by Lyn Horner
Michaela moved to stand beside Medina. Exchanging an intimate smile with her, he wrapped his arm around her. He obviously loved the psychiatrist-Guardian.
“I am pleased to meet you, Señor Medina,” Gabriel said, happy for Michaela and relieved to know he did not face competition for Josie’s heart. “Thank you for escorting my Josie around Cali and keeping her safe.”
“Hey, he didn’t escort me anywhere,” she protested, elbowing him in the ribs. “He just kept me company. I can take care of myself.”
Gabriel gave her a doleful look. “Forgive me, mi amor. I did not mean to insult you. I know what a ferocious fighter you are.” Grinning, he rubbed his midriff where the scar she had given him lay hidden beneath his shirt.
Dev Medina chuckled. “You’ve got her pegged right, amigo.”
Interrupting their byplay, Michaela said, “Gabriel, now that you’re here, we need to fill you in on what’s happened. I’m sure Josie told you about the Hellhounds.” At his nod, she continued, “Did she also mention that Lara and Conn were going to New York to contact another Guardian, Charlotte Dixon, and bring her back here?”
“I told him,” Josie answered for him. “Aren’t they back yet?”
“No. Lara fell and bruised her leg, the one that was injured in the wreck that killed her Uncle Malcolm. She could barely walk for several days, and Conn wouldn’t hear of leaving until her leg healed. That took close to two weeks, but even so we expected them back by now.”
“We haven’t heard a word from them either,” Dev said. “There’s no cell phone service here, but I drove out far enough to get connected three different times.” He shook his head. “I couldn’t reach Conn. Left several messages but never got a reply.”
Gabriel frowned. “This does not sound good. Perhaps we should go after them.”
“I don’t know,” Michaela said glumly. “I’m so afraid they’ve been taken by the Hellhounds, but if we try to rescue them we risk being trapped.”
“Sí, that is possible.” After a moment’s thought, Gabriel said, “I need you to tell me everything you can about these Hellhounds, what the villains have done and how they found you and Lara.”
Michaela shrugged, holding her hair back with one hand. “I don’t know how they found us, but Dev and I will tell you whatever we can. Let’s go inside out of the wind.”
Josie started to follow the others into the hogan but her father stopped her, saying he wished to speak with her. She paused, received an understanding smile from Gabriel, and nodded. “Of course, Father.” She walked a short way with him; then he turned to her.
“I see how you look at the Colombian and how he touches you. You have given your heart to him, haven’t you.” It was not a question.
She lowered her eyes. “Yes, father, I have, and I believe he loves me.”
“Hmm. I am happy for you, Daughter, but be careful. I also see Señor Valdez carries a great weight on his soul.”
Not too surprised by his statement, for she knew he had his own special gift, an ability to look inside a person, Josie nodded. “You see true. Gabriel lives with deep sorrow over his mother’s death. She was killed by his own father.”
Her father scowled and shook his head. “That is a terrible thing.”
Josie hesitated, knowing her next words would cause him pain. Taking a deep breath, she said, “When this business with the Guardians is over, Gabriel must return to Colombia. He swore a vow to his mother as she lay dying that he would see justice done. When he leaves, I will go with him.”
Her father smiled sadly. “I know this, Josita. I will miss my favorite daughter but I wish you happiness.”
She hugged him with tears in her eyes and they joined the others. Gabriel and Michaela, with Dev chiming in, decided to give Lara and Conn a few more days to carry out their mission. If they hadn’t either returned or checked in by then, the two men would head for New York to hunt for them.
Josie stayed at Gabriel’s side as they related their first meeting, leaving out how she’d knifed him, and skimming over her stay with him in the hidden canyon. Neither mentioned their confrontation with his father or how he’d used his dreadful power to save them from death, or worse in Josie’s case.
Darkness arrived shortly after supper. Exhausted from the long flight north, Josie was glad to retire for the night with Gabriel. Having accepted their bond of love, her father voiced no objection to them sleeping together, for which she was grateful. Since they were both tired out, she didn’t expect or even want to do more than snuggle close, but her passionate Latin lover soon changed her mind. His tender kisses and knowing touches brought her to heaven with him. Afterward, she fell asleep contentedly wrapped in his arms.
