by Aimée Thurlo
“It may be alive, but that’s still the sorriest looking twig I’ve ever seen,” he said, grinning to let her know he was teasing.
She chuckled. “I don’t think it likes it here.”
“I know a place it’s bound to love.”
“We’re not going back to that horrible safe house again, are we?” she said, and shuddered. “Mabel needs sunlight, not fluorescent lamps and filtered air.”
“You named the plant?”
“Yeah,” she admitted, and to his surprise, she blushed.
“Then let’s take Mabel with us,” he said, chuckling. “I’m taking you to a very special place.”
* * *
AS THEY WALKED down the sidewalk toward the visitor’s parking lot, Kyle positioned himself between her and the street and kept their pace brisk.
Right after two officers walked past them on the sidewalk, a large SUV pulling into the parking lot ahead caught Kyle’s attention. Two young women dressed in office clothes climbed out, engaged in conversation. He relaxed slightly. For now, everything was as it should be.
“That poor lady,” Erin murmured, watching an elderly woman crossing the street. She was leaning heavily on a cane, and pulling a small shopping cart filled with grocery bags. As she reached the curb, the old woman tripped and fell onto the sidewalk.
Erin immediately set the plant down on the hood of the closest vehicle and rushed over to help her.
“Erin, no, wait!”
As Erin bent down to lift the woman off the pavement, she reached up, grabbed Erin’s collar and stuck a knife to her throat.
“Fancy meeting you here, Erin.”
“Frieda?” Erin gasped, trying to pull away. “Are you crazy? What are you doing?”
“Hold still or you’ll cut your throat.” Frieda rose to full height, yanked Erin against her, and pulled her back toward the street.
As a big pickup roared around the corner, Frieda glanced back.
Kyle instantly lunged, his eyes never leaving the knife. In a lightning-fast move, he grabbed Frieda’s knife hand. Palm out, he slammed her over the heart with his other hand, pushing her back hard.
As Frieda fell back onto the sidewalk, gasping, Kyle grabbed Erin. Wrapping his arms around her, he rolled under the closest SUV.
The pickup screeched to a stop a few feet away. “Get in,” a voice called out to Frieda, then a door slammed shut.
Trapped beneath the vehicle, Kyle held on to Erin with one arm, his pistol in the other.
A heartbeat later the pickup raced off, tires squealing on the asphalt. The truck ricocheted off the curb and into the middle of the street, nearly colliding with an oncoming car before the driver recovered control.
By the time Kyle and Erin scrambled out from beneath the SUV, the pickup was already turning the corner at the far end of the block. Two officers were running after it, weapons out, but they gave up the chase without firing a shot.
“What was Frieda thinking? We’re right next to the police station!” Erin said, her voice shaking.
“They’re desperate, which makes them even more dangerous and unpredictable. Are you okay?” As he looked her over, he realized her gaze was fastened on the potted plant that had fallen to the sidewalk.
“That poor thing will never get a chance to bloom.” She hurried over and scooped the dirt back into the plastic pot.
“Erin,” Kyle said.
She refused to turn her head and Kyle knew she was crying. Flirting with death was part of his world, not hers.
“Darlin’, hang on to that plant of yours. It’s time to get going,” he said, lifting her to her feet.
By then Preston arrived. “You two okay?” he asked.
Erin wiped her tears away quickly and nodded, but Kyle noticed that she had a death grip on her plant.
Preston gave Kyle a hard look. “I saw it go down from my window, so I’ll handle the details. It’s time for you to get going. Copper Canyon?”
Kyle nodded.
“I’ll have the tribal P.D. increase patrols in the general area, so they’ll be closer to you in case of trouble.”
“No, don’t,” Kyle said. “More activity will pinpoint our location.”
“Then consider changing your ride before you set out. Take Daniel’s brown SUV. It’s configured with the same enhancements as your agency vehicle—ballistic protection, GPS systems, the whole nine yards,” he said. “Let me call him. You’ll like it. Dan can also provide you with an assault weapon with night vision.”
Kyle called Daniel and arranged to meet him in front of the Quick Perk Coffee Shop, on his way out of town.
* * *
AS THEY GOT underway in Preston’s SUV, Kyle glanced over at the pot Erin was still holding. “That reminds me of a plant Hosteen Silver needed to grow for certain ceremonies. Its habitat was high up in the mountains on dry, rocky slopes, and it refused to grow anywhere else, but like you, he refused to give up on it,” he said.
“What happened? Did your foster father find a way to make it grow?”
“Not at first. He tried growing it inside the house, but it died. He found another, planted it by the side of the house, blessed it, and then left it alone. A few weeks later, it began to spread like wildfire. It’s super ground cover now, and nothing slows it down,” he said. “He told us later that no one could tell the Plant People what to do. You had to show them respect and accept their decisions.”
She glanced out the window. “It’s true that forcing nature seldom works....”
“There’s Daniel,” Kyle said, interrupting her musings. “We’ll need to switch vehicles as quickly as possible. I don’t want us to linger outside one second longer than absolutely necessary.”
