The world needed warriors who could fight the good fight, and Jonas Slowman, Navajo name “The Shadow,” was the best of the best.

Gun in one hand, Emily’s hand in the other, Jonas continued his progress along the wooded side of the road in pursuit of a lead. Between his ranger training in the military and his experience with the Brotherhood of Warriors, he knew all the tricks of the trade. But one moment’s distraction could result in lethal consequences. Jonas knew how to stay alive, and that’s why he was here now instead of in a cemetery on the Navajo Nation. Without focus, he and Emily would be nothing more than the walking dead. That, more than anything, confirmed for him that there was no place for love in his life. It softened a man and muddied his objectivity. And he had to keep Emily safe.

Dear Reader,

Several years ago I began to experience a loss of vision. Those months were without a doubt the most terrifying of my life. Like the heroine, I told no one at first, but eventually David, my husband, guessed what was going on. Throughout that difficult time David stood beside me. It was his love that bolstered my courage whenever it sagged.

For the purposes of this story I’ve chosen to mirror some of the symptoms I experienced and the issues I confronted, hoping to give you a more intimate glimpse into my life at the time. The terror, the feelings of isolation, the desperate need to plan for the unknown, are all part of my heroine Emily’s story, too.

Emily has her project—constructing an inn—to keep her hopes alive. I had my writing. Bringing these stories to you kept me focused and eventually saw me through that period in my life.

I’ve recovered my sight, but the lessons I learned during those days will remain with me forever. I now know that there’s no greater blessing than a love that neither time nor circumstance can stem.

With that in mind, I bring you The Shadow.

Aimée Thurlo

The Shadow
Aimée Thurlo

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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To Peg, because between the both of us,

we give new meaning to mi casa es tu casa.

And Deb Hetrick who always has something nice to say.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Aimée Thurlo is a nationally known bestselling author. She’s the winner of a Career Achievement Award by RT Book Reviews, the New Mexico Book Award in contemporary fiction and a Willa Cather Award in the same category. She’s published in twenty countries worldwide.

She also cowrites the bestselling Ella Clah mainstream mystery series praised in the New York Times Book Review.

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

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Jonas Slowman —He had the power to make things happen, but what he wanted most was out of his reach.

Emily Atkins —Her hopes and dreams for the future demanded she stay strong. Yet the warrior who fought beside her was her greatest weakness.

Dinétsoh —The trusted member of the Brotherhood had disappeared with a fortune in bearer bonds that Emily desperately needed.

Robert Jefferson —A real estate lawyer about to make the deal of his life—if he lived long enough to collect.

Grant Woods —He wanted the Atkins property, and wasn’t prepared to take no for an answer.

Jen Caldwell —Not so innocent, the legal assistant was in a position to know everything…or so she thought.

Sam Carpenter —He was Grant Woods’ handyman, but who was he really working for?

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

Chapter Twenty-One

Prologue

Dinétsoh gripped the heavy briefcase tightly with his uninjured hand as he tried to figure out what to do next. He couldn’t afford to lose those bearer bonds; anyone could cash them in. The Navajo Nation needed the funds to buy the land where their ancestral refuge had been hidden—then rediscovered, less than ten years ago.

He checked the makeshift bandage on his wounded arm as he stopped behind a tall juniper to catch his breath. The bullet from the high-powered rifle had passed through his arm cleanly, leaving two gaping holes in his biceps. The improvised bandage had temporarily stemmed the flow of blood, but just barely. His head felt light from the loss of blood, and he was running out of time. His strength was fading and he was finding it increasingly difficult to walk, much less run.

Duty drove him now. The Brotherhood of Warriors was counting on him to see this mission through. He’d been their only contact with the Anglo attorney, Powell Atkins. Now he was the only one alive who could identify the person who’d caused the wreck that had killed the attorney, and almost cost Dinétsoh his own life, as well.

Determination kept him moving. He had to live long enough to insure his tribe’s future, and the safety of the attorney’s daughter. If he failed to survive, the one hunting him would certainly turn on her next, and the promise the Brotherhood had made her father would be irreparably broken. Only one other Brotherhood Warrior had all the skills to prevent the unthinkable, but there was no way to reach him now.

Dinétsoh suddenly heard a sound in the brush below him. He tightened his grip on the briefcase once more and climbed wearily toward the bluffs. If he couldn’t make it to Fire Rock Hollow before dark, all would be lost.

An item fell from his torn pocket onto the sand, but before he could turn to pick it up, he heard the sound of footfalls crunching on the dry ground, coming closer. Ducking behind cover again, he waited. In the fading sunlight, the turquoise key took on a deep green glow. As the tribal artifact fell under a deep shadow, Dinétsoh reluctantly slipped away.

Chapter One

Emily sat in her father’s cozy leather chair and leaned back wearily, stretching her muscles. His combination library-office was a total mess. Every inch of the old oak floor was littered with papers, documents and manila folders—a leftover from a burglar’s visit two days ago, during her father’s funeral. Having learned how to track during her early teens, she’d followed the footprints left by the thief, hoping to find a clue. Unfortunately, the trail had disappeared at the road, replaced by tire tracks. The official police department search had yielded no further answers.

She still had no idea what, if anything, had been taken, except for her father’s collection of maps. They’d been in a folder, but she doubted they were of much value.

Emily looked around her. Daylight was only a memory now, and the pair of battery-powered lanterns atop cardboard boxes in two corners of the room were the only sources of illumination. She’d had all the utilities turned off yesterday. The main house, where she was currently, was scheduled to be torn down soon. Though money was tight, she’d given the construction crew the go-ahead, knowing her father would have approved.

Time was her enemy now. Her eyesight was becoming progressively weaker. A month ago she’d been diagnosed with a rare, genetic and progressive form of macular degeneration.

Learning that she was slowly going blind terrified her. A dark wall was descending around her, one that would keep her trapped behind it. Yet the diagnosis, though dire, still held out hope. Recent discoveries in gene therapy hinted that a cure would be found—someday.

After hearing of her condition, her father had encouraged her to quit her job at an Albuquerque area resort and come home. His belief in her had renewed her courage, and with his added financial support, they’d made plans to build a new future—for her and for him.

She missed her father. His passing, in an auto accident, had left a hole inside her. He’d been her only living relative. As she looked around the room, she felt achingly alone.

Suddenly aware that her isolation would make her an easy target if the burglars came back now, she stood. The fading light from one of the battery-powered lanterns was casting long shadows on the wall, and that increased her anxiety.

It was time to go back to the small trailer she’d brought in to serve as her temporary living quarters. Emily slipped out of the main house, locking the door with the knob button by feel. Using her small but powerful flashlight to light the path before her, she picked her way across the grounds.

She was halfway across the yard when she caught the unmistakable scent of gasoline. Shining the beam about, she spotted the vague outline of a person moving around the stack of two-by-sixes the construction crew had left there earlier. She aimed her flashlight at the figure, hoping it was her construction foreman, Ken. As the man turned, she saw that his face was covered with a ski mask.

Emily turned off the light instantly. Taking several quick steps back, she collided with the side of the shed and nearly fell.

The man came toward her with raised arms, holding a board over his head like a big club.

Emily moved to her right, but a second man, also wearing a mask, suddenly came around the other side of the shed, trapping her between them.

The first man lunged, swinging the board at her head.

Heart hammering in her chest, she ducked under its arc and chopped him on the wrist with her flashlight.

As he yelped and staggered back, she picked up the only close weapon she could find—a cottonwood branch about the length of a yardstick. It was too light to serve as a bludgeon, but it would give her some reach, and she could aim at their faces and target her assailants’ eyes.

“What do you want from me?” she demanded, angling her flashlight at the closest man, hoping to blind and confuse him.

He remained silent, but continued to inch forward, shielding his eyes from the glare with a gloved hand.

Without warning, a figure in dark clothes dropped off the roof of the shed, landing beside her in a crouch, like a panther. “Stay put,” he whispered.

Turning, the newcomer positioned himself between her and her assailants, and rose to his full height.

Her rescuer’s face wasn’t masked, but he’d moved too fast for her to get a clear look at him. Grateful for any help, she continued to train the powerful beam of her flashlight on her first assailant, hoping to blind him. From what she could see, her ally’s only weapon was the small cylinder he held in his hand—even smaller than her flashlight. Fear pounded through her.

“Back off—while your head’s still attached to your shoulders,” her rescuer growled.

