Rider on Fire & When You Call My Name

Chapter 8

Once the shock of the call and the trauma of the morning had been dealt with, Franklin went inside to rest, leaving Adam and Sonora alone. Normally, she would have been defensive with a man she hardly knew, but she wasn’t with Adam. She didn’t bother with trying to figure out why. She just took his presence as the comfort she desperately needed, and finally let herself grieve.

Her eyes were shiny with unshed tears, and the sight hurt Adam’s heart. As they walked beyond the yard into the shade of the forest, little by little Adam drew out details of the relationship that had been between her and Buddy Allen. He wouldn’t let himself think about the spurts of jealousy that came and went as he listened to her talking about a man with whom she’d once been intimate. He didn’t want to admit, not even to himself, that he was envious of a dead man.

“So you dated Buddy for nine months. You must have some really good memories,” Adam said gently.

Tears finally spilled over and rolled down her face as she paused beneath a large oak.

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But all I can remember was constantly disappointing him. I was gone so much and he wanted more from the relationship than I was ever able to give.”

“He wanted to marry you?” Adam asked.

“Something like that,” Sonora said, then her voice broke. “And now he’s dead…he’s dead because of me. I told him my life was too complicated for commitments, but he wouldn’t listen.” She choked on a sob and then covered her face with her hands. “Oh. God, Adam, Garcia beat him to death. I can’t get that out of my head.”

Adam put his arms around her. Sonora stiffened. Accepting sympathy was as difficult for her to deal with as accepting advice. But he didn’t turn her loose and she didn’t pull away, and slowly, slowly, she began to relax. When that happened, the wall of her emotions crumbled. Before she knew it, she was sobbing.

“Yes, pretty lady…cry for your friend…and for yourself. Cry it all out,” Adam whispered.

And she did.

* * *

A day passed, and then another, until an entire week had come and gone since Sonora’s arrival. As per her father’s wishes, she’d checked in every day with Mynton, just so she would stay up-to-date on the investigations. She’d called the Phoenix detective as she’d been asked to do but had been unable to give him any information he didn’t already have.

She knew that after a possible sighting of Garcia in Amarillo, Wills and the task force had left Flagstaff to check it out, and upon arrival had gotten a positive ID. Problem was, by the time all of that had been confirmed, Garcia was long gone—destination unknown.

* * *

As for Miguel Garcia, it had taken big money and calling in some favors from an old friend of his father before he’d finally gotten some help. Now four of the drug cartel’s finest were combing the highways and the states bordering Texas and Oklahoma, trying to get a fix on the whereabouts of the missing DEA agent. Miguel had let it be known that it was worth a half million dollars to him to find Sonora Jordan.

While the men were searching, Garcia was forced to lay low. He now knew he had agents on his tail. He’d been assured by Emilio Rojas, the man who’d been his father’s right hand, that not only did the DEA have agents on his trail, but they knew the make, model and tag number of the car he was driving. Once the significance of this news sank in, he felt sick. The only way that could have happened was if he’d been betrayed.

Time and time again, he went over a mental list of people who’d helped get him across the border. There were any number who could have tipped off the DEA, but he kept remembering the man at the airport outside of Houston who’d brought him a car and money and then so abruptly disappeared.

It stood to reason that this man could be the one who betrayed him. But then he would skip to the fact that Jorge Diaz had set everything up. Diaz was entirely responsible for successfully getting Miguel out of Mexico. He would have had access to the same information.

To go there in his mind, Miguel had to accept that Diaz would betray him, and he couldn’t believe it, even though he had been unable to contact Diaz for days.

To be on the safe side, he’d sold his car at a used car dealer in Oklahoma City, bought a four-year-old Jeep from a different car lot, driven thirty minutes east on I-40 to Shawnee, Oklahoma and had the Jeep painted black.

Before he left town, he’d stolen a Native American license plate from a member of the Muscogee Nation while the car was parked outside the Firelake Casino south of Shawnee. He’d driven off with no one the wiser, traveling as far as Tulsa, Oklahoma before going to ground.

