by Aimée Thurlo
Maybe this kind of lifestyle was right for him, but she hated every second of it. It was a horrible nightmare come to life. Rather than waiting patiently for the library position to open up so she could follow her dream, she was now running for her life.
How had things suddenly become so crazy? She’d never been one for adventure. She wanted a nice, quiet, predictable life—qualities she’d never known growing up. Now here she was, involved in a high-stakes investigation, where one wrong move could mean death.
“Fate always has the last word, doesn’t it?” she whispered.
“I’ve learned the hard way never to count on anything except for the here and now.” He parked in a circle of gravel where the road came to a dead end. “Welcome to my place.”
She could see nothing ahead except thick junipers, sandstone boulders, and an empty arroyo. “You live underground, or do you camp out?”
“No, it’s right through those junipers. We bought that old ranch house after we left the Corps. The place is perfect for two cops who plan to remain bachelors for life,” he said with a grin. As they got out, he added, “Watch out for Crusher.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“He’s a dog the size of a horse, and he has the run of the property. He looks a little intimidating, but he’s not mean, so don’t worry,” he said. “Someone dumped the mutt on the side of the highway back at the turnoff one night, and Travis picked him up after he wandered into the beam of his headlights.” He grinned at her. “My brother’s the softie in the family.”
“I’ll be sure to tell him you said that when I meet him.”
Nick burst out laughing. “Let’s go.”
He led the way up a rocky pathway. As they came to the end of the trail, she saw what looked to be a large cabin—or lodge. The house was made of pine logs, and with the green metal roof, it fit into the hillside as naturally as the trees around it.
“My brother may have kept Crusher inside. The ground’s still damp from a cold rain we had the other night, and the dog tends to track in tons of mud.” He unlocked the front door, stepped in front of her, and led the way inside.
“I thought you said the dog wasn’t mean,” she said quickly.
“He’s not,” he said, then glanced back at her. “Are you worried because I came in first, or do you think I’m just rude?” Seeing her hesitate, he grinned. “Navajo men are taught to enter a room before a woman does. I know Anglo men have the opposite custom—ladies first—but we look at it a little differently. If there’s danger, the man should be the one to face it, instead of sending the woman ahead as cannon fodder.”
She laughed. “I never thought of it that way.”
Drew suddenly heard what sounded like the two-beat stride of a galloping horse, then a moment later, a giant black dog, with the jowls of a mastiff and the body of a bear, rushed out of an adjoining room. He crashed into Nick, rocking him back on his boot heels.
The beast must have weighed a hundred and fifty pounds, but Nick lifted it off the ground in a giant hug. “Hey, Crusher.” He set the dog down, wrestled the stuffed toy from its mouth, and threw it back down the hall.
The whole scene was so unlike the dark, dangerous warrior she’d spent time with, she had to laugh.
A few seconds later, another Navajo man entered through the backdoor of the house and walked into the kitchen. He was a little taller than Nick, and wore a leather pouch at his belt, next to his holster. A small fetish hung from his neck on a leather string. As he got close, she recognized the carving of a hawk. The dog greeted him instantly and enthusiastically.
“This is my brother. He follows the ways of our tribe, so we’ll avoid using his name,” Nick said.
“Names aren’t allowed? Why? Do you mind if I ask?”
Travis answered her. “Names have power that belongs to their bearer. Using a name too often is said to drain that strength.”
As she looked at the two brothers side-by-side, she noted that there wasn’t much of a physical resemblance between them, except their high cheekbones. But they definitely had other things in common. They both had an air of unshakable confidence—and the physical attributes and intelligent eyes to back it up.
“Hey, Crusher, I brought you a present,” Travis said, fondly, bending down and giving the animal a knotted rawhide bone.
“His name doesn’t count?” Drew asked.
“Crusher’s his nickname. His real name’s a secret,” Travis replied, grinning, then glanced at his brother. “So, what are your plans?”
“We’re going to spend the night here,” Nick said.
“Roger that. I’ve got the graveyard shift tonight, so you’ll have the place to yourselves. But don’t worry. Crusher will make sure you don’t get any unexpected company.”
“Are you sticking around for a while, or taking off again?” Nick asked.
“I’m heading back to town. I’m meeting one of my informants.” Travis left and they heard the front door slam and click shut.
“Let me give you a quick tour,” Nick said. He led Drew down the hall and into a large room that had been converted into a well-equipped gym. It held everything from boxing training equipment to floor mats, a weight bench, and at least three hundred pounds of barbells and weights.
“My brother and I like to stay in shape,” he said, following her gaze.
“You’ve succeeded admirably,” she said, then realized she’d spoken out loud. “I mean, I can see you’re both in good shape.”
He grinned slowly.
The purely masculine gesture tore through her like a jolt of electricity. She looked away and pretended to be fascinated by his gym equipment. Not that she was fooling anyone. He knew precisely how he affected her.
Drew strolled to the door, then glanced back at Nick. “Where to next?”
He led her to the end of the hall and showed her his room. It was sparse—nothing hung on the honey-colored log walls. The full-size oak bed in the middle was neatly made, but there was no bedspread.
