These men will do just about anything to get what they want. You won’t be able to lower your guard for even one second. If we continue together, I’ll do my best to watch your back, but that’s not a guarantee that nothing will happen to you.” He waited, letting her consider the ramifications as they stopped at a light in Farmington.

“I have a question for you,” she said at last. “Are you exclusively interested in going after the platinum, or does what happened to my sister play a part in your investigation, too?”

The question took him by surprise. He’d expected her to ask him about the risks, not his motives. “I was ordered to find the platinum, but I’ll be doing both things at the same time. My partner, your sister, was my friend and I won’t let that go.”

They rode in silence the rest of the way. When they reached the sheriff’s station, Max glanced over at her. “We’ll get grilled hard by the officers. Be prepared.”

“My answers will be simple and straightforward, unlike yours, I suppose.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your history, your part in everything that’s happened is…unclear,” she said slowly. “If I were you, I’d work on keeping my answers short and generic. You’re holding back information, Max, and any good officer will be able to pick up on that.”

“Secrets are part of any operation—and of life, too,” he answered, his voice somber.

Kris didn’t respond. Like violence, secrets had been a part of the world she’d hoped to leave behind. Yet Max’s world was obviously defined by secrets and seemed as essential as his own heartbeat.

When she glanced over at him she saw he’d trained his expression into one of total neutrality. Clearly, he hadn’t liked the way she’d been able to read him, so he was making it much harder for her now.

The success of that effort told her something else about Max. Trouble and danger were sitting right next to her.



KRIS WATCHED DETECTIVE Lassiter of the Sheriff’s Department stride around the small room, his face red and his lips tight. From his questions, it was clear the middle-aged, slightly pudgy detective believed that Max and she were part of a group of thieves who’d had a recent and deadly falling out.

Kris tapped her fingers on the table to the beat of a popular song playing only in her own mind, purposely throwing off his rhythm. He’d seriously ticked her off with his ridiculous allegations, and, trained to resist interrogations of all kinds, she was now making his life far more difficult.

“So,” he demanded, “Any idea why these men would want to abduct you and Natoni? Had it been just you, I could have come up with a dozen reasons right off the bat. An attractive woman alone—plenty of motives there. But with Natoni involved, the picture shifts, especially with his recent history.” He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “Make it easy on yourself. Come clean. This was a business deal gone wrong, wasn’t it?”

“Some men jumped out of a van, and Mr. Natoni got tasered,” she said in a cold voice. “They did a sloppy job so Mr. Natoni was able to help me fight back. They pulled guns on us, too, so I wasn’t as concerned about their reasons as I was about mounting a good defense. I suppose it could have been an attempted carjacking or robbery since I’m the one who takes the receipts from my business to the bank. Either way, I’m a marine, and we make lousy victims.”

“So you gave chase.”

It hadn’t been a question. “At the time it was a logical thing to do. Once we had them on the run, I figured we’d continue to monitor their location until your deputies could show up and take over. Our calls are on record, right?”

He didn’t answer and began pacing around the room again. “Just back from the war zone, and looking for a little action to get the blood pumping again, eh?”

She struggled to keep her temper in check. “I saw enough conflict overseas, Detective. I came home hoping to find a pleasant routine I could settle into. But that’s not the way it went down today, so I adapted.”

He held her gaze. Then, at long last ostensibly satisfied with what he saw there, Lassiter nodded. “You and your sister were planning to run the nursery together?”

She shook her head. “Tina invested in the nursery, but she wasn’t interested in actually growing and selling plants.”

He took a seat and looked at his notes. “And you claim that this incident had nothing to do with your sister’s murder?”

“I don’t claim anything of the sort. You’re the detective. I have no idea why those men came after us. All I can give you are the facts,” she said, aware that he’d yet to mention anything about the platinum. “I’ve answered all your questions to the best of my ability, Detective Lassiter. Now I want some answers from you. Why was my sister killed? The police still haven’t clarified that for me and I’ve got a right to know.”

When he didn’t answer her right away, she took another tack. “From your questions, it’s clear that you think I’m somehow involved in what happened to Tina. So what harm is there in telling me the current theories floating around the Sheriff’s Office?”

He leaned back in his chair, stared at some indeterminate spot across the room, then looked directly at her. “I’ve already helped you. I’m also a marine, a reservist. That’s why I haven’t come down even harder on you, Ms. Reynolds. A courtesy, if you will, so take it as a win.”

She studied his expression. Lassiter’s brow was furrowed, his lips tight. He seemed to be at odds with himself. “And you also don’t believe I’m guilty of anything,” she said, taking a stab at it.

“Personal opinions don’t count for much around here unless they’re backed up with hard evidence,” he answered. “But you’re right, I can’t see it. First, I knew your sister and I’m one-hundred-percent certain she handled herself with honor till the end.”

