Kylie Brant: The Last Warrior

Delaney placed her hands on the desk on either side of her hips and clutched the surface, hard. If this was her long-dormant femininity stirring awake, it had lousy timing. And taste in men.

Navajo Nation President Frank Taos had warned her when she’d agreed to this project that some tribal members were opposed to her hiring. It went without saying that Joseph Youngblood was one of them. He couldn’t have made it more obvious that he didn’t want her here.

“So what are you going to do about that?”

She blinked. “What?”

“You’re going to need a vehicle to get around in, aren’t you?”

Oh. That. She moistened her lips. “I’ve got a dealership delivering an SUV tomorrow morning. Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself.”

He lifted a brow sardonically. Considering it was the first real emotion she’d read on his face, it was too bad it made her want to smack him.

“Okay, so you waltzed in here unnoticed,” she conceded. “But unless you have more keys stashed outside, I should be safe now.”

He said nothing, just surveyed her with an implacable stare that had heat crawling across her skin. After a long moment he gave a curt nod. “Lock the door after me.” And with a few long strides he was gone, the door closing quietly behind him.

She let out a slow shaky breath. Movements strangely wooden, she lurched to the door to lock it and secure the dead bolt.

She turned back to the small living area. The whole episode had rattled her. She could admit that without feeling weak. But there was a lingering sense of vulnerability that was as unwelcome as the man who’d just left. And that wasn’t acceptable at all.

Delaney rubbed her arms with her hands, resolutely heading back to the office. It wasn’t Youngblood’s hostility that bothered her. She’d been covering bloody conflicts in countries all over the world for far too long to shy away from one man’s displeasure. It was Youngblood himself that gave her pause.

It had been a long time since she’d felt that aware of a man. And given that it was a man she was pretty sure she didn’t even like, it was an unwanted complication.

Sitting back down in front of the computer, she tried to focus. There was something to be said for the numbed cocoon in which she’d spent much of the last two years. Something comfortable in a solitary existence free of expectations. She was ready to rejoin the world. She was certain of that. What she was less certain of was her readiness-willingness-to reexperience all the sensations that came with it.

She couldn’t identify the individual emotions that had reared up in the last ten minutes. Didn’t want to. It was so much safer to wall them off, to keep a distance from feelings that could suck you in, suck you dry.

She typed a command into the computer and waited for a photo to print. Distance was safe. Smart. She could do her job. She could live her life. But she didn’t have to give in to that dark tangle of human need that seemed to impose pain far more frequently than pleasure. She hadn’t left her self-imposed exile until she’d been damned sure the defenses around her emotions were as stalwart as a fireproof vault.

And she was going to do everything in her power to keep them that way.

As Delaney nosed her leased red Jeep down the highway and picked up speed, her spirits lifted accordingly. When she’d woken that morning she’d wanted to dive into work. Instead, she’d forced herself to tend to the drudgery of chores that accompanied her arrival in a new place. Her number one priority yesterday had been getting her office organized and checking her cameras and equipment for possible damage suffered through shipping. But today there had been the inevitable unpacking, and-because she enjoyed regular meals-grocery shopping at Bashas’.

After the reception she’d gotten last night from Youngblood, she’d been a little wary about introducing herself at the store. Although a few of the curious expressions had gone flat and inscrutable, at least none of the locals she’d met today had matched the simmering animosity she’d sensed in Joe Youngblood. She was willing to label that a positive.

It felt good to have a sense of purpose again. She’d set an itinerary of sorts yesterday when Youngblood senior had picked her up at the airport. He wouldn’t be available to spend time with her until tomorrow, and she wasn’t scheduled to check in with Taos until late this afternoon. Which meant she still had hours left to satisfy a bit of the interest scorching a path through her system.

There would be plenty of occasions to immerse herself in the culture, the people, events and daily life that hummed quietly along on the Navajo reservation. But for the next little while it was the land itself that called to her.

Charley Youngblood had given her a packet, prepared by the council, that included a map of the Navajo Nation. Parts of it were highlighted. From the scrawled note attached, President Taos had had the foresight to receive permission from some property owners to allow Delaney access to their land. She’d been delighted with that discovery and anxious to make use of the consents.

Some would think the area desolate, she mused, setting the cruise after guiltily checking her speedometer. And it was barren in spots. Frequent gusts of breeze lifted red dust and then let it settle again over the vast stretches of sand. But every so often the terrain would be interrupted with spectacular rock formations of rosy sandstone, rising majestically skyward. There would be time later to explore Coal Mine Canyon or the mystical Canyon de Chelly. Today she didn’t want the disruption of tourists and crowds pressing in around her. There was no shortage of slot canyons and narrows dotting the reservation, and she had a full tank of gas, Norah Jones in stereo and, she hoped, unlimited air-conditioning. She continued to drive.

It was a good hour before it occurred to her that she was much farther north than she’d meant to go. She’d gotten off the main highway and the road she’d taken, although it had started out paved, had turned into little more than a dirt path about a half hour back. But there were some intriguing sandstone cliffs clustered ahead that jutted upward, brooding and massive, from the severe landscape. And if she read her map correctly, she had permission to explore the area.

She pulled over to the side of the road. Taking her Canon SLR out of its case, she selected a zoom lens and screwed it on. She made sure the scenic wide-angle lens was tucked in the case, then slipped the strap over her head, letting it dangle over her shoulder. Hanging the camera strap around her neck, she got out. There were no fences delineating the land from the road. She’d read that many property owners kept sheep, but this spot didn’t look appropriate for grazing. It was rocky, with only sparse vegetation.

Watching her footing, she scrambled down the steep incline to get closer. The sheer magnificence of the massive formation was breathtaking. She shot the area from all angles, using the zoom in her approach and quickly growing engrossed in her work. The isolation of the area made it easy to imagine being the first person to stand here thousands of years ago, marveling over the same sight.

As she got closer to the butte she paused long enough to switch lenses before continuing her work. It wasn’t until she looked back and saw how small her vehicle appeared in the distance that she realized how far she had come.

She meant only to round the cliffs, placing her between the faces of the two largest formations, before heading back to her vehicle. She ducked her head, intent on removing the specialized lens from the camera when the loud crack reverberated through the air.