The Last Warrior

by Kylie Brant

“Because I thought maybe you’d be stopping by to see your little belagana.” Arnie grinned at his narrowed look. “She wasn’t any too happy with you when she was here yesterday, but you weren’t exactly showering her with gratitude, either.”

  He didn’t want to recall that scene, or the way the hours had passed with interminable slowness until she’d walked into the NTP headquarters. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I know what I saw. And the sparks coming off the two of you were enough to heat the whole office.”

  Joe got in his vehicle. “Sounds like you’re getting hot flashes. Better go home, Arnie.”

  “I’m just saying. You might sleep a whole lot better if you first deal with what’s really bothering…”

  It gave Joe a measure of satisfaction to shut the door on the rest of his friend’s words. But the action didn’t prevent them from echoing in his thoughts as he pulled out of the NTP lot. He could be thankful for the break in the case that had allowed them to intercept the smugglers while still damning the way it had come about. And if that made him a hyprocrite, he had only to recall his first reaction when Tapahe informed him about Delaney’s suggestion.

  Anger had been a much preferable emotion to the sick fear that had twisted through him from the moment he heard of the plan until he’d seen her safe again. The relief that had hit him then had weakened his knees and ignited his temper.

  Because it wasn’t supposed to be like this. No strings meant no emotions, didn’t it? He’d been as eager as she for a casual relationship without expectations or promises. The last thing he needed or wanted was involvement with another woman who couldn’t hope to understand how interwoven he was in the fabric of his culture.

  But he’d gotten her understanding. The memory slammed into him as he pulled into his driveway, of her soft voice full of disbelief. She didn’t know you very well, did she?

  That perceptiveness made him edgy. She saw things other women didn’t, from a perspective of suffering few others could imagine.

  How could a woman who was supposed to mean nothing to him so quickly become a raging hunger in his blood? How could he, a man of innate caution, have failed to see the risk she presented? Or recognizing it, failed to take heed of the warning?

  He stared at his darkened house without really seeing it. The smartest thing to do was stumble to his bed, lose himself in sleep for the next twelve hours.

  Which didn’t explain why, moments later, he shifted the vehicle into Reverse, and headed toward the town limits.

  Delaney stared at the rough outline of the book, mentally adding photos to the future chapters that would accentuate the oral histories and narrative. The actual writing always proved to be the easiest part for her. When it came to choosing the appropriate photos, or worse, limiting how many would make the final cut of the project, she’d agonize for weeks.

  But she was a long way from that point. Right now she needed to begin sorting through the photos she’d already shot, putting them in picture libraries according to subject matter so that she could find them easily, deleting the pictures that weren’t of the highest quality. She had very exacting standards when it came to her art. In this area, at least, she could control her finished product in a way she wasn’t always able to control events in her own life.

  Her reaction to Joe Youngblood, for example.

  Delaney’s blood simmered anew recalling his expression when she’s seen him at the NTP station. She’d read the temper in his eyes. His gaze had been as scorching as a laser, and she’d been left with little doubt as to his reaction to her involving herself in his case.

  Which was too damn bad. She punched a command into the keyboard with a little more force than was necessary. No man had ever been allowed to dictate her actions and if this was all about tiptoeing around his ego, well, then he had some hard lessons to learn about her.

  By the time she heard the knock on her door her temper had gone from simmer to a boil. It was late and she really hadn’t expected to hear from Joe, so she took the precaution of checking the judas hole. Recognizing him she pulled open the door and unlatched the screen, spoiling for a fight.

  “Can I assume from your visit that you’ve come to thank me for my help?” she said with mock sweetness. “Oh, wait, I forgot. Joe Youngblood doesn’t need anyone’s assistance. He’s the Navajo’s answer to Superman. Tell me.” She cocked her head challengingly. “Did you bust that operation you were investigating all by yourself, or did you let your partner help?”

