by Delores Fossen, Rachel Lee, Carol Ericson, Tyler Anne Snell, Rita Herron
His rental protested by shaking and jerking on the unpaved stretch of road. He gripped the wheel to steady it. “Hold on, baby.”
A pair of headlights appeared in the distance, and he blinked his eyes. Did mirages show up at night? Who the hell would be out here?
His heart thumped against his chest. Someone up to no good.
As his car approached the vehicle—a truck by the look of it—he slowed to a crawl. The road couldn’t accommodate the two of them passing each other. One of them would have to back into the sand, and a truck, probably with four-wheel drive, could do that a lot better than he could in this midsize with its four cylinders.
The truck jerked to a stop and started backing up at an angle. The driver recognized what Sam had already deduced. The truck would have to be the one to make way but if this dude thought he’d be heading out of here free, clear and anonymous, he didn’t realize he’d run headlong into a Border Patrol agent—uniformed or not.
Sam threw his car into Park and left the engine running as he scrambled from the front seat. The driver of the truck revved his engine. Did the guy think he was going to run him over? Take him out in the dead of night?
Sam flipped open his wallet to his ID and badge and rested his other hand on his weapon as he stalked up to the driver’s side of the truck.
Holding his badge in front of him and rapping on the hood of the vehicle, he approached the window. “Border Patrol. What’s your business out here?”
The window buzzed down, and a pair of luminous dark eyes caught him in their gaze. “Sam? Sam Cross?”
Sam gulped and his heart beat even faster than before as the beam of his flashlight played over the high cheekbones and full lips of the woman he’d loved beyond all reason.
Chapter Two
He growled. “Who is it? Who are you?”
He’d have to try harder than that to sound convincing.
“Oh, please.” She shaded her eyes against the intrusive glare of the flashlight. “You know damned well who it is, so get that light out of my face.”
He shifted the beam to the side so that it illuminated the ends of her silky ponytail. Bad move. His breath hitched in his throat as he recalled the way that hair had feathered across his bare skin.
“Jolene Nighthawk?”
“In the flesh, Sam.” She cut her engine and turned on the dome light in her truck. “What are you doing out here at this time of night?”
“I already asked you that question. It’s not safe.”
“It’s my land...indirectly.” She set her jaw, and her nostrils flared. “What could be safer?”
He shoved his hands in his pockets and kicked sand at her tire. “So, the Yaqui are going ahead with the casino development on the property. Is this your cousin Wade’s doing?”
“Wade and the others.” She lifted her shoulders. “The tribe put it to a vote, and the Desert Sun Casino won.”
“Were you just...surveying the land?” He flung an arm out to the side. “Planting a bomb?”
Jolene jerked her head, her dark eyes flashing. “What does that mean?”
“Just kidding.” He held up his hands. “I know you’re probably not too happy about the casino. Weren’t you trying to prove that any disruption of the land would impact the three-toed tree owl or something?”
She chuckled, and the low sultry sound did something to his insides. “There is no such thing as a three-toed tree owl. I think you mean the elf owl, so points for being close.”
He grinned like an idiot, just so damned happy to be in her presence again. “See, I was listening to your lectures.”
“Those were supposed to be conversations, not lectures. And no, the environmental study I ordered didn’t prove that the casino would disturb the elf owls’ habitat, as it’s farther west.” She gripped the steering wheel with both hands. “In the end, I had nothing.”
“That’s a good thing, isn’t it? I mean, that the construction site isn’t going to impact the desert critters.”
“It’s not going to affect them as much as it would have to for any alteration in the plans.”
“The casino will provide a lot of jobs and generate a lot of money for the tribe, right? I know Border Patrol is involved at some level because some of those new employees will be coming from the Yaqui tribe members in Mexico. The Yaqui governing body has already contacted us.” He felt the need to keep talking as Jolene stared at the desert over her steering wheel.
She whipped her head around, her eyes narrowed to slits. “Is that what you’re doing out here? Is that why you’re in Paradiso?”
Whoa. Had he become the enemy? Who was he kidding? He’d become the enemy the day he’d left her... The day she’d pushed him away.
“I... Something like that.” He didn’t have to give her all the gory details of his assignment.
She tapped the steering wheel with her long slender fingers. “At this time of night, you’re not going to get a very clear picture of the scope of the project, and ground-breaking doesn’t start for another two days. The equipment’s not even in place yet.”
“The rain stopped me from coming out before. I could’ve put it off until tomorrow, but...it called to me. The desert called to me, and I wanted to see the land before all the hubbub started.” Heat rushed from his chest to his face, and he gave thanks to the darkness for its concealment.
“Same.” She fired up the truck. “Are you going to be at the ground-breaking ceremony?”
“I’ll be there. You?”
“Of course.” She threw the truck in Reverse and backed up farther off the access road into the sand. “It’s my land.”
As she wheeled around him and his rental car, she put her hand out the window and yelled. “Watch out for singing sticks.”
Her words caused a chill to run up his spine. She was referring to the Yaqui legend about the boy who killed his brother and buried him in the desert. A small stick with a button on top grew out of the dead boy’s head where he was buried. When an old man driving his mules found the stick and grabbed it, the stick sang to him of the boy’s death.
