Alpha Warrior

by Aimée Thurlo

  She saw Nick lean back, still favoring his side, and knew he was hurting far more than he’d admit. Knowing that a little down time was all the help he’d accept, she said, “Get some rest. I’ll let you know when we reach the turnoff.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  They arrived at a cabin overlooking the western channel of Navajo Lake, Los Pinos River, a half hour later.

  “This is it,” Nick said, pointing to the narrow structure ahead, beneath a pine tree.

  As Nick walked up the rocky path, she watched him closely. He seemed steadier on his feet now. “I was really worried about you for a while, Nick. I thought you were purposely playing things down, and giving me the macho version of the story.”

  “The vest protected me, but I’m still sore.”

  He found the key at the usual spot and led the way inside. The place looked as if it hadn’t been used since summer.

  As he pulled the cover off the couch with one sweeping motion, he sucked in a ragged breath.

  Hearing it, she realized that he was worse off than he’d led her to believe and hurried to his side. “Let me make sure you don’t have a broken rib or two. I know what to look for. My ex-roommate was a med student,” she said. “Take off your jacket and vest so I can look you over.”

  “You can look me over anytime,” he said, but as he moved to slip out of his jacket, he winced.

  “Let me help you,” she said, gently.

  Bare chested, he sat as she ran her fingertips over the angry, deep red bruise on his side. “Keep this up, woman, and you’re going to get more of a response than you were expecting.”

  She refused to take the bait. “You took quite a jab, but there’s no sign of a break.”

  “As I told you, I’ll be black-and-blue for a while, but I’ll live. Satisfied?”

  She nodded. Nick was magnificent—all hard ridges and planes, and just the sight of him made her heart beat faster. She sighed softly, and as she looked up, saw that his gaze was focused on her. The intensity she saw in his eyes made a shiver course up her spine. She took a step back, but before she could take another, Nick pulled her into his arms and took her mouth in a deep and possessive kiss that shook her to the core.

  His body was hard and hot, and she held on to him, her head spinning with emotions. He was all passion and fire, and she gave herself to him, welcoming all his demands.

  Tearing his mouth from hers a lifetime later, he took a breath and cursed. “You make me crazy,” he growled. “But, woman, if you ever pull another stunt like the one you did today, I’ll shoot you myself. Do you hear me? It’s my job to keep you safe, not vice versa. You deliberately ran in the path of that load of steel to knock me aside. If anything had happened to you…” He shook his head, then in a low voice, added, “It would have killed me.”

  “But you would have done the same for me!”

  “Yes, but it’s my job,” he said, then grabbed his sweater and vest and put them back on.

  “I won’t just stand by and let you get hurt if I can do something to stop it.”

  There had been no particular emphasis in her voice, and perhaps that was why her simple words cut him to the core. As he gazed into her eyes, he felt something dark stirring inside him. He knew he could take her, right here, right now, but honor demanded more from him.

  “I want you. You know that. But we can’t keep doing this,” Nick said, widening the gap between them.

  “Why not? We’re both adults,” she said, moving toward him.

  “Because your real needs go beyond moments, and in the end I’ll hurt you. There’s a darkness inside me that destroys whatever it touches,” he said, moving to the other end of the room, then turning to face her.

  “When I look at you, I see the beautiful man you really are, Nick.”

  “The difference between us is that I’ve fought too many battles, and I’ve got too many scars to believe in dreams.”

  “Do you regret what happened between us?” Drew managed to say, her voice unsteady.

  “I wanted you, but I’m not sure you realize the consequences.” It was at that very moment that he saw her heart break.

  Tears filled her eyes, but, in a heartbeat, anger smothered her pain. “How dare you tell me what I should have done or felt! Do you think I’m incapable of deciding what’s right for me just because you were the first man I was with? I made my choice freely. You didn’t force me into anything. I’m sorry your ego can’t handle the truth.”

