Jenna Kernan - Black Rock Guardian

“I don’t think I want a drunk working on my bike.”

“I could fix a carburetor drunk or asleep.”

“Nobody drives my bike.”

He slid back on the seat. “You want me to bump-start the bike with you on the back?”

He wiggled his eyebrows and she accepted the challenge.

“What about your bike?” she asked.

“In good hands.”

No one would touch his bike. He had the protection of the Wolf Posse and tribal police, since his brother was on the force.

“Just out of curiosity, how were you planning to get home?”

“I never plan that far ahead,” said Ty.

“You don’t look or act or smell drunk,” said Beth.

“Maybe I just can’t resist lying flat across your back or maybe I want to see what an eight-hundred-cc inline engine feels like. It’s a tour bike. Plenty of room.”

“If you fix my bike, I’m paying for the repair and I’m not sleeping with you.”

“If you say so.”

Had she anticipated an argument? She didn’t expect him to give up so easily. But maybe he figured, wrongly, that he could change her mind. He was too charming and too good with that sexy mouth. She imagined he wouldn’t disappoint in the bedroom. But her plan involved trapping him, not the other way around. Sleeping with him would give him power, and she was not going into that meeting tomorrow in a position of weakness.

“You got a helmet?” she asked, retrieving hers.

“Never wear one.”

Of course he didn’t. Another bad decision, she thought.

“Then let’s go.” She lifted her leg and slipped it neatly over the saddle, then knocked back the kickstand. Once she had the bike in Neutral and the clutch in, she rocked them forward and turned the wheel away from the line of trucks. It took a moment for gravity to grab hold, but by the time they reached the road they were gliding at five miles an hour. She shifted with her foot to second, waited until they hit fifteen miles an hour and then popped the clutch. The engine turned over and she gave it some gas. A moment later, they were ripping down the road.

“Where’s your shop?”

He called directions as he slipped his hands around her waist. It felt good, riding with him. She loved the bike, despite what her mother thought, and knew that in this, at least, they would find common ground.

His body warmed her back as they raced in the direction of Koun’nde, one of three settlements here on the Turquoise Canyon Apache Indian Reservation.

After a few minutes he pointed out his place. The two-story building was mostly dark except for the floodlight over the double-bay doors. She could see a row of windows above the shop and knew that was where he lived.

She rolled up to the bay doors and cut the engine. Something moved to her left, an animal, big and black. Beth startled.

“That’s just my dog, Hemi.”

She glanced back at him. “Like the motor?”

His smile showed a kind of appreciation that warmed her far more than it should have. “That’s right.”

He slid off the bike and she removed her helmet, leaving it on the seat.

“Nice ride,” he said, and then he turned to Hemi and scratched her behind the ears. “Hemi, this is Beth.”

She dropped the kickstand and straddled the bike, offering her hand to the canine, who had a definite wolfish look to her.

“Hey there, Hemi,” said Beth.

Hemi took two steps in her direction and then dropped to the ground, her head between her front paws. Beth’s brow wrinkled as she watched the dog, trying to interpret this odd behavior.

“What’s with that?” she asked, lifting her gaze to Ty, who was now scowling at her.

“You packing?”

“What?”

“Hemi says you’re carrying a gun.”

Beth eyed the dog. Likely his brother would have warned her about the gunpowder-sniffing dog if she’d told anyone what she had in mind. She hadn’t because the chances were too great that Jake would tip off his big brother.

Forrest had agreed, but she had only one shot, because every agent he put on the abduction case was one less on the eco-extremist investigation.

Beth set her jaw and glared at the dog.

“So what is it?” asked Ty.

She opened her jacket and showed him the holster and her service weapon. She did not show him the FBI shield she had around her neck and under her blouse.

Ty’s expression went grim and all anticipation left his eyes. They went flat and lifeless. He looked at her as if she had disappointed him. That would be ironic.

“I don’t allow weapons in my place.”

“Girl’s got a right to protect herself.”

“Deal breaker,” he said.

“You act like you’re on parole.”

That made him glare. So he didn’t like being painted as a criminal, even if that was just what he was.

“Not on parole,” he said, raking a hand through his hair. “Tell you what. I’ll get you started again. Take it to Piňon Forks. Spend the night at the casino and call Ron in the morning.” He grabbed a pen from his shop and extended his hand for hers. She gave it to him and he wrote a number on the palm of her hand.

Was he actually sending her off? Beth couldn’t believe it and she really couldn’t believe that her disappointment was way more physical than emotional. Damn him and that kiss.

“He’s good with bikes,” said Ty.

“Where’s his shop?”

“Across from the police station. You know where that is, right?”

He didn’t wait for her to answer, just positioned himself behind her bike. She didn’t even have her helmet on when he started to push as if he could not wait to be rid of her.

But he wasn’t. Not by a long shot.

Chapter Six

On Sunday mornings, Ty worked on his own projects. Today it was body repair on the 1978 Pontiac Trans Am that he’d saved from the scrap yard. But his enthusiasm for muscle cars did not generally get him up at 5:00 a.m. Still, that was what had happened the last two mornings and he knew exactly who to blame for that. The woman—Beth.

She captivated him. Not just the way she looked but the way she handled that bike and how she knew things, like that his dog was named after his favorite engine and how to bump-start a bike. Who was he kidding? It had been their kisses that had kept him from sleep.

Beth was too good to be true. Women like that did not just show up in your life. Someone had sent her. And that was the other reason he could not sleep. It wasn’t the Wolf Posse. She didn’t have the look of Russian mob. That left cop.

“Damn.” He threw aside the rag he used to wipe his hands.

The phone rang, echoing in the empty space. He glanced at the clock on the wall to see it was already eight in the morning. Ty reached for the greasy handset. Jake was on the line, telling him that they needed him to come into the station.

Ty’s stomach dropped. Had the tribe reversed their decision about not turning him over to the Feds? As much as Ty wanted to be free of the Wolf Posse, a prison cell was not his chosen route. He had driven Kacey to the Russians, but her statement corroborated his. She had known where he was taking her and gotten into his vehicle voluntarily.

Maybe they matched his blood from the window at Antelope Lake. Some trumped-up charge on B&E? he wondered. The coffee he’d had for breakfast now clung to his stomach lining like motor oil.

“I’ll be there,” he said. He thought about his go-bag, the one under his bed. He’d added to it bit by bit, knowing that someday he’d have to use it.

Was today that day?

You could only dance with the devil for so long. Eventually the devil had to be paid. What kept him here was his mother and his brothers and the looming threat of his father’s return.

They were all worried about what would happen upon Colton Redhorse’s return. Ty wasn’t worried because he knew how it would go—badly. Because people didn’t change except to get worse.