“I appreciate your faith in Tina,” she answered with heartfelt gratitude.

He met her gaze and held it. “Now I’m going to tell you the same thing I once told Tina. You’ve chosen real bad company. The Navajo man you’re with left law enforcement a year or so ago, and, since then, his activities are a complete blank. He says he’s working for the tribe, but nobody I’ve spoken to seems to know exactly what that means. Something’s not right there.” He paused as if intending to say more, but then just shook his head.

“What are you trying to tell me?” Kris inquired.

“Do you think he had something to do with what happened to Tina?”

The detective hesitated. “Maybe he’s a righteous guy, maybe not. But, one marine to another, check your six.”

Kris recognized the jargon—watch your back. She nodded. “Count on it.”

Lassiter stood, then walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. In the stillness that followed she could hear Max being questioned in the next room. Scarcely breathing, she made it a point to listen.




Chapter Three


“Come on, Natoni,” Lassiter snapped. “Spill it. You figured to make a small fortune in platinum, but Harris double-crossed you and your partner. Though you walked out of the hospital, she ended up dead. Harris is also dead now, maybe run off the road by his remaining partner or partners, but what happened today suggests none of them managed to end up with the platinum. That’s why the other members of the gang are coming after you. They think you know where it is. Tell me I’m not on the mark.”

“John Harris is dead? You guys are sure of that?”

The detective gave Max an incredulous look. “The guy’s toast. What’s left of him is sitting in some cardboard box at the morgue. But here’s the thing. Unless you come clean, you’re likely to end up as dead as your partner. If I were you I’d spill my guts rather than have someone else do the job for me. Prison trumps death.”

“Finding the reason those idiots tried to grab us is your job, Lassiter, not mine.”

“You were a police officer once. What happened to you? Your word’s sure not worth much these days.”

Their gazes locked and the tension in the room escalated. He knew Lassiter was pushing his buttons. No one had ever believed how he’d solved his last case. Despite the life he’d managed to save his credibility had been compromised. But he had few regrets. That one incident had drawn him back to the Rez and made him who and what he was today. The “who” he could live with, but the “what” part of that equation still gave him more of a problem.

“You don’t really expect me to believe that you have no idea who the men were?” Lassiter pressed.

Max paused for a fraction of a second, remembering the voice. He could have sworn it had been Harris’s. Yet the police were convinced Harris had burned to death, trapped in his vehicle after running off a mountain road.

He’d heard a dead man…for all the sense that made.

“They were wearing masks and didn’t exactly stop and introduce themselves,” Max answered at last.

“What if I tell you that the woman’s account of today’s events doesn’t match yours?”

“Then I’d say that you’re either lying to me, or you need to take a closer look at your source. She just came back from overseas—deployed for over a year in a combat zone. That means she probably brought home a boatload of emotional baggage. No telling how many casualties she saw along those roads. Then just a few weeks after she gets stateside, her sister gets shot to death not fifty miles from home. You expect a calm, completely accurate story from her?”

“So you’re saying that what happened at the nursery was the result of some penny-ante crooks looking to jack a car, not something connected to you two and the missing platinum?” Lassiter glared at him. “Coincidences are for fools, Natoni, and neither of us fits the mold. You’re neck deep in whatever’s going on. Come clean and save us both some time. Otherwise, we’re going to be in here for a long, long time.”

“Knock yourself out. I’ve told you all I know. Meanwhile, the bad guys are another mile down the road.”



SHE’D LISTENED CAREFULLY and knew that there was a lot Max hadn’t told the detective. For example, he’d never mentioned her gun. He hadn’t lied, not from what she’d been able to tell. He just hadn’t volunteered information, even when pushed.

The man was a pro—but at what? She needed more information. The problem was she had no way of getting it…except directly from him.

“Tina, what did you get me into?” she whispered in the silence.

A second later Detective Lassiter came back into the room. “Your attorney is here, and we’re releasing you.”

“My…what?”

“Tribal attorney Emily Largo is here.”

“But—”

Before she could say anything more, a petite Navajo woman in a blue suit with long black hair tied back at the nape of her neck came into the room.

The woman made a faint gesture with the palm of her hand, indicating that Kris should withhold any more comments. “My client is free to go, correct?” It hadn’t been a question as much as a statement.

“Absolutely. But we ask that she stay in the area,” Lassiter said.

Kris looked directly at him. “My business is here, and so is every dime I have, Detective. Where else would I be?”

“You tell me,” he answered.

“That’s enough,” Emily said, looking at Kris and shaking her head slightly. To emphasize the need to end this conversation, she gave Kris a gentle nudge out the door.