His voice made her skin prickle. Deadly intent dripped from every syllable.

The closest man automatically took half a step back in response, undoubtedly wondering, like Emily, why anyone holding such a small weapon would show such confidence.

“Walk away while you still can,” the first man responded, coming up. His voice was artificially low, clearly disguised. He didn’t have the board now, but his gloved fists were huge.

With a flick of her ally’s wrist, the stick in his hand clicked with a low, metallic ring and suddenly became three times as long.

What happened next was a blur. Emily saw her newfound friend rush her closest assailant, and in a heartbeat, that man crashed to the ground. The second one leaped into the fight, but was struck behind the knee and fell face forward.

“Run!” one yelled to his partner. Both men scrambled to their feet and raced away into the brush.

As her rescuer turned around to face her, Emily’s mouth went dry and her heart began to pound. Although her night vision was poor, her heart filled in all the small details her eyes were unable to pick up.

“Jonas,” she managed to gasp at last. “What are you…?”

He smiled. “Emily. After five years, you still remember?” His voice was smooth and caressing now.

“How could you think I’d ever forget? You saved my life—then, as well as now,” she declared, her heart lodged at the back of her throat.

“Get inside, quickly,” he urged, collapsing the metal baton and jamming it into his jacket pocket. “I want to take one last look around and make sure nothing here can catch fire. Then you and I need to talk. You’re still in danger.”

TEN MINUTES LATER, Jonas Slowman sat on a small bench—what was really a storage bin in the trailer—as Emily prepared them something hot to drink. Though it was mid-March and nearly spring, the temperature at night was still in the low forties.

Jonas gazed at her appreciatively. Emily was as beautiful as ever. He pushed back the thought quickly and forced himself to focus. As a member of the Navajo tribe’s elite Brotherhood of Warriors, he’d worked many missions, but this promised to be the toughest yet.

Seeing Emily again was more difficult than he’d originally thought. She’d been a part of his dreams since that night on the mountain years ago. He’d stayed away from her for that very reason. But his orders were clear—protect her at all costs—and there was no room for emotions on a mission.

“It’s decaf coffee. It’s all I’ve got,” she said, turning her head in his direction.

He saw her gaze drift down to his hands, and wondered if seeing his bruised knuckles bothered her. Then, noting the faraway look on her face and the ghost of a shiver that rippled through her, he knew she was remembering the pleasures of his touch. The knowledge bit into him hard.

Finished assembling the four-cup percolator, she came to join him. “Those men…” she began, then took a shaky breath and looked away.

“Are gone and can’t hurt you,” he said flatly.

“Nothing in my life makes sense anymore—even the fact that we’re sitting here face-to-face,” she whispered, taking a seat on the folding chair across from him. “I never thought I’d see you again. Over the years, I almost convinced myself that you were a dream.”

“I’m not a dream. What we had was real.”

He held her gaze, though it cost him. Everything about Emily was made to tempt a man. Dark brown hair spilled over her shoulders, and those soft hazel eyes spoke of gentleness—a quality sadly lacking in his life. But there was more to her than the sum of her parts. The stubborn set of her chin spoke of pride and an independent spirit. And that was the woman he remembered—the one who’d haunted his dreams.

“When the snowstorm ended and you took me back to the lodge, everyone was so excited I’d turned up alive they just closed in around me. I tried to push people back so I could find you again, but you were gone. And I didn’t even know your full name. I described you to everyone there, but no one remembered seeing you.”

He nodded. Disappearing into the shadows was his specialty. It was a skill he’d learned in the Rangers and had perfected after becoming a member of the Brotherhood of Warriors.

“Once I had a chance to think things through, I understood why you didn’t stick around,” she continued. “Navajos aren’t supposed to show pride, and you didn’t seem the kind of man who’d be comfortable getting a million thank-yous. But you never got in touch afterward, not even to say a quick hello.”

He heard the trace of disappointment in her voice and, as he met her eyes, felt the tug on his senses. He could still remember every detail of their first meeting—the tiny nylon tent, a woman close to death, one sleeping bag and the heat that brought life.

Yet looking at Emily now, he saw more than the lost girl he’d rescued back then. There was maturity and new strength in her. Clearly, she could handle herself. He’d seen it in the way she’d fought those men, though she’d been armed only with a stick and a flashlight. That had taken guts. To win the fight ahead, all Emily needed was an edge—and that’s exactly why he was here.

Seeing the long, thoughtful look she was giving him, he sat back and waited for her to speak.

“After all this time, here you are again, out of nowhere, and right when I need you,” she said. She pressed her palm to his heart, and felt it beat against her palm. “You’re real.”

He placed his hand over hers. “I’m flesh and blood just like you.” He heard the small catch in her breath and gave her a thoroughly masculine grin.

She took a step back. “How…why?” she stammered, confused.

“I was sent by the tribe to help you out, and make sure you stay safe. Your father was our friend, and we take care of our own.”

“You’re a tribal police officer?”

“No, not exactly. But even if I were, this would be out of my jurisdiction. Right now what you need to do is report this incident to the sheriff’s department. When you do, give them my Anglo name—Jonas Slowman.”

This was the first time she’d heard his full name. He watched her whisper it as if getting a feel for it, and savoring the knowledge. Navajos didn’t readily give out their names, which were said to have power an enemy could use against a person. But on her lips, Jonas’s name became a caress, a promise.

“I’ll be back in a minute. My phone is on the…bed.”

As Emily walked down the short passage to pick up the cell phone, he watched her hips sway gently. His body tightened as memories of the past collided with their inescapable present.

Cursing himself, he looked away. The past was gone. This was now and he had a job to do.

EMILY ENDED THE CALL a few minutes later, then returned to sit across the table from him. “They know you at the sheriff’s office,” she said.

“Some do, some don’t. Who did you speak to?”

“A sergeant named Charlie Nez.”

Jonas nodded. “He’s Navajo. We went to Shiprock High together…back in the stagecoach and wagon train days.”

She laughed. He was trying to get her to relax and it was working. “They said they’d send out a deputy later to take our statements—long distances, and not so many officers, I guess.”

Emily sipped her coffee. Her pulse had slowed to a normal rate, and now that she could think clearly, she knew there was more to Jonas’s visit than he’d told her. He hadn’t just shown up—he’d been watching her property. But for how long?

Minutes of silence stretched out between them as questions circled in her mind. Tired of waiting for him to fill in the gaps, she decided to probe for answers. “My father had many clients, and he never discussed their business with me, but I get the impression that the work he did for the tribe had many layers.”

She allowed what she hadn’t said to linger between them. Working as an innkeeper at a mountain resort east of Albuquerque had taught her that people often talked to hear the sound of their own voices, or to make sure their opinions still mattered. All you had to do was be willing to wait, and listen.

Yet rules didn’t seem to apply to Jonas Slowman. When her patience finally stretched to the limit, she continued. “Was it me you were watching, or the men who attacked me? Just exactly what kind of work do you do for the tribe?”

Jonas leaned back in his seat and regarded her for a moment. “I’m what’s best described as a vindicator—one who defends a cause—at least that’s the English equivalent. My work enables the tribe to continue to walk in beauty.”

“How does that connect to my dad?”

“Your father handled some delicate matters for our tribe. The circumstances surrounding his death have raised some questions for us, and I was sent to provide any help you might need.”

She sat up abruptly. “Are you telling me that the tribe doesn’t think that what happened to Dad was just an accident?”

Jonas remained quiet for several long moments. “We have no proof to the contrary, but questions remain. For example, your father was the last person to see one of our people—a man who’s now missing. We believe he may have been in your dad’s car when it crashed.”

“You mean, somebody wandered off badly hurt and is out there somewhere?”

“A search was conducted the day and night following the accident, and is still going on, but there’s been no sign of him. He may have caught a ride along the highway—or not. So far, we have nothing to go on.”

“Who’s the missing man? Anyone I know?”

“The tribe has its own reasons for wanting to keep his identity a secret for now.”

“But the tribe thinks his disappearance might somehow be connected to what happened to Dad?”

“The timing and other factors fit,” Jonas said with a nod. “If we’re right, and your father’s death wasn’t an accident, you can use someone like me around. I’m here to offer my services.”

His unwavering gaze nearly tore her breath away, but she kept her wits about her. “I obviously need some form of security, but I can’t afford it right now. My funds are tied into the new construction. Dad and I were getting ready to build a vacation inn for people with special needs. But some of the funds we were expecting haven’t come in yet, so I’m living on a very tight budget.”

