Rider on Fire

by Sharon Sala

“I didn’t mean that you were valuable only as an agent and I’m sorry it came out like that.”

  “I have a father, sir. I have never been able to say that before. He’s not well and I’m not leaving him. With him, I have found where I came from, and to whom I belong. I’m not Latino, I’m Native American. I never knew that before. Can you understand what that means to me?”

  “Coming from a huge Irish family, I can only imagine what it must have been like to grow up like you did. I’m happy for you, Sonora, but at the same time, you need to remember the caliber of the man who’s looking for you. He’s scum. Be careful … and stay in touch.”

  “Yes, I will, and thank you for the update.”

  “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to meet with Dave Wills?”

  She frowned. “We have nothing to talk about. Just tell him to get Garcia off my tail. In a way, it’s his fault this whole mess even happened.”

  “Yes. I’m well aware of his foul-up in Mexico. However, what’s done is done. I’ll pass on your message.”

  “Thank you,” Sonora said, and disconnected.

  She sat for a few moments, absorbing the ramifications of what she’d just learned. While it was a terrible disaster for those two families, she couldn’t see how it changed her situation. Garcia was still out there, looking for her. She needed to get her mind back on that and quit worrying about her new feelings for Adam. Still, as she got up to leave the room, she knew that was going to be easier said than done.

  It wasn’t until she reached the end of the hall that she realized her dad and Adam had moved into the kitchen. Just hearing the deep rumble of Adam’s voice put a knot in her stomach. The man was magic all right, especially in bed. She was out of her mind crazy about him and unsure what to do about it.

  She was still smiling as she started into the kitchen, but the smile quickly ended when she overheard the end of their conversation.

  * * *

  “Still no word on any donors?” Adam asked.

  Franklin shook his head. “No, and they warned me early on that there probably wouldn’t be. It’s difficult to find a match. For whatever reasons, there are not a lot of Native Americans in the donor system and some of the markers needed for a match are confined to that specific ethnicity.”

  Sonora had stopped in the doorway, and now grabbed on to the wall for support. She was stunned and so mad she was shaking.

  “What the hell are you two talking about?” she asked.

  Both men wore equally guilty expressions as they looked up.

  Adam frowned. She was angry and he couldn’t blame her, but it hadn’t been his story to tell.

  Franklin held out his hands. “Come here, Daughter. Sit with us a bit.”

  “I’m not sitting anywhere until you start talking. Did I hear you correctly? Are you waiting for some kind of organ donation?”

  “Not an organ, exactly,” Franklin said.

  “Then what?”

  “Bone marrow.”

  She reeled as if she’d been slapped. “And why wasn’t I told of this? I’m your daughter. What if I’m a match?”

  “This is between you two,” Adam said.

  For once, Sonora agreed and fixed Franklin with an angry glare. “I’m waiting,” she said.

  “Look. I didn’t even know you existed. It was just a dream and a gut feeling that even led me to believe your mother had been pregnant with my child when she left. I was so stunned when you showed up that it never even entered my mind. Then later, when I did think of it, it didn’t matter.”

  “Didn’t matter? Didn’t matter? What? You don’t think it’s important that I have my father around?”

  Franklin sighed, then sat down. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think of it like that.”

  Sonora’s shoulders slumped. Her anger dissipated as quickly as it had come. She crossed the room and then put her arms around his neck and hugged him.

  “Dad … Daddy … for God’s sake. Let me be tested. Maybe this is why all of this is happening, you know? You needed me as much as I’ve needed you.”

  Franklin looked up at Adam. “If I called my doctor, could you get her to Tulsa to the Cancer Center to be tested?”

  “Of course,” Adam said.

  Sonora unwound herself from Franklin’s neck and stepped back. “Then it’s settled?” she asked.

  “Yes. It’s settled,” Franklin said.

  “Good.”

  Adam could tell she was satisfied with the end results of the conversation, but he could tell there was still something wrong. Then he remembered the phone calls.