There, he’d begun the business of disguising his appearance. He’d shaved his head and mustache, bought himself some Western-style clothes, including a pair of ostrich skin boots and a big black hat. By the time he added a large silver belt buckle to his wardrobe, his own mother would not have recognized him.

Feeling fairly safe about getting back out in the world, he thought about resuming his own search for Sonora, but decided to err on the side of caution. If his men didn’t find her within the week, he was going to go back to Phoenix. Sonora Jordan couldn’t stay gone forever, and he was a patient man.

* * *

Adam had not been to Franklin’s house or seen Sonora since the morning she’d received the news of her old friend’s death. He relived their last moments together in his dreams—holding her close against his body—feeling the thrust of her breasts against his chest as she cried for another man. But in his dreams, her tears somehow turned to passion. They would lie down together beneath the sheltering limbs of the old oak. There would be whispers and promises and an ache so deep that it took Adam’s breath away. What was driving him crazy was that he kept waking up before they could make love. He was sick and tired of cold showers and aches that wouldn’t go away.

She and Franklin didn’t have a lot of time to play catch-up, and he didn’t want to intrude. But he wasn’t a fool. He also didn’t want to lose the small foothold he’d gained with her by staying gone too long. She was a stranger in every way that it mattered, and yet there was a part of him that knew he couldn’t bear to let her go. He didn’t know how much time she would give herself to stay on the mountain, but he wanted his share of it. The way he looked at it, he’d given them a week. His streak of generosity was over.

* * *

Franklin was having a bad day and, after breakfast, had gone back to bed. Sonora had quickly learned that on these days, the best thing she could do for him was give him space and quiet. So when he went back to his room, she took his fishing pole and straw hat and headed for the pond at the back of the property.

She caught a few grasshoppers on the way and put them in a jar to use for bait just like Franklin had shown her. The wide brim on his old hat shaded her face while the sun had its way with the rest of her body. Even though it was hot, she knew she wouldn’t burn. By the time she got to the pond, her T-shirt was stuck to the sweat on her back and she had some kind of weird-looking burrs in her socks. Still, she was happier than she could ever remember being.

On the second day of her arrival, Franklin had saddled up two of his horses and they’d ridden from one corner of the property to the other until she knew where Blue Cat land began and ended. It had given her a sense of identity that she’d never known.

So, today, as she baited her hook, she had the satisfaction of knowing that she was standing on Blue Cat land—about to fish in a Blue Cat pond.

She wrinkled her nose and asked an apology of the poor grasshopper that was still kicking on the hook as she tossed it in the water. The red-and-white bobber bounced a few times within the spreading ripples. After that, it was a case of sit and wait.

For Sonora, it was like living out a dream. As a child, she used to imagine the innocence of a life like this, with people who loved her sitting beside her. There would be a picnic and laughter and playing barefoot in the water. It wouldn’t matter if anyone caught fish because they were together.

The sun was hot. Sonora’s eyelids were drooping. The bobber was riding high in the still water like an empty ship, and she couldn’t bring herself to care that she wasn’t getting any nibbles.

Something tickled her arm. She brushed at it without looking. Then something tickled the back of her neck. She brushed at it as absently as she had her arm.

“If I was a bad guy, you’d be in trouble.”

Sonora choked on a squeak and fell backward. For a second, the sun was in her eyes, and then a tall shadow fell across her face and she could see.

It was Adam.

“Darn you,” she muttered as she sat up, then yanked the pole from the water and flung it on the ground. “You scared me.”

“Sorry,” he said, but he was smiling as he sat down beside her.

“No, you’re not,” she said, and then pointed a finger in his face. “I didn’t even hear you coming. How did you do that?”

“I’m Indian.”

She rolled her eyes and then punched him lightly on the arm.

“You’re full of it, that’s what you are.”

His smile widened. “Well, there is that, too.”

She wanted to stay indignant, but it didn’t work.

Adam brushed his hand against the curve of her cheek. “Forgive me?”

His dark eyes were glittering with laughter and his mouth was curved up in a smile. There was a small bead of sweat at the edge of his hairline as well as a sheen from the heat on his face. He smelled good—like the outdoors with a hint of musk, and the look in his eyes was on the broad side of dangerous.