As they stepped out into the hall, Kris saw the tall redheaded man who worked for Jewelry Outlet. “Mr. Talbot,” Kris said in a cold voice. Now she knew why he’d been coming around. He’d bought into the conspiracy angle as well.

“You may be leaving for now, but this isn’t over,” Talbot said. “The sheriff thinks you may be involved in the theft of tribal property, and so do I.”

“Ignore him.” Emily nudged her toward the side door. “Let’s get out of here.”

As they reached the exit, Emily stopped, then gave her a stern look. “I’m going to get Max. Wait here and speak to no one while I’m gone. Clear?”

“How much will I owe you for all this?” Kris asked, blurting out what was at the forefront of her mind. At the moment, her personal checking account wouldn’t have bought two tanks of gasoline.

“It’s already been covered,” the Navajo woman said, then went down the hall.

Detective Lassiter joined her again as soon as Emily disappeared from view. “She’s the tribe’s top gun,” he said. “Just remember my warning,” he added, then hurried away.

A gazillion questions were going through her mind, but one stood above all the others. Just who exactly was Max Natoni? The guy had some serious connections, that’s for sure. One way or another she’d have to figure out who she was dealing with.

Max came around the corner of the hall and joined her moments later. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah, they’re through with me,” she said. “But where’s Ms. Largo?”

“She’s got other business at the moment.” He led the way outside. “I know you’ve got a lot of questions, I can see them in your eyes. But let’s wait until we put some distance between us and this zoo.”

She did as he asked. Neither spoke as she drove through the city and headed west, back toward the nursery, which lay between Farmington and the Navajo Nation along the San Juan River valley. Finally, after about fifteen minutes, he broke the silence.

“There’s no turning back now. We’re in too deep. You realize that, right?” he asked at last.

“I know we’re both targets, yes. That also means I’m going to have to stay away from the Smiling Cactus Nursery when it needs me most.”

He nodded. “Otherwise you could endanger your employees or customers.”

“I’ll turn the reins over to Maria as soon as we arrive. She can take care of business for me until all the details surrounding my sister’s death are settled.”

“I think that’s the right decision,” he agreed.

Her insides were knotted but pride kept her voice cool. “Who are you, Max? I mean, really.”

“I’m exactly who I’ve told you I am. I’m a tribal employee.”

She shook her head. “There’s more to you—and the job—than you’re saying.”

“That could be said about almost anyone,” he replied with a slow smile. “There’s more to you, too, than just being the owner of a plant nursery.”

Max scarcely moved when he spoke. Like a good fighter, he didn’t seem to believe in wasted motion. Yet there was a raw energy about him, an edginess, that made him exciting to be around. It was like watching the beginning of a storm.

“Talbot, from Jewelry Outlet, was at the station,” she said, bringing her thoughts back into focus. “He thinks we’re all part of the gang who heisted the platinum.”

“Talbot’s job is probably on the line. The insurance company doesn’t want to shell out a bundle of cash to cover the tribe’s claim and they’re probably putting heat on Jewelry Outlet.”

Kris rubbed her temple with one hand. “When I came back home I thought I’d finally be able to sleep in peace at night knowing I had a good chance of waking up again. That’s all I wanted. But all I’ve found so far is more death.”

“My people believe that when we restore the balance between good and evil, we walk in beauty,” he said. “You’ll find the peace you want once harmony is established again.”

She lapsed into a long, thoughtful silence, then spoke. “Restoring that balance you spoke about is going to take a fight. The bad guys think we’ve got the answers, and the good guys think we’re the bad guys. That doesn’t leave us with many allies.”

“Don’t assume we’re working alone just because you haven’t seen our allies,” he said in a quiet voice.

There was something oddly reassuring about his confidence. “Who are our allies?”

“The tribe, for one,” he said. “We’ve got good friends who can be counted on to cover our flanks if things get hot.”

“Tribal employees, like you? You’re pretty sure of them?” she asked, her mind filled with even more questions.

“I am.”

There’d been a finality to his tone that told her he’d answered all the questions he was going to for now.

As she glanced at Max she saw the way he held himself. His muscles were hard and tense. For a brief second she pictured herself running her hands gently over his arms and chest. Would he shudder at her touch, or would he be all hardness and control?

A delicious shiver touched her spine but, with effort, she suppressed it.

“You okay?” he asked. His eyes were dark and probing as they held hers.

Did his imagination misbehave, too, when he looked at her? She pushed the thought back firmly. Max Natoni was a dangerous man—to his enemies, and to any woman who didn’t encase her heart in armor.

“I won’t go back to work until this is resolved, but somehow I’ve got to make that clear to the ones who came after us. I have to make sure my staff stays safe,” she said turning back to the business at hand.