“No photos,” she said, casually glancing at the walls.
“Other than my brother, there’s very little about my past that I want to remember.”
She gave him a surprised look, but he shook his head, signaling her to drop it. Reluctantly accepting his request, she did.
Next, Nick showed her Travis’s room. There were several fetishes dusted with pollen on the dresser, but little else.
As they passed through the hall again, Drew slowed down to take one more glance at the gym. Then, on the spur of the moment, she went inside. She walked to the heavy boxing bag, lifted one hand, and gave it a light punch. The bag didn’t even move.
“I know men work their problems out on these things, but it doesn’t seem very satisfying,” she said. “Maybe if you put in one of those voice boxes so it would scream when you hit it…”
He laughed and came closer. “The problem is that you didn’t really punch it. You tapped it. But considering the way you make a fist, that was probably a good thing.”
“A fist is a fist,” she said, raising her curled hand. “What are you talking about?”
“If you curl your fingers around your thumb like that, you’ll end up breaking or dislocating the bone.” He took her hand in both of his and curled her fingers while holding her thumb out. “Now curb your thumb around the outside of your fist, so that the tip of your thumb touches the middle joint of your ring finger,” he said. “Like this,” he added, demonstrating.
She tried to focus on his instructions, not the way his touch had made everything inside her soften and yearn for more. Forcing herself to concentrate, she stood inches from the bag, bent her wrist and tapped it again.
“Keep your wrist straight and strike with your knuckles, not your fingers. When you punch the bag, you want to deliver a blow that uses more than just your hand and your arm. You want to put the power of your entire body into it.” He demonstrated, and the bag shook like it had been struck by a cannonball. “Now you try. Punch straight in.”
“Put your shoulder and your entire arm behind the blow,” he said.
This time when she hit the bag, it swayed slightly. “I never stopped to think about it, but when you punch something, your hand hurts.”
He chuckled. “Sure it does. It’s not a TV show with sneaky camera angles, or one of those pro wrestling matches, where they pull their punches. In a fight, winning means hurting the bad guy more than he hurts you.”
Following his instructions, she took several more swings at the punching bag.
“That’s not bad for a first-timer,” he said. “You’ve got good instincts, and you’re in good shape.”
“For all the good it did me when those two guys came after me,” she muttered, punching the bag again.
“You kicked and hit where it hurts most, then you got away. That round was yours.”
“Luck was on my side. But what if it isn’t next time?” she asked, then shook her head. “I hate being scared.”
“You’re afraid because you’re not sure that you’ll be able to defend yourself if they came at you again. Why don’t you let me teach you a few moves?”
“That would be great. Although my dad and uncle taught me a bit about guns, I don’t think I could ever shoot anyone.”
“If you have to point a gun, you also have to be ready to pull the trigger. If you’re not, then don’t pick up the weapon.”
“A weapon isn’t a good option for me,” she admitted, “but I hate feeling helpless or totally dependent on someone else in a crisis. I need to find some method of self-defense that’ll work for me.” She stared at the punching bag and sighed. “If I have to depend on punching someone, I’m in trouble, too. I may get a lucky hit, but I’m no boxer.”
He studied her for a moment and realized that she was right. She didn’t have the upper body strength required to do real damage to an opponent who outweighed her by fifty pounds or more. “I know you’ve been taught a few useful hand-to-hand combat techniques, or you wouldn’t have been able to break free from the pair who tried to grab you,” he said, trying to come up with a strategy that would fit Drew’s strength and personality.
“I know about kicking, and aiming for the eyes, nose, throat and groin. My uncle taught me those.”
“Those are all good moves,” Nick agreed.
“But they all require me to be facing my opponent squarely, and that’s not always possible. When I’m not my facing my enemy, is there anything I can do?”
“Tell me something first. How exactly did you break their initial hold?”
“I sagged, like I was fainting, then I twisted free. They got my overcoat instead, remember?”
“Instinctive and good.”
“But mostly luck.”
“Okay, let’s start with a few basics and move on from there. Kick off your shoes,” he said, slipping out of his boots, then leading her to the mat.
She’d barely taken a step onto the soft surface when he suddenly swept her legs out from under her.
She fell down hard on her bottom, and it took her a moment to catch her breath. “You cheated! You never even gave me a chance.”
“Your first lesson is to always watch your opponent.”
“But you never—”
“Warned you? Bad guys cheat. You won’t see it coming unless you’re looking for it. Stay alert for subtle signs,” he said.
Nick stepped back, waited for a second or two, then moved to sweep her legs out from under her again, but before he made contact she jumped aside.
“Good! You were looking for little clues, like my body tensing up.” Before he’d even finished speaking, he hooked his leg behind hers and swept it out from under her in a lightning-fast move.
Drew fell down hard, but this time he didn’t give her a chance to recover. He instantly straddled her and captured both her hands, pinning her to the mat.