  “Sonora.”

  “Yes?”

  “What’s happened? Is there news about the man who killed your friend?”

  She looked pale, but her voice never wavered. “In a roundabout fashion, I guess there is.”

  “So?” Franklin asked, urging her to tell.

  “It’s sort of complicated, but the short version of what’s happened is that two Mexican families that sort of belong to the Garcia cartel went to war. A man named Rojas was killed by another named Diaz. The old man of the Rojas family retaliated by destroying every single member of the Diaz family, including women and children.”

  “Dear Lord,” Franklin said, and stared at Sonora in disbelief. That she could talk about this so dispassionately told him how hardened she’d become by that world.

  “How does this affect you?” Adam asked.

  She shrugged. “Maybe it does. Maybe it doesn’t.”

  “What did your boss say?” he asked.

  She looked up then, meeting his gaze straight on. “That everything began to come undone for Miguel Garcia when I killed his brother Juanito, and that if he blames me for that, then he might blame me for the implosion that’s occurring within the cartel now.”

  “Which means you’re in more danger than ever?” Franklin asked.

  “Don’t worry, Dad,” Sonora said. “I’m well-trained in protecting myself. I’ll make sure this ugly part of my world does not infringe upon you.”

  “That’s not what I’m worrying about,” Franklin said.

  “Me, either,” Adam added.

  “I can take care of myself,” she said, and then turned around and walked out of the room.

  Adam saw the stiff set to her shoulders and the quick, angry motion in her stride, then remembered the tattoo on her spine and knew she was right. She had even more power than she knew.

  CHAPTER 14

  The drive to Tulsa went faster than Sonora would have believed. When Adam told her that it was at least a two and a half hour drive, she’d resigned herself to a long trip. But she hadn’t counted on her growing connection to Adam. After the night of the storm and the passion of their lovemaking, she had been a little embarrassed about being alone with him again. However, instead of the stilted conversation she’d expected, she’d been at ease from the first. Adam even had her laughing about their passionate lovemaking by telling her that from now on, whenever he knew she was coming over, he was planning on blowing some fuses. But it was when he offered to have Charlie declawed if she would let him lick more grape jelly off her breasts, that she lost it.

  * * *

  Adam knew Sonora was a little nervous about what being a bone marrow donor entailed, so he’d done his best to keep her mind off of the process, and at his own expense. He grinned when she began to laugh, then returned his attention to the highway and the traffic.

  She didn’t know that he lived for the times he could make her happy.

  He didn’t know how he was going to live when the day came that she would leave.

  After another hour of driving and talking, they began to approach the city.

  “Is this Tulsa?” Sonora asked.

  “No, it’s Glenpool, but we’re not far away.”

  “Okay,” Sonora said, and then pulled at the hem of her shirt and flicked a bit of lint off her jeans.

  “Are you afraid?” Adam asked.

  “Not like you mean,” she said. “I a
m afraid I won’t be a match.”

  Adam sighed. There wasn’t anything he could say to make her feel better about any of this. There was nothing to do but wait and see.

  * * *

  Miguel Garcia was sick of staying holed up in the Tulsa motel. He’d been trying to call the four men who’d been helping him search for the better part of thirty-six hours, but with no luck. He couldn’t figure out what was going on and why they didn’t answer. His only option was to call Rojas and see what the hell was going on. He knew Rojas was unhappy with what was happening, but it couldn’t be helped. It was his duty, as the eldest son, to avenge his brother’s death any way he could.

  As he started toward the table to get his cell phone, someone knocked on his door.

  “Maid service!” a woman called.

  “Dios,” he muttered. “Una momento.”

  He grabbed his leather vest and put it on over the sleeveless T-shirt he was wearing, buckled the western-style belt around his waist, rubbed the dust off the toes of his boots, grabbed his phone and his hat, and stepped out of the room.