“No payment’s necessary. I’ve got you covered,” he said.

Seeing herself reflected in those intense dark eyes brought back a kaleidoscope of emotions that left her feeling weak at the knees. Sharing his sleeping bag…and what had happened next…had kept her from dying of hypothermia. But maybe what they’d shared hadn’t meant the same to him. For all she knew, he saw it as nothing more than an unusual one-nighter.

The fact was she didn’t know, and maybe it was better that way. She needed to take him at face value now and stop looking back. Five years was a very long time. Jonas didn’t have a ring on his finger, but he’d obviously gone on with his life.

“I can’t pay you, Jonas,” she said at last, “but I have something to offer. I’d be happy to search the property, talk to my neighbors and do whatever else you might need to find the missing man.”

“There’s balance in what you propose,” he said. “I accept your arrangement.”

“Is the missing man a vindicator like you?”

He shook his head. “His service to the tribe goes above and beyond what I do.”

“It would help if I could view a photo. I’d be happy to keep everything confidential.”

“I’ll see if I can get you one,” he said.

As she looked up at him, her heart skipped a beat. His face was chiseled and his expression as hard as steel—but it could be gentle, too, at the right moments. Though that was based on her memory of the past, she could see echoes of it in the coal-black eyes that held hers.

Jonas was a walking temptation, his body lean and hard. Judging from the way he could fight, he was also the most dangerous man she’d ever met. He was like a strong wind that swept away everything in its path. But she needed more in her life than another unforgettable adventure. Her future depended on every decision she made, or failed to make, now.

Wanting to put some distance between them, she began wiping down the counter, though it was perfectly clean.

“What’s on your mind? Are you already having second thoughts about our deal?” he pressed.

The fact that he could read her so easily startled her, but she rebounded quickly and did her best to cover. “If you’re right, I’m caught in something I just don’t understand, except that it seems connected to my dad and this place. But that’s not much to go on.” She swallowed hard. “I’m not a coward, but it’s hard to fight an enemy when you have no idea who that person is, and why he or she is after you.”

“That’s why I’m here—to equalize the odds.”

His voice was filled with an assurance and confidence that was contagious. “Welcome aboard then.” She smiled and reached out, offering to shake hands. Then, remembering Navajos didn’t believe in casual touch, she drew back. “Sorry.”

Jonas reached for her hand and shook it. “You and I are hardly strangers.”

A vivid image of her lying naked in his arms, their bodies pressed tightly together, flashed in her mind. The cold surrounding them had given way to heat….

“You and I will start fresh today,” she said firmly, mostly for her own benefit. “History is only for those who like to live in the past.” Yet even as she spoke, she found it impossible not to notice the strength he kept in check or the hardness of his calloused palm. Though her insides were doing somersaults, she gave him an easy smile.

“I’m here to do a job. And believe me when I tell you that I’m very good at what I do.” His voice was calm, yet had an unmistakable edge that caught her attention and held it. “You’ve never been safer.”

The timbre of his voice sent a thrill up her spine. Jonas was the stuff dreams were made of. Somewhere along the way, he’d also acquired a quiet confidence that enhanced everything about him, and teased her imagination.

Emily turned and poured herself another cup of coffee. She wasn’t just losing her sight, she was losing what was left of her mind. She had more problems now than she knew what to do with. The last thing she needed was another complication.

Jonas was a temporary ally—that was all. As experience had repeatedly taught her, wishes were only the fragile whispers of a lonely heart.

Chapter Two

Shortly after eight the following morning, Emily noticed a patrol car in the distance motoring slowly down the highway.

The deputies had told her last night when they’d come to take Jonas’s and her statements that they’d be increasing Jonas’s presence in the area.

Standing at the sink of the trailer, Emily watched the main house from the small window. Jonas had insisted on sleeping outside. He’d parked his truck in a spot that allowed him to keep watch on her trailer, the construction materials and the main house.

His presence reassured her even more than the added sheriff’s department deputies on patrol. Yet even so, she hadn’t been able to get much sleep last night. Thoughts and worries had chased each other in an endless circle.

The news that her father might have been murdered had turned her world upside down. No matter how she looked at it, her life was now a maze of uncertainty filled with what-ifs.

Emily took two mugs of coffee from the counter and stepped out of the trailer, trying to ignore the cold wind whipping against her. Halfway across the grounds, she glanced at the ten-by-twelve-foot concrete pad that had once been intended as a floor for her mother’s hobby room.

Her mom had vanished the day before it was poured, thirteen years ago, and the structure had never gone beyond that first step. Emily’s dad had always believed that her mom would someday return, so he’d left it there, ready for completion when the time came. But her mom hadn’t come home. Eventually, the police had stopped searching for answers. As the years went by, her dad, too, had come to terms with their loss.

Old doubts filled Emily’s mind as she thought about her mother. As a kid she’d spend many nights wondering if she’d somehow been the reason her mom had left.

Taking a deep breath, she stopped those musings abruptly. Her mother had made her choice. Now new dreams would spring up where the old had been. That useless concrete pad would be replaced by a new foundation. Once the Tamarisk Inn was up and running, Emily would build her own private residence on that spot.

As she reached the main house, she found Jonas by the back door, waiting. He was wearing low-slung jeans and a flannel shirt that fitted his wide shoulders snugly.

“Good morning,” she called, and held up the mugs. “I brought a cup for you, too.”

“Caffeinated?” he asked, sounding decidedly hopeful.

“Nope. Never drink the stuff. It gives me the jitters.”

“Then I guess this’ll have to do,” he answered with a martyred sigh. “Did you eat breakfast already?”

“I had a piece of toast. I don’t generally have breakfast.” Feeling guilty when she realized he was probably hungry, she added, “But my fridge is full. Help yourself to whatever you’d like. I’ve got plenty of eggs, bread and milk.”

“Thanks, but I’ll wait,” he answered, and followed her inside the house.

The interior felt bitterly cold. Standing on a step stool, she lifted off the curtain rod and removed the drapes from one window. The morning light immediately spilled inside. Emily knew a wave of warmth would soon be flowing across the room.

Not realizing Jonas was behind her, she stepped down from the stool, turned around with the curtains still in hand and ran right into his rock-hard chest. Her heart did a crazy somersault and awareness made her tingle all the way to her toes.

“Excuse me,” she muttered as he steadied her.

With a smile hovering around the corners of his mouth, he stepped aside.

Avoiding his gaze, she moved from window to window, taking down the remaining curtains and folding them. She then packed them into cardboard boxes, trying her best to avoid looking at Jonas. He was leaning in the doorway, arms and ankles crossed.

“Was last night the first time you had trouble with intruders?” he asked.

“No,” she said, and explained about the break-in the day of her father’s funeral and the missing maps. “They were of different quadrants here on our land, but not particularly valuable.”

He remembered his briefing. Diné Nééz, his contact, had raised the possibility that Dinétsoh might have gone to Fire Rock Hollow, the historical refuge legendary warriors like Manuelito had once used.

Its location had been lost for nearly a century. Then one day, the attorney had found the turquoise key near some ruins on his property. He’d showed it to Dinétsoh, his friend and associate, and together they’d rediscovered the place.

After that, Dinétsoh, appointed the cave’s new guardian, had kept the key with him, and to honor the past, had stocked the refuge with provisions. At the time of the accident, Dinétsoh and Powell Atkins had been on their way to conclude the sale that would have given the tribe ownership of that parcel of land.

“How will you deal with your father’s papers?” Jonas asked, glancing into what had been Powell Atkins’s office.

“I don’t have time to do much sorting, so I’m placing everything in storage. If there’s anything in there that pertains to the tribe, you’re welcome to it. Dad also had some papers in his safe-deposit box in town. I haven’t looked through those yet, except to get a few documents I needed right away, like his will, tax forms and the mortgage papers.”

“You should go through everything he placed in the bank as soon as possible. You might find some answers there,” Jonas advised, entering the office and glancing around. It was possible that Emily’s father had hidden something others wanted badly enough to kill for.

Emily stood by a window, gazing at the row of stacked lumber and construction materials opposite the house. “I think those men last night were trying to burn me out, beginning with my building materials.”

“Losing all that lumber and sheeting would have cost you thousands of dollars.”