  His lips tightened at her sarcasm, but his voice was even when he answered. “There was an entire task force deployed to make the arrests.” He walked by her into the room, leaving her to follow.

  “A whole task force?” She widened her eyes in mock surprise. “Well, don’t feel too bad. Even superheroes occasionally let their sidekicks in on the action.”

  The muscle in his jaw was clenched tightly. “They were all law enforcement. Professionals trained to handle dangerous situations.”

  “Is that what this is about? That I’m not a cop?” She gave a short laugh. “Be honest. It’s because I’m a woman.” She ignored the dangerous glint in his eyes, to continue. “I’ve got a news flash for you-I’ve been making my own decisions for a few years, now. I even manage to dress myself daily without help.”

  “You deliberately put yourself into a high-risk situation,” he said, anger lacing his words.

  “Well, your captain disagreed with you about the risk.”

  “You got lucky. No one was at the site, but you didn’t know that. And neither did he. You could have been shot at. Maybe hit this time, killed. Did you weigh in those factors at all when you dreamed up this idea?”

  Her voice raised. “Or I can get hit by a bus crossing the street. If people sit home and assess risks all day, they never accomplish anything.”

  “I don’t care about ‘people’,” he bit out, shoving his face to hers. “I care about you! More than I should. Do you know what I went through, waiting to hear from you?”

  “I didn’t ask for that,” she whispered. Her throat dried out abruptly, her temper squelched like quenched flame. She took a step away from him, and then another. “I don’t want that.”

  She couldn’t be responsible for his feelings. She wouldn’t be. It was bad enough recognizing that she’d gotten involved with him deeper, faster, than she’d ever thought possible. Whatever emotions he dragged to the surface inside her, however, she’d handle them. But she couldn’t handle his. Couldn’t manage the guilt and recriminations that would invariably follow her failure to be what he wanted. Who he wanted. The thought of having to try scared her to death.

  “You think I want this?” His face was a mask of frustration. “That I was looking for it? My personal life is a shambles and the last thing I need right now is to fall in love with a woman I just met.”

  “This isn’t love,” she interrupted, a little wildly. Denying it loudly enough, often enough, could make the words true.

  “The hell it isn’t.” He strode over and caught her arm. “It’s love when I’m sick with fear until you show up safe and sound at the station. And when I think about you even though my mind should be occupied with the case. Maybe neither of us planned on it, but we’re in deeper than we ever intended to go.” She tried to turn away, but his hand on her arm stopped her. “Yes, we are. You can’t deny it and neither can I. Now the question is, what are we going to do about it?”

  It must be due to some genetic flaw in her makeup that she preferred his temper to his emotion-roughened voice. His tone had turned low, his touch caressing. As if he understood that his angry declaration had her wanting to flee from his feelings. From her own.

  “You can’t run away from it, Delaney. I know you better than that. You don’t run away from much in this life, do you?”

  He was crediting her with a bravery she didn’t deserve. The flashbacks of the bombing of the Iraqi hotel weren’t the only memories that had left scars. There were the s
till-fresh recollections of what it meant to love a man who could only give her leftovers of himself. And what was left of Reid after he’d poured most of his energy and emotion into his work had never satisfied. She wasn’t sure what had scared her more-the thought that someday she would have walked away from him, or that she would have settled. And lost a little of herself in the process.

  “Look at you.” Was that amusement in his voice? Her gaze flew to meet his. “You’ll walk into the middle of a war-torn country for a story, but right now you look terrified. Is it that bad, admitting you…feel something for me?”

  She didn’t miss that hesitation in his words. And she certainly didn’t mirror his amusement over this scene. “I don’t know how to do this,” she said rawly. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

  A measure of tension seeped out of him. His thumb skated over the sensitive skin above her palm. “I don’t want anything you don’t give freely. Nothing has changed.”

  But she knew that wasn’t true. Everything had changed with this conversation, not the least being that she was nearly paralyzed with panic. “I need to think.”