At that moment, Sonora knew if she let it happen, they would be lovers. Part of her wanted to know him in that way. He was kind and generous. She could only imagine what kind of a lover he would be. But she had to remember there was danger in giving too much of herself away, and danger to whomever she let get too close. Buddy’s death was evidence of that.

Adam watched the playfulness come and go on her face and wondered what she was thinking, although he doubted she was the kind of woman who gave away her secrets.

“Hey,” he said, and playfully bumped his shoulder against hers.

She managed a halfhearted smile and then looked away.

“You’re forgiven,” she said.

She was slipping away from him and he couldn’t let that happen.

“Hey,” he said again, and cupped her face with the palm of his hand, pulling gently until she was looking at him. “What just happened here?”

Sonora met his gaze straight on. “I’m not who you need to be hanging out with.”

He inhaled sharply. She was thinking of Buddy Allen.

“I don’t run from anything,” he said. “Not even you.”

Sonora frowned. “I don’t know what you think you want, but I’m not it.”

“I don’t think. I know what I want,” Adam said. “I’m just not sure you’re ready to hear it.”

Sonora’s heart skipped a beat.

“I don’t run from anything…or anyone…either,” she said. “I left Phoenix only because I was ordered to do so.”

Adam turned until he was facing her. His legs were crossed, his gaze steady upon her face.

“I know,” he said gently. “You are fierce and you are strong. You wouldn’t be your father’s daughter if you were not. But it’s not your job to protect me or Franklin. We’ve faced our own troubles and dealt with them just fine.”

“You’ve never had troubles like the kind Miguel Garcia can bring.”

Adam shook his head, then ran the tip of his finger down her nose, tapping the end like punctuating a sentence.

“Again you forget I was an army ranger. I’ve been in the middle of things the American public never knew happened. I am not afraid of a drug dealer, and you should trust me when I tell you this.”

He was no longer smiling, and the tone of his voice was as dark as his eyes. Sonora took a deep breath and then nodded.

“Okay.”

Adam hated the expression in her eyes. It was a combination of distrust and fear. When he reached for her, she looked away.

“Don’t do that,” Adam said.

There was a frown on her forehead as she cast him a sideways glance.

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” she said.

“Are you afraid of what you’re feeling?”

Her nostrils flared as she raised her chin. “I still don’t know what you’re talking about.”

It was a defensive motion Adam knew only too well. He shook his head, leaned forward, slid a hand behind her neck and pulled her into a kiss.

She sighed, then she moaned. She’d known this man would be different. This man could hurt her in a way like no other. She knew it and still clung to the urgency in his kiss.

Adam had no sense of self. He’d lost it the moment he’d covered her mouth with his. He’d known it would be like this. She was sweet as wild honey, but the kiss was no longer enough. He rose up on his knees without breaking their kiss, then pulled her up to meet him. Now they were body to body, clinging to each other in quiet desperation.

The kiss lengthened—deepened.

Sonora lost focus when he took down her hair and ran his fingers through the length. She swayed weakly, then grabbed his shoulders to steady herself, but it was too little, too late.

Adam took her in his arms and laid her down, cradling the back of her head with his hand as he leaned over her, and as he did, saw a moment of panic on her face. Regretfully, he leaned down and rubbed his cheek against her face. Her skin was warm against his lips, and he could feel the rocket of her pulse against his fingers.

“I will never hurt you,” he whispered.

A tear rolled out of Sonora’s eye.

“You will break my heart.”

The poignancy in her words was a red light to what had been about to happen. Adam didn’t know what to say to make her believe it wasn’t true. But he couldn’t—wouldn’t—make love to her without her complete faith and trust.

“Never,” he said softly, then wrapped his arms around her and rolled them both until she was the one on top. They lay without moving or talking while the passion cooled.