“It would have been a disaster,” she agreed in a whisper. “I honestly don’t know if I could have recovered from a loss like that. My insurance rates would have doubled or tripled, and replacing the materials would have been extremely costly. Everything’s gone up so much lately.”

“You should consider going away for a while and staying someplace safe—at least until we can figure out what you’re up against.” As he glanced at Emily, Jonas saw her back straighten and her chin jut out in defiance. “It was just a suggestion.”

“No one’s going to chase me away,” she declared, facing him squarely. Then she exhaled softly and in a whisper added, “Life’s not taking anything else away from me—not without a fight.”

The last part obviously hadn’t been meant for his ears, but the haunting sense of isolation that had resonated in her words touched him deeply. His thoughts drifted back to an afternoon at an Afghan border village and the few hours that had changed him forever. One moment’s distraction, a suicide bomber, then bodies everywhere.

He’d sworn back then never to lower his guard again. Life was about survival, and to do that, you had to fight to stay in control—of yourself and your situation. That required constant vigilance and a fighting spirit that refused surrender—a spirit like Emily’s.

“Just hang tough, Em. I’ll help you finish what you’ve set out to do.” His words carried the power of authority and utter conviction.

“Don’t make promises you may not be able to keep,” she retorted.

“I get things done. You can count on that.” As she glanced up at him he saw the flicker in her eyes, and recognized the return of hope. “I need to go meet someone, but I’ll be back soon.”

“Take your time. I’ll be fine. It’s broad daylight. What can happen?”

He didn’t answer. Jonas gave her one last look as she sat beneath the open window, placing papers into folders, then packing them into boxes.

Something else about Emily had changed. There was a quiet dignity about her that was new, and it intrigued him. He’d seen much the same look on the faces of fellow Rangers going into battle. He wasn’t sure how that fit yet, but it was that same quiet courage he saw in Emily now.

JONAS DROVE TO A HILLOCK halfway to the highway, where cell phone reception would be stronger, and privacy insured. He had no doubt that last night’s incident would already be known to Diné Nééz. The man had contacts everywhere in the Four Corners and there was little he missed.

He climbed out of his pickup and walked into the bosque, as the wooded area was called, stopping beside a thicket of salt cedars. Before he’d even finished dialing, Jonas felt it—a wave of movement in the air.

He bent at the knees, automatically making himself a smaller target as he turned. Just then he saw Diné Nééz appear from behind an old cottonweed tree scarred by age and the elements.

The middle-aged Navajo nodded to Jonas, and gestured for him to put away the phone. There was no need for it now. “We’ve had someone watching since the report to the police came in last night. The tracks left by the two men ended near the highway, so there’s not much I can offer you on that, but if you run into more trouble than you can handle, call. Backup will be twenty minutes away or less.”

“My priority remains the woman?”

“Yes. We’re handling the search for Dinétsoh. But if you come across something that reveals his whereabouts, pursue the lead.”

“Those men weren’t there just to set fires. I think they were coming for her. She either knows something that she’s not aware of, or is an obstruction to whatever plan they have.”

“It’s also possible that others are searching for Dinétsoh, and last night’s events were just a diversion,” Diné Nééz said.

“Has word gotten out about the bearer bonds?” Jonas asked quickly.

“No. We’ve managed to keep a lid on that, at least for now. But there’s no telling how long that’ll last. One slip is all it takes.” He gathered his thoughts before continuing. “The woman… In your opinion, will she be an asset or a liability to our search?”

Jonas considered his answer carefully. “She’s offered to help, and give me access to her land. But she has secrets, too. I can feel it in my gut.”

“Don’t we all?” the man countered with a shrug. “Is it possible that whatever she’s hiding has something to do with her father’s death?”

“I can’t be certain of anything at this point.” Except for one thing, Jonas added silently. His attraction to her hadn’t diminished. If anything, it had grown even stronger. And that would make him a liability to the mission unless he kept it in check. “I’ll report as soon as I have something.”

“We need to put the case together quickly, but our involvement has to be kept under wraps. The Brotherhood has remained a secret organization since the time of Kit Carson—unseen but felt—and that’s how it must remain. Live up to your code name, Chaha’oh,” he said. It was the Navajo word for shadow. “Use your skills and get it done.”

JONAS RETURNED TO THE house and parked next to it. As he stepped out of the cab, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Something wasn’t right. Remaining beside the truck, he waited and listened, trying to pinpoint what was bothering him. This same instinct had kept him alive more times than he cared to count, and taught him to pay attention to subtleties.

He watched the play of light and shadows on the ground, and somewhere in the distance heard the sound of soft humming. As he walked around the house, he saw Emily standing outside the back door, her eyes closed, her face tilted up toward the sky.

For a moment he just gazed at her, absorbing the way her brown hair cascaded around her shoulders as she enjoyed the warmth. The last time he’d seen her look that serene and happy they’d just made love. Safely nestled against him inside his sleeping bag, she’d looked up at him and smiled. That moment in time had been permanently carved into his heart.

Tearing his gaze away, he muttered an oath. Diversions and distractions were an implacable enemy, and danger was close. He wasn’t sure how he knew, but he felt it as clearly as the cool breeze that penetrated his open leather jacket.

Darting his eyes around, he joined her quickly. “Let’s go inside,” he said, forcing his voice to remain casual. “Maybe I can help you finish emptying the rooms.”

“You weren’t gone long,” she answered pleasantly.

“I just needed to check in with a few people and see if anything new had turned up on our missing man.”

“And has it?”

He shook his head.

She led him through the kitchen, returning to what had been her father’s office. “I’ve gone through all the files Dad kept here. His maps are missing, as I told you, though the folder was still in the cabinet. Nothing else seemed out of the ordinary. I also didn’t see anything that pertained specifically to the tribe, so I stopped trying to sort and just stuck everything in those boxes. They’ll go into storage alongside the furniture.”

Hearing a truck engine, she looked out the window and smiled. “Finally! Here are the movers. They’ll load the rest of the big stuff into the truck and haul it over to the rental storage place in town.”

Still uneasy but unable to identify the threat, Jonas walked out with her and remained by her side while the workers loaded the truck. As soon as they drove off, he and Emily returned inside the house.

“I’ve never heard of that moving company,” he said. “I assume you checked them out?”

“Of course. They’re new, but legit, and they gave me a great price. I’ve got to cut corners now. Every dollar counts.”

She hadn’t asked for, nor did she want, his sympathy. She’d simply stated a fact. His admiration for her continued to grow.

He looked around the interior, noting that nothing except portable lanterns and labeled boxes remained.

“Everything else in here will be transferred across the driveway to that railroad-car-size metal storage container,” she said.

“Since the bulk of the work is finally done, how about you and me taking a break? There’s a real nice coffeehouse out on east Main, at the mall. They serve the best pancakes for miles. We can have a quick brunch, then get back to work.”

“Great idea,” she said, walking outside with him.

Jonas studied the area around him carefully. Someone was out there. He could feel him. As it had been when snipers had stalked his unit, his muscles were wound tight, and he was ready—itching, really—for a challenge.

They were several feet from his truck when he saw a flicker of movement to his left, between two stacks of plywood. Jonas urged Emily quickly into his truck and, motioning for her to stay down, made his way toward the intruder, creeping silently in his soft deerskin boots.

The man never heard or saw him coming. As soon as he was within a few yards, Jonas dived for him, but only caught the heel of his shoe. The intruder, dressed in green coveralls and a cap, dropped something as he kicked loose, then took off at breakneck speed, rounding the corner.

Jonas raced across the yard after him, but before he could narrow the distance, he heard a small motor revving up somewhere ahead. Suddenly a dirt bike roared around the side of the house, raising a cloud of dust as it accelerated straight at him.

Two men. He should have expected it. Jonas automatically reached for the holstered Beretta at the small of his back, then changed his mind. He needed a prisoner, not another casualty. There was a better way to unseat this guy, but his timing would have to be perfect.

Jonas crouched slightly, wondering if his baton would do the trick, then decided it was too light. His forearm was the best choice, though the risk of collision and broken bones was greater. He waved the cyclist forward, goading him with a look of defiance.

The rider, his features hidden by a helmet, didn’t waver for a second. He came right at him, engine roaring.

Jonas jumped clear at the last second, throwing out his arm to clothesline the punk. But fate wasn’t on his side. The bike suddenly fishtailed, and the rear wheel whipped around. The rider’s boot caught him in the shin, spinning Jonas out of position. His fist ricocheted off the top of the biker’s helmet as he passed.

