by Kylie Brant
She’d heard that some on Navajo Nation lands lived without electricity and running water, but Charley’s home was equipped with both. He had a phone but no television or any of the other electronic gadgetry that many took for granted.
The older man rose and began to clear the table, waving her away when she rose and stacked the remaining dishes.
Charley turned to take the dishes from her, and once again shooed her away. “You are my guest,” he said firmly.
Her mother’s strictures about politeness didn’t always apply when she was immersed in foreign cultures. Delaney had learned over the years it was far more civil to follow her host’s wishes than to tussle over sharing the chores, despite the manners Sabrina Carson had drilled into her three children.
Wandering into the main area, Delaney studied the rugs and wall hangings, presumably done by local weavers. Beneath one was an eight-by-ten picture of Charley with a young boy that she’d noticed earlier.
“My great-grandson, Jonny,” Charley said, coming into the room and noting her interest. His voice was filled with pride, and something else, something she couldn’t quite identify. “He looks much like Joseph at that age, although I don’t remember my grandson getting into quite as much mischief.”
Shock whipped through her. Joe Youngblood was a father? Maybe even married?
Speechless, Delaney stared at the picture again. But try as she might, she couldn’t imagine Joe as a doting father. Laughing with his small son. Playing games. Tucking him into bed.
The mental image widened to include a nameless, faceless woman. A wife. She hauled in a breath, feeling a little nauseated. She’d assumed Joe was single, because he hadn’t said otherwise. But she knew some men wouldn’t refrain from taking any willing woman that came across their path, married or not.
And she’d all but hurtled herself into his arms.
Wincing inwardly, she managed, “He has your eyes.”
“Many have said so.” It was impossible to miss the satisfaction in Charley’s voice as he came to her side and picked up the picture. “When he’s in the room, he fills it with light. Small boys are all energy, you know.”
What Delaney knew about children wouldn’t fill a teacup. She had more pressing concerns at the moment. “I didn’t realize your grandson was married.”
“I’m not.”
She froze at the sound of that familiar voice, for just an instant. Then she turned, tucking the tips of her fingers in the back pockets of her jeans, and surveyed the man she’d sworn she wouldn’t react to again. “Maybe you should wear a little bell around your neck. That way your silent entrances won’t endanger people with cardiac arrest.”
Joe shut the door behind him, his gaze traveling to the man standing beside her. “Grandfather.”
“Joseph.” Charley replaced the picture while Delaney watched the two of them closely. Their polite tones belied the palpable undercurrents eddying between them. “I heard about Arnie. Is he all right?”
“I just saw him. He’s already bullying the nurses about his release. He could be back on the job in a few days.” Joe walked into the center of the room and immediately shrank it with his presence. The realization had Delaney’s earlier vow evaporating. A woman would have to be dead not to respond to this man.
With both Youngblood men in the same room it occurred to her again how little they resembled each other. Joe was close to six foot, with finer, sharper features than the older man. His nose was narrow and straight, the thick dark hair she’d had her fingers twisted in last night was worn short. And while Charley emanated a quiet dignity that immediately commanded respect, Joe radiated a subtle menace that induced wariness. As well as a raw sexuality that gripped a woman by the throat and ripped a reaction from her.
Steeling herself, she schooled her expression to polite interest. “Your grandfather is a wonderful host. He spent the afternoon explaining some of the better-known Navajo legends and then followed up his hospitality with a delicious meal.”
“You’ve been here all day?”
She wondered how a voice could be expressionless and still hold a note of censure. He must work at it.
Charley saved her from answering. “I was just going to offer to show Delaney the hogan and the sweat house.”
The idea was appealing but making a sudden decision, she moved toward Charley, not caring in the slightest that she was turning her back on Joe. “You know, it’s just occurred to me how much of your time I’ve taken up today. I get like that when I’m engrossed in something, I’m afraid.” She reached over to squeeze his hand. “Thank you for your hospitality, but I’m going to give you time to visit with…your grandson. We can continue this whenever it’s convenient for you.”
They decided on a time the next day and she collected her equipment, all the while aware of Joe’s inscrutable gaze on her. “Until tomorrow, then.”
“I’ll help you get this to your Jeep.”
Joe slung the strap of her camera case over his shoulder and picked up her tripod. Delaney clenched her jaw at his high-handedness. “That’s okay. I can get it.”
“It’s no problem.” Leaving her with the bag containing her tape recorder and notebooks, he strode to the door. Because she had no choice, she told Charley goodbye and followed.
Joe had already stowed the equipment in the backseat and started the ignition before Delaney caught up with him. She put her bag in the backseat next to the camera and slammed the door with more force than necessary. “In a hurry to get me out of here?”
“Your Jeep has been sitting in the sun all day. It’s going to take a while for the air conditioner to cool it.” His hand clamped on her arm when she would have opened the driver’s door.
A current of electricity seemed to transfer from his hand to her arm. Ignoring it, she looked pointedly at his hand, then at him. “Was there something else?”
