Jenna Kernan - The Warrior's Way

To trust and protect…

Tribal police chief Jack Bear Den will do anything to stop ecoterrorists. But partnering with disgraced ex-FBI explosives expert Sophia Rivas is trouble even his trail-tested skills never anticipated. Her out-there deductions are blowing up false leads, exposing treacherous lies—and sparking an attraction too dangerous for even Jack to resist.

By the book was never Sophia’s style. To save lives, she has to gamble on her instincts more than ever. If Jack doesn’t trust her, she can handle it—but letting him uncover her deepest secrets is a distraction neither can afford. And with the clock ticking down and disaster about to strike, getting too close may be the last move she and Jack ever make.

She couldn’t meet his gaze.

“Sophia?” He reached out to her, his big hand falling over her tightly laced ones. “It’s okay. It will be okay.”

The warmth and the way he leaned in as he dropped his voice was her undoing. The stuttering sob issued from her and she pulled her hands from beneath his in order to cover her face. Tears spilled and the sobs got worse. Right here on the squad floor, she realized, she was going to have the cry she had kept inside since that night.

Jack rolled his chair to her so his legs straddled hers, and he drew her forward. She nestled against his chest, clutching the soft fabric of his button-up shirt. His hands rubbed up and down her back. The man was really good at this. Was that why she’d finally let go—because she knew he’d be there to catch her?

The Warrior’s Way

Jenna Kernan

www.millsandboon.co.uk

JENNA KERNAN has penned over two dozen novels and has received two RITA® Award nominations. Jenna is every bit as adventurous as her heroines. Her hobbies include recreational gold prospecting, scuba diving and gem hunting. Jenna grew up in the Catskills and currently lives in the Hudson Valley of New York State with her husband. Follow Jenna on Twitter, @jennakernan, on Facebook or at www.jennakernan.com.

For Jim, always

Acknowledgments

Many thanks to Lt. Christopher Knurr of the Brown County Sheriff’s Office for his expertise and advice.

Any mistakes regarding the use of explosives are the author’s.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Acknowledgments

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

Extract

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Amazing how much a simple favor could cost you. FBI explosives expert Sophia Rivas waited for her escort to finish introductions. She held her tight smile firmly in place as she shook hands with the chief of tribal police, Wallace Tinnin. The man looked well past the age of retirement, judging from his deeply lined face. He ushered them from the station floor, such as it was, into his small, stuffy office, where everything seemed as old and worn-out as their chief.

Her gaze flashed to the CRT monitor on his desk that looked straight out of the 1990s. Those things still had cathodes and vacuum tubes inside.

Her escort, FBI agent Luke Forrest, had moved into the office and now gave her a look of warning.

Sophia met Luke’s gaze. He was her cousin and the reason she had been recruited into the Bureau. She owed him a lot, but that didn’t mean she agreed with him. This entire thing continued to feel like a bad idea.

She opted to remain standing in the chief’s office rather than sit in either of the stained chairs facing his overcrowded desk. Chief Tinnin headed the Turquoise Canyon Tribal Police Department, which consisted of nine officers, all male, and one dispatcher, female.

“He should be here soon,” the chief assured them.

Who were they waiting for again? Luke told her she’d be working with their best man. Best of nine, she realized. What was his name? Bear Trap. Bearton. Something like that.

With luck he could take her to the reservoir and she could give her opinion and be heading back to Flagstaff by dark. It was midafternoon on Friday and the days were still long. She’d be leaving well after the rush-hour traffic, but would still be heading back to the refuge of her little apartment after the longest week of her life. She usually loved the sanctuary of her place, but this week, on leave, it had become a kind of holding cell, where she paced and obsessed over the review team’s findings on her use of deadly force.

Forrest was more than a decade her senior and his short black hair and pressed suit did not hide the fact that, like her, he was Apache. But not of the Turquoise Canyon tribe. They were both Black Mountain, both spider clan, making them kin. They also shared a grandmother, so the connection was especially close. And even though Luke worked in the Phoenix field office, he had heard she was on leave during the investigation.

Had she made a mistake that night, one that could cost her the thing she valued most in this world—her job? No. They would clear her.

She glanced from her cousin to Wallace Tinnin, who moved behind his desk. She wondered why he used an old rusty spur as a paperweight. Had he once ridden in the rodeo? That would account for the limp.

What was happening back in Flagstaff? She knew the protocol because they’d explained it all to her. But she didn’t know how long the investigation process would take. “As long as it takes” was not very helpful, but was the only answer her supervisor provided before placing her on mandatory leave.

This was the process. She had to trust it. But she didn’t. She didn’t trust anything that threatened her job.

Tinnin set down a cup of water before her and asked her to take a seat. She politely declined both.

“Coffee?” asked Tinnin.

She glanced at the well-used drip coffeemaker on his sideboard.

“Maybe just water.”

It was delivered in a Dixie cup instead of an unopened bottle. Her smile remained but she cast her cousin a certain look. He seemed to be enjoying himself, judging from the smirk.

The chief opened the top drawer of his desk, drew out a silver foil packet that she recognized was for nicotine gum, popped a white cube into his mouth and chewed. The pouches beneath his eyes spoke of a man running a department that she knew must be understaffed and underfunded.

There was a polite knock and her cousin opened the door. In walked a mountainous man who surveyed the room with a quick sweep before he fixed his stare on her.

“Sophia?” said Forrest, motioning toward the new arrival. “This is Detective Jack Bear Den.”

The first thing she noticed—that anyone would notice—was how damn big he was. Big, tall and broad-shouldered, with a body type very unlike the men she knew from her reservation on Black Mountain. The second thing that she saw was the cut across his lifted eyebrow—not a cut really, but more like a blank spot where a tiny white scar bisected the brow and made him look roguish, like a pirate.

What he did not look like was Apache.

Was their best detective really from off the rez?

“A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Rivas. I’m roadrunner, born of snake.”