The man raced away, fishtailing again about fifty feet farther down the road, then disappearing in the direction of the highway.

His leg throbbing with pain and his fist numb, Jonas tried to locate the man who’d run off on foot. He was out of sight now, and probably making a beeline for his partner on the bike.

Jonas sprinted after the cycle, suspecting the biker would have to stop soon to pick up his cohort. After running another fifty yards, Jonas spotted the bike through the trees, and saw the second man jump behind the driver. As the motorcycle raced off in a cloud of dust, Jonas knew he’d never catch them now, even if he went back for his truck.

Coming to a stop, he opened his cell phone and punched out the number of his contact in the sheriff’s department, Sergeant Charlie Nez. Charlie’s code name was Ha’asídí, Watchman. After identifying himself and giving him the highlights of the incident, Jonas returned the phone to his jacket pocket and jogged back toward the house.

He was picking up the object his first attacker had dropped—a Taser—when he heard running footsteps. Just then Emily came around the eight-foot-high stack of sheeting, a double-barreled shotgun gripped in her hand.

“They’re gone,” he assured her quickly.

“What about you? Are you all right?” she asked. “I called the sheriff’s department and they said they were sending a deputy.”

“I called them, too,” he said, noting that she’d wrapped her fingers around the trigger guard. If it was loaded, and the safety off… “Do you know how to use that?”

She looked down at the weapon, then drew it closer, fortunately moving her grip away from the trigger area. “How hard can it be? Point and shoot.”

He gently took the weapon from her hands and thumbed the safety on. “Nice. Remington over/under. Where did you get it?”

“It belonged to my dad. He used to go duck hunting. I took it to my trailer a few days ago, just for safety’s sake. I don’t really know if it’s loaded or not,” she added. “I’m not sure how to check. The gun was always off-limits to Mom and me.”

Jonas opened the action and checked. “It isn’t loaded,” he answered. “What were you planning to do if it wouldn’t fire?”

“It’s nice and heavy. I’d use it as a club.”

“To protect me?” he asked, doing his best, but not quite succeeding to bite back a smile.

“Of course. Anyone who got whacked on the head with this would be out of it for a while.”

He took a step closer to her, then brushed a stray lock of hair away from her eyes. Hearing her draw in an unsteady breath, he felt a surge of pure masculine satisfaction.

Emily moved away and cleared her throat. “We’ve had two vandalism attempts here in the past twenty-four hours. What’s going on? The bad guys don’t normally come back to a crime scene, do they?”

“It depends on how serious they are about putting you out of business.”

“But why? An inn brings visitors and more business to the community. This doesn’t make sense. Were the men who came today the same ones who were here last night?”

“Probably. The boot and shoe prints match, and the body types fit, at least with height and build.” He glanced down at the Taser, studying it. “This was meant to incapacitate me, and maybe you, as well, while they did whatever it was they came for.”

“Vandalism wasn’t their only objective today. They want to scare me into leaving,” she said flatly. “Otherwise, they would have waited until I’d left on an errand, and wouldn’t have brought a Taser along.”

“I agree. Like last night, scaring you was one of their objectives. If they’d wanted to kill either one of us, they’d have come better armed.” He paused for several moments, looking for anything on the Taser that might give them a clue. The serial numbers had been removed, and the insulated grip probably meant no fingerprints could be recovered.

“Do you think they’ll try again?” With effort she kept her voice steady.

“Yeah,” Jonas grunted. “That’s why you should reconsider your plans. Since construction hasn’t started yet, why don’t you return what materials you can, take a small loss, then wait them out? Give me time to work. Afterward, when things are settled, you can continue.”

“No, the clock’s ticking too fast—” She abruptly stopped speaking.

“We’re on the same side, Em. Don’t shut me out,” he said, more convinced than ever that she was hiding something. Turning to face her, he took her hand and brought it to his lips. “I’ve earned your trust many times over. Talk to me.”

As she looked into his eyes, her thoughts suddenly became muddled and her heart began doing flip-flops. Forcing a steadiness she wouldn’t have thought possible into her voice, she answered him. “I’d like to trust you completely, Jonas. I really would. But here’s the thing. I never thought I’d see you again. Then, out of nowhere, here you are.”

She paused, pushing her hands deep inside her jacket pockets so she wouldn’t be tempted to reach out and touch him. “Though you’ve saved my life twice, something tells me there’s more to your return into my life than you’ve said. Until I know enough to fill in all those blanks, there’s no room for total trust.”

“No one can ever fill in all the blanks of another person’s life. Things just don’t work that way.” He leaned against the house, thumbs hooked into the belt loops of his jeans. “You need to make some decisions, and here’s something you should consider. Your father spent a lifetime working for the tribe. He trusted us. Can you afford to do anything less?”

“Life’s been…different to me. It’s taught me to be cautious.”

Jonas couldn’t fault her for that. In that one way, they were alike.

“But you’re right. Once these people realize I won’t run away, they’re going to come after me with everything they’ve got.”

“No one’s going to hurt you, Em.” He brushed her cheek with the palm of his hand and felt the gentle tremor that traveled through her. “I’ll be right there with you every step of the way.”

Chapter Three

Emily sat in what had been the living room of her parent’s house. Across the card table from her, in a metal folding chair identical to her own, sat uniformed deputy Michael Dusenberry. Sergeant Nez, whom she’d spoken to earlier on the phone, was questioning Jonas in a separate room.

“How do you explain what’s happened?” Deputy Dusenberry asked. “This is the second time vandals have come onto your property. Do you have any idea what they’re after?”

“I honestly don’t know. They haven’t made any attempt to steal my old Chevy, and there’s nothing exceptionally valuable here at the house. My dad made a good living, but he wasn’t wealthy. All the tools, furniture and appliances are well used and out of sight now, locked up in a metal storage building.”

“Have they targeted anything special?”

“The lumber and other building materials, but I don’t see what they’d have to gain from setting it all on fire.”

“Yet they’ve come back twice. There’s got to be something they want. What about your father’s papers and files? As a lawyer he has made his share of enemies.”

“I’ve gone through most of his files looking for something that could be triggering these attacks on me, but so far I haven’t found anything,” she said, filling in the details. “The only thing missing is my dad’s map collection, and that’s not worth much. That’s all they took.”

“Are you sure about that? And if you are, is it possible your father threw the maps out and never got around to discarding the folder from the filing cabinet?”

“The maps were nothing special,” she assured him. “And Dad was a neat freak when it came to his files. He would have discarded both folder or maps, or neither.”

“I’d ask you to turn all your father’s records over to us to sort through, but the truth is we can’t fund the man-hours when no major crimes have been committed. It’s a matter of priorities and resources.”

“I couldn’t have turned them over to you anyway—not without a court order. My dad protected his clients’ confidentiality, and I’d have to respect that, too.”

“Admirable, but if you feel threatened, I’d advise you to hire a trained expert to examine those files for possible suspects.”

She shook her head. “I can’t. My money situation is similar to your department’s.”

Jonas walked into the room just then, and the sergeant who’d questioned him followed.

Jonas glanced at Charlie, then back at Emily. “Take things one step at a time, Em. You’ll get further that way.”

“I’m done here,” Deputy Dusenberry said, standing up and placing his notebook in a shirt pocket.

“If you need us, just call,” Sergeant Nez added.

Emily saw the officers to the door, spoke briefly to the reporter outside, then excused herself and returned to the house.

Standing by the window, she watched them drive away. “It’s such a beautiful day. I wish there wasn’t so much to do here.”

Jonas gently pulled her toward him and away from the window. “It’s not a good idea to stand in front of the glass like that.”

Although his words reminded her of the seriousness of the situation, the warmth of his body crept around her, awakening needs.

“I’m going to take a look outside,” he said, moving away. “I’ll be back.”

She watched him go, noting the tension that tightened his muscles. An edge of danger defined Jonas. It was there in his long-legged stride and the grim set of his rock-hard jaw. Though he’d chosen a path in life that was wildly different from hers, it seemed to suit him perfectly. Like the wind, he’d be here one day, gone the next.

Her inn, on the other hand, would be a part of her life forever. If she could keep her priorities straight, she’d be just fine.

Jonas returned inside moments later and helped her remove a light fixture from the wall. “We’ve been working under the assumption that someone’s threatening you because of something your father was involved in,” he said. “But is it possible you’ve made enemies, too?”

