Turquoise Guardian

by Jenna Kernan

  “Could you give me the full names of the men who held you overnight?”

  “They didn’t hold me.”

  “Their names?”

  Amber closed her mouth and looked away. She was not getting Ray or Dylan in trouble if she could help it.

  “Ray Strong. Dylan Tehauno and the Bear Den twins,” said Tinnin.

  Amber’s exhale was audible. Forrest’s fingers tapped away on his laptop. Then he fixed those light brown eyes on her.

  “Is there any reason that you can think of that your department might be targeted?”

  That was the question Carter had asked her.

  “Do crazy people need to have a reason?”

  “Always.”

  “Maybe it was just random.” Her churning stomach said otherwise.

  “Doesn’t appear random. Targeted and very specific.”

  “Targeted,” said Amber. “Because he killed everyone at my office and then went after my supervisor.”

  “And then tried to kill you. Two attempts,” said Forrest.

  That assertion made her flesh crawl, and she rubbed her hands up and down her arms.

  “Those guys yesterday were different men. I would have recognized the man who came after me in Lilac.”

  “Yes.” He flipped through his notes. “But what about the driver at Lilac. The guy with the blond hair and ball cap. Could that have been a wig?”

  She thought back at the straw-like hair poking out from the cap.

  “I only saw him for a second.”

  “And the driver in the glasses. You said he looked familiar. Same guy?”

  She tried to think. “I’m not sure.”

  “But you saw him before?”

  “Somewhere. Yes, I think so.”

  Forrest pushed aside his laptop and leaned toward her. “Amber, what has been going on in your office? Has there been anything unusual?”

  She shook her head, not wanting to take this road with him. It was too terrible.

  “I don’t know.”

  “You were there when they shot Ibsen. What did you see?”

  “I didn’t see anything. I was outside his house.”

  “Did you hear anything?”

  “Shots.”

  “Anything else?”

  The question jarred her back. She had been standing before his home, her keys in her hand. She’d heard Ibsen.

  I told you everything. I reported it, for God’s sake. I told you we had a problem.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “My boss. He was shouting. He said he reported the problem.”

  “What did he say exactly?” asked Forrest.

  “‘I reported it. Told you there was a problem,’” she said, her eyes fixed on the field agent as the room seemed to spin.

  “What problem, Amber?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Think. Some detail that might be dangerous to someone.”

  “Yes, I...” She needed to remember. “I found something. An error on a delivery.”

  Forrest’s eyes glittered like a hawk sighting prey. “When?”

  “Monday’s delivery. I brought the packing slip to...” She pressed her hand to her mouth as she seemed to hear her boss’s voice begging for his life. The problem. Was it her? She squeezed her eyes shut and then forced her hand away from her mouth and continued. “I brought it to Harvey Ibsen’s attention Monday afternoon. I thought he’d want to check the shipment Tuesday, but...” She shook her head. “But he... But...” Her gaze shifted as she stretched back to Monday. He’d hurried her out of his office before she even had time to point out the error. She had considered going back in his office, but he’d been on the phone. Then Tuesday morning he’d been ill. Or said he was ill.

  “But what, Amber?”

  “But he was sick. Right after I told him that I noticed that the slip and the shipments didn’t match. I brought it to him, and he said he’d handle it.”

  “When?”

  “Monday.” She pressed both hands to her cheeks.

  “The day before the shooting,” Forrest clarified. “That Monday?”

  She looked at him with widening eyes. “Was it me? Did I cause this?”

  Forrest’s alert stare gave her no comfort.

  “What happened Monday?” he asked.

  “I give the packing slip to Nancy once I’ve checked it. But usually that’s after it’s already unloaded by our guys. They put the boxes away, and I count the contents. You know. That’s what I do.”

  “How was this different?”

  “I met the truck because Mr. Ibsen was unavailable.”

  “What was the error you spotted?”

  “I just check in the shipments. That’s it. Ten boxes of this. Four cartons of that. But Ibsen wasn’t there to talk to the driver this time. He gave me the PO to sign. I’m not allowed to do that. So I made the driver wait and took it to Mr. Ibsen. On the way I saw that the two didn’t match.”

  “The purchase order and the packing slip?” asked Forrest.

  “That’s right. I told Mr. Ibsen, and he...seemed anxious, took both the PO and packing slip before I could even explain what the problem was and told me to get back to work. So I did.”

  Ibsen had escorted her from his office, and she had gone. But she’d stopped before his open door, thinking she had not shown him the actual overage. She’d lingered there, trying to decide if she should go back in there, so she had heard him place a call and ask for a Mr. Theron Wrangler. He’d paused and then told someone it was urgent and to have Wrangler call him ASAP. An instant later, Ibsen had appeared at his office door, spotted her loitering and turned purple, shouting at her to get back to work.

  “What was the problem?” asked Forrest. “They didn’t match? Were things missing?”

  “No, a surplus. More in the delivery than in the purchase order.”

  “What was in the order?” asked Forrest.