The tires of Jolene’s truck squealed as they gained purchase on the access road, and Sam watched her taillights until his eyes watered and all he saw was a red blur.
He hopped back into his car and continued on his way. If only all the dead people he was searching for had sticks to mark their burial places.
* * *
TWO DAYS AFTER his encounter with Jolene, Sam slipped the green shirt of his Border Patrol uniform from its hanger and shook it out. He stuffed his arms in the sleeves and buttoned it to the collar.
It would be hot as blazes at the ground-breaking ceremony for the casino, but he’d be there in an official capacity and couldn’t exactly wear shorts and flip-flops. He didn’t care. The event would give him another opportunity to see Jolene.
He’d tried to catch sight of her around town, short of stalking her outside her house, but she’d been keeping a low profile. She could’ve been busy with her duties as a ranger for the National Park Service...but he had a suspicion she was avoiding him.
He didn’t blame her, but he’d have liked a chance to tell her his situation now—not that it would make a difference to her. Their meeting the other night showed that she’d clearly moved on.
Looking in the mirror, Sam ran a hand through his hair and then rubbed his front teeth with the pad of his finger—just in case he got to talk with Jolene.
He exited his motel room, and hit the remote for the Border Patrol truck in the parking lot. He climbed inside and made the return trip to the future site of the Yaqui casino.
About thirty minutes later, he slowed down as a line of traffic clogged the highway. Two highway patrol officers were waving people over to the side of the road to park.
Sam rolled down his window and stuck his arm out, flagging dow
n an officer.
A big guy with mirrored sunglasses approached the truck. “You can go around and park at the site. Visitors are parking along the highway and shuttles will take them in to the ground-breaking.”
“That’s smart. No way all these cars are going to trundle down that road. So, I can pull right in?”
“If you can squeeze through the protestors.” The man smirked. “It’s a spectacle.”
“There are protestors?”
“On the highway. We won’t let them go down the access road.”
“The Yaqui?” Sam’s heartbeat rattled his rib cage.
“Some of them. The ones who don’t want the casino. But they’ve been overruled.” The cop rolled his shoulders. “Don’t know what they’re complaining about. That casino means big money for the tribe and every Yaqui with a card.”
“There are more important things than money to some.” Sam wheeled around the officer and crawled along the other side of the highway. The infrastructure around here was going to have to change to accommodate the casino. This two-lane highway wouldn’t cut it.
As he approached the access road, the decibel level rose and he rolled down his window. Members of the Yaqui tribe were out in force, garbed in native dress, carrying signs, yelling and beating drums. The drums reverberated in Sam’s ears, and he held his breath as he peered out the window at the protestors. Would Jolene be one of them?
Sometimes these protests could get unruly and violent, and he didn’t want Jolene in the middle of it—not that she would appreciate or even want his protectiveness. He couldn’t help it. He couldn’t help a lot of things when it came to Jolene Nighthawk. When he didn’t see her face among the crowd, he expelled a long breath. Maybe Granny Viv had prevailed upon Jolene to skip the protests today.
He coasted through the divide the highway patrol had forged through the group of protestors. Then he tucked in behind one of the vans ferrying people to the site.
The shuttle turned into a large cleared-out circular area, and Sam followed suit. Colorful flags, that weren’t here the other night, drooped in the still air, looking sad instead of festive but that didn’t deter the mood of the dignitaries.
A stage had been set up, and Wade Nighthawk, Jolene’s cousin, occupied the center of it. He wore his black hair in a sleek ponytail, his only other nod to his Native American heritage, a loose-fitting white shirt embroidered with the animal symbols of the Yaqui, which replaced his usual tailored shirts and suit jacket.
The mayor and other major players clustered on one end of the stage. Sam spotted Nash Dillon talking to a well-dressed older woman. Sam stuck his hand out the window of the truck and pointed at Nash, who nodded back at him. Although Nash was a Border Patrol agent, Nash’s family’s business had a stake in the casino development, and the dark-haired woman with dramatic gray streaks in her hair was probably involved in the money side of the project.
Clay Archer, the agent in charge of the Paradiso Border Patrol station, gave Sam a thumbs-up from the stage. Better him than me up there.
Sam parked and exited his vehicle. He strode up to the stage and clasped hands with Clay.
“Do you have to give a speech or something?”
Clay rolled his eyes. “Just a few words about the Yaqui on the other side of the border and the accommodations we’ll make for them to come over and work in the casino.”
Nash joined them. “I’d give anything to get off this stage, but my parents insisted I be here and meet the representative for our business group backing the project.”
As the woman Nash had been speaking to approached, Sam raised his eyebrow and gave a quick shake of his head.
Nash turned to the woman smoothly. “Karen, I’d like to introduce you to a couple of my fellow Border Patrol agents, Clay Archer and Sam Cross. Sam’s out of San Diego. This is Karen Fisher. She’s representing the investors.”
