Heart of the Storm

by Lindsay McKenna

  Nodding, Dana put the van in gear and melted back into the burgeoning traffic. The sun was shining brightly, the last bits of fluffy cumulus clouds dotting the sky above them. “You got it.”

  “Colby is going to have his hands full,” Chase told her. He reached out and slid his hand across Dana’s right shoulder, giving it a brief squeeze. “How are you doing?”

  “Okay,” Dana lied. She concentrated on driving. What she wanted to do was concentrate on intimacy with Chase. Dana absorbed the contact like a dry sponge in water. It had been over two years since Hal’s murder had hurled her into a dark abyss of pain and loss. Now, Chase was like dawn light to Dana. He filled her with hope that perhaps the worst of her own nightmare was finally coming to an end.

  “You don’t lie very well,” Chase remarked, giving her a warm look. “You’re a warrior at heart, woman of mine. You know that?”

  “I don’t feel very warriorlike,” she answered wryly. “My insides still feel like Jell-O.”

  “Adrenaline letdown, is all,” Chase assured her. He grinned. “And you’re probably hungry.”

  “Starving to death.”

  “Yeah, that’s how it happens.” Chase looked around at the awakening city. It wasn’t large compared to Reno or Las Vegas. In another ten minutes, they’d be south of the city limits and driving back into the Nevada desert toward the massive Navajo reservation. “If we see a motel on the way, let’s stop. We’ll get a room where we can wash up, put on clean clothes and find a place to chow down.”

  “Don’t you want to get away from Colby?”

  “He’s occupied,” Chase stated confidently. “It’s time we took care of ourselves. He’s got Fast Horse to deal with, and we both know that isn’t going to be easy for his SWAT team. Rogan’s probably already fled the compound with his women.”

  Grimacing, Dana kept her eyes on the road as they exited the city. She saw a sign for a motel about a mile farther. “If Rogan runs, the FBI may not find him.”

  “Oh, I think they will,” Chase said, keeping his hand on her shoulder. “Colby is enraged over Annie Ballard’s murder. I think he’ll turn over every rock between here and hell to find that mean son of a bitch.”

  “I hope so,” Dana whispered unsteadily. She braked and pulled up to the small white motel. Next to it was a Denny’s Restaurant, which was a perfect place for them to refuel. After shutting off the engine, Dana retrieved her identification and wallet locked in the glove box. “Stay here. I’ll get us a room and be right back.”

  Chase nodded and eased his hand from her shoulder. Dana looked pale, her eyes dark with exhaustion. He wasn’t doing so hot, either. His head throbbed where the bullet had creased his temple. But he knew if he could get some aspirin, the pain would go away. Right now, what he wanted most was a hot shower so he could wash his hair, clean his wound and climb into clean clothes.

  Within five minutes, Dana was back with the motel key. She handed it to Chase and drove to the last unit at the end. Getting out, they quickly hustled all their gear into the room. It was barely 7:00 a.m., and Dana imagined people were still sleeping.

  Inside, she gently placed the pack holding the Storm Pipe on a shelf in the closet. Her first and only duty was to protect it from ever being stolen again.

  “You first,” Chase told her as he closed the door and locked it behind them. “The shower is yours.”

  Dana started to protest, but was too weary to argue. He put the small suitcases they’d had waiting in the SUV on the two double beds. The room was simple but clean. It was decorated in a Western motif, the bedspreads a sky-blue with brightly colored cactus in flower. “What about you?”

  “While you shower, I’ll clean my wound,” Chase stated. He unzipped his suitcase and took out a small first-aid kit. “Go ahead.”

  With a nod, Dana headed off to the immaculate bathroom. After closing the door, she quickly shimmied out of her spandex outfit, the dry mud dropping around her on the white tile floor. When she glanced in the mirror, Dana realized how awful she looked. There were smears of mud across her brow and cheek. Her hair desperately needed to be washed. When the elderly motel clerk had made a comment about her appearance, Dana had lied and said they’d been mountain climbing and got nailed by the line of thunderstorms. The woman had clucked sympathetically and given her the key. It wasn’t a lie, Dana rationalized, just not the whole truth.

  Heat and mist quickly rose in the glass-encased shower. She stepped eagerly into the warm, pummeling stream and closed the door. Unbraiding her hair, she turned around slowly, allowing the warm water to wash away all the terror, sweat and mud. She savored the hot spray massaging her tense body.