“My guess is they’ll keep a watch on the nursery for a few days and once they see you’re not around, they’ll pull out and go on the move. We’re the ones they want. The cops will be coming around here often, too, now that the nursery’s on their radar. That’s company the guys after us will want to avoid.”

Max’s voice was low and smoky, a hunter on the prowl. Yet in the confines of the car, it also seemed to hold an air of intimacy. She glanced over at him, then focused back on the road. Smoldering. That was the one word that best described him. So much lay just beneath the surface….

“You must really have some connections if you rate the tribe’s top attorney,” she said, mostly to see his reaction.

Max raised an eyebrow, then his lips curved in a wicked smile that made her breath catch in her throat.

“No answer?” she probed, refusing to let him get to her.

“As I told you, we have allies.”

She pulled into her parking slot at the nursery. “I don’t know what to make of you, Max,” she said, honestly, “and I like to know the people who are by my side when I’m fighting. Overseas, the enemy generally didn’t bother to differentiate between a combat unit and noncombat one. Knowing and trusting the people I was with kept me alive.”

“I hear you.”

He held her gaze for a second or two and she felt the impact of that look all through her body. Liars were usually polished, but there was a roughness to Max, an edge of raw masculine power that made her want to trust him.

“Your sister was a good judge of character,” he said at last. “You know that. If you trusted her judgment, then you should also trust me.”

She could almost feel the layers of secrets that surrounded him. “Let’s take this one step at a time,” she answered, then pointing ahead, added, “Does that have anything to do with your connections to the tribal president?”

Two Navajo men were working quickly to change the damaged tires on Max’s truck. She recognized the name of the company on their jackets, too. It belonged to a nationally known racing team based in Farmington.

Following her gaze, he smiled. “Like I said, I have friends.”

Again, a nonanswer. “I’m going to go talk to my staff and explain that I’ll be away for a few days,” she said.

“This operation may take much longer than that,” he warned, opening his door.

“I’m optimistic,” she answered.

“Go do what you have to, but hurry. We can’t afford to hang around for too long. We’re going to be under surveillance by the cops and the bad guys.”

“All right. I’ll meet you here at my truck in five minutes.”

He shook his head. “You’ve got a great truck, but mine has a few extras that could come in handy. Bring your Beretta along with you, too, and the extra clips.”

Kris watched him stride off. He was in superb physical condition…like an active duty soldier. In a way, maybe that was exactly what he was. What made Max Natoni even more dangerous was that underneath all the mystery that surrounded him beat the heart of one ultra sexy man.




Chapter Four


The Navajo man tightening lug nuts with an air hammer glanced up as Max approached. Turning the task over to his associate, a younger Navajo man who appeared to be just out of high school, he took Max aside.

“Thunder, Hastiin Bigodii wants an update,” he said quietly.

Max looked at his cousin, Ranger Blueeyes. Under other circumstances, he would have greeted him as family, but an operation was underway and security procedures were required. The man before him now was simply Wind, just as he was Thunder—not Max Natoni.

Max told him about the voice he’d heard during the kidnapping attempt. “They were both wearing masks, but I’m one-hundred-percent positive that one of the men was Harris.”

“John Harris is supposed to be dead. The authorities concluded that he drove over a cliff a few days after the theft of the platinum.”

“The charred body found in the wreckage of Harris’s car couldn’t have been Harris’s because he was here this morning, trying to kidnap the woman and me.”

“Then it looks like we’ll have to operate under the assumption that the man is still alive, no matter what the police have been led to believe. I’ll pass that information along. Is the woman going to be a reliable asset?”

He knew what Wind meant. “I don’t know her well enough yet to answer that. Her sister once told me that they were alike in all the ways that mattered, that there was a bond between them. But whether she’ll be able to second-guess my old partner is something that remains to be seen.” He sighed. “What complicates matters is that she doesn’t really trust me. She’s been trained to look past the surface. She’s got an intelligence background in the military, so she’s skeptical of halfway answers.”

“Do whatever you have to do to get her complete trust.”

“I’m working on it.”

“If you’re right about Harris being alive—”

“I am,” he interrupted.

Wind nodded. “Then he’ll come after her again. We’ve suspected that Harris had—has—a partner on the inside, so he probably already knows about the note. That could explain why she’s become a target—and an asset that’ll have to be protected.”

“I haven’t told her about Harris being alive, but she knows she’s in danger. She’s chosen to stay with me, but with her skills and training, she’s more than capable of looking after herself.”

Wind nodded. “Maybe so, but she’s still an asset and it’s our duty to guard her. The body count is high enough already.”

“Harris killed my former partner. He won’t touch this woman, not while I’ve got breath in my body,” Max growled.