Sonora didn’t know what to think. She’d thought they were going to make love and she’d wanted it. God knew how badly she’d wanted it. She still ached for the weight of him—for that promise in his eyes of things to come. And she still couldn’t believe what she’d said—that he would break her heart. It was as good as admitting that she already cared for him, which seemed ridiculous. They’d spent less than twenty-four hours together, but she felt as if she’d known him forever. He was a healer. Maybe he was a wizard, as well.

“Adam?”

He shifted to allow the weight of her head against his shoulder.

“Hmm?”

“Did you really make magic to get me here?”

He sighed. How did you explain the Native American way to someone who had not been raised in the culture?

“It’s not magic…exactly.”

“Did you put a spell on me, too?”

He grinned. “Honey, I didn’t even know you were you until I saw you at the gas station with the fire of a setting sun behind your back. How could I put a spell on someone I’d never met?”

“I don’t know…maybe the same way you sent for me. What did you call those…those…?”

“The Old Ones?”

“Yes, the Old Ones.”

“Do you believe in them?” he asked.

Sonora rose up on her elbows to look down at his face.

“I don’t know what to believe, but I’m here, and that in itself is a miracle. So if I accept your truth of how I got here, then it’s not reaching much further to assume you’ve put a spell on me.” She looked embarrassed, but she kept talking, intent on making her point. “It’s the only explanation for this…this…thing that’s between us.”

Adam’s eyes narrowed. “It’s called sexual attraction.”

Her eyes widened. She almost smiled.

“Is that what you call it?”

“Well, woman…it’s what we Indians call it. Is there another name for hot and heavy in the white man’s world?”

She grinned, then lightly punched his shoulder. “You’re teasing me.”

He grinned back. “Not about the sex part.”

“Okay, so there’s something between us.”

He arched an eyebrow and rocked his pelvis against her belly. “Yeah, but don’t worry. Eventually, it will go away.”

This time she laughed out loud then rolled off him and grabbed her fishing pole. “Shut up, Two Eagles. I have fish to catch.”

“Can I watch?”

She eyed him cautiously. “Are you capable of keeping your hands to yourself?”

“Oh, yes,” he said, and then proceeded to kiss her one more time.

“Hey,” Sonora said. “I thought you said—”

“You asked me if I was capable of keeping my hands to myself. I told you the truth. I am capable. But I didn’t promise I would.”

Sonora cast the line in the water, then propped the pole against a rock. Without saying a word, she turned around, grabbed Adam by the collar with both hands and yanked him forward.

They’d kissed before, but never like this. Sonora set him on fire. He’d thought about dying plenty of times, but never thought it would be like this.

“Sonora… God…let me—”

She turned him loose as fast as she grabbed him.

“I’ve got a bite,” she said calmly, bent down and picked up her fishing pole and landed a fish.

Adam was still shaking when she took it off the hook and put it on the stringer.

“You’ll stay for lunch, won’t you?”

Adam took a deep breath and jammed his hands through his hair, but wouldn’t answer.

That didn’t stop the conversation.

“Good,” Sonora said. “How hungry are you…one fish or two?”

“Starving,” he muttered, and pulled his T-shirt over his head.

When he sat down and pulled off his boots, then got up and started unbuckling his belt, Sonora’s lips went slack.

“Um…uh…”

He glared. “What? Don’t tell me you’ve never seen a naked man before?”

Sonora’s mouth went dry. She’d seen naked men before, but never one so remarkably built or so remarkably aroused.

She glared back. “I’ve seen plenty,” she snapped.

“So what’s your problem, then?” he asked.

She kept trying to look at his face, or at the trees under which they were standing—at anything and everything but the obvious.

“Uh…you’re…you’re…”

“I’m what?” he said, and then turned his back on her and dived into the water.

She watched the perfect dive with undue appreciation, both for his form and his perfect backside.

He came up with a whoosh, sending a shower of water into the air. The frustration and anger were gone from his face. To add insult to injury, he was treading water and grinning.

Sonora wanted to scream.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I think I was in the water when you answered. You were saying I was…?”

Sonora hadn’t grown up alone and tough for nothing.

“I was about to say…you’re scaring the fish.”

Chapter 9

Sonora made Adam clean the fish. He considered it only fair since he’d come to the meal uninvited. Franklin woke up just as Sonora was taking the last fish from the skillet and followed the scent of his favorite food into the kitchen.