  “Blasting material mostly. Chemicals, and I don’t know exactly.” Amber’s throat went dry as implications she had not considered came to her like a blast in the copper mine. Explosives. More delivered than checked in. What was happening to the extra? She wasn’t in charge of inventory. That was Ibsen’s job.

  Amber sat back in her chair, staring out with sightless eyes as she remembered the exchange and how Harvey had kept wiping his mouth with the palm of his hand.

  “But you saw the discrepancy. How much and of what, exactly?”

  She told him the chemicals and supplies that she recalled and the quantities on both slips. Agent Forrest sat back in his chair.

  “Are you familiar with an organization called BEAR?”

  Tinnin’s glance shot from Forrest to her, and she thought that the chief had heard of BEAR. The chief shifted, and a finger went under the collar of his shirt.

  “Or one named WOLF?” asked Forrest.

  “The agents who questioned me yesterday mentioned them. I didn’t know them. I’ve asked about them since.”

  She frowned, trying to understand what this had to do with the shooting.

  “Amber, your father is a member of PAN. So is your uncle Kenshaw Little Falcon.”

  “Lots of people are. PAN—Protecting All Nature. They’re pacifists. I even joined the rally to save Mesa Summit when I was a freshmen at Turquoise Canyon High.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  She frowned. “It’s an environmental organization. Preserving wild places and protecting habitats.”

  Forrest looked skeptical. She was at a loss as to what he wanted from her.

  “PAN has ties to both WOLF and BEAR. Those are ecoterrorist groups. Radical branches of PAN.”

  She met his hawkish eyes. “I don’t understand. Were they protesting the min
e?” It wouldn’t be the first time. Her mother had told her how upset her father had been at learning the name of her latest employer.

  Her skin tingled, and her ears buzzed. This didn’t seem real. She shook her head in denial.

  It wasn’t a mistake—none of it.

  The explosives, she thought. Where were they? Who had them?

  Forrest’s phone buzzed. He retrieved the mobile and glanced at the screen. Then he closed his laptop.

  “Transport is ready,” he said.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Amber did not get a chance to speak to Carter when she left the interrogation room. They ate lunch separately, as he was in the midst of being questioned.

  Finally, as the afternoon gave way to evening and the sun cast the mountains in hard angles of blue and pink, they were transported in a van, with tribal and federal escort vehicles, off the reservation to a hotel suite where they would stay until the following morning when they would be transferred to the custody of US Marshals.

  Agent Forrest introduced the FBI agents, Rose and Decker, who would be protecting them, and then left to continue the search for the shooter and accomplices. Amber shook hands with their babysitters. Both had similar suits, sidearms, precision haircuts, hawkish eyes and clean-shaven jaws. But there were differences. Rose’s hair was two shades lighter brown than Decker’s and, while Decker had the lean body of a runner, Rose was shorter and broader across the chest.

  They were marched to the elevator and rode to the top floor, six, and then marched down a garish carpet to their suite. There was an outer door. Beyond lay an alcove and two more doors. They were admitted to the first by key card. Amber found a small kitchenette with tile floor and a table with two chairs.

  The FBI agents followed, and the room became small with five of them crowded in an awkward circle.

  Forrest gave final instructions and said his farewells. The door clicked shut behind them, and Amber’s skin began to itch. It was as if the walls were closing in around her.

  Decker took a seat on the couch and opened his laptop. Rose stepped out after Forrest, presumably to take a position in the hall.

  She blinked at Carter. “Want to pick a bedroom?”

  The thought of Carter and bedrooms made her insides turn to goo. Her energy, which had dwindled, made a rapid return, causing her to tingle in all the wrong places.

  She swallowed in disgust and gave herself a silent talking-to. This man had come to protect her. She appreciated it but agreed with his twin. Carter should have stayed on the reservation. And nothing had changed between them. She passed him and his outstretched arm and headed out of the kitchenette and she discovered another sitting room with long red couch and recliner facing a large flat-screen television.

  Carter paused behind her. “All the movies we can watch.”

  Sitting beside Carter on that wide couch watching movies did not sound like a very good idea. Just being alone with him made her entire body twitch. The last time they’d been in a hotel together they had not been there to watch TV. She reined herself in.

  They both explored the two bedrooms on opposite sides of the sitting room finding mirror images right down to the still-life prints of Acoma pottery on the wall. She dropped the small duffel Kay had packed on the king-size bed, claiming the second bedroom.

  “I’m starving. You want anything?” he asked.

  Amber shook her head. How could he think of food right now?

  “You have to be hungry.”

  She was, and that annoyed her, as well.

  “We can’t leave,” she reminded him, as if he had not been listening. Though, if she were inclined to run, now would be the time. She weighed her need for escape against her need to stay alive.

  “I’ll order something. One of Forrest’s guys will pick it up.”

  “Fine.”

  Carter left for the kitchen, returning with a three-ring notebook holding an assortment of take-out menus to find Amber now in the living area. Carter flipped back and forth.