  “I can handle you, and any spin you want to put on what happened between us,” Nick said, his voice hard, his eyes boring through her. “I was only trying—”

  “To put me on a safe little pedestal, to turn me into someone better loved from afar—mostly because that’s what you’re comfortable with. That way you can avoid all those complicated emotions that come with caring about someone.”

  “I care.”

  As she turned away, he reached out and pulled her back into his arms. His mouth was savage as it took hers, forcing her lips to open and surrender to him. Her tiny whimpers told him that she needed and wanted him, and that knowledge fueled the fires raging inside him.

  Dark pleasures began to overwhelm his rational thoughts. Only one thing penetrated that fog—those beeps….

  The annoying, insistent sound broke through to him, and he suddenly realized his phone was ringing. Cursing, he moved away from her and answered it. “Yeah,” he growled.

  “We have no usable prints from the crane, interior or exterior,” Travis said. “The real operator was at Petra’s, eating lunch, and several people backed up his story. Officers are still canvassing the street, looking for possible witnesses to the incident. I took a dozen or so photos of the construction crew, hoping one of you might recognize a face and give us a lead. I’d send them to you now, but they’re really poor quality. I’d like to get to my work station and clean them up a little first, then print them out.”

  “That makes sense. Where are you?” Nick asked.

  “I’m watching the River Walk Campground, but no one’s shown up here or at The Painted Dove.”

  “Can you get someone you trust to cover for you, bro? I’d like those photos ASAP. It would best if we could meet, preferably somewhere away from the station, at a spot where an Anglo would stick out like a sore thumb.”

  “How about the Harvest Dance at the community center in Rattlesnake,” Travis said. “It’s tonight.”

  “Great idea,” Nick said. “I’ll meet you by Begay’s concession stand.”

  Nick hung up, grabbed his jacket and headed to the door. “Come on. It’s time to leave. I’ll fill you in on the plan once we get on the road.”

  “IT’S REALLY CROWDED HERE,” Drew said as Nick drove into the graveled parking lot that circled the Rattlesnake community center.

  Young people wearing jeans and western-cut shirts, and older ones wearing the traditional velour shirts and long skirts, were all around them, most heading quickly toward the warmth of the large facility.

  “It’s a celebration that brings in people from as far away as Gallup and Teec Nos Pos.”

  Nick led her into the combination basketball gym, auditorium and recreation center—a cinder-block building with a high ceiling. People were laughing, eating and slow-dancing next to the elevated bandstand, where a country and western group was playing.

  Nick and Drew stayed close to the wall, easing around the edge of the crowd until they caught up to Travis near a concession stand.

  Travis greeted them, and standing below one of the lights, showed his brother the photos.

  “None of those fit the guy I saw,” Nick said, keeping his arm around Drew’s waist, holding her close. Feeling her tense up, he glanced at her. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m getting a real bad feeling,” she answered, leaning over so he could hear her above the din. “We’re being watched. Can’t you feel it?”

  Nick stopped, and making sure they had their backs to the wall, studied the sea of faces aro
und them.

  “What do you want to do now?” Travis asked Nick.

  “Look for Anglos.” Nick paused for a moment, then smiled slowly. “I’ve got an idea. My Navajo’s a little rusty, but do you remember how to say ‘she’s dead’?”

  Travis smiled. “Excellent plan,” he answered, filling in the gaps of Nick’s plan. “If I yell that out in Navajo, The People will move back to avoid the chindi. The ones left up close will either be Anglo or health workers.”

  “Exactly,” Nick said. “So, can you translate it?”

  “There’s no direct translation. The closest I can get to it is bi adin doo holo da. Basically, that translates to ‘she does not exist’,” Travis said. “But if there’s an Anglo on your tail, he’s suddenly going to find himself standing all alone.”

  “Bro, if she says he’s here, you can count on it.”

  Travis gave Drew a smile. “You may yet get my brother to believe in something he can’t see or touch.”

  “And now back to reality, folks,” Nick snapped. “Let’s push our way into the middle of the crowd, then do this during the pause between songs.”

  “Will people hurt themselves trying to get away?” she asked.