In that breathless moment, she became acutely aware of everything about him. His calloused hands were strong, keeping her trapped, but gentle enough not to hurt her. As she gazed at him, her mouth dry, Nick shifted slightly, and she suddenly felt his hardness press against her center. She drew in a shaky breath.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said, in a jagged whisper.
For a moment she couldn’t speak, all she could do was feel. He was all heat…and magic.
“If you’d say yes…” he murmured.
She was drowning in his gaze. Although she’d always been strong, she was losing this fight…with herself. “Stop it,” she managed, her voice unsteady. “You’re supposed to be teaching me how to fight.”
He remained where he was a moment longer, then stood and offered her a hand up.
“Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” she said, her heart still racing.
“We’re just getting started…unless you can’t handle it,” he added.
The unbelievable smugness in his voice was irritating. He was issuing a challenge, and she wasn’t going to back down.
“I can handle you,” she said, softly. Drew slowly reached for his hand, allowing him to think she had something else in mind—then swept his legs out from under him.
He crashed to the mat, rolled, and came up to face her again. “Nice move,” he said, his eyes sparkling with an inner fire.
The sotto timber of his voice sang to her, awakening a side of her that had lain dormant all her life. She’d never made love, never even been truly tempted; but as she gazed into Nick’s eyes, she felt a pull that was stronger than anything she’d ever known.
For a brief eternity, she remained riveted by the world she saw reflected in his eyes. Passion defined him. Then, using every shred of willpower she possessed, she tore her gaze free and stepped back, making more room between them.
Not allowing her time for second thoughts, Nick continued in his instructor’s voice. “Turn around. I’m going to teach you what to do if they come at you from behind. It’s a move that’s guaranteed to work.”
Nick wrapped his arm lightly around her in a pseudo choke hold. “The most important element is speed and surprise.”
“You mean when I try to tear away?”
“No, that’s precisely what you should not do. If you try to break free, the person holding you will just tighten his hold,” he said. “I’m going to take you through this step-by-step, slowly, so you can get the idea. Think of the word s-i-n-g. First, bend your arm, and slam your elbow into your opponent’s solar plexus, then stomp down on his instep. As he doubles up, make a fist and smash his nose like so,” he said, covering her fist with his own and bringing it back toward his face. “Lastly, bring your arm down and punch his groin,” he said, guiding her hand downward.
As her fist brushed his groin, he drew in a sharp breath.
She sighed and instinctively leaned back into him. The hardness of his body and the gentleness of his touch were a powerful, enticing combination that whispered of forbidden pleasures and promises in the dark.
“Once the case is closed, then there’ll be time for us,” he whispered in her ear, then eased his hold, allowing her to turn around.
“No, Nick. There is no us,” she said, stepping farther away from him. “Police officers and their tangled lives are part of my past, not my future.”
Despite her brave words, the slow gentle smile he gave her made her tingle all the way down to her toes.
“Never say never. You might change your mind.”
“You overestimate yourself,” she said, refusing to back down. Yet, even as she spoke, temptation remained, teasing her imagination with a million what-ifs.
Chapter Eight
“So, what’s the plan?” Drew asked, taking a seat.
“You’ll go in ahead of me, but I’ll have you covered all the way.”
Nick’s phone rang and he grabbed it before the second ring. He asked the caller if he could put him on speaker, then did so.
Drew heard Koval’s voice clearly.
“I’ve
gone through the surveillance video at the mall, covering the time and day Ms. Simmons reported her stalker,” he said. “The feed still doesn’t give us anything conclusive. I spotted a guy in a baseball cap and jacket sitting at one of the benches. While she’s talking to the guard, he gets up, buys a soft drink at one of the stands, then leaves before the guard can catch up to him.”
“That doesn’t sound like someone making an escape,” Nick said. “Were you able to make out any part of the suspect’s face?”
“No. The cap he wore pretty much took care of that. All I know for sure is that he was clean shaven. I spoke to the guy at the soft drink stand, but he wasn’t any help,” Koval said. “Are we on schedule for tonight?”
“Yeah. We’ll set out in another half hour,” Nick said.
“Give me a heads up when you get here, Blacksheep.”
“Copy that,” he said, hanging up.
“Okay. Let’s get this thing into motion,” she said, standing. “Nothing like an early start.”
He gazed at her for several seconds. The look was penetrating and disturbing.
“What?” she asked, at last.
“Are you really that uncomfortable here?”
“This is your turf,” she said, then shrugged. “I don’t belong here.”
It was her tone that gave away far more than she’d realized. “And that’s important to you…belonging?”
“Yeah, it is,” she admitted. “You have your tribe, your clan, your beliefs, even your work as an officer on a police force—a team. All that defines you. What defines me is my love of books and my home. I can’t wait to sit behind my desk at the library. That’ll be the final payoff for me.”
“We have something in common. We both paid a price to get where we are today, and found careers that suit us. Getting into police work was the best decision I ever made.”
“You need that walk on the edge to be happy,” Drew said with a nod. “I saw that same trait in my father and uncle. But I’ve already lived through more than my share of uncertainty. I’m planning to build a very different kind of life for myself.”
“The kind someone like me can never be part of,” he observed, quietly.