The attractive woman’s smooth face didn’t match her graying hair—neither did her strong grip. “Nice to meet you. Thanks for all you do to keep us safe.”
Clay, ever the gentleman, said, “Just doing our jobs, ma’am.”
Karen drilled Nash with her dark eyes. “What are you doing here from...?”
“San Diego.”
“That’s right. I suppose you have even more problems with drugs coming across the border there, don’t you?”
“We do.”
“Sam, welcome back.” Wade leaned past the others, extending his hand, his white teeth blinding against his brown skin.
The guy had the smile of a politician. Sam pumped his hand. “Good to see you, Wade. Congratulations.”
“Thank you. This is going to mean a lot for Paradiso, as well as the tribe. But then—” Wade cocked his head and his ponytail slid over his shoulder “—you don’t live here anymore, so it won’t mean much to you. Granny told me you were in town, though. Business?”
“Uh-huh.” Sam shifted his gaze to the right and left of the stage.
“Doesn’t mean you can’t combine a little pleasure with the business.” Wade winked. “Jolene’s by the equipment to the right.”
Before Sam could deny he was searching for Jolene, Wade stepped back and slapped the back of Mayor Zamora. Total politician.
“I’m going to head over there.” Sam tipped his head in the general direction of the heavy equipment ready to gouge the earth.
Clay raised his eyebrows. “You do that. I’m gonna practice my speech.”
“We should probably take our seats.” Nash cupped Karen’s elbow and she nodded in Sam’s direction.
Sam wended his way through the crowd of people, his step picking up when he saw Jolene helping Granny Viv into a seat. Granny Viv could be his excuse, not that he didn’t want to see the old lady anyway. He’d been a favorite of hers—until he’d broken her granddaughter’s heart.
He licked his lips as he walked up to the women, his tongue sweeping up grains of sand.
He squeezed Granny Viv’s shoulder. “Finally, I get to see my favorite person in Paradiso.”
Granny Viv cranked her head to the side. “You sound like Wade now. Nothing stopping you from dropping in at the rez for a visit.”
“Been busy with work.” Sam gave the old woman a hug. “You don’t look a day older since I left.”
“You are just like Wade.” She wagged a gnarled finger at him. “Are you just going to ignore him, Jolene?”
“Gran, sit.” She patted the back of the chair where she’d placed a cushion for her grandmother. “Hello, Sam. How are you?”
Oh, they were playing it like that—like they hadn’t run into each other in the middle of the night at this very place the night before last. Two could play that game.
He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in for a hug. Her soft body yielded to his for a second before she stiffened in his arms.
“Good to see you, Jolene. I was glad I didn’t spy you out front with the protestors—for safety’s sake.”
She reared back from him until he dropped his arms. “Protest is futile. Clay giving a speech up there?”
That hug had affected him more than it had her, and his tight throat made it hard to speak. “Something about the Yaqui on the other side of the border.”
Granny Viv patted the chair next to her. “Sit here for the festivities.”
Jolene gripped the back of the chair. “I thought I was sitting next to you, Gran?”
“I see you all the time. Let Sam sit here, and you can sit on the other side of him.”
Sam plopped down in the seat to claim it before Jolene could, as if playing a game of musical chairs. “No place else I’d rather be.”
With no other choice, Jolene sat next to him, crossing one long leg over the other, her eyebrows creating a V over her nose.
Mayor Zamora stepped up to the mic and tapped it. “Everyone enjoying
the food and the dancers?”
He paused for the scattered applause and launched into his speech about the importance of the Yaqui tribe to the area and its cultural contributions.
The mayor’s words flowed over Sam, one running into the other. Sam’s attention was fully focused on Jolene’s leg kicking back and forth. She usually favored jeans and boots, but today a light skirt rippled around her calves and each time she kicked out her foot, the slit in the skirt parted to reveal the smooth skin of her thigh.
Her elbow jabbed his shoulder. “Are you even paying attention?”
“What? Yeah, cultural contributions.” He adjusted his sunglasses and peered at the stage where the flags had started flapping.
“I said, I wasn’t sure how a gambling casino was a Yaqui cultural asset. They’ll probably decorate it with our icons—ugh.” Her full lips flattened into a snarl.
“Shh.” Granny Viv reached across Sam and poked Jolene’s arm. “Your cousin’s up next.”
Wade took the mayor’s place at the mic and gave a loud whoop. The crowd went nuts and answered him in kind.
Jolene rolled her eyes and pointed at the darkening sky. “Looks like it’s going to rain on their parade.”
The wind had picked up and the once-pathetic flags snapped in the breeze, clapping along with the audience. Wade knew how to work a crowd, for sure. Little eddies of sand swirled on the desert floor, a sure sign of the oncoming monsoon.
He tilted his head toward hers. “Maybe they’ll get through all the pomp and circumstance, and the mayor and Wade can toss a shovelful of sand over their shoulders before the big machines get to work.”
“Will the excavators still work in the rain?” She folded her hands over her knee, twisting her fingers.
“Sure. After all this, they’ll want to get started on the big dig.”
Her restless hands moved to her skirt where she pleated the material, released it and pleated it again.