  “No. You need to quit thinking. So do I.” He drew her closer, his arms looped around her loosely, seeming not to notice the stiffness in her limbs. Or determined to ignore it. “I handled this badly. We don’t have to have this conversation now. We’ll just see where things lead. It doesn’t have to be more complicated than that.”

  But he was wrong and they both knew it. Sex was uncomplicated, relationships weren’t. Invariably emotions ruined everything, changed everything. It was only a matter of time before they had to deal with that. The thought pierced her with a sliver of the pain that surely was to come.

  But not tonight. She could read the exhaustion on his face. There was no way to solve this now, and really, what was the point? She already knew how it would end. Best to back away from the declaration he’d made and pretend, at least for a time, that it didn’t alter everything.

  She strove for a steady voice. “Does this mean I don’t get to see you in your tights and cape?”

  “Keep it up, Carson.” He nuzzled her neck. “I may be tempted to show you some of my superpowers.”

  “I’d be interested in seeing those myself.” They both jerked, as the screen door opened and a figure stepped inside, pointing a gun in their direction. “Barring that, I’ll settle for a little information.”

  “What the…Bruce?” Joe released Delaney and turned toward his ex-father-in-law, automatically placing his body between her and the gun. His mind responded sluggishly as he struggled to reconcile the unfamiliar sight of the mild-mannered schoolteacher with an automatic pistol, complete with silencer.

  “You kept me waiting, Joe.” Bruce Glenn moved into the room, his gaze going from him to Delaney and back again. “We could have handled this just between the two of us if you’d shown up at home. As it was, I had no choice but to follow you out here.”

  “Whatever this is about, we can still handle it between the two of us.” Carefully, Joe took a step toward the other man, halted when the pistol was raised and pointed toward his chest.

  “It’s too late for that. I don’t have much time and you have something I need. So both of you will have to come with me.”

  Eyeing the man speculatively, Joe wondered if he’d gone over the edge. His entire demeanor at the NTP station had been off, but he’d figured Bruce had just been upset about his lack of contact with Jonny. He’d showered the boy with attention since his birth. But now…he was acting entirely too comfortable with that gun, and Joe had never known him to have one before.

  “Just tell me what you need.” The number one rule in volatile situations like this was to keep the gunman calm. But he also wanted to get the man away from Delaney. “I can’t help you if I don’t know what you want.”

  Bruce’s smile was chilly, and completely unlike him. “What I want is my grandson. You’re going to take me to him.”

  Joe’s fingers clutched the steering wheel in a grip that made them ache. Bruce had insisted they take the SUV he’d arrived in, one Joe had never seen before. Checking the rearview mirror again, he met the other man’s gaze. “She’s fine,” Bruce said, indicating Delaney, who was seated next to him, bound and gagged. “She’ll remain that way as long as you cooperate.”

  He wished desperately that he could shift the mirror’s position to see Delaney’s expression. Professional instincts warred with all-too-personal emotion, and he couldn’t afford to be distracted by it. But emotion had reared the instant the man had stepped into Delaney’s house and pointed a gun at her.

  “Why don’t you tell me where we’re going?” he asked with a calm he was far from feeling. “Seems simpler that way.”

  “Just follow my directions. You’ve already made things more difficult than they should be.” The man’s voice sounded with frustrated fury. “I know you’ve discovered where Heather took Jonny. Did you call your cop friends when you figured out Heather was no longer in Window Rock? Or did you go looking yourself?”

  Thinking furiously, he said, “Heather’s not in Window Rock? Are you sure?”

  The pistol was slammed against his head, hard enough to have him veering on the deserted road. “Don’t play games with me. I’ve already waited hours and I’m out of patience. Where did you find her?”

  Distant headlights shone ahead, the first they’d seen since they’d left Delaney’s. Joe slipped one hand lower on the wheel, closer to the lever controlling his brights. Maybe he could flick his lights at the driver. At the least they might call in to report a possible impaired…

  “Don’t even think of trying to alert that driver. It’d be a shame if I had to hurt the woman just because you did something stupid.”