  The maid slipped in behind him carrying a handful of clean linens and began stripping the bed as he got into his car. As soon as he’d turned on the engine and started the air conditioner to cool off the car, he reached for his phone. Time to make that call.

  He punched in the numbers by memory then counted the rings. It wasn’t until it had rung the sixth time with no answer that he began to be concerned. There was always someone at home at the Rojas estate. Maids, houseboys or any number of Emilio’s large family were always coming or going. The house was never empty.

  He disconnected, then tried again, thinking he might have hit a wrong number. Again, it began to ring, and again, the fifth, then sixth, then seventh ring came and went. Miguel was about to hang up when he heard someone pick up.

  “¡Hola! ¡Hola! Hello? Hello?” Miguel said.

  Emilio Rojas took a slow breath. “Yes. I am here,” he said.

  Miguel’s concerns faded. “I’ve been calling and calling. Where the hell is everybody?”

  “We’ve been to a funeral,” Emilio said.

  Miguel frowned. “Oh. Sorry. Anyone I know?”

  “My oldest son, Emilio Jr.”

  Miguel grunted as if he’d been punched. “What happened? Was it an accident?”

  “No. It was murder.”

  “Murder? Who did it? I will make them pay!”

  Rage rose so fast and so high in Emilio’s chest that he thought he would explode.

  “Who did it? Who did it? I did it, that’s who. I sent him to run your little … errand … and this was the result.”

  Rojas had never spoken to Miguel in this tone of voice—ever.

  “I didn’t think … I mean, I never intended for—”

  “It is of no importance anymore,” Emilio said softly. “They are dead. All of them.”

  Miguel stuttered, then choked.

  “They?”

  “The Diaz family. Who else?” Emilio said.

  Miguel had visions of wives, mothers, children, brothers and sons. There had been a lot of them—at least twenty-five or thirty and Rojas had—

  Madre de Dios.

  “I’m sorry,” Miguel said. “I didn’t know—”

  “You are on your own,” Emilio said. “I have called in my men. They are no longer doing your dirty work for you. Do not call me again. Ever. Do not come back to Juarez. Do not even come back to Mexico. If you do, I will know it, and I will kill you, myself.”

  The line went dead in Miguel’s ear.

  Time passed, but Miguel couldn’t have attested to the fact. He still had the phone to his ear when someone wheeled into the parking space beside him and gunned the engine. As it revved, it backfired.

  Miguel flinched and ducked. The phone went flying.

  It was a few moments before he realized he was still breathing and that he hadn’t been shot at. Just the victim of a car in need of new plugs and points.

  He got up from the seat, muscles trembling and gasping for breath. Everything he knew was gone. It no longer mattered if Jorge Diaz was dead or not. With Emilio Rojas for an enemy, his days were numbered.

  He rubbed the palms of his hands on top of his head, feeling the faint stubble of new growth and realized he needed a shave. His fingers were trembling as he swiped them across his face. Then he doubled up his fists and began pounding the steering wheel. He didn’t know he was crying until he felt the tears on his face, and even then, couldn’t think past the rage.

  Everything was fine until the DEA messed in his business. Sonora Jordan had been the agent who killed Juanito. She represented everything he hated, and if it was the last thing he did, he was going to wrap his hands around her neck and watch the life go out of her eyes.

  * * *

  Sonora was white-lipped and shaking when she came out of the doctor’s office, but it wasn’t entirely from pain. The stress of knowing she was her father’s only chance to live was taking its toll. When she saw Adam stand up and start toward her, her eyes welled with tears. She hated this weak-kneed, sissy side of herself—hadn’t even known it existed until she’d met Adam Two Eagles.

  “Are you all right?” Adam asked.

  “I’m just peachy,” she said, and ducked her head to hide her tears.

  “I already saw them so get over it,” Adam said, as he handed her his handkerchief.

  “God. Can’t even shed a few tears without you getting all bossy about it.”

  Adam sighed. It figured she’d rather make an ass of herself than let someone see her cry. Damned if that didn’t endear her to him even more.