  The bathroom door opened and closed, and Dana could see Chase’s naked torso through the mist. He was at the sink, cleaning his head wound. Picking up the jasmine-scented soap, she didn’t care if he saw her naked or not. Chase had seen her that way before. All she wanted was to get clean and wash away this nightmare.

  Dana had no idea how long she stood relishing the hot streams of water on her body. Finally, she turned off the shower and exited. Chase was gone, but he’d thoughtfully left a fluffy white towel on the washbasin for her. He’d even left her a set of clean clothes.

  Every movement was an effort as she dried her hair and body. A soft smile touched Dana’s mouth as she pulled on the soft, stone-washed jeans, a loose-fitting, dark-green tank top and white cotton socks for her aching feet.

  As she padded out of the bathroom, she saw that Chase had made them coffee. In fact, two trays sat on one of the beds. Chase had stripped out of his muddy clothes and wore a thin cotton robe that barely fit around his large, muscular form. He was grinning as he brought over a hot cup of coffee to her.

  “Nice to have take out at Denny’s, isn’t it? I ordered breakfast for you. Here, sit down before you fall down, Dana. You’re looking real tired.”

  She smiled and took the coffee. “I feel dead on my feet, Chase. Like I’m going to fall across that bed.”

  “You will soon enough. But first eat, Dana.” He cupped her elbow and guided her to the bed.

  “You’ve already eaten,” she said, sitting down. Her flesh tingled delightfully beneath his fingertips.

  “Yeah, you were in there quite a while. I was starving to death.” He chuckled.

  Looking up, she could see he had cleaned his wound. Now, it looked as if he’d just hit his head, not been creased with a bullet. An amazing transformation. “You look pretty good under the circumstances,” she noted, pulling the tray over and settling it on her lap.

  “Yeah, I feel better, for sure. I’ve had a couple cups of coffee and a big breakfast. I took some aspirin and my headache’s gone, so I’m in pretty good shape, comparatively speaking.”

  “You know how to handle this kind of life-and-death stuff. I don’t.” Picking up her utensils, she eagerly began to eat.

  Chase patted her shoulder. “Eat and rest, woman of mine. I’m going to take a long, hot shower and get cleaned up.” Truth be told, Chase thought she looked fetching, with her hair curling slightly around her face and shoulders. But there were dark smudges beneath her eyes. “Fill your stomach and then stretch out and sleep,” he urged her, turning at the door to the bathroom.

  “I’m still worried about Colby and the FBI. Aren’t we too close to Carson City?”

  Shaking his head, Chase said, “Don’t worry about it, Dana. We can rest for a while. By the time they get done with their SWAT operation, it will be evening. By then, we’ll wake up and drive back to the res before they think about us.”

  That sounded good to Dana. She wanted to disappear off the radar of this FBI agent once and for all. “Thanks for the food, Chase. It’s delicious.”

  He gave her a wolfish grin. “What I’m looking at is delicious.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  THE WORDS CHASE HAD so huskily spoken were the last ones she remembered. Shortly afterward, he had gone into the bathroom and shut the door. After setting her empty tray o
n the bureau, she pulled back the covers of her bed and crawled in, clothes and all. The moment her head sank into the pillow, she spiraled into a desperately needed sleep. With Chase’s words, gritty and filled with promise, encircling Dana like the arms of a lover, she slept soundly.

  Half an hour later, Chase emerged from the bathroom. He’d washed away the sweat, mud and fear that had caked him earlier. Wearing only a white, nubby terry-cloth towel low around his waist, he halted just outside the door as the steam escaped. There, on the nearest queen-size bed, lay Dana, asleep. His heart wrenched violently in his chest. Warmth drenched him, like the drizzle of hot honey being poured over his entire being.

  Her hair was in soft disarray around her head, an ebony halo that emphasized her golden skin. The tension was gone and her slightly parted lips beckoned to Chase. As he rubbed his clean-shaven jaw, he felt a scalding heat in his lower body. The desire to simply slide in next to Dana nearly unhinged him. He stood there, feet damp and creating dark water stains on the floor, wanting her desperately. Hadn’t he called her his woman? A man didn’t do that unless he’d laid claim to the one he loved. Scowling, Chase forced himself to move.

