Garrett nodded, encouraging her to continue.
Storm remained unusually quiet.
“It’s just that, we feel the coincidence is odd. Raven’s body being found at the construction site, then Lyle doing what he did. We can’t help but wonder if there’s a connection between Raven’s death and Lyle’s—” She stopped, biting her lip. “Well, his unexpected behavior.”
“You don’t have to sugar coat it for my sake, Jasmine,” Garrett said with a weary sigh. “Lyle went off the deep end. He killed one person and tried to murder another. His behavior was more than unexpected. It was unforgivable.”
Jasmine flushed, feeling as though she were invading Garrett’s private grief. “I’m sorry, Garrett. I know how hard this must be. Maybe we shouldn’t be here now.”
“No,” Garrett said, giving his head a firm shake. “I’m glad you came. Everyone else has been pussy-footing around, treating me like I was as fragile as an eggshell. It feels good to talk about it, to get it out in the open.” He leaned back in his chair and frowned. “The problem is, I don’t see how there could be a connection between Lyle’s and Raven’s deaths.” He looked at Storm. “From what I understand, your brother apparently died almost thirty years ago.”
Storm nodded.
Jasmine glanced at him, her concern growing. Something was wrong. Storm was more than just quiet. His face had taken on an unhealthy pallor. Fine droplets of sweat beaded his forehead. His jaw was clenched in a tight line. He looked as though he’d been strickened.
“Well, Lyle was only twenty-two,” Garrett continued, oblivious to the undercurrents of tension flowing through the room. “He wasn’t even born when Raven died.”
“I know it sounds crazy,” Jasmine said, forcing herself to concentrate on the conversation at hand. “But somehow it seems as though finding Raven’s remains triggered the events leading to Lyle’s death. Did Lyle say anything to you that might have explained his strange behavior?”
“Not to me,” Garrett said, his tone regretful. “Other than complaining about the delay in construction, Lyle never talked about the discovery of Raven Hunter’s remains.”
Jasmine gave a frustrated sigh, unwilling to admit they were wasting their time. “So what happens next? The construction site looked abandoned. With all the bad luck surrounding the site, I wouldn’t blame you if you decided to scrap the plans.”
“The plans haven’t been scrapped,” Garrett said, his voice ringing with determination. “In fact, I’ve just been talking to the tribal leaders at Laughing Horse. We’ve decided to go ahead with the casino and resort. But this time I’ll be taking over the Kincaid interests. I’m going to make damned sure that a fair arrangement is made with the Cheyenne people.”
Jasmine felt a new respect for the older man. She wondered how a man with such strength and morality could have spawned a grand child as corrupt and evil as Lyle had been. “Will you be starting soon?”
“Just as soon as the engineers pick another site for us to dig on.” Shaking his head, he gave a wry grin. “Can you believe it? We hit a stubborn vein of bedrock at the second site. Now we have to move the whole shebang and start all over again.”
Jasmine shivered. “More bad luck.”
“That’s for sure,” Garrett said, his sigh wistful. Suddenly he seemed very tired, the years showing on his face.
Sensing that they’d over stayed their welcome, Jasmine stood. Storm followed her lead, rising slowly to his feet, his expression still troubled.
Garrett rounded the desk and escorted them through the house to the front door. Turning to Storm, he extended a hand and said, “Good luck with your search. I hope you’ll find what you’ve been looking for soon.”
“Thank you for your help,” Storm said, accepting the polite gesture, seeming to have regained some of his composure.
Garrett enveloped Jasmine in a bear hug and murmured, “It’s good to see you again, Jasmine. Next time bring the rest of your family along and we’ll have a proper visit.”
She nodded an assent and smiled. Exchanging their good-byes, Jasmine and Storm returned to the Jeep and left the Kincaid ranch. But before they’d even gotten past the front gates, Storm leaned back in his seat, closed his eyes and took an audible breath.