His delight in knowing there was fish for lunch doubled when he realized they would be having company.

“Adam! It’s good to see you. I was beginning to think you’d found something better to do than visit a sick old man.”

“You’re not old,” Adam said.

“Maybe not, but today I am not so sick that I can’t eat some of this wonderful fish. Daughter! It seems you have been busy while I was sleeping.”

“You have no idea,” Sonora muttered, then made herself smile.

She was still shocked at herself for letting Adam push all her buttons. Her lack of self-control was so out of character she felt off-center with the world.

Franklin paused. There was something different in her tone of voice, and now that he was looking, there was something different about her appearance, as well. This morning her hair had been up. Now it was down, and her face was flushed. The flush on her cheeks could have been from the heat of the kitchen, but the fact that she was studiously avoiding looking at Adam seemed more likely. And there was no explanation forthcoming as to why Adam’s hair was damp.

“Has something been going on in my house that I should know about?” he asked.

Sonora looked guilty.

Adam looked up. “Of course not, Franklin. I would never disrespect you or your home in that manner. The pond, however, is neutral territory, right?”

Sonora gasped, and then glared at Adam all over again.

Adam’s eyes were twinkling, but his expression was completely calm as he awaited Franklin’s answer.

Franklin grinned. “Yes. You are right. The pond is neutral territory.”

“Oh… I’m so laughing my head off,” Sonora muttered, then pointed at Adam. “You. Put some ice in the glasses, please.”

Adam knew better than to say anything else. He was still reeling from the kiss she’d laid on him down at the pond.

“Hey, Franklin… I was looking at that new piece you’re working on. It’s really something. What kind of bird is that…a wren?”

“Yes. I thought it was going to be a barn swallow, but when I began carving, the wren is what began to emerge.”

Sonora was listening to their conversation with interest as she put a small bowl of quartered lemons on the table, along with a bottle of tartar sauce.

“You mean, you don’t know what the sculpture is going to be before you begin?” Sonora asked.

Franklin smiled. It was something people often asked him once they found out his process.

“How can I know until I remove the excess wood?”

Sonora’s eyes widened with amazement. “The excess?”

“Yes, you know—the part that doesn’t belong.”

“That’s just amazing,” she said.

Franklin shrugged. “It’s not so much. It’s just the way it works.”

A timer went off.

“I’ll get it,” Adam said.

“It’s the corn bread,” Sonora said, and pointed to a platter on the counter. “After you cut it, would you put it on that plate?”

Already absorbed in his task, he nodded absently.

Sonora caught herself staring, and when she finally came to herself and turned around, her father was grinning at her.

“Don’t say a word,” she warned him.

Franklin could tell she was interested in Adam. He just didn’t know how much.

It was all Sonora could do to sit down at the table with Adam and get past the memory of his naked body enough to pass him the fried potatoes.

Adam knew she was bothered. It served her right. Yes, he’d kissed her first, but it hadn’t been the toe-curling, mind-blowing lip lock that she’d laid on him. She was dangerous to mess around with.

Still, he couldn’t keep his eyes off her. There was tension in her shoulders and her back was too straight. She was bothered, all right. He smiled as he passed her the bowl of potatoes.

“Want some?” he asked.

Her eyes narrowed. He wasn’t asking about potatoes, and they both knew it. She snatched the bowl from him and spooned a large helping onto her plate, then passed it to her father.

Adam managed to pretend disinterest as the meal progressed, but the truth was, he could have used another cold dip in the pond.

It wasn’t until they were doing the dishes that Franklin decided to stir the pot simmering between his daughter and friend.

“Hey, Adam, isn’t there a powwow coming up in a couple of weeks at the campgrounds?”

Adam was drying the last plate and answered before he thought. “Yes.”

“You gonna go?” Franklin asked.

“What’s a powwow?” Sonora asked.

“Kind of like a family reunion. There will be food and both men and women’s dancing.”

Sonora frowned. “What do you mean…men and women’s? Don’t they dance together?”