  “This is crazy, Bruce. I miss Jonny, too, but there are easier ways to get to see him.”

  “You’re a little slow on the uptake today. I’m not just going to see him. I’m taking him with me.”

  Time crawled to a standstill. A horrible suspicion bloomed, too illogical to be given credence. “Where are you going, Bruce?”

  “I think I’ll keep that detail to myself. But I don’t have much time, do I, Joe? How much longer do you think it will be before Graywolf spills everything he knows? He’d sell his grandmother for the right price, and I’m guessing he thinks the price of his freedom is my life.”

  The truth hit him with the force of a careening bus. Bruce? Involved with Graywolf? Disbelief filtered through him. “What do you know about Brant Graywolf?”

  The man’s expression in the rearview mirror was one he’d never seen before. Calm, matter-of-fact, cold-blooded. “I took precautions. A man in my line of work has to. But an operation is only as strong as the links in its chain and once things start to disconnect it doesn’t take long to bring the whole thing down around your head. When I didn’t get the call from Graywolf telling me Lee’s run was successful I knew I didn’t have much time. I went to your house to find the address for my grandson, but you didn’t write it down, did you, Joe? You’re a careful son of a bitch, I’ll give you that. Turn left here.”

  “This isn’t a road.”

  “Turn left!”

  He gave a sharp turn of the wheel and they bounced over worn ground. The time for pretense was over. “There’s no way I’ll let you take my son.”

  “You know, I knew that’d be a problem,” the man said conversationally. He was leaning forward to watch the uneven terrain carefully. “But turns out you provided your own incentive.” He reached over and grabbed Delaney by the neck, pulled her close enough so Joe could see the gun pointed at her forehead.

  “Now this would be a tough choice for anyone. But I overheard enough of your conversation tonight to be pretty sure you’d like to keep her alive. And the only way to do that is to give me what I want.”

  A paralyzing fear encased Joe. He couldn’t be asked to choose between his son and Delaney. No one should have to make a choice like that. Somehow he had to figure
out a way to save them both.

  “Turn right. It’s only a few miles.”

  The Jeep jolted over the uneven ground, and Joe wondered again where they were going.

  “Why don’t you call Heather now, Bruce? Talk to your daughter. To Jonny. You’ve got to see that this isn’t the way to solve things.”

  “Heather’s made her opinions clear,” he retorted. “Why do you think she left the reservation? She doesn’t want Jonny contaminated by me. But he’s my grandson! She’s made her choices. Now I’ll make mine.”

  Joe’s heart seemed to stop, then slowly picked up speed again. Heather had known about Bruce’s activities. Or at least had suspected enough to send her running with their son. All this time he’d believed she left to be ready to run if she lost custody. Instead, she’d been protecting Jonny, in her own way.

  It wouldn’t have been Joe’s way. Anger ignited like a match to a fuse. She could have come to him. Gone to the police with what she knew. Instead she’d chosen to shield her father from the consequences of his actions.

  And now her choice just might return to haunt them both.

  “There, up ahead.”

  Joe peered out the window, but with no regular road to guide him, he was unclear just where he was. He didn’t normally travel reservation land as the crow flies. All he could see up ahead was the dark silhouette of a rocky butte. But he heard the sound Delaney made and was suddenly certain he could guess the site.

  The abandoned Graywolf mine.

  “Police have been swarming all over this property. We need to go somewhere safer, Bruce. Somewhere we can talk.”

  “The police are long gone. Why would they keep it under surveillance when our cargo was intercepted? It’s the perfect destination. Because we both know they have no reason to come back.”

  Joe’s mouth dried and desperation ricocheted through him. Unfortunately the man was right. The members of the task force had no idea who they were looking for at this point, and no reason to believe that Graywolf’s boss would head back to the very place they had planned to stash the illegals.