Jasmine shot him a worried glance and demanded, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he said, shaking his head. Slowly he opened his eyes, though he wouldn’t meet her gaze. “Just the beginnings of a headache.”
She frowned, not sure whether to believe him. Storm didn’t look like the type of man who let something as small as a headache stand in the way of his getting what he wanted. “You didn’t say much in Garrett’s study.”
“You were asking all the right questions. I didn’t see the need to interfere.”
“Interfere? Storm, this is your brother’s death we’re looking into. You, of all people, should have the right to ask a few simple questions.”
He sighed, looking out onto the late day sun along the horizon of the rolling expanse of green pastures. “What Garrett had to say…that wasn’t what was most important about our visit to the Kincaid ranch.”
“It wasn’t?” Her frown deepened. “Then what was this all about? Why did we go out of our way to get here, if it wasn’t to talk to Garrett?”
“The house, Jasmine,” he said cryptically. “The answer is in the house.”
Jasmine gripped the steering wheel, feeling the frustration churning inside her. “I don’t understand. What does the house have to do with anything?”
He shook his head. “I’m not sure, yet. But there’s something.”
“Storm, you’re not making any sense.”
“I know,” he said, rubbing a hand to his temple, looking tired and beaten. “Trust me, Jasmine. I’m just as confused as you are. As soon as I figure it out, you’ll be the first person I’ll tell.”
This time she did believe him. At the moment Storm was being deliberately evasive, but perhaps with good reason. Something obviously had bothered him when he was in the study at the Kincaid ranch. But if he didn’t want to share his unease with her, then she must respect his wishes.
Besides, he’d promised to tell her the truth eventually. It was time to prove that she trusted his word.
They drove the rest of the way into town in silence. When they arrived at Storm’s hotel, Jasmine parked the Jeep in a slot in front of his room. Delaying his departure, she shifted in her seat to look at him. “That headache of yours any better?”
He grimaced. “Not much.”
“It’s getting late. Neither of us has had much to eat today. Maybe dinner would help?”
His gaze lingered on her face. He looked tempted by the offer. “Dinner sounds good. Unfortunately, I’m just not up to it right now. Do you mind if I take a rain check?”
“Of course not,” she said, averting her gaze, feeling the telltale warmth of embarrassment rise on her face. Being turned down wasn’t easy, no matter what the circumstance.
“Jasmine,” he said, his voice a hoarse whisper against the softness of the dusky hour. Before she realized his intentions, Storm reached across the car, crooking his fingers beneath her chin. He lifted her face to look at him. “Thank you for helping me today.”
She swallowed hard, not trusting herself to answer.
But she didn’t need to speak.
Storm’s actions spoke volumes, needing little interpretation. Leaning across the seat, he tenderly captured her mouth with his.
Jasmine’s lips trembled beneath his gentle kiss. Closing her eyes, she took in a shuddering breath, savoring the feel of his warm mouth against hers.
Seeming encouraged by her response, Storm slid his hand to the back of her neck, cradling her. Slowly, deliberately, he pulled her closer and deepened the kiss.
She gripped his shoulders, steadying herself, giving into the sweet sensations that flooded her body. Moist heat pooled in the pit of her stomach, sending out warm tendrils of awareness. Never before had sh
e felt such an intense longing for a man. Yet these new feelings didn’t scare her. Touching him, kissing him, wanting him, it all seemed as natural as taking a breath.
Tentatively, his tongue brushed her lips.
Without hesitation, she opened her mouth to his gentle demands. Twining her fingers through his thick strands of hair, she tugged him even closer.
Moaning, he glided his hands down the length of her back. His long fingers spanned her waist, measuring its narrow breadth. The heat of his palms burned through the thin material of her shirt, branding her with his touch.
Her strength abandoned her. Jasmine collapsed against him, losing all sense of caution and reason in the smoky haze of desire.
Impatiently he shifted his long legs, angling for a more comfortable position. In the process, he knocked his knee against the gear shift. The crack of bone against the metal bar sounded in the Jeep, splintering the intimate mood, bringing them both crashing back to reality.