Waking to colder temperatures and a frigid wind the next day, Josie asked Gabriel if he would rather not tour of the canyon complex as she had promised.
“But I want to see this place where you grew up,” he insisted. “If you could endure the cold of my mountain, I can surely endure it here. Unless you prefer not to go.” He crooked a dark eyebrow questioningly.
“No, I don’t mind. We’ll dress warm and stay in the Jeep most of the time.”
After breakfasting with her father, Dev and Michaela, they headed out to explore. As Josie drove, she pointed out pueblo ruins built into the rock walls and petroglyphs – paintings and etchings created by ancient peoples who once lived in Canyon de Chelly.
“The canyon is one of the longest continually inhabited areas in North America, so archaeologists say. The Anasazi, our Navajo word for ancient ones, built the pueblos, but other, older ones, lived here long before them.”
“Do you trace your roots to those ancients?” Gabriel asked.
“No, they were the ancestors of the Pueblo and Hopi people. We Navajo come from a different line called Athabaskan. It is said our old ones migrated from the far north hundreds of years ago. They settled in New Mexico and parts of Arizona and traded with the Pueblo people.”
“How did the Navajo come to be here in Canyon de Chelly?”
She shrugged. “They warred with other tribes and Spanish settlers who invaded our lands. Many Diné – as we call ourselves – fled into what is now Utah and Colorado. Others took refuge in the mountains and canyons. The Spanish found this place, of course, and on a winter day in 1805, their soldiers attacked the Diné living in the canyon. The two sides fought all day. At the end, 115 Navajo lay dead in a cave where they sought refuge. We call the place Massacre Cave. It lies in Canyon Del Muerto to our left. I will take you there.”
Gabriel stayed silent while she drove to the site. When they got out to view the cave, he said grimly, “You have reason to hate anyone of Spanish blood, including me.”
She sent him a startled glance. “Don’t be silly. What happened here was tragic but that was over two hundred years ago. It has nothing to do with you and me.”
“Does it not?”
“No, of course not. The Diné fought whites here too, but I don’t hate all white people.” She shivered in the biting wind. “Come on, I’m cold and this place gives me the creeps. Besides, I have something special to show you.” Gripping his hand, she hurried him back to the Jeep.
Sorry for telling him about Massacre Cave and making him feel bad, she drove him to the junction of Canyon de Chelly and Monument Canyon where Spider Rock soared skyward.
“Madre de Dios!” Gabriel exclaimed as she stopped the Jeep.
“Welcome to Spider Rock,” she said, opening her door and stepping out. A blast of wind immediately buffeted her, but she grinned at the look of awe on his face when he joined her to stare up at the eight-hundred-foot-tall tower of stone. “This is the most famous site in the canyon. It’s even been used in television commercials.”
“Amazing! But why the strange name for such an impressive monolith?”
She laughed lightly. “In our creation story, it is said Spider Woman possesses supernatural power, kind of like you Guardians. She loved the Diné and because monsters roamed th
e land long ago, killing many people, she gave special power to two of our heroes to find Sun-God, their father. Sun-God showed them how to kill all the monsters. Because Spider Woman saved the Diné, she became one of our most honored gods. Her home is said to be on top of Spider Rock.”
“That is a long climb even for a spider woman,” Gabriel said skeptically. “But she has super power. I suppose that makes it easy for her, sí?” Grinning, he drew Josie to his side, sheltering her from the wind.
She wrapped her arm around his waist. “Sure. She also taught us how to weave on a loom. Since then, the Navajo have become fine weavers. But the goddess can be fearsome. As children we are warned to behave or Spider Woman will let down her web and carry us up to her home, where she will devour us.”
“She is fearsome indeed.” Gabriel chuckled, eyes glinting as he gazed down at her “But you must have been a good little girl, since she did not get you.”
“Hah! My father might think different.” Giving him a mischievous grin, she was glad to sees she’d managed to lighten his mood. “If you’d like to see the canyon from above, I’ll drive us around the rim.”