  “No. It’s not like that. They’ll head for the exits because they won’t want to be around, but it’s not a panic type of thing,” Travis said.

  They worked their way across the room until they were in the thick of the crowd, then, as the final note from the lead guitar ended, Drew clutched her chest and dropped to the floor.

  When Travis yelled out the phrase, people quickly stepped back, most turning away, and put distance between themselves and Drew. One solitary Anglo man, wearing a hooded jacket, remained in place, looking confused and trying to figure out what was going on.

  “Gotcha,” Nick muttered under his breath, closing in on him.

  Drew sat up. “I’m okay, everyone. I just slipped!” she told the crowd.

  The Anglo man suddenly pulled a knife from his jacket pocket and opened it with a flick of his wrist. The wicked-looking six-inch blade gleamed as he rushed at Drew, but Nick cut him off, barely avoiding a wild swipe of the blade.

  The men circled each other, the knife-wielding man slicing the air before him, keeping Nick at a distance. Suddenly, with a cry that made Drew gasp, the man lunged with the knife. Nick grabbed his wrist, twisted, and the knife dropped to the floor. Unarmed, the man spun and tackled Nick to the floor. On his back, Nick twisted side to side, blocking several more punches as they thrashed around, grunting loudly as he moved.

  “He needs help!” Drew said, looking at Travis. “His ribs are killing him.”

  “Naw. He can’t shake it off. This is his collar. Nick can take him.” Glancing back at her, he grinned. “It’s a guy thing.”

  Nick faked a left/right combination, and as the man flinched, Nick slid underneath and swept the man’s legs from under him. Pinning him facedown on the floor, Nick quickly cuffed him as Travis picked up the knife.

  The crowd drew closer, but their eyes were on Drew, not on Nick and his prisoner.

  Travis brought out his badge and held it high as he spoke. “She fainted from hunger. Anyone have a bowl of mutton stew?”

  There was some nervous laughter, then the attention shifted to Nick, who turned the handcuffed man over to two tribal police officers.

  “I’d like the chance to question the subject,” Nick said, as Drew and Travis joined him.

  “At the station,” one of the officers answered, leading the way outside.

  Travis identified himself. “I’d like the chance to ride over with my brother, so we can pool what we’ve learned about the suspect. It’ll help when he’s questioned. Could one of your officers bring his Jeep to the station?” Travis held out the keys, pointing out the vehicle at the same time.

  “Sure. I’ll leave it in a visitor’s slot,” one of the tribal officers said, taking the keys.

  As they walked across the parking lot, Drew thought about Nick. Life had turned him into a warrior who lived only in the moment—a man who was always ready to fight for what he believed in. But his unbreakable bond to the past meant he’d never be free to build a new future for himself.

  The knowledge weighed heavily on her. Somewhere along the way, she’d fallen in love with a cop, repeating the mistake her mother and her aunt had made. Loving a man who wore a badge meant dying a little each time he was late, and risking everything that mattered most each and every day. She already knew what it was like to be the one left behind. She wouldn’t go through that again. Yet, there was no turning off her heart.

  Feeling bewildered at how things had gotten this crazy, she didn’t realize Travis was speaking to her.

  “You okay?” Travis asked, nudging her slightly as they reached the pickup.

  “You should be asking Nick that,” she answered, climbing in.

  “He’s a hundred percent,” Travis said, with an easy grin. “A cop that can’t take a punch to the jaw needs to find a new job. Right, bro?”

  Nick, who’d gone around to the driver’s side, guffawed. “I’m fine except for my aching ribs. He never really connected. But that guy had some training at one point or another.”

  Travis motioned for Drew to slide over to the middle so he could get in as well. “He sure knew how to handle a knife. And he managed to get real close before we spotted him.”

  “Yeah, and he’s good with a pistol, too. I’m ninety percent sure that he’s the guy who shot Marc Lassen.”

  “If he’s the one who killed that boy, then he also has at least some of the answers we need,” Drew said.