Reluctantly Jasmine pushed away, giving herself a much-needed moment to cool her passion-heated senses.
What had she been thinking?
They were in the middle of a hotel parking lot, teetering on the verge of making love, their actions exposed for anyone to see. In a town the size of Whitehorn, gossip traveled fast. While she didn’t care about what others thought, she did care about her mother. Celeste didn’t know Jasmine had spent the day with Storm. All it would take was a simple phone call from a concerned “friend” for Celeste to know her daughter had lied to her once again.
“I need to go,” she said, with all the regret she felt in her heart.
Storm nodded, studying her flushed face. “We have a lot to talk about. When can I see you again?”
“Tomorrow,” she promised as his words raised the fine hairs on the back of her neck, signaling a reckless thrill of excitement. This time he’d made no pretense of using the hunt for Raven’s murderer as an excuse to see her. They were skirting dangerous territory. “Late morning, after break fast at the B and B.”
Storm nodded. With one last lingering look, he climbed out onto the pavement. Standing on the sidewalk, he watched as she started the engine and backed out of the parking lot.
With his gaze following her, Jasmine felt his presence as though he were still sitting next to her. She had never felt this way before, this overwhelmed by a man.
Little by little, Storm was letting down his defenses. They were getting closer by the minute. While encouraged, she tried not to let her hopes get too high, or to read too much into his actions.
In her heart she knew they were meant to be together. Today they’d taken a giant step toward forging a real relationship. But there were still too many obstacles standing in their way. Only time would tell if they could make this fledgling alliance last.
Storm stood outside his hotel room and watched until the tail lights of the Jeep faded into the dusky twilight. His heart beat so fast against his rib cage it felt as though it were about to explode. His lungs burned in his chest. Slowly he released the breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding.
She’d gotten to him somehow.
Despite his resolve to keep her at arm’s length, Jasmine had done what no other woman had ever accomplished. She’d broken through that protective shell he’d carefully erected around his heart. And she’d made him care.
Care about the future.
Care about her.
He hadn’t a clue what to do next.
Storm raked both hands through his hair, tucking the long strands behind his ears. Getting involved with a woman, especially a woman like Jasmine, hadn’t been in his plans. He’d come back to Whitehorn for one reason. And one reason alone.
To see that justice was done.
A justice that was thirty years past due.
The thought chilled him, cooling the heat of passion that raced like a fire through his veins. His brother had been murdered. He’d been brutally killed and his body dumped in an abandoned field. That was what had brought him back to Whitehorn.
Not the lure of a beautiful woman.
The fact that Jasmine was a member of the Kincaid family only complicated matters more. What he hadn’t been able to tell her on the way back into town was that he’d had another feeling while at the Kincaid ranch house. As soon as he’d walked through the doors of the study, he’d been overcome by the lingering presence of his brother’s soul. Storm had no doubt. He knew the study had been the last place his brother had been alive.
Which told him only one thing. A Kincaid had been involved in his brother’s murder.
A member of Jasmine’s own family.
Storm sucked in a steadying breath and inhaled the delicate scent of wild flowers, Jasmine’s scent. He moaned in frustration. Even with Jasmine miles away, his clothes still held the fragrant traces of their embrace. Steeling himself against the memory, he pressed his mouth in a resolute line and tasted the lingering sweetness of her lips.
He couldn’t stop thinking about her. Or wanting her.
But he had no choice.
Later, when he had time to sort through his feelings, he would decide what to do about Jasmine. For now there was something else that needed his attention.
He had a long overdue visit to pay.
Chapter Nine
With no street lights to guide him, the rough road leading into the Laughing Horse Reservation demanded all of his attention. The head lights of his car barely penetrated the thick darkness, making the potholes nearly impossible to see. Storm bounced over the ruts, wondering if the rented car’s shock absorbers would hold out over the rugged terrain.