“I don’t see how that’s possible. I’ve only been back a few days,” she answered, surprised by his question.

“What about enemies from your past—old boyfriends, neighbors, people from work who think you’ve offended them, or a stalker who followed you here from Albuquerque?”

“I lived in the city and worked at a mountain resort. I got along with my boss and fellow employees, kept my distance from the clients and barely knew my neighbors.” She shook her head. “If I’d had any enemies, I would have known long before I moved back here.”

“You failed to mention boyfriends,” Jonas pointed out.

“A few along the way, but nobody for long. And the breakups were all amicable.”

“At least you think they were. Ever get any strange, or pushy e-mails, phone calls? Have you noticed any strange people hanging around your…apartment?”

“Nope, just a gray cat. After about a week, his owner tracked him down. Sorry, but I can’t think of anyone.”

“That’s okay. So who have you seen and spoken to since you moved back?” he pressed, undaunted.

“Starting close to home, there’s my neighbor, Grant Woods. I’ve known him since high school. He came over to give me his condolences.” She paused. “He also expressed an interest in buying all my land. He comes from a wealthy family and is always looking for investments. He figured I wouldn’t be staying. After I told him about my plans for the inn, we didn’t talk about it anymore,” she said. “I also got some other offers—one from a developer and another from one of the utility companies. They wanted drilling and mineral rights.”

“There’s nothing unusual about any of those offers. Land sells quickly around here. This area’s rich with natural gas and that makes it a potential bonanza for an investor. But none of that explains the men after you.”

“Maybe someone’s hoping to scare me, so I’ll sell out.” She shook her head. “That doesn’t make sense, either. There are multiple bidders. I could sell to whoever I wanted. There’s no way any of them could insure they’d be the new owner. And why help out the competition?”

“All right. Let’s set that aside for now and finish in here. What’s next?” he asked.

“I want to remove all the hardware and a few built-ins, like the fireplace mantel. Whatever stays will be demolished along with the house, and that’s scheduled to begin tomorrow.”

“Where do you want to put this stuff?”

“In that big metal storage compartment over there.” She pointed to the green, metal bin beside the driveway, across from her trailer. “It’ll be pretty full after that, but I can’t afford any additional storage places, so the boxes over there with dishes and housewares will go to my dad’s workshop. It’s that small building on the south side of the house.”

“What kind of workshop?”

“Dad liked tinkering with wood. Spending hours there was his way of relaxing.” And hiding out. After her mother’s disappearance, he’d spent most of his free time there—away from her.

Emily pointed toward the den. “The boxes in there marked with a red D for donation are going to charity. They’re filled with Dad’s belongings,” she added, her voice wavering slightly.

“You okay?” he murmured, eyeing her closely.

She nodded. “Packing those was very hard.”

“Your dad’s clothing?” he asked, taking a few steps toward the boxes.

She nodded again. “If you know anyone who might be able to use them…”

“No,” he answered quickly. “The People have taboos against that.”

“Sorry. I forgot,” she said. “Something to do with ghosts. Is that right?”

“No, not ghosts—not exactly, anyway,” he stated. “Navajos believe that the good in a man merges with universal harmony, but the chindi, the evil side, remains earthbound, ready to create problems for the living. The chindi is said to be particularly attached to a person’s earthly possessions, so Navajos avoid coming into contact with those.”

“All right then,” she said with a nod. “Dad’s clothes will go to the homeless shelter as planned.”

“Did you search his clothes carefully? People often forget what they’ve stuck in their pockets.”

“I thought of that, but didn’t find anything.” She sighed. “Dad wasn’t the careless type. He was methodical and careful. But I’m making him sound too serious, and that’s way off the mark. Dad loved games.”

“What kind of games?”

“The kind that offered a challenge, and a high degree of intelligence to solve. For example, he refused to have a safe in the house because he said safes could be stolen. If he had something of particular importance to him, and it wasn’t related to business, he’d just hide it. He loved mind games. He told me that a thief would have to know him personally to even get close to something he’d hidden.”

She laughed softly. “One summer he hid an Ella Clah mystery I’d been reading. It took me two weeks to track it down. He’d placed it on the top of our grandfather clock behind the crown. You had to be eight feet tall or up on a ladder to spot it.”

“Now he’s left you with another puzzle to solve,” Jonas commented thoughtfully.

She nodded. “Guessing what he was into.”

THEY WORKED TOGETHER for two hours, then started taking boxes to the workshop. After the third load, as they stopped to take a break, they heard the sound of an approaching vehicle.

Jonas went to the workshop’s double doors and studied the truck coming toward them. “Know anyone in a tan crew cab pickup?”

“Not that I can think of offhand,” she answered, coming to join him. “My foreman, Ken, drives a big white truck with his company logo on the door.”

Without making a point of it, Jonas stepped in front of her. The gesture reminded her of the danger she was facing, but at the same time his protectiveness was reassuring.

Moments later a man in jeans, a windbreaker, boots and a brown baseball cap climbed out of the truck.

Emily breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s my neighbor, Grant Woods,” she said.

Grant strode over, his expression serious. His face was tanned, and all sharp, jagged angles. He nodded to Jonas, then focused on her.

“Emily, since you’re going ahead with your construction plans, I wanted to make sure you also take responsibility for all the wear and tear on our shared stretch of road. It’s already taken a beating from those big trucks hauling in your lumber, and the cement mixers are going to eat it up. What you do to your driveway is your problem, but that section of common road—you’ll have to fix any damages your crews cause. You understand?”

“Sure, Grant. If you see a problem, just let me know,” she said, annoyed by his tone.

“There’s an easy way for you to avoid all these problems, Emily. Let me buy you out. I’ll exceed whatever property value estimates a Realtor comes up with by, say, ten percent?”

“Thanks, but as I told you the other day, I’m not interested in selling to you or anyone else. I intend to build my inn here. All the permits have been approved, and the work begins tomorrow.”

“With all the setbacks you’ve been having, what makes you think anyone will want to patronize your motel?”

“Inn,” she corrected. “And how do you know I’ve been having trouble?”

He gave her a wry smile, then turned and waved his arm. “I live just a mile and a quarter away. How could I miss the sirens and flashing lights running up and down the road? This used to be a quiet spot—until you came back home.” He paused for effect, then added, “I liked it the way it was.”

“Just give my business a chance. In the long run, you might like the changes it’ll bring,” she said.

“Doubtful, but it’s your money.” Grant started to go back to his truck, then stopped and reached inside his windbreaker. “I almost forgot. When I drove out to get my mail, I saw your box was full, so I picked it up, as well. You do know that the mailboxes are by the side of the highway now instead of at our gates? They changed that a couple of years ago.”

“Sure. They’re hard to miss. And thanks,” she said, taking the bundle he handed her.

As he drove off, she removed the rubber band holding the envelopes and catalogs together, and started to leaf through the stack. “He opened my bank statement!” she muttered, then shook her head. “No, never mind. I’m just thinking the worst because he annoyed me. It’s possible it wasn’t sealed properly.”

Jonas took the envelope and studied it. “It’s hard to tell one way or another, but that guy doesn’t exactly make a great first impression. How long have you known him?”

“Since high school. Back then, he was a loner. The jocks would give him a hard time, shoving him around, and the girls avoided him because he creeped them out. He was overly nice—smarmy—and heaven help you if he had a thing for you.”

“Did he? Have a thing for you, that is?”

“Me? No. I was a freshman when he was a senior, and just the girl next door who rode on the same school bus until he got his own car. The only time he ever paid any attention to me was when my mom disappeared.” She saw Jonas nod absently, and realized that, like everyone else in the community, he’d heard the story.

After a moment, Emily continued, shifting the focus back to Grant. “But the older sister of a friend of mine ended up on Grant’s radar, and things got bad in hurry. Right before spring break, he offered to give her a ride home. She took him up on it, but he drove her out into the bosque instead, then tried to make his moves. She ended up punching him where it hurts, then jumped out of his car and took off on foot.”

“Did he get away with it otherwise?”

Emily shook her head. “Far from it. The girl’s brother was on the wrestling team, and the next Monday morning Grant showed up at school with black eyes and bruises everywhere. After he got beat up a second time in a cafeteria fight, his parents put him in a private school for the rest of the year.”

“Was there ever any problem with him stealing?” Jonas gestured to the stack of mail.

“Not that I heard. If anything, Grant was a victim—one of those socially inept guys who went through school making more enemies than friends. He’d set himself up with his own inappropriate behavior.”