She gathered the plant, and her purse. “Uh-oh. I just realized my clothes are still in your SUV.”
“Then you’ll wear mine. I’ve got plenty of stuff where we’re going.”
Chapter Fifteen
As they headed down the highway, his words played in her mind. It had been a practical gesture, but like a forbidden pleasure, the thought of wearing his clothes teased her imagination.
Trying to block out thoughts she knew were dangerous, she shifted her focus to Copper Canyon, a place she’d heard about growing up in the Four Corners but had never seen. She was looking forward to visiting the ranch that had made Kyle the man he was today.
They’d left the wide river valley, and were continuing west onto the Navajo Nation. The moonlit mesas here were scattered like giant tables extending above the upland desert plateau, all topped by junipers and piñon trees. Distant foothills led to the taller mountains beyond, spotted with forests of pine and fir.
“Is it much farther?” she asked after about an hour.
He laughed. “You sounded like I did the first time Hosteen Silver brought me here. I must have asked him are we there yet a million times!”
“Where did you live before that, if not the rez?”
“I’d grown up in the city, Albuquerque, actually, and knew almost nothing about Navajo ways, but I had street survival down pat,” he said. “If I needed cash, I could lift someone’s wallet during an accidental bump. I also learned how to fight. I lost the first few, but before long, I could stand up to almost anybody.”
It took a while for her to respond. “Don’t think my parents would have liked me hanging around with you,” she finally managed.
“I wouldn’t have blamed them. I was a hard case, even at thirteen,” he said. “If it hadn’t been for Hosteen Silver, I’d probably be serving time right now instead of wearing a badge.”
He’d turned south now, parallel to the mountains, and she realized she didn’t quite know where they were any more. There weren’t any lights visible anywhere except from the SUV—and the stars overhead.
Before long, they turned off the highway onto a dirt road that rose gently toward the tall cliffs ahead. After crossing an old wooden bridge, they passed through a narrow opening between two tall cliffs. They were now in a sagebrush, piñon and juniper woodland flanked on both sides by high mesas.
“Maybe you should slow down, Kyle. This road is getting pretty rough. If we high center and lose the oil pan it’ll be a real long time before a wrecker arrives.”
“Are you kidding, this is the best stretch of road,” he said, chuckling. “Don’t worry. I know every trail and arroyo in Copper Canyon. We’re getting close to the ranch house now.”
“It’s so isolated, and closed off from the world. Are you really sure we’ll be safe here?”
“It’s a blind canyon. What makes the ranch house so safe is that there’s only one way to approach by vehicle—the way we came in. The canyon transmits sound much like a tunnel, and you can hear someone coming before they’re anywhere near,” he said. “We’re on reliable ground now, but if anyone tries to approach cross country in a wheeled vehicle, they’ll bog down, high center, or find themselves blocked by a deep arroyo.”
She rolled down the window. “It’s eerily quiet out here.”
“Once we’re at the house, you’ll be able to hear Copper Canyon’s voice more clearly. Big cats hunt here, and deer and bears are frequent visitors. As for coyotes, they’re everywhere. There’s a lot of life here, and each has its own place within the pattern. There’s room for all.”
“You said you’d stayed here recently?”
“On my last vacation, I did. I came home to get my head together,” he said.
“You said you were on your way to talk to Hank, but you never told me why. What made NCIS first take note of him?”
“Can’t say.”
She had no idea if that was true, or if he was just dodging the question. No matter how friendly Kyle seemed to be at times, he never completely lowered his guard.
As he maneuvered Daniel’s SUV up a narrow path, she sat up. “Is that your home?” she asked, pointing ahead.
“Yeah, that’s it.”
Thanks to a bright full moon, she’d spotted the rectangular stucco framed house in the distance, not far from one of the tall cliffs. The house’s metal roof shimmered in the moon’s glow. Beyond that, about fifty yards from the house, was a log corral and small red barn.
“You have animals? I don’t see any,” she said.
“Gene keeps the horses at his ranch unless one of us is staying here. He’ll bring a few down then so we can ride through the canyon,” he said. “My brother Rick and I are the only ones who don’t actually own a horse. We’re not around enough for that.”
“It would be hard to keep an animal when you’re gone so much,” she agreed.
“Lately, I’ve been giving some serious thought to coming home for good, and if I do, I’ll buy a horse and board it at Gene’s.”
“Have you decided what you’d do for a living if you leave NCIS?”
“I could join Dan’s company, or start my own, offering bodyguards for VIPs and the like. I wouldn’t be competing with Dan, his thing is institutional and company security, but we could team up since we’d be offering overlapping services.”
“That sounds interesting. What’s holding you back?”
“It’s a big career move, which means I’m going to need to work out a lot of details and come up with a solid business plan.”
Kyle parked the SUV a short distance from the porch and led the way to the front door. After unlatching two strong-looking locks, he held up a hand. “Wait for me here while I look around inside.”
A few moments later he returned. “Come on. I’ll give you the guided tour.”
Carrying her plant, she followed Kyle inside.
The small ranch house had a casual, rustic elegance. To her left was the kitchen, and in the center of that space was a large dining table and some straight-backed wooden chairs that had been hand carved using knotty pine.