Wind nodded once. “I’ve got a source in the County Sheriff’s Department. He said that Lassiter warned the woman—marine to marine—that your current activities are suspect.”

“That could damage any seeds of trust that may have started to develop.”

“Then handle it quickly, Thunder.” Wind looked around for a second, then continued. “Have you tried…really tried…to use your gift? That could simplify things, stargazer, and put a quick end to at least one of the problems we’re facing.”

“I’ve tried, but nothing happened,” he admitted.

“So I’m working on this case the only way I know for sure works—dealing with reality, not metaphysics. I’ll get results.”

Wind shrugged, then turned off the air compressor and began to help his assistant put the tools away.

Seeing Kris coming in his direction, Max went to meet her halfway. “Are you ready?” He looked at the oversize purse she was carrying—big enough to conceal her pistol.

She nodded. “I’ve done all I can do here for now. We need to plan our next move. How about if you take me to the exact spot where you and my sister first came under fire? Then I’d like you to go over every detail with me.”

He nodded. “I plan to take you there and talk you through it, but first we need to shake off any possible surveillance.”

“As soon as you’re sure we’re not being tailed, I’d also like to stop by my place so I can pick up a few changes of clothing. You can keep watch.”

He drove down the highway in silence. Somehow he’d have to find a way to convince Kris that even though he guarded more than his share of secrets, he was worthy of her trust.

As the miles stretched out before them, he thought of Tina. “Your sister died doing the work she loved, Kris. She liked living on the edge and the job fit her like a glove. That may not be much consolation to you right now, but it will someday,” he said somberly.

“Is that what keeps you in your line of work, the lure of danger?” she asked.

“Partly, yeah,” he admitted. “I’d die by inches in a nine to five. But it’s more than that. By working to restore the balance, I make a difference. That’s the most any of us can ask for.”

“I still don’t understand your relationship with my sister. Neither of you was in the police force anymore, so how did you end up working together on this operation?”

“After she went freelance, I’d throw work her way as often as I could. I trusted her and she trusted me. In our line of work that’s all that matters.”

“Was there anything more between you other than work?”

“No,” he answered flatly. “Not that your sister wasn’t interesting or attractive to me.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He’d have to give Kris some glimpses into who he was as a man if he wanted her to trust him. “I’m not one for involvements, and neither was she—at least by that point in her life. If you’re envisioning some sort of unspoken romantic attraction like you see on those TV cop shows, forget it. We stayed professional.”

He paused, then grudgingly answered the question he could see still mirrored in her eyes. “Did I ever think about having a physical relationship with her? Sure I did. She was tempted, too, on occasion. If it hadn’t been for our jobs, who knows what might have happened.”

Kris got what he was saying. Tina had liked to keep work and play separate. Yet her sister had also often enjoyed uncommitted physical relationships with men. In that particular way, she and Tina were vastly different. Her heart would have to be engaged before anything serious could happen.

“Your sister’s first love was her work and no matter what else you may hear, she died trying to complete her assignment. Before I’m through, everyone will know the truth, too. You have my word. It’s a matter of honor—hers and mine. Do you understand?”

She nodded slowly. It was their mutual love and respect for Tina that bound them now. “At the moment, the note’s your best lead, and I’m going to do my best to help you figure it out. With luck it’ll also lead us to the ones responsible for her death.”

They soon approached a familiar intersection and Kris sat up and pointed. “I live a short distance down that road.”

“We can’t stay long,” he said, following her directions. “Pack quickly.”

“After we leave my place, then what?” she asked.

“We’ll go see a few people I know.”

“I’m going to need more than that. I won’t go into any situation blindly, no more than you would,” she said, her voice firm. “I’d really like to trust you, Max, but you’ve got to give me a reason.”

He understood her perfectly. He didn’t trust easily, either. In that one way they were kindred souls. He glanced over at her. She was an incredibly attractive woman. A man could drown in those pale golden eyes. But what drew him to her went beyond that. He liked her code of honor and her loyalty to the people who mattered to her. Any man would be proud to have a woman like Kris by his side.

He stared at the road ahead, then continued. “Let me start by telling you something you don’t know. I believe the man who killed your sister—John Harris—is still alive. I can’t prove it, mind you, because I never saw his face, but he was one of the men who came after us at the nursery.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” she demanded. “This changes everything. If Harris pulled the trigger and the police aren’t even looking for him, I’ve got to do everything in my power to find him and bring him in. He’ll have the answers I’ll need to clear my sister’s name. Harris is the answer.”

“If I’m right, Kris, and he’s alive, you won’t have to go looking for him. He’ll come after us with everything he’s got. That’s why he didn’t care if I heard his voice. He intends to kidnap and force us to find the platinum for him. Then once that’s done, he’ll kill us.”