  “He probably does, but a professional hit man will know to keep his mouth shut,” Nick said. “We’ll need to find some leverage.”

  Nick drove north to the highway, then turned east on the main road, heading toward the police station in Shiprock.

  “That man’s face was familiar to me, but not from the shooting,” Drew said. “I’ve seen him before. I just can’t figure out where.”

  Both men immediately looked at her. “Is he your stalker?” Nick asked. “From the mall?”

  “No. He’s too tall. But there’s still something about this guy….”

  WHEN THEY ARRIVED AT THE Navajo tribal police station, they were waved down the hall to the interview rooms. Leaving Drew by the two-way mirror, Nick and Travis met the Navajo detective who’d just been assigned the case.

  After giving Detective Nakai some background on recent incidents, they entered the room. The speaker was on, and Drew could hear them clearly.

  “What’s your name?” Nick asked, after the prisoner was re-advised of his rights.

  “Eric Goodwin,” he answered.

  “That’s what your driver’s license says, but Eric Goodwin doesn’t exist,” Detective Nakai said. “Well, he did once, but he died before his first birthday. Try again.”

  The suspect sat back and stared at them wordlessly.

  “We’ll have the answers soon enough,” Detective Nakai said. “You’ve tried to burn off your fingerprints, but we’ll be running you through a facial-recognition program. I’m guessing we’ll be getting a hit before too long.”

  “Knock yourself out,” the man replied, with a smile.

  “How long have you been tailing me?” Nick asked.

  “Why? You want to believe you’re not as big a screwup as you really are?”

  Nick reached across the table for him, but Travis pulled his brother back.

  “Tsk, tsk. Such manners,” the man said. “And you call yourself a Marine? Show a little dignity.”

  Nick stepped away from Travis, his focus on the suspect again. “You know who I am?”

  “Oh yeah. You’re the hero Marine. Tell me how many real Americans got blown away so you could wear some ribbons on your chest? Sounds to me like all you did was set them up to die.”

  Nick’s expression didn’t change. “What about you—any medals, or just a police record?”

  “Hey, I
figured you, of all people, would know a lot more about me.”

  “Do we have a personal beef I don’t know about?”

  “None of my work is personal. I was hired to follow you and that’s what I’ve been doing for the past few days.”

  “Hired by whom?” Nakai pressed.

  “Don’t know, don’t care. Money’s money.”

  “How did you get paid?” Travis pushed.

  “Cash? Offshore bank account? You’ll never know.”

  “What exactly were you paid to do—besides kill Marc Lassen?” Nick demanded. The prisoner never even blinked.

  “Who?” he answered, at long last.

  Nick slammed his fist down so hard on the table it actually shook, despite being bolted down. He wasn’t angry, he’d wanted to rattle the suspect. Instead, all the man did was roll his eyes.

  “You know who I’m talking about,” Nick yelled.

  “No. Actually, I don’t. But I think it’s time for me to stop cooperating. An attorney’s on his way here. You can direct your questions at him.”

  “We’re done. Might as well process him,” Nick told Nakai. “The county D.A. will have a stack of charges by morning.”

  As Detective Nakai escorted the prisoner past her, Drew studied his face closely.

  “Have you figured out where you’ve seen him before?” Nick asked.

  She shook her head. “He’s nobody I see routinely, but I have seen him, and not too long ago. I’m sure of it.”

  Before they could reach the exit, Detective Nakai called out, then jogged down the hall to join them.

  “His fingers are so clean, it’s got to be the work of acid. But we found one distinguishing mark. It’s an almost imperceptible scar on his left index finger,” Nakai said.

  “It runs diagonally?” Nick asked, instantly.

  The officer nodded. “Yeah. How did you know?”

  “I didn’t, but before I got put on this case, I was working to ID an arms dealer who operates in this area—calls himself Coyote. The one dependable lead I got was that the dealer’s cleanup boy was a guy without prints. My informant said that he did whatever his boss wanted done—wet work, black bag jobs, explosives, the whole nine yards.”