“Yeah. I want you to be careful not to wear Charley out. He won’t say anything, but he tires easily.”
She cocked a brow. “Sure wish I’d known that before I had him running laps around the edge of the property today.”
At her sardonic tone, Joe’s words grew clipped. “He had triple bypass surgery three months ago. He’s still recovering. Keep that in mind.”
Concern filled her. “He didn’t mention it.”
“He wouldn’t. So I am.”
Silence stretched, their gazes locked. There was no sign of the lover from last night who had pounded himself into her with a fierce need that had matched her own. She swallowed, the memory turning her knees weak. Deliberately stiffening them, she said, “We weren’t discussing you, you know. When you came in. I was just surprised when your grandfather said the boy was yours. At first I thought…I was afraid…”
“You thought I’d screwed around on my wife with you.”
Though she knew his words were deliberately chosen to maximize her discomfort, she didn’t look away. “I don’t cheat,” she said simply. “And I don’t sleep with men who do. But I didn’t ask you before, and I’m finding it a little hard to forgive myself for not making sure first.”
Although his expression didn’t alter, something in it seemed to ease infinitesimally. “I’m divorced, but not because I ever cheated on my wife.”
She drew in a breath, then barreled on. “Last night was…” A colossal error in judgment. Amazing. Fantastic. Fraught with complications. “Well, it shouldn’t have happened.” It was difficult to think while pinned by that unwavering stare. She strove for a flippant tone, thought she managed it well enough. “If you’re worrying that I’m going to try to throw all sorts of strings on you, don’t be. It was a onetime thing. You had the good fortune to be seduced by a desperate woman but not one who’s interested in a repeat.”
“Don’t kid yourself.” There was a light in his eyes, a dangerous burn. His grip on her arm had loosened, but his thumb skated over the veins in her wrist, making the skin there tingle. “You didn’t take me anywhere I didn’t want to go. Di
d it feel like you were alone in that bed? Or against that wall? I was inside you because that’s what I wanted. Not because you gave me permission or because I asked for it. And when I want that again-when we both do-I won’t need to ask permission then, either.”
He released her and she leaned bonelessly against the Jeep, barely feeling the hot metal beneath the material of her thin T-shirt. Her voice, when she found it, sounded irritatingly breathless. “I think it’s best if we keep our interactions to a minimum in the future.”
“Do you?” His smile was humorless. “Then you’re not going to be too happy when I tell you I plan to come over as soon as I speak to my grandfather.”
Anger blessedly cut through her stupor. “Maybe I wasn’t clear enough earlier.”
“I think we understand each other.” While she searched those words for hidden meaning, he went on. “You downloaded those pictures today, right? The ones you took yesterday? I told you I want to see them. I’ll be over in a couple hours.”
No. That was out of the question. “I’ll make copies and drop them off at police headquarters tomorrow.”
“I want to see them tonight. I’ll be by later.”
When she finally found her voice again he was already walking away. “No, don’t do that. Joe. Joe!” She was still calling impotently after him when he walked into his grandfather’s cabin and shut the door behind him.
“A delightful woman,” Charley said as Joe closed the door on Delaney’s voice. “But older than her years, I think.”
Joe shrugged. The last thing he wanted to discuss with his grandfather was Delaney Carson. He’d been unable to banish her from his thoughts all day. “How’d you hear about Arnie?” He crossed the room to an easy chair, waited respectfully until his grandfather had poured them both coffee, handed Joe a mug and seated himself. Only then did Joe sit.
“Lucy Bai called me. She and Arnie are Ashiihi. She knew you two worked together and wanted to know if you had been hurt, too.”
Joe nodded. In the Anglo way, the fact that Arnie and Lucy were of the Salt Clan would make them cousins, but Navajos consider members of the same clan as brother and sister. “I’m sorry if hearing the news that way worried you. I’m fine.”
“I long ago came to terms with the danger of your job, Joseph. But I also can’t help but worry. So,” he brought the coffee to his lips, sipped, “Did you catch this man? Lock him up in your jail?”
Joe hesitated. His idea of justice rarely reconciled with that of his grandfather. Charley believed that all bad behavior was caused by the criminals’ disharmony. Rather than prison, the only way to help them was with a Mountain Way ceremony, to drive the dark wind out of them and restore them to hozho, with all their friends and relatives gathered to support them.
“No. There were shots fired. Arnie was hit. The drug dealer who shot him was killed.”
Distress flickered over Charley’s face. But he said only, “You must be watchful, Joseph.” Although it was customary to avoid speaking of it, Joe knew his grandfather referred to the chindi-or ghost that each person releases when they die-an evil force that returns to avenge offenses.
“I will be.” At times it felt like a balancing act to straddle two worlds. And yet he could no more reject one than he could the other. So he lived in the American culture that permeated every part of the country while remaining connected to the teachings of his Diné roots. The resulting mixture wasn’t always one his grandfather understood, but it brought harmony to Joe.
“You’re looking well. You must have succeeded in cleaning out your friends on Monday night.”