“Let him come,” she said, her voice trembling with emotion. “If he wants a fight, let’s give him one he’ll never forget.”




Chapter Five


A short time later they arrived at her home, a faded green wood-framed farmhouse surrounded by an ancient apple orchard. He recognized Tina’s car beneath a wooden carport, gathering dust.

Though he didn’t say anything, it surprised him that Kris and Tina had moved in together. Tina had been a tough cop who showed the scars of coming face-to-face with the worst of human nature on a daily basis.

Kris, on the other hand, was cast from a different mold. Although she’d gone into what was one of the toughest branches of the military and had served a tour in a war zone, there was also a softer, gentler side to her. Despite the rigors of her former job she’d held on to that side of her nature, too. It was that duality that drew him to her, tempting him to cross the line.

Moments later, they entered the small home via a screened-in porch with a swing and several hardy-looking plants that seemed to be flourishing.

The floor of the old house was wood, the planks in good shape but worn down by decades of footsteps along the most common paths, especially through the doorways. It was simply decorated, with yellow curtains covering the white double hung windows, wallpaper in tiny yellow and blue flowers, and a braided oval rug in the center.

The living room held only a large leather sofa, matching chair, and a mosaic coffee table. There was one painting on the wall of a young girl watching horses grazing. It was done in earth tones and, under the light from two tall floor lamps, had an almost mythical quality to it.

“I recognize the painting,” he said. “Your sister showed it to me last year after she finished it—or at least a photo of it from her cell camera. She had a real eye for capturing people, though she never took herself seriously as an artist.”

“That’s because she never wanted it to become work—something to produce, sell or buy. Painting was her way of relaxing,” Kris explained.

When she turned to look at him, he saw something else was weighing heavily on her. He waited for her to tell him what it was, but she hesitated, then turned and walked down the hall.

“I’m going to the bedroom to get my things,” she called out to him a second later, never glancing back.

“Hurry,” he said, moving over to the window to keep watch.



KRIS THREW SOME JEANS, changes of underwear and a few long-sleeved T-shirts into a small canvas bag. She could pack in a hurry. She’d done it so many times it was almost second nature to her.

She was still angry with Max for not telling her about Harris long before now. He was too good at keeping secrets, and that made him dangerous—ally or not.

She took a deep breath, then let it out again. Anger would only interfere with what they had to do. It was a luxury she couldn’t afford, not when their lives were at stake.

She stared at the bag, then on impulse packed her duck-shaped slippers. They were undeniably silly looking, but they had a soft shearling interior that felt incredibly indulgent. She’d had them for years and they never failed to make her sigh when she slipped them on after a long day. Although she doubted she’d have occasion to wear them around Max, the slippers were her way of affirming that her life would be normal someday.

“Are you ready?” he called out from down the hall.

“Let’s go,” she said, coming out to meet him.

As they were getting into his truck, he glanced over at her. “I know you’re still trying to decide whether to trust me or not, so I’d like you to keep something in mind. This is my turf, Kris,” he said. “You’ve been away for several years and some things around here have changed, but I know this area like the back of my hand. Who and what I am can give us an edge—but you have to be willing to rely on me and my judgment. Any hesitation on your part may get us both killed.”

“You’re still not telling me everything. I know it and you know it.” She held up one hand, stemming his protest. “Do you trust without reason?”

Max expelled his breath in a hiss as he started the truck’s engine. “Okay. Good point. Both of us will have to work at this,” he conceded.

“Your job’s to get the platinum. I want Harris. That may place us in opposite camps somewhere down the line.”

“Things have changed so you have nothing to worry about. I can’t risk leading Harris to the platinum, so he’s now my priority, too.”

As soon as they were back on the road, heading west toward the Navajo Nation, she shifted in her seat. “Harris wants us, so why don’t we use that to draw him in?”

He considered what she’d said and nodded. “That’s a good plan, but we’d need some serious backup close by.”

“We can manage it as long we cover each other’s back.” Seeing him hesitate, she challenged, “I can handle it, can’t you?”

Her words were brave enough, but as he glanced over at her hands he saw her toying with her necklace. “No one’s made of steel,” he answered quietly.

“And here I thought you were,” she teased with a hesitant smile.

He laughed. “Me? Nah. I just put on a good show, that’s all,” he said, eyes twinkling. “It’s a survival thing I learned as a cop.”

She laughed, knowing better. She’d seen him in a crisis situation. Although he felt pain and bled like everyone else, he had that toughness of spirit that defined a warrior.

“Hang on. I want to make sure we haven’t picked up a tail,” he said, suddenly making such a sharp turn off the highway that she had to grab onto the seat.

