Kylie Brant - The Last Warrior

Changing the subject, she asked curiously, “So what did you find out from…William, was it?”

Joe nodded, the sunglasses he wore shielding his eyes. “Cowboy’s grandson. Seems ol’ Billy worked himself a private deal with someone a couple years ago. He claims he leased that section of land to some stranger who approached him. Only saw him the once and can’t give a description of him.”

“Convenient,” she muttered. “Do you believe him?”

It took a while for Joe to answer. “For now, anyway. William was sent up for operating a chop shop in Flagstaff. He’d steal a vehicle, disassemble it and sell the parts. Strictly small-time. Maybe had another guy or two working with him when he was busted. Had the bad luck of stealing the mayor of Flagstaff’s new Porsche.”

“But you found lots of tracks at the site, you said.”

“Probably a pickup, and at least one large van or panel truck. ATVs. But nothing that would lead me to believe William was operating in that area. Why would he? He’s got it made now, living a pretty easy life for very little work, just pretending to take care of Cowboy.”

Delaney frowned. She didn’t like the idea of the remarkable man she’d just met being taken advantage of, even by family. “I think you should have brought him in,” she said firmly. “Put a scare in him at least.”

He threw her an amused glance. “So now you’re Miss-demeanor?”

She made a face. “He might know something. Maybe if you had that picture I started for you, the one you were going to…” A folded-up paper landed in her lap. Unfolding it, she studied the composite the police artist had completed. “So now what?”

“Our mug files have been computerized for a few years now. I’ll feed in a composite sketch and the computer compares it to the mug shot database, using a standard composite program. I just haven’t had time to sit down with it.”

When she made an impressed sound, one corner of his mouth curved. “Our federal tax dollars at work. Someone wrote a grant. Yet we still have a hard time getting radios that work and run-flat tires for the police vehicles.”

“So when do you think that you’ll get around to matching the sketch?”

“You’re as bad as Taos,” he muttered. “I could go back and do it tonight. I’m getting used to going without sleep.”

“You don’t have to do that,” she responded mildly. She waited a beat. “Tomorrow will be soon enough.” Laughing at his expression, she continued, “I’ve got a date tomorrow with the guide the council was kind enough to provide me with. The way I understand it, I can use him for any tour I want to take on Navajo Nation lands, which will make things a lot easier for me.”

“Like I said, you’ve got a powerful friend. Taos is protecting his investment.”

His tone hardened with the last statement, and Delaney glanced at him curiously. “Taos? What investment?”

“You can’t afford to be naive. The council bucked a lot of public resentment by bringing a non-Navajo in here to write a book on our culture that could have been done by a tribe member.”

So they were back to that again. Straightening, she set her feet on the floor. “Forgive me for believing that my experience in photojournalism and my résumé can’t be duplicated, despite my lack of bloodline.”

There was impatience in the look he threw her, but something else, as well. Something that may have been concern. “That’s right, it can’t be duplicated. They’re using you, Delaney. Banking on the publicity your next project is going to bring, counting on the fact that the publishing world is going to pay major money to snap up anything you decide to write, and that millions of readers are going to want to get their hands on it.”

Lifting a shoulder, she wondered at the tinge of bitterness in his words. “That’s the way my world works, Joe. You spend years clawing and scratching, hoping to get to this point. If you’re fortunate, you get there through sheer talent, but there are lots of people in the field just as talented, just as driven. So sometimes circumstances, or sometimes just dumb luck, lands a person at the top. In the end it doesn’t matter how I got here because now publishers are calling my agent, not the other way around. Of course the council is looking at the money and publicity this project stands to bring the tribe. Anyone who hires me at this point in my career is banking on the same thing.”

“And how will the publicity affect you?”

Puzzled, she turned in her seat to face him. “What do you mean?”

The look he gave her was grim. “I know how the press works. There will be…what do you call them, book tours? And interviews?”

“If my agent and publicist do their jobs, yes.”

“And the interviewers won’t just talk about your newest project, they’ll drag up your experiences in Baghdad, rake up the past. Why would you willingly put yourself in that situation? Don’t try to tell me it isn’t going to bother you. I’ve seen just how powerful those memories are, remember.”

There was a spurt of anger at the reminder. Yes, he’d seen her weak and vulnerable, and he’d never realize just how deeply that sliced. No one, not even her family, had ever known how close to the precipice she’d been at times, how little it would have taken to send her toppling over the edge.

Delaney didn’t speak until she could be certain her voice would be steady. “I can handle that when it happens. Maybe you don’t believe it, but I’m stronger, a lot stronger, than you give me credit for.” He didn’t have to know about the demons that still lingered in the night or her despair at recently realizing that she was not nearly as close to vanquishing them as she’d believed. “I don’t fault the council for wanting to cash in on all the publicity my name can bring them. They made a good business decision, the right one for all concerned.”

“Was it?” There was a bite to his words. “So who’s concerned about you, Delaney? Who’s looking out for what’s best for you?”

Stunned, she could only stare at him. She’d thought this conversation had stemmed from his disagreement with the council’s decision. But now…she could almost believe he sounded worried. About her.

Dusk was falling. He reached up to take off the dark glasses, folded them and stuffed them with just a little more force than necessary into place on the visor. “Just don’t pretend that this won’t cost you anything. Not with me.”

Something unfurled in her chest and her lips curved. “Well, Joe Youngblood. Careful, or you’ll have me thinking you’re concerned on my behalf.” The look he shot her was dangerous, but she just settled back, enjoying the crazy glow spreading through her system.

And it was crazy, she acknowledged freely. Crazy to be attracted to a man with whom there was no future. They had no connection, other than a chemistry that sparked to life every time they were together for more than a few minutes.

She’d seen a therapist for months when she returned to the States. He accused her of trying to exert control over her world because events in it had so rapidly rendered her helpless. Maybe he was right. Maybe she was seeing complications where none existed.

Despite what Joe thought, she was very, very good at protecting herself. But that didn’t mean she didn’t appreciate his showing a little protectiveness on her behalf.

The rest of the ride was accomplished in silence. But when Joe pulled up in front of her house and placed the vehicle in Park, Delaney slid toward him, slipped a hand along his jaw and pulled his head down to hers. She could feel the surprise in him, the sudden tension that spoke of wariness or something else. She didn’t try to identify it.