Farther inside, she saw a sofa covered in rich brown leather. The pine frame with its decorative grooves matched the design on the kitchen table and chairs. Beautiful red, black and indigo Navajo rugs were hung on the walls facing the big stone and iron fireplace.
“I love your home,” she said, smiling as she placed the potted plant on the kitchen counter. “It welcomes you in a nonintimidating way, like a big, warm hug. Not at all like that safe house.”
Kyle chuckled. “We’ve modernized this place in recent months, but the ranch house is meant to be a place where a man can kick off his boots,” he said, then with a smile, added, “ladies, too.”
“It definitely has that feel,” she said, nodding. “I love that rug draped over the back of the couch. It looks different from the others and less bulky than the ones hung on the wall.”
“That’s an antique given to Hosteen Silver in payment for a Sing. It’s a blanket, not a rug. Almost everything woven by my tribe before 1890 is a blanket. Navajos began weaving floor coverings for the tourist trade around that time because there was such a high demand.”
She looked at the fireplace. “Gas fireplaces are so popular these days, but I’ve always loved the wood-burning kind, like this one. With the scent of pine and rosin, and the snapping and popping of burning sap, they’re more...I dunno. Romantic?”
“Remind me to light it for you,” he said. “At night it gets cold in this canyon, and there’s no heating system, just that.”
“In winter, that must be tough.”
“Not really. The house is very well insulated, and the fireplace itself is constructed with ducts and openings to distribute heat with great efficiency. My brothers and I have also spent a lot of time getting things up-to-date here. We have hot and cold running water now and electricity, too. The wires are below ground and the power provided allows us to run heat tape so that the pipes don’t freeze and our hot-water heater keeps working.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” she said. “I’m not into ice-cold showers. In that respect, I’m a complete wuss.”
“Lady, you’re anything but that,” he answered, leading her down the hall. “We have three small bedrooms, but one’s used as storage, so you’ve got a choice of two.”
“You’ll be next door, right?”
“No, tonight I’m going to take the sofa. I’d rather stay in the front room. From there I can see both front and back doors.”
“You think they’ll find us?” she asked, her voice rising.
“Probably not, but I’m not going to lay back and hope for the best.”
She walked to a hand-carved desk that stood in one corner of the main room. There was a closed notebook on its surface, and the beautiful handwriting on the label affixed to it caught her attention. “Is this your work?”
He shook his head. “That’s Hosteen Silver’s journal. None of us have opened it and looked inside yet. He recorded his thoughts in there, along with details of his special Sings and personal observations. He could have destroyed it before his death, but he left it where he knew we’d see it for a reason.” Kyle walked over and stared at it, but didn’t touch it. “Reading it will feel like invading his privacy.”
“But if he left it for you...”
“I know, and that’s what’s puzzling. Most Navajos are taught to avoid the personal possessions of the dead. To tamper with them is to risk angering the chindi.”
“His ghost?”
“No, that’s not what a chindi is, not exactly anyway. Traditionalist Navajos believe that the good in a man merges with universal harmony, but the evil side gets left behind. Earthbound, it lies in wait, hoping to create problems for the living.” He paused. “Hosteen Silver would have made sure that it was safe for us to handle, but reading his most private thoughts...”
“Will
be hard,” she said, understanding. “You’ll risk finding out things you never wanted to know, and that might destroy the way you remember him.”
“That’s why my brothers and I decided to wait until we were all present to read it. Rick’s still out of the country.”
“Is he in law enforcement?”
“Yeah, he’s with the FBI, but none of us know exactly what his job is. We’ve asked, but all he ever says is that it’s above our pay grade,” Kyle said.
“So it’s a family thing—keeping secrets,” she said, teasing him.
He chuckled. “You may be right about us—all except for Gene, that is. He’s a rancher, and with him, what you see is what you get.”
“Why not just leave the journal closed—a mystery?” she asked, and saw his face cloud over.
“That’s not an option. The death of our foster father left us with a lot of unanswered questions. That journal may give us some closure,” he said. “Of course it could also open new wounds.”
For the first time, beyond the hardness of his gaze, she could see vulnerability. Kyle was a strong man, but he wasn’t impervious to pain.
“Tell me more about growing up here in Copper Canyon,” she asked gently. “The transition couldn’t have been easy.”
“It wasn’t, but I handled it,” he said, his eyes hooded again.
She remained silent for a moment. “My question obviously crossed a line, and that wasn’t my intention, but here’s the problem, Kyle. I’m not even sure where the line is! Tell me this much. Do you care for me at all, or am I just part of your job?”
“You’re really asking me that after the way I kissed you?”
His deep voice sent its vibrations all through her. For a moment she almost forgot to breathe. “What you were offering me wasn’t love or friendship. It was a one-night stand.”
“Who’s to say that one can’t lead to the other?” he said, moving close enough for her to feel the heat from his body.
Her heart was lodged in her throat. “You’re doing this to avoid answering my question.” Somehow she held her ground and forced herself to look him in the eye. “Sex is easy for you—friendship isn’t.”