His white-knuckled grip tightened around the leather-wrapped steering wheel as he fought to ease the tension that filled him. He’d thought coming back to the reservation would be easier the second time around. But he’d been wrong. The painful memories of his past were just as sharp now as they had been earlier this afternoon.
Even more so, now that Jasmine wasn’t beside him to ease the blow.
Being back on the reservation today and seeing the dilapidated house that had been his home, he’d been taken by surprise, rocked by the memories and shaken by unexpected emotions. And Jasmine…
Storm released a long, shaky breath. Jasmine had stood by him, waiting patiently for him to regain his control. Unlike most Anglos that he’d dealt with, she hadn’t demanded answers, demanded to know everything he was feeling. Instead she’d listened quietly, letting him be the judge of how much he’d wanted to reveal.
And reveal he had.
He’d spilled out his entire miserable childhood to her. Storm’s jaw clenched; his face warmed at the memory. Since leaving Whitehorn, he hadn’t spoken of his past to anyone else. Even now he didn’t understand why he’d felt the need to share it with Jasmine.
Or did he?
In the darkness the outline of the Tribal Center loomed up ahead, giving him an excuse to push his troubled thoughts aside. Storm slowed his car and eased into the parking lot. Turning off the ignition, he stared at the sprawling building. The huge complex housed the reservation’s tribal offices, including those of the tribal leader, Jackson Hawk.
Storm had known Jackson since childhood. Once they’d been friends. Though they’d lost contact over the years, Jackson had been the one to track him down in New Mexico to tell him of the discovery of Raven’s remains. Since his arrival in Whitehorn, however, Storm had only brief and impersonal contact with Jackson. His choice, not Jackson’s, he admitted, shifting uneasily in his seat. Until now they’d met on neutral ground, never on reservation land. Storm had carefully insulated himself from his past the best he could.
But that was about to change.
Gathering his wavering resolve, he opened the door of the car and stepped out into the night. The air felt cool, bracing. The reservation seemed inordinately quiet, as though the community had drawn a hushed breath at his arrival. Climbing the stairs of the building, he paused to read the black letters painted on the door
of the complex. Welcome To The Laughing Horse Tribal Center. Home Of The Northern Cheyenne Western Band.
Home. The cold palm of loneliness pressed its icy fingers against his back, chilling him. Laughing Horse had stopped being his home almost thirty years ago. Since then he’d lived and worked in New Mexico. But there he had no house, only an apartment. No family, since his job was his life. He had made no roots in the community to make it feel as though he truly belonged.
For the first time he realized he had no place to call his home.
Shaking off the bleak thought, Storm yanked open the door and stepped into the dimly lit building. A single light coming from an office down the hall marked his destination. His foot steps sounded too loud in the quiet building, making him feel as though he were an intruder. The weight of uncertainty pressed against his shoulders, slowing his step. Second thoughts eroded his confidence. His decision to come had been impulsive.
Perhaps he’d made a mistake.
Stopping just outside the doorway of the office, he peered inside. Jackson Hawk sat with his back to him, his long legs outstretched, his boot-clad feet propped on the sill of the window that over looked the reservation grounds. He wore faded jeans and a white T-shirt. Hardly appropriate attire for a tribal official. But as Storm recalled from their youth, Jackson had always been something of a rebel.
Jackson’s long black hair was pulled back into braids. From the reflection in the night-darkened window, Storm saw that his eyes were closed, the sharp features of his face relaxed. He hesitated in the doorway, debating whether or not to disturb the new tribal leader.
With his eyes still closed, Jackson murmured, “Well, Storm, my friend, are you staying or not?”
Storm flinched, the unexpectedness of the words startling him.
Smiling, Jackson opened his eyes. His feet hit the floor with a thud as he swiveled around to face him. “Don’t look so surprised. I haven’t turned psychic on you. Not yet, anyway.” His grin deepening, he motioned to the window. “I happened to be watching when you pulled that fancy car of yours into the lot.”
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