  “It’s not about being bossy, Sonora. It’s because I care about you and you know it.”

  She rolled her eyes, thumped him on the arm in frustration and then hugged him.

  “You cheated,” she muttered, wincing as she walked.

  He smiled gently as he helped her out the door.

  “How did I cheat?” he asked.

  “You’re too nice. It’s impossible to be mad at nice.”

  He grinned. “Well, that’s something I’ve never been accused of before, and if it will make you feel any better, there’s a whole company of Army Rangers who would disagree with you.”

  “So, tough guy, take me home.”

  Adam frowned as he watched her walk. Her normal stride was gone and she was moving gingerly, as if there was a pain in her back.

  “Are you in much pain?”

  “It wasn’t great,” she muttered, remembering the punch of bone marrow they’d taken from her right hip.

  “Did they give you some pain medicine?”

  “Yeah. Shot me full of the stuff and gave me some to take home.”

  “Then we should go before it wears off,” Adam said. “You can eat as I drive, then sleep if you wish.”

  * * *

  Miguel had made up his mind. He was going to go back to Phoenix and wait for Sonora Jordan to surface. She couldn’t stay on the run forever. The way he figured it, when she walked in her front door, she’d get a welcome she never expected and he’d get the justice he deserved. Still, to be on the safe side, he was going back in a different car.

  * * *

  He’d been at the used car lot for almost an hour, waiting for the salesman to get the okay from his boss on the money Miguel wanted for his black Jeep.

  The sun was hot, which matched his mood. It was long past noon and he wanted food and something cold to drink. Just as he was about to go into the office to look for the salesman, he saw him coming out. He was smiling, which bode well for Miguel. Miguel was guessing that he was about to get the price he’d wanted, which meant he would have more than enough money to buy the other car he intended to use for the trip back to Phoenix. Since his money sources had been cut off, he didn’t have money to waste.

  As he was standing in the lot, there was a sudden squeal of tires and several horns began to honk. Someone cursed and another cursed back.

 
; Miguel turned to look.

  The driver of a car and the driver of a delivery truck had just had a fender bender. Traffic was stalling in both directions. He was thanking his lucky stars that he wasn’t out on the street in the middle of the mess when he noticed a dark-colored pickup truck about three vehicles back.

  He saw the long-haired, dark-skinned man behind the wheel and marked him as Native American, but it was the woman sitting in the seat beside him that made his heart skip a beat. He stared in disbelief.

  It couldn’t be.

  He scrambled in his wallet for the photo of Sonora Jordan that he’d been carrying, then compared it to the woman in the truck. It was her! It had to be—either that or a double.

  He stuffed the picture back in his wallet and then started to run.

  “Hey! Hey, mister!” the salesman yelled. “What about your money?”

  Miguel hesitated, then turned around.

  “I’ll be right back,” he shouted, and then turned back toward the street.

  The truck was still there, but a couple of police cars had arrived and traffic was beginning to move. He cleared the curb in a leap, and without care for the traffic, started running toward the truck.

  * * *

  “Do you think anyone was hurt?” Sonora asked, as she scooted to the edge of the seat to get a better look at the wreck.

  “I think they’re yelling too loud to be very hurt,” Adam said.

  “Yeah, you’re right, and for that I am glad. I hate this kind of stuff. Never would have made a good patrol cop.”

  “I disagree,” Adam said. “I think you would be great at anything you set your mind to doing.”

  Joy settled in Sonora’s heart. She could get spoiled with this positive affirmation Franklin and Adam seemed bent on giving her.

  She saw movement from the corner of her eye as she leaned back in the seat and turned to look. Some baldheaded cowboy had come running out of a used car lot and was headed toward the accident.

  “Look at that nut,” Sonora said. “He isn’t paying any attention to the traffic.”

  No sooner had she said it than someone on a motorcycle, thinking he could bypass the traffic jam by winding through the stalled cars, came flying out from between two vehicles and hit the man in mid-stride.