“I will enjoy anything you wish to show me, querida.” Turning to face her, he kissed her, warming her better than any fire could.
They returned to the Jeep and she headed back to the canyon entrance. From there, she wended along the South Rim Drive, stopping at several overlook points where they got out to gaze at the canyon from above. The last stop was Spider Rock Overlook.
“What a magnificent sight,” Gabriel said. “I see why you love this land.”
“Yeah, it is gorgeous,” she agreed.
“Sí, most gorgeous.” He spoke in a soft, caressing tone.
Looking up, she found him gazing at her with such adoration that she caught her breath and stared, hypnotized by his moss-green eyes.
“I love you, Josie Tseda,” he murmured thickly, “but when the Hellhounds are defeated I must return to my country and fight the cancer of my father’s drug trade. I cannot ask you to leave this wondrous place and come with me when I have nothing to offer you but a life in hiding, with the threat of being hurt or killed.”
“You don’t need to ask,” she whispered, overflowing with happiness. “I love you too, Gabriel Valdez. My home is with you. Where you go, I go. You are the Guardian of my heart.”
TOUCHING CHARLOTTE
Romancing the Guardians, Book Four
By
Lyn Horner
“Empaths are naturally giving, spiritually attuned, and good listeners. If you want heart, empaths have got it. Through thick and thin, they’re there for you, world-class nurturers.” – Dr. Judith Orloff, from Emotional Freedom: Liberate Yourself from Negative Emotions and Transform Your Life
CHAPTER ONE
Tristan Jameson tensed when a striking auburn-haired woman handed her coat to a butler in the penthouse foyer and walked into the crowded living room. He’d never met her, yet he felt instantly drawn to her. Despite his avoidance of female companionship over the past two years, his pulse quickened and the chatter of partygoers faded away as he watched her.
She wore a cranberry red dress with three quarter length sleeves that went surprisingly well with her auburn hair. Smiling brightly, she exchanged air kisses with Johanna Cantrell, their hostess and Tristan’s distant cousin, who had opened up her lavish Park Avenue suite for this early Christmas party. So gracious of her, everyone agreed. Of course they all knew tonight’s party was aimed at garnering backers for the lady’s upcoming mayoral campaign.
The redhead had arrived unescorted. Was she a personal friend of Johanna’s or some high-placed business executive who might be convinced to throw her support behind the candidate? Tristan doubted it was the latter. She didn’t look old enough to fill such a role.
Curious to discover her identity, he edged his way through the crowd and followed the woman down a hall toward the kitchen, admiring the slender curves revealed by her subtly flowing crepe dress. Members of the catering staff buzzed past like worker bees, carrying empty food trays to the kitchen for refilling or filled ones out to the buffet table in the spacious living room, or salon as Cousin Johanna so pretentiously called it.
Pausing in the kitchen’s open doorway, Tristan leaned against the door jam and observed the redhead as she held out a large Christmas tin to a portly, bearded man in a white chef’s uniform.
“Please arrange these cookies on a tray and set them out with the other desserts,” she said in a low, sultry voice reminiscent of actress Kathleen Turner’s.
The man scowled. “Madam, I personally prepare all food for every event I cater, including the desserts.”
“Oh, but I baked these especially for tonight as a gift for Jo … I mean Mrs. Cantrell. She told me to bring them back here for you to serve.”
“I doubt that, young woman,” the pompous ass sneered. “That good woman knows I never allow anything prepared by another hand to be served at one of my events.”
“Are you calling me a liar?” The redhead’s voice shook slightly, either with distress or anger.
Having heard enough, Tristan strode to the woman’s side. “There you are. What’s taking so long? I want one of your famous cookies.”
She turned her head and stared at him with eyes as blue as the sapphire broach pinned to her demurely cut bodice. A hint of pink bloomed on her cheeks, lending her ivory features a delightful glow. “Do I know you, sir?”
“Not yet, but I’ve heard of you … and your cookies.” Lifting the rather heavy tin from her hands, he extended it to the uncooperative chef. “My good man, set out the lady’s cookies on your best tray. Mrs. Cantrell is waiting to try them. So am I.”