Charley chuckled. “I did all right, although not as well as Larry Blackwater. That was fine with me. Now he’s the one the others don’t want back.”
“I came by to see you that night. I forgot you’d be out.” Joe hooked a booted ankle on his knee. “I know we disagree on this photo history project, but I meant no disrespect.”
“We both have strong opinions.” Charley shrugged, as if it were of no consequence. “You’re too much like me. And maybe like your mother, as well. She has trouble hearing ideas that aren’t her own.”
Joe stiffened at the mention of his mother, at the trace of wistful indulgence in his grandfather’s voice. Charley would never stop missing the daughter who derided the very way of life he cherished. Joe had been no more than Jonny’s age when he realized that her infrequent visits to the reservation were always driven more by a need for money than sentiment. Navajo culture was matriarchal in nature, but Joe had little use for the woman who had borne him at seventeen, only to disappear months later. As far as he was concerned, the best thing she’d ever done for him was to allow her father to raise him.
“And what do you think of our Delaney Carson now?”
The non sequitur had Joe freezing, his mind flashing back to an image of Delaney pressed between the wall of the kitchen and his body. He could almost feel the heat of her again, taste her flavor. Just that mental lapse was enough to have his blood thickening, his gut clenching.
“What about her?” He brought the mug to his lips, took his time drinking.
“She told me that the two of you had met. Given her résumé, I had expected someone older. But there’s something about her. I think she’ll win over many of those who opposed her hiring. And others may become convinced when they see what her name means to this book project.”
Joe stilled. “What about her name?”
“She won a Pulitzer Prize for international reporting. I understand that she went back to Iraq after her injuries were treated to continue her work.” Charley paused to drink slowly, savoring the brew. Caffeine was one of the things in his diet that his heart doctor strictly rationed. “This will be the first project she’s undertaken since, so it will receive a great deal of publicity simply because it has her name attached to it. This book could bring a great deal of publicity to the tribe.”
Joe’s fingers clenched tightly on the mug. He was recalling the sight of Delaney’s face after she’d burst from the cave. As she sat, head bowed, staring miserably at the bottle of Absolut on the kitchen table. Something ignited in his chest at the thought of the tribe trading on the very experiences that had scarred her, that still caused her such pain.
He leaned forward, set the mug on the table in front of him, and wondered uneasily where this unfamiliar surge of protectiveness had come from. He barely knew the woman. One night of sex, no matter how hot, didn’t change that. But he knew enough about her to be certain she wouldn’t thank him for his concern.
Last night was a onetime thing.
Her earlier words shouldn’t have summoned an instant primordial possessiveness, one he’d barely recognized. She was right, and he realized that. Getting involved with any woman right now was a distraction he could ill afford.
But getting involved with one who could make him feel…that was a disaster waiting to happen. And a risk he wasn’t willing to take.
Chapter 6
“Obviously you weren’t told ‘no’ often enough as a child. You have a problem with the word.” Delaney’s tone was caustic, lest he think that opening the door for him was a welcoming gesture. There was no use trying to keep him out. He’d already proved, on numerous occasions, that he didn’t regard a shut or locked door as any particular deterrent.
“You have the photos. You have the equipment to work with them and print them.” He walked into the house and faced her. “I’ve got a case that’s taking up all my time at work. It doesn’t make sense to add on one more task tomorrow when I can just as easily see them here, tonight.”
His logical tone was nearly as annoying as his presence. But when he walked through the house toward the spare bedroom where he’d surprised her that first night, she let the screen door bang shut and hurried after him. “Don’t touch anything.”
He hitched a hip on the corner of her desk. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
She picked up a stack of photos and a magnifying glass, and handed them to
him. “I’m just taking a closer look at them now.” At his sharp glance, she snapped, “I’ve been busy. I do have a job to do here, you know.”
Joe flipped through the pictures quickly, then started through them again, this time with the magnifying glass, to study them more closely. “You took this many shots of one place?”
Delaney rolled her eyes and sat down at the computer, trying to ignore the fact that his stance placed him in disturbingly close proximity. Quickly, she selected the appropriate photo folder on the screen and opened it. “It’s not uncommon for me to take twice as many shots to get one or two I can use. That’s one of the advantages of digital. There’s so much less waste. I can delete the ones of poorer quality without ever printing them.”
The first of the photos filled the screen. With swift movements she set up enlarging the photo in ten percent increments. He looked up and scanned the room. “You have more equipment in here than before.”
“It arrived this morning.” And she’d fussed over it like a mother hen until it had been time to set off for Charley’s. She gave little thought to clothes or jewelry, but when it came to her photography and computer equipment, she spared no expense. “I numbered the pictures on the back, and they’re in the order I took them. I was using a zoom at first, before switching to a wide angle when I got closer.”
Joe peered more closely through the magnifying glass at the picture in his hand. “And you thought the shots were fired from the top of the cliff?”
“They seemed to be.” She brought up another picture, enlarged it and then began zooming in on sections along the top of the cliff. “But after the first couple I wasn’t really paying attention. I was too busy trying to survive.”