Emily glanced at her father’s workshop, then back at Jonas. “Before we get back to work, how about if I go get us something to drink from the fridge? Wet and cold.”

“You’ve got beer?”

She made a face. “Yuck, no. What do you guys see in that stuff? But I can offer you a strawberry protein drink.”

“Yeah, okay. As long as it’s wet, I’m good.”

It took her several minutes to mix the drink, then she placed the pitcher on a tray, with glasses, and headed back outside.

When she entered the workshop, Jonas stepped around the tall stack of boxes he’d made on a pallet. He’d stripped off his flannel shirt, and the ridges of hard muscle that covered his chest took her breath away.

She stared openly, unable to stop herself. His body had changed, matured in many ways. The scars on his chest spoke of battles fought—and won. He was far from the pretty-boy type who’d never met a mirror he didn’t like. Yet there was something about Jonas that made her want to run her hands over him, taking a nip here and a taste there.

A knowing smile tugged at the edges of his mouth, and realizing she’d been staring—and maybe even drooling—she handed him his glass and stepped away.

“I’ve been rearranging the boxes to make more room,” he said. He took a sip of the drink, scowled slightly, then took another.

As she looked past him into the far corner, now clear of items, something captured her attention. One of her father’s favorite hiding places had been behind the old sawhorse that had stood there for years.

Stepping closer, she spotted a narrow gap between a gray electrical panel and the piece of thin wafer board that made up the unfinished interior wall. A piece of what looked like masking tape had come loose and was dangling down. The rest of the wall had been perfectly fitted, so it seemed out of place.

“There’s something behind there,” she said.

“There, where?” Jonas asked, following her gaze.

“Look just to the left of that circuit box or whatever it is. That narrow opening…”

He nodded. “I see it. All the other joints are perfect, yet that one spot has a shaved edge of wallboard.”

“Let’s peel back the tape and look inside,” she suggested.

Reaching for the penlight in his pocket, Jonas aimed the beam into the small gap he’d uncovered. “There’s something back there, all right, but it could just be more tape.”

“Or not. Let’s loosen the wallboard. This isn’t a full-size four-by-eight piece, anyway. It’s just a long strip.”

Jonas went to the workbench and returned with a hammer and pry bar. “I’ve got it,” he said, then carefully loosened the nails fastening the edge of the wood to the stud underneath. Once several were loose, he used the pry bar to pull the wallboard away a few inches, further loosening the nails.

As she watched his muscles rippling as he worked, desire coursed through her. Jonas was thrilling to watch, his body filled with raw power and strength. The temptation to touch him made her fingers tingle and sent flurries of longing all through her.

Realizing she was playing with fire and would no doubt be burned, she forced herself to look away.

“Help me pull this board off gently, so we won’t break it,” he said, turning to look at her.

“Yes, of course,” she replied, her throat as dry as sand.

He flashed her a grin that spoke volumes.

Refusing to acknowledge it, she focused on the panel. “Okay, I’m ready,” she said, grasping the bottom.

They wiggled the board back and forth, and after a minute or two, it came off, with a small cloud of dust.

The first thing they saw in the space they’d uncovered was a myriad of spiderwebs. One in particular merited their immediate attention. A large, shiny, black widow spider with an orange-red hourglass on her abdomen had spun her web across what appeared to be a rolled up piece of paper covered in plastic. The strong silk filaments of web held the spider in place, upside down, about six inches off the ground.

Jonas moved around Emily. “I hate to destroy the web, but she can make another. I’ll scoop the spider into a shovel and take her outside.”

“Just step on it, or squash it against the wall. Black widows are nasty, poisonous things.”

He shook his head. “Spiders have their place. We’re in no danger, and it’s wrong to kill without a reason. Every action has a reaction, and the way to maintain the hózhq, the beauty and harmony in life, is to respect that everything serves a purpose. That’s how a Navajo walks in beauty, by understanding the design and finding his place in it.”

By the time Jonas returned from taking the spider outside, Emily had retrieved the paper and was brushing off what was left of the spiderweb.

“What’ve you got there?” he asked, peering over her shoulder as she slipped off the piece of string that had bound the paper.

“It looks like a sheet from a photo album or scrapbook.” She studied the symbol drawn on the outside of the folded paper nested inside the plastic sleeve. Flames bounded by a circle… The image looked vaguely familiar. “I’ve seen this before somewhere. How about you?” she asked, showing it to him.

Although his face was now expressionless, she’d seen the flicker of recognition there. Maybe it was because her eyesight was fading and she was always pushing her visual limits, but she seldom missed nuances these days.

“I’ve seen it before, too. That’s all I can tell you,” he answered vaguely.

As she gazed back at the symbol, whispers of a memory echoed at the back of her mind, but she still couldn’t place it.

“Let’s see what your father went to so much trouble to conceal,” Jonas pressed in a soft voice.

“I feel a little guilty opening it,” she said with a sad smile, pulling the folded piece of paper out of the plastic. “But if it’s part of the mess I inherited, I’ve got to know.”

She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but the message inside answered no more questions than the rough penciled drawing on the outside. All it did was raise new ones. At the top of the sheet were the words from Law Rock. Below them were instructions to go in certain directions—measured in compass degrees, at set distances in yards or feet.

“The directions start from ‘Law Rock’ and obviously result in finding a specific location. But where’s Law Rock?” Jonas murmured. He was all but certain there was no such geological formation in the area. “I’m familiar with most everything around here, but I’ve never heard of that particular formation.”

“Me, neither,” she answered, handing him the paper.

He stared at the directions, but at long last shook his head.

“This might be part of a game he set up for me—one we never actually got around to playing,” she said slowly. “It’s his style—and his handwriting. Like I told you, Dad loved games.”

Jonas considered that. “Did your father have pet names for places around here, like a favorite spot along the cliffs or down by the river or on your property?”

“No. And for the record, I never heard him mention Law Rock.”

“This could be what the men who broke into your father’s office were after…or not. They did take old maps, right? Either way, without knowing where Law Rock is, the directions are all but useless.” Jonas gazed at the symbol of the Brotherhood, the circle and the flames. “Or this might be a decoy. Something meant for others to find, a way to keep his enemy busy.”

As Jonas moved away to make a call, Emily stared thoughtfully at the drawing of the circle and flames. It was so familiar, but she just couldn’t place it, and the more she tried, the more elusive the memory became.

Chapter Four

Emily sat on the bench in the trailer. She’d studied the directions and distances so intently, looking for hidden meanings, she now had them memorized.

“My suggestion is that you keep it someplace safe,” Jonas said. “It could be months before you figure out what that means.”

He’d already checked with others in the Brotherhood. Within thirty miles, there was Ship Rock, Mitten Rock, Chimney Rock, Popping Rock, Thieving Rock and even Rock Ridge, but no one had ever heard of a place called Law Rock. They’d looked into the possibility that it was a translation, but had found nothing even close.

The brief talk he’d had on the phone with Diné Nééz continued to play in his mind. Grant Woods, as the resident closest to the accident scene, had been questioned as a potential witness. He had an alibi, apparently, which meant he couldn’t have caused the car wreck that had killed Emily’s father.

He’d been questioned a few hours ago about the other events, too. Grant claimed to have been at home, working in his office, during the first incident, and outside working on fence repairs during the second. He hadn’t recalled hearing any vehicles, or a motorcycle.

“When Grant brought over my mail, it reminded me that I’ve yet to go through all the papers in Dad’s safe-deposit box at the bank,” Emily said, interrupting his thoughts. “Dad also had a post office box in town. That’s where his business mail went because he didn’t like leaving important papers in a rural mailbox.”

“I don’t blame him. There was a time around here when people didn’t even lock their doors, particularly on the rez, but those days are long gone.” Jonas stood. “Let me go change clothes, then we’ll head into town. The reason I took off my shirt is because I ripped it against the corner of the workbench.” He called her attention to the sleeve.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you were hot.” Her eyes grew wide and her face flushed crimson.

He laughed. “Well, I’m not exactly eye candy. I’m too scarred up.”

“If you won those fights, I’d hate to see the other guy,” she said with a smile.

He grew somber and shook his head. “I saw my share of action as a Ranger, but half the battles overseas are with an enemy you never see—as in mortar rounds and IEDs.”

“I imagine things are very different for you now that you’re working for the tribe.”