The man’s bulbous lips worked like a fish gulping for air, but no sound came out. His face turned almost as red as the woman’s dress.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” Tristan goaded. “Should I tell your employer you refuse to honor her wishes?”
“N-no sir. I’ll see to it immediately.” The self-important caterer grudgingly accepted the cookie tin.
“Good. I can’t wait to taste one of those delicious treats.” Winking at the astounded looking woman, he said, “Come along, my dear. Time to mingle.” He took hold of her arm and turned her toward the doorway.
She issued a startled gasp but let him guide her into the hallway. As soon as they were out of earshot from the kitchen, she halted, forcing him to do likewise. Pulling her arm from his grasp, she stared at him as she had before, but with a strange expression. Was it sadness? Were those tears in her eyes? He couldn’t be certain in the shadowed hallway.
“What is it? You needn’t worry. He’ll serve your offering.”
“I know. Thank you for helping me.” Her smoky voice trembled ever so slightly.
“My pleasure. That boor deserved a good set-down. And anyone kind enough to share homemade cookies with a stuffy bunch like this …” He gestured toward the crowd in the living room. “… deserves to be thanked, not snubbed.”
“Who are you?” she asked, rubbing her arms through the delicate fabric of her dress. “Do you work for Johanna’s company?”
“No. My name is Tristan Jameson. I’m acquainted with Johanna through my mother, who happens to be her cousin by marriage.”
“I see. Perhaps you should rejoin your mother then.” Nervously licking her delicately bowed, cherry-red lips, she glanced away.
He grinned at her obvious attempt to get rid of him. “Unfortunately she’s down with the flu. She talked me into acting as her standin.” Against his will, he’d shaved off his five o’clock shadow, donned a monkey suit and slicked back his hair.
“I’m sorry to hear that. Um, about your mother’s illness, I mean. Not about you being her standin.” She bent her head, allowing her shoulder-length hair to partially screen her features.
He chuckled. “I knew what you meant.” Undoing the button of his tuxedo jacket, he shoved both hands into his pants pockets. “Now, are you going to
tell me who you are?”
“Oh, of course. I’m Charlotte Dixon. I’m Marilee Cantrell’s companion.”
“Ah. Companion as in nurse?” Marilee was Johanna’s mentally and physically disabled daughter – ‘challenged’ was the politically correct word these days, he reminded himself. The only child of her mother’s union with billionaire Lucas Cantrell, now deceased, the adolescent girl had the mind of a young child
“Nurse and live-in companion,” Ms. Dixon corrected.
“You live in the mansion out on Long Island?” He cocked his eyebrows in disbelief.
“Yes. Does that surprise you?” Crossing her arms below her nicely rounded breasts, she eyed him with an air of wariness.
“It surprises me that a lovely young woman like yourself is willing to spend her days and nights in an isolated place like that.”
“I have my reasons,” she said. “Thank you again for your help. I’d better get back to the party.” Turning, she walked away, heels clicking on the polished hardwood floor.
Frowning, Tristan strolled after her. He requested a martini at the bar and found a relatively quiet corner where he could keep an eye on Miss Dixon. He assumed it was Miss or she wouldn’t be living in Cantrell House – more of a mausoleum in his opinion – with Marilee. If she were married, her husband would want her home at night. He sure would if she was his wife.
He stiffened. Damn! Where had that thought come from? He wasn’t looking for a wife, even one as gorgeous as Charlotte Dixon.
Some time later, he checked out the buffet and spotted Charlotte’s cookies. Cut in the shape of stars, bells, Christmas trees and angels, they were frosted and beautifully decorated. They reminded him of Christmas at his grandmother’s house when he was a boy. Gran had baked cookies like these every year and had let him help decorate them.
Smiling at the memory, he picked up a star-shaped cookie topped with white glaze and tiny gold candy stars. Taking a tentative bite, he experienced a delicate burst of flavor that made him close his eyes and savor the confection. Rich with butter, it tasted lightly of almond rather than the bland vanilla of most sugar cookies. Finishing off the star, Tristan chose a pink-glazed bell with silver sprinkles and enjoyed it just as much as the first.