Max drove down the wide dirt road leading toward a tribal housing development, then made several detours and reverses. Finally they reached a solitary road parallel to the main highway. They were heading east again now, but the land was so flat and barren here they would have seen any vehicle attempting to follow them.

Twenty minutes later, he finally got back on the main highway. Traffic was heavy now, with many vehicles heading home at the end of the work day.

“Keep checking behind us,” he said. “There’s no one there now, but doesn’t mean there couldn’t be.”

“I’ll handle that. You take care of what’s in front of us,” she answered. “It’s going to be dark in an hour or so. Where are we going?”

“Remember that souped-up van Harris and his partner were driving? I thought we’d go talk to people who specialize in those kinds of modifications. We need the type of shop that doesn’t ask too many questions or keep regular hours. I have a source who might be able to tell us who fits the bill around this area.”

After a short drive to the eastern outskirts of Farmington, Max pulled up into a parking slot outside the fenced-in garage that housed Birdsong Enterprises. A big garage bay was open, and several mechanics in blue overalls were working on a highly modified stock car behind another fence.

“What is this place? I see security cameras everywhere, and that fence must be twenty feet high.”

“They don’t advertise their location, but a relative of mine, Ranger—you saw him back at your nursery—works for the Birdsong Racing Team. This is their local headquarters,” he answered.

Ranger, wearing coveralls with “Blueeyes” embroidered above the pocket, came through the gate in the interior fence to meet them as they stepped out of Max’s truck. The men nodded to each other but didn’t shake hands.

Without preamble, and possibly because she was standing right there, Max asked Ranger about local performance shops with dubious reputations.

“The closest of these shops is a few miles farther down the highway, just outside Bloomfield, across the road from the cemetery and adjacent to the Wildcat Drilling Company’s yard. The shop has a really bad reputation among serious independent repair shops, especially when it comes to their sources of used and rebuilt parts. The guy who owns it, Jerry Parson, has gotten busted several times for possession of stolen property. He seriously hates cops, so watch yourself.” He cleared his throat. “A few months ago, some poor jerk tried to offer Parson some stolen headlights. He got mistaken for a cop and ended up on the banks of Farmington Reservoir, naked, unconscious and beaten half to death. He refused to press charges, but the story got out anyway.”

Max nodded. “That’s undoubtedly what Jerry wanted—the PR.”

“You’ve heard of him?” Ranger asked.

“Sure, back when I was a police officer. But I never met him. Good thing, considering where I’m going next.”

“There’s a guy inside our shop who knows Parson well enough to give you some up-to-date background. You might want to talk to him before you set out.” Ranger glanced at Kris. “It would be better if he went in alone, Ms. Reynolds. Joe won’t say much around people he doesn’t know.”

“No problem,” Kris answered, wondering how long ago Max had told Mr. Blueeyes her name.



MAX WENT INSIDE THE GARAGE. In an adjacent bay were two mechanics working on a high-performance carburetor. When he got closer, Max recognized one of the Navajo men, a warrior he’d previously known only as Smoke. His last name, embroidered on his work overalls, was Yazzie.

“I needed to get you away from the woman, Thunder,” he said as Max joined him. “I have a message for you from Hastiin Bigodii. He recommends that you concentrate on Harris first, then the platinum.”

“I agree. That’s why our current plan is to draw him to us, make the collar, then worry about the recovery.”

“Hastiin Bigodii also wanted me to remind you that if you need backup, help won’t be far.”

“Understood.”

Smoke then handed Max a newspaper photo of Harris, not so much for him, but for Kris. Judging from the background it had probably been taken during the Police Athletic League’s charity baseball game a few years ago.

Thanking him, Max walked back outside. Kris was already seated in his truck when he opened the door and slipped behind the wheel. “You understand the kind of place we’re going into, right?” he asked.

“Yeah. Otherwise I’d have suggested we stop for dinner first. I’m starving, but I’d hate to get into a fight on a full stomach. I’m assuming we’re liable to get jumped once we start asking questions, right?”

“That’s the way I see it, but don’t worry, I have a plan.”

“I’m all ears.”

After he filled her in, she said, “Okay. Let’s go for it.”

He was really beginning to like her. Instead of inundating him with questions about his plan, she was willing to play things out and roll with the punches. Before switching on the ignition, Max reached under the seat for his gun, removed it from the holster and stuck it into his waistband. It was uncomfortable there, but a holster was something a cop would have, not an amateur thief.

They were underway a short time later. Then less than a mile away from the shop, they stopped on a deserted road. Taking water from a bottle he had behind the seat, he prepared some sticky mud and smeared it over the plate, partially hiding the numbers and letters.

“This should work with our cover as amateurs,” he said.

