Aimee Thurlo - Winter Hawk's Legend

“That’s Daniel Hawk,” Holly’s contact said, following her gaze. “Hawk conducts our training exercises, not only here, but also at every critical tribal facility. Naturally he’s got the highest clearance level.”

Holly nodded, finally being able to put a face to the name. She’d heard Daniel Hawk described as a one-time bad boy who could attract women faster than free chocolate. Daniel had presence. That confidence and take-charge attitude, coupled with those wide shoulders and long legs, sure made him easy on the eyes.

She watched Daniel Hawk as he moved, his back straight, his steps measured and filled with purpose. He came to a stop and glanced around the room, his gaze missing nothing. Then, for a brief moment, his eyes met hers. His steady, penetrating look was a blend of curiosity and casual sensuality that made her body tingle all over.

Yet it wasn’t admiration that was mirrored in the dark eyes that held hers—it was a subtle challenge.

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To Sydney Abernathy, the best assistant—ever. May your future be

bright, and may you always walk with beauty before you.

Aimée Thurlo is a nationally known bestselling author. She’s the winner of a Career Achievement Award from RT Book Reviews, a New Mexico Book Award in contemporary fiction and a Willa Cather Award in the same category. Her novels have been published in twenty countries worldwide.

She also cowrites the bestselling Ella Clah mainstream mystery series praised in the New York Times Book Review.

Aimée was born in Havana, Cuba, and lives with her husband of thirty-nine years in Corrales, New Mexico. Her husband, David, was raised on the Navajo Indian Reservation.

Daniel Hawk —His job was to keep Holly Gates alive, but he’d never factored falling in love into the equation. Christmas was fast approaching and a killer was on their trail. With everything on the line, win or lose, Daniel knew his life would never be the same again.

Holly Gates —She had an enemy, a man determined to see her dead. The only person standing between her and the grave was temptation itself—a sexy but dangerous security expert with a clear future—but a clouded past.

Martin Roanhorse —He was their boss, at least on paper, and knew everything about them. He was definitely part of the problem, but he was also hiding secrets of his own that could cost them all.

Arthur Larrabee —An ex-cop running for city council, Art was also a security consultant who operated on the principle that the best defense against intruders was overwhelming violence. That made him a potential liability to his clients, including the tribe.

Johnny Wauneka —The young hacker had his own agenda, and Holly, the tribal publicist, was near the top of his enemies list. Was he out to kill the beautiful Anglo woman, or just her message?

Gene Redhouse —He was Daniel’s foster brother. Even if it meant leaving his beloved ranch in a neighbor’s hands, he had Daniel’s back.

Clyde Keesewood —The Navajo activist was an angry man with a mission. The last time they’d met he’d threatened Holly in front of a hundred witnesses. Did he do that just for show, or did he walk his talk?

Ross Williams —The sleazy salesman had decided that Holly was the woman for him. He never passed up an opportunity to corner her, publicly or privately, and Ross didn’t handle rejection well.

Joe Yazzie —Martin’s tribal assistant appeared to be the perfect patsy after his security lapses put everyone in danger. He was either careless, or taking part in a larger plan only he could know.

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Epilogue

“I still can’t believe he’s really gone,” Daniel Hawk said. At thirty-four, he’d served two tours overseas and considered himself a hard-core realist in every conceivable way. Yet their foster father, Hosteen Silver, a medicine man, had lived by a different set of rules. The gray-haired hataalii—as Navajos named their healers—had accomplished things that all too often defied reason.

“He valued what mattered and taught all of us to do the same. Now you and I are going to honor his last wishes by climbing up this rock face to that shelf on the cliff.”

As he struggled with his handholds, Daniel glanced over at Gene Redhouse. They weren’t related, but were as close as any brothers could be. Gene had turned thirty-three last summer, and though the two of them had grown up together, they were nothing alike. He was an in-your-face type of man, while Gene usually chose a more peaceful approach—at least at first.

“I learned the other day that Hosteen Silver left four other letters, one for each of our foster brothers. We were the only two asked to fulfill the same task,” Daniel said.

“It’s a two-man job and we’re best suited for this. The fetish he wants us to return to Winter Hawk’s nest was his most powerful spiritual possession. He always carried it with him, except the day he died,” Gene said, following Daniel, handhold by handhold, up the nearly vertical rock face. “He believed that the spirit of Winter Hawk was one with the fetish, and I think that’s why he wanted it returned to the nest after he was gone.”

“I’m the better climber, but you’re the one who has a bond with Winter Hawk,” Daniel said, choosing his route and footholds carefully. “I’d get my face torn off if I got too close to that ledge.”

“What can I say? Hawk likes me better than you, obviously a sign of good taste,” Gene said, laughing quietly.

“I still have questions about the way Hosteen Silver died. Don’t you?” Daniel said, stepping up and gauging the path ahead carefully. After finding a solid hand-and foothold, he moved up, then waited as his brother followed. “Why would he just walk off into the desert in the middle of winter?”

“It’s the way of the Diné, the Navajo People,” Gene reminded. “When it’s time to die, it’s an honorable way to go—not burdening the family.”

“But he wasn’t sick,” Daniel said.

“Not that we knew about, but he must have known that it was his time,” Gene said, accepting his brother’s hand up onto the next ledge.

“Then why didn’t he take the hawk fetish with him on that last walk?” Daniel pressed, moving up, picking his way with sure hands and feet.