  He quietly walked across the room, setting the second tray on the bureau beside Dana’s. He knew he had to sleep in the other bed. It wouldn’t be right to act on his instincts: to slide in beside her, gently ease his arm beneath Dana’s slender neck, pull her back against him and curl his other arm around her waist, to hold her protected and loved within his embrace. No, he couldn’t do that. Not yet…

  The time would come, Chase promised himself. He glanced at his watch on the dresser. It was nearly 8:30. The sun was bright behind the dark-green, thick drapes, and blazed around the edges of the window. Enough light spilled into the room for him to see where he was going. Even though the threat of Rogan was past, and the Storm Pipe was safe in the knapsack in the closet, Chase trusted nothing. He took his pistol and placed it beneath his pillow as he sat down on the bed.

  He released the knot and allowed the towel to drop to the floor. As he gazed forlornly across the room at Dana, he felt his heart wrench again—with loneliness, with need. No, he had to wait until they got back to the reservation. The Storm Pipe had to be delivered to Grandmother Agnes first. Only then would he speak to Dana of what lay in his heart.

  Chase lay down facing her. At least his last sight would be of her peacefully sleeping, those thick, black lashes fanned against her high cheekbones. He could hear her soft breathing and notice how she curled up beneath the cover. With these images, he fell into a dream-ladened world where he was making slow, passionate love with her.

  DANA DROVE through the night, her hands gripping the wheel as they sped along the lonely roads from Nevada into Arizona. Chase fixed her coffee, which they’d bought after getting gas at the border. He poured in several packets of sugar and stirred it with a wooden stick.

  Smiling softly, she absorbed the quiet and his nearby presence. “I’m so happy, Chase.”

  Looking up from his kitchen duties, he saw Dana’s profile in the faint, greenish glow from the dashboard. His heart thudded with need of her. “You have a right to be.”

  “Are you feeling the same way?” She shot him a quick glance, then returned to her driving.

  “Yeah. Relieved is probably the word I’d use.”

  “Relieved about…?” She reached for the coffee as he handed it to her. Their fingertips met; it was a delicious moment and Dana savored it. “Thanks.”

  Chase settled back with his own cup of black, steaming coffee. It was 2:00 a.m. The stars hung close and sparkled like gemstones in the sky. He liked traveling at night; there was little traffic, and the night sky felt safe and soothing. “Relieved that we got the Storm Pipe back.” He sipped his coffee. “Consoled that we came out of this alive. And comforted by the fact that the FBI is going to find Fast Horse and his band of women and put them away for good.”

  Dana shook her head. “Things happened so fast, Chase. When I think back on our climb in that storm, well, there were times I didn’t think we’d make it.” She looked over at his rugged and handsome profile. “Did you?”

  “That was the easy part, Dana—climbing the cliff. I was a lot more worried about getting into the compound.”

  “Maybe because you are so used to climbing.”

  He smiled briefly. “Maybe…”

  “I can hardly wait to give the Storm Pipe to Grandmother Agnes. She’s going to be so happy.” Dana smiled widely, glancing again at Chase. His mouth was so strong and tempting. For many weeks, she’d fought liking Chase purely as a man. He had been her teacher and off-limits to her on a personal level. She hadn’t even realized that she was drawn to Chase until he’d broken the news to her of how her mother and husband had died. Only then had Dana realized how much she liked Chase and needed him.

  “Yes, I’m sure she already knows we have the pipe,” Chase said. “She’s so psychic.”

  “That’s why she doesn’t have a phone out there.” Dana chuckled. Many people living in the Navajo reservation did not have a phone line or electricity available to them. The res was over a hundred thousand acres, the largest in the U.S.A., and it was like a third-world country in some respects. Yet many of the Navajo, particularly the older generations, had lived their whole life without a phone or electricity, and preferred it that way. Only the younger generations, wired with cell phones, iPods, computers and other modern-day inventions, wanted those accessories on the res.

  “She knows we have it,” Chase agreed quietly. He sipped the coffee, finding the hum of the tires on the asphalt lulling. They’d slept until 4:00 p.m., eaten a full meal at Denny’s and by 5:30 were on the road.