“Do these kinds of places—like the one we’re going to—close at regular hours?” Seeing the surprised look he gave her, she added, “You know, to blend in.”

“If they’ve got cars to work on, they’ll be there.”

A drilling company yard, with its stacks of drill casings and other heavy gear, nearly hid the old, converted gas station. They saw a cemetery and funeral home across the highway but almost drove past the garage before seeing the small sign that read Power House.

Max pulled in quickly and parked in front of a battered tow truck. Two sedans, probably belonging to the mechanics, were parked on the west side of the building, and a large blue pickup was on the east side.

There were four bays, one of which was open to the street. Two men were working on an old sedan, one gunning the engine while the other took a look beneath the hood. They could see shelves of auto parts taking up the far bay, and two more men were removing the tires from another sedan up on a lift.

“Here we go,” Max said. “It’s show time.”

As they wandered toward the open bay, Max placed a casual arm around her shoulders. A spark of desire rippled through her from the close contact between their bodies. She pressed herself against his side, enjoying the warm sensations, and smiled at him.

“Making it look good as ordered,” she whispered.

“I need to talk to the owner,” Max yelled to one of the men, trying to be heard over the machine gun rattle of the air hammer being used to remove the car wheel nuts.

An overweight, heavily tattooed man wearing a dingy white T-shirt came out of the office area, looked at Max, then gave Kris the once-over.

“Nice set of wheels, man,” he said, glancing at the truck. “But we don’t have parts for something like that.”

“Not looking for parts, dude. I came to sell it—cheap,” he said.

“Before the owner finds out, I’m guessing?” the man surmised, then gave Kris a longer look this time.

“If your ole lady is nice to me, we might still be able to cut a deal.”

“Watch your mouth,” Max growled.

“Just playing with you, dude,” the man said, putting his hands up in the air. “But tell me, what makes you think I’d be interested in a hot truck?”

“Hot? Hey, I just can’t find where I put the papers, and I need some cash, you know? A guy I know said you’d do business without a bunch of questions, so how about five thousand? Cash,” he added. “Heck, you could get twice that for the parts.”

Max got a look at the last vehicle in the garage, a van that could have been the twin of the hopped-up job John Harris had used. He stepped forward for a closer look but the tattooed man he figured was Jerry Parson blocked him.

“You looking for a fight?” Max challenged, his gaze cold as granite.

The man laughed. “Hey, ease up, dude. Jerry’s the name. That’s all you need to know.” He looked out the bay door at Max’s truck. “You’re offering me a good price,” he said, considering it.

“That price is only good for someone who doesn’t need any paperwork, or have any more questions.”

“A few questions come with this deal. Gotta watch my own back,” Jerry said.

Max suddenly realized that he couldn’t see Kris anymore. Instinct told him that he had better keep Jerry’s attention focused. “You’re starting to sound like a cop now…. Wait a minute. Are you fronting for them? You wired?” he demanded loudly, looking around at the other employees.

As he moved around, feigning panic, he caught a glimpse of Kris inside the small office.

“Cops?” Jerry laughed loudly. “Us? Get serious!”

Max decided to enhance his paranoia up a notch.

“That John guy, the one who was driving that same van earlier today,” he said, pointing. “He’s the one who sent me here. Bet he’s a cop. Am I right?”

Kris reappeared at the side door near the office, and one of the mechanics spotted her immediately. She held up a half-eaten candy bar, smiled at him, then held it out to him. “Wanna bite?”

When the guy grabbed her by the arm instead, and pulled her close, she backhanded him with the knuckles of her free hand. Then, in a fluid follow-up, she reached down and pinched the nerve in his free hand, forcing him to his knees. Squealing with pain, he let go of her arm.

“They’re the cops, boss,” the man yelled, stepping back and giving her plenty of room. “See those moves?”

“Ex-marine, butthead,” Kris shot back. “Every lowlife who tries to paw me gets the same treatment.”

Jerry blindsided Max with a jab to his ribs, nearly knocking him down. “They’re just screw-ups, not cops,” he answered, then stared hard at Max. “I don’t know any Harris, and that van’s a repo. You trying to jerk me around?”

Max stepped back and pulled out his pistol. “Back off!” he ordered, waving it around so everyone could see.

“Okay. You’re cops,” Jerry spat out.

“Wrong, Jerry,” Max answered. “Which means you’ve really got a problem now. You shouldn’t have ticked me off.” He motioned for Kris to join him, then handed her his gun. He then grabbed Jerry, spun him around, and took the small pistol and holster he’d seen earlier at the small of the man’s back.

“Keep everyone here, honey,” he called out to Kris.

“I’m going to see if they’ve got some cash we can take along—payment for our time.”




Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.


Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/aimee-thurlo/stargazer-s-woman/) на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.