Seeing the softness in her eyes as she gazed at him scrambled his brain, and for a moment he didn’t answer. “Yeah, it’s different,” he said, cursing himself for getting distracted. “Give me a minute to change shirts. I’ve got clean clothes in my pickup. Then I’ll be ready to go.”

“I need to clean up, too. I’ll meet you at your truck in a few minutes.”

Emily changed into a clean pair of slacks and her favorite long-sleeved blouse. The ruffles around the collar had sold her on it. Though the garment was plain cotton, that small detail softened the look and gave it an extra feminine touch.

As she brushed her hair and tied it back into a ponytail, she focused on her future. The Tamarisk Inn would be a reality someday soon. It had taken her weeks to figure out what to call it. She’d finally decided to name it after the hardy plant that grew with its fragrant pink blossoms near the river bosque. It survived by finding just the right place for itself in the dry desert.

Moments later, she met Jonas by his pickup. He’d changed into a gray-blue shirt. The open collar revealed the very tip of the long, narrow scar she’d seen earlier. Scars meant experience, and the sight fueled her imagination. As far as she was concerned, Jonas was sexier than ever.

Pushing those thoughts back, Emily slipped into the passenger’s side and fastened her seat belt. Everything in her life was upside down at the moment. Straightening things out—that’s where her focus had to remain.

As they headed into town, she glanced around the cab of his truck. He had clothes on hangers, a backpack, a coil of rope and a locked metal box behind his seat. The rifle that hung on a rack over the rear window was almost standard equipment for rural New Mexico. The strange-looking radio with antennae was not.

“That looks like a police radio,” she commented.

“I’m not a cop, but my work for the tribe requires top-notch communications equipment.”

She had a million questions she wanted to ask him about his job as a vindicator, but knew he’d told her all he intended about that. “It looks like we both have our secrets,” she said, and realized a moment too late that she’d spoken the thought out loud.

“Most of what I do has to remain confidential—to protect the clients.”

“It’s not just your job. You never talk about yourself—not at all.”

“I’m boring. I’d rather know about you.”

“Nice hedge.” Emily smiled. “But if you want to earn someone’s trust, you have to show that you trust them, too.”

She could sense him trying to figure out how to respond, but after several long moments, she knew his silence was her answer.

As they continued the drive toward the city of Farmington, her thoughts slowly shifted to other pressing concerns. “The tribe made my father an offer for a parcel of our land, the strip along the bluffs, and I haven’t been able to find anything that suggests the deal was ever finalized. The county never recorded the transaction, either, according to conversations I’ve had on the phone. I also haven’t had any word from the tribe, so I need to know if they’re still interested. Who would you suggest I speak to?”

“I’m aware of the deal and I assure you the tribe is still interested. Would you like me to handle that for you?”

“Sure. I’d like to get that matter settled as soon as possible. That…was my father’s last gift to me,” she said, fighting the tears that tightened her throat.

Jonas reached out and took her hand in his. Even now, with sorrow bearing down on her, his touch soothed, and filled an empty spot inside her.

Emily took a deep breath and concentrated on the problems ahead. “The price for the land was already agreed to, so I’d like to finalize the paperwork and get payment as soon as possible. Truth is, I’ll need the funds to complete the inn. The special amenities I need for my guests are very expensive, and my resources are stretched tight.”

“Quick payment may not be possible,” Jonas said after a momentary pause. “You wanted me to trust you, and I’m about to do that. But what I’m going to tell you has to remain between the two of us. Will you give me your word?”

“You have it,” she said, excited by the fact that he was willing to confide in her.

“Our missing man was carrying the entire payment with him—in bearer bonds,” he said. “Those have disappeared along with him.”

“Does the tribe think he may have just run off with the money?”

“No. He’s completely trustworthy. If he’s running it’s because someone’s on his heels.”

“Do you think my father’s death is connected to the bonds?”

“It’s possible, but there are other issues involved. The attack might be linked to some of the other work your father did for the tribe. But we don’t know anything for sure yet.”

“Except that I’ve become a target, and your man is missing, along with a great deal of money,” she said.

Jonas nodded. “The threat to you is too well timed to be unrelated. If we can figure out who’s coming after you, that should provide other answers, as well.”

She sighed softly. “All I wanted was to build my inn—a place where I could always be useful and contribute to our community. It was a perfect idea, one meant to bring peace and good things. Yet all I’ve done is attract violence.”

“No, that’s not all,” he said, brushing her face with his palm.

The tender gesture dissolved her defenses. Feelings and needs she’d sworn to ignore tore into her, tempting her, urging her to stop planning—stop thinking.

“You’ve got to fight for what you want,” he added.

His words brought her back to reality. “And that’s exactly what I intend to do.”

He made it a point not to look at her. No one would have ever accused him of being weak willed, but all men had their vulnerabilities. Emily was his.

“We can’t ignore what’s going on between us,” he said at last.

“No, we can’t,” she agreed, her voice a whisper. “But we don’t have to give in to it, either. It can’t lead anywhere…good.”

“It could be good. Very good.”

His voice was a deep rumble, and the vibrations coursed through her like fire, melting her insides. “For a while we’d find heaven. But afterward…”

“You’d regret it?”

Emily didn’t answer. She couldn’t. She was at war with herself, torn between logic and wanting to capture the wind—or just surrender and enjoy it while it lasted. But she needed more than stolen moments. The qualities she wanted in her future—roots, security—were the very things Jonas’s nature urged him to avoid.

“I was sent to protect you,” he said when she didn’t answer. “And I’ll see it done—even if it means protecting you from me.”

He’d been “sent.” He hadn’t come of his own free will. Holding to that one fact, she drew into herself and said nothing more.

They were entering town, having turned off the truck bypass and onto Lake Street, when she felt the change in him.

“Slump down in the seat a little and keep your head away from the window,” he murmured.

Alarmed, she instinctively did the opposite, sitting up and looking around anxiously. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Get down,” he insisted fiercely, his gaze on the rearview mirror. “Shortly after we left your property, a white pickup caught up to us, then passed us on the highway before we reached the bridge. Now it’s back there once more, following us, though staying well back. When I slowed down to see what he would do, the driver turned west on the truck bypass. But he must have reversed course once he got out of sight, because he’s behind us again.”

“Do you want me to call the police?”

“No. As careful as he’s been, my guess is that he’ll disappear the second he knows we’ve made him. Let’s play things a little differently.”

As they entered the downtown area, Jonas turned right, on Main Street. Halfway down the block, he abruptly cut left into an alleyway between two multistory brick buildings.

“Get ready to jump out when I say so.” They approached a small parking area set into a recess of the building. Next to it was a small loading dock.

“Just say when,” Emily replied, feeling claustrophobic in the narrow urban canyon. She reached down, ready to press her seat-belt release.

Suddenly he slammed on the brakes. “Now!”

Emily jumped out, and by the time she reached the front of the truck, Jonas was already there, waiting. He grabbed her hand, pulling her toward the loading dock.

Once they were out of sight, he motioned with his head toward the corner. “Go back there and stay behind cover. I’ll take care of this.”

Before she could say anything, Jonas sprinted across the alley. With the pickup in the way, she lost sight of him almost immediately.

Emily kept her back to the brick wall of the former hotel, now an office building. A second later, she heard the sound of squealing tires, a shout, then a door opening.

Unable to suppress her curiosity, she peered around the corner. Jonas had ambushed the driver the moment he’d come to a stop, and yanked him out of the cab. Trying to get a clearer look, she turned her head, since the vision out of the corners of her eyes was better. With a gasp, she realized the other man was holding a gun.

Jonas gripped the driver’s wrist and slammed it against the side of the cab. The blow knocked the gun free, and it flew into the bed of the pickup with a thud.

Jonas next delivered a powerful jab to the gut, doubling his opponent up. As he bounced off the open door, Jonas instantly pushed him down on the pavement, then wrapped his arms around the man’s in a deadly hold.

Emily knew that with just one twist, Jonas could break his neck. That’s when she saw the man’s face.

“Jonas, stop!” she said, running out into the open. “That’s Grant, my neighbor. Remember?”

Jonas hauled him to his feet, then shoved him over the hood of the pickup, his arm still at the man’s throat. “I remember. What the hell are you up to, Woods?”

Jonas’s voice was nothing more than a snarl, and it made her heart freeze. The gentle man she’d had beside her just seconds ago on the ride into town was gone, and in his place was someone she didn’t recognize.

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