  “I feel like I’m coming out of a dream.” Dana laughed. “Maybe a nightmare. I keep thinking about the five weeks at the res with you. My training. Wondering if I could do it…”

  “Well,” Chase murmured, “you did it, Dana. And you should be damn proud of what you pulled off. When I got hit by that bullet, everything fell on your shoulders. When I became conscious, cuffed to that pole in the lodge, I never expected you to show up and rescue me. That was…” Chase held her luminous gaze, “well, that was courageous. You didn’t have to return. You had the pipe. You were out of the compound and safe.”

  Dana reached over and squeezed his arm. “I don’t know why you wouldn’t expect me to come back to free you. I waited outside the gate for you, and when I heard gunfire, I knew they’d found you. I didn’t know whether you were dead or alive, Chase.” Releasing his arm, Dana wrapped her hand around the steering wheel and stared out at the empty four-lane interstate. “I was so scared that they’d killed you. I thought the worst—a shot to the head.”

  “Well,” Chase chuckled, “you were right on. I did take a shot to the head. Only I got lucky, and it was a graze and nothing more. Besides, holding the Storm Pipe bag, the pain and exhaustion are gone.”

  Relief continued to filter through Dana as she came off the adrenaline high of their mission. With relief came emotional awareness and the terror she had suppressed. “Chase, I was so scared for you, for me, as I went to hide the pipe and came back to get you.”

  “It must have been rough for you, Dana. I’m sorry.”

  “It wasn’t your fault. Things just went crazy inside that compound. We all did the best we could. If you hadn’t been protecting me earlier, I might be dead and we might not have the pipe to give to Grandmother Agnes.” Shaking her head, her voice filled with emotion, Dana whispered, “Chase, you’re the bravest person in the world. You put yourself deliberately in the line of fire for me so I could escape with the pipe. I don’t know how many sentries you took on, but you stood guard for me at that open gate.” She choked back sudden tears. Her sight blurred momentarily and she blinked to clear her eyes. “You are my hero, in every way. I want you to know that.”

  Her words lit him up inside. His heart, long dormant, was awake and full of hope. Dana’s confession was a healing unguent for him, for
his brutal imprisonment in South America. In that moment, he finally forgave himself for that period of his life. When the time was right, he would share that sordid time in his life. Right now, they were too stressed to discuss such a topic.

  Reaching over, he slid his hand tenderly across her shoulder. “And you’re no less a heroine in my eyes and heart, Dana. Your courage was incredible. When I saw you appear in that room, for me and Colby, I couldn’t believe my eyes. I was wrong about you in one way—I didn’t think you had the backbone. You could have taken the easy route and left us. But you didn’t. You risked your life for me.” Squeezing her shoulder gently, Chase added, “I think we’re a mutual admiration society, don’t you?” He made himself lift his hand away and rest it on his thigh.

  Warmed by his unexpected touch, Dana gave a broken laugh. “I guess we are.” She sighed deeply. “Oh, Chase, I’ll be so glad to get the pipe back to Grandmother Agnes. The Storm Pipe, when I held it, took away most of my exhaustion. I can see why the society wanted it back. Then I want to walk up to the winter hogan in the canyon—together. We have so much to talk about.” She risked a quick glance at him.

  His eyes glimmered and his mouth softened. “I want the same thing, Dana. You and me. We can stay up there for as long as we want and work on personal things between ourselves. That’s what I’d like.”

  “Me, too.” Dana’s heart opened and joy spilled through her chest. By dawn, they would be at the hogan. For so long, ever since her world had been destroyed by Rogan Fast Horse, she hadn’t had a home. And now a new world was taking shape, a joyous one filled with wonderful possibilities that all revolved around Chase.

  GRANDMOTHER AGNES WEPT with joy as Dana knelt down and slid the Storm Pipe bag into her outstretched, arthritic hands. “This is wonderful, children,” she murmured as she cradled it in her left arm and pressed it gently to her thin chest. The warm, healing energy flowed into her aching hands and removed the pain. Dressed in her ceremonial garb of a deep-red velvet, long-sleeved blouse and skirt, a silver concha belt around her narrow waist, she beamed at them. “Thank you, both…so much. The Blue Heron Society owes you a debt we can never repay. In a special ceremony, at the next full moon, we will induct you into our society and give you the Storm Pipe, Dana.”