  While he studied the menus, she studied him. His brother Jack had advised him against leaving the reservation, but he’d ignored him.

  “Why didn’t you listen to Jack?” she asked.

  He lowered the binder and met her gaze.

  “Because I want you safe.”

  “Why?”

  He shrugged. “They say old feelings die hard.”

  She thought of his feelings for her. Not respect. Certainly not trust.

  “What do you think love is, Carter?” she asked.

  His brows came together, forming a hard line between them.

  “Caring for someone else more than for yourself,” he said. “Protecting them.”

  “I think it is about trust. Trusting another person with your vulnerabilities and your fears. Believing that person and believing in that person. Listening to them.”

  Now his brow wrinkled, and he cocked his head.

  “I listen,” he said.

  “Do you?”

  “Yes, and I forgive you for leaving the tribe, Amber.”

  She stood and stepped past him. She had cleared her bedroom door and had a hand on the knob when he called to her.

  “Amber, please. Come back.”

  Instead she closed the door between them.

  Amber lay on the pristine coverlet and tried to rest, but she was so angry at Carter.

  He forgave her.

  She could walk right back in there and explain everything to him. But she wouldn’t. She was doubly infuriated that he would forgive her for something she would never do and that he could ever believe she would give up her membership in her tribe in the first place. Did he know her so little that he would believe she would voluntarily relinquish who she was? Clearly, he did because he had accepted her father’s word and believed him without even speaking about it with the woman he claimed to love. This entire thing only made it more apparent why she couldn’t be with him. He didn’t know her or trust her.

  So why did she want him still?

  There was a gentle knock on her door. She squeezed her eyes shut, then cleared her throat, but the lump remained firmly lodged in place.

  “Come in.”

  The door eased open, and Carter peeked inside. The sky had gone dark, and she must have seemed just an outline on the wide white bedspread.

  “I ordered something.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Can I come in?”

  It was a bad idea. She rolled to her side and pushed the button that illuminated the bedside lamp. Then she motioned him in. He sat beside her on the bed, sagging as if exhausted.

  She felt pity then. He’d left their people to help her, and she had sniped at him.

  “I’m sorry, Amber. I just don’t understand what I did.”

  And to explain it was to have to ask for what should be hers by right. If he loved her, the respect and trust were just branches of the same tree.

  “I know.”

  “Can we talk while we’re waiting for dinner?” he asked.

  “Sure.”

  She pushed up to an elbow and rested a hand on his shoulder. Amber had meant the touch to be comforting, but even through the fabric of his soft cotton shirt the heat scorched her, and the tingling tension jolted up her nerves like a pulse of electricity. She glanced up to see Carter’s complete stillness. The muscles beneath her hand bunched as he turned to look down at her. His Adam’s apple bobbed, and his tongue dipped to drag back and forth along his lower lip.

  The action sent a quick-fire explosion through her body. Her skin tingled, and her heart thudded. This, at least, had never changed between them. She still wanted him, and the need was growing unbearable.

  He assessed her, his eyes dipping to take a leisurely perusa
l of her body. She felt his glance as a physical thing. Her stomach muscles tightened, and she lifted to an extended arm, drawn closer by her need and this desire.

  This was bad.

  Carter brushed the loose wisps of hair from her face. Then lifted her chin between his thumb and curved index finger. His hand was warm and his grip steady.

  He dipped, angling his head for a kiss, and she lifted her chin to meet him. Their mouths pressed together. This was no gentle coaxing seduction. This kiss felt different in every way. It was powerful and possessive. Her mind went cloudy as her resistance dissolved like honey in hot water.

  She pressed forward, falling against him, her breasts tingling with the contact of the hard muscle of his chest as strong arms enfolded her.

  He broke the kiss and held her. She lifted her arms to hold him, too.

  They had been through so much together in the past and in the last three days.

  “You still taste like mint,” he whispered and nipped her ear.

  She shivered with pleasure and raked her fingers over his back. From the hall, she heard a beep, and Carter set her aside. The outer door clicked, and the two agents spoke. The Anglo agent was back.

  A moment later Rose stood in her open door, holding a large paper bag as he peered into the dark room “Dinner is here. You two want to eat out here or in the kitchen?” asked Rose.

  “Living room,” she replied.

  Amber wondered if her mouth looked as puffy as it felt. It had been a while since anyone had kissed her like that.

  “You two all right?” asked Rose.

  “Yeah. Coming.” Carter stood and offered a hand. Amber flushed and accepted it, allowing him to guide her from the bed, but she glanced back and wondered. The object of her hunger had changed from food to the man guiding her along.

  Rose left them with the two bags that contained dinner, which Carter unpacked. Amber settled in the chair, and Carter took the couch. Carter offered a prayer of thanks before they ate, and she added her own. The food was Thai and better than she expected.

  “What will happen now?” she asked.

  “You mean after dinner?”

  She tried for a smile, but the worry ate her up. Carter gave her his best guess on what the police and FBI were doing. He could not tell her how long they would be caged up.