by Pamela Clare
“I’m sure that was part of it. More than that, I think they just wanted easier lives.” He sounded disappointed.
“Is that so wrong? After centuries of suffering and trauma, isn’t it a good thing when one of us finds happiness?”
“If everyone with a college education or special training leaves the reservations, where does that leave the Nations? How will anything get better for our people? What happens to our cultures, our languages?”
“We carry them with us.” Winona tried not to take what Jason was saying personally, though she couldn’t help but feel judged. “We speak for those back at home. We are the voice of our people to the outside world.”
Jason didn’t look convinced.
Winona didn’t want to lose her temper, but she needed him to see her point of view. “Naomi has a gift shop that sells jewelry made by Native people from reservations all over the country. If not for her and her shop here in Scarlet, they wouldn’t have that income. Don’t forget Camp Mato Sapa. I’ve seen it change kids’ lives.”
“And Chaska? Couldn’t his engineering skills be put to better use at home?”
Winona leaned back in her chair, crossed her arms over her chest, irked now. So much for her silly hopes for a romantic evening. “Sure—when the Oglala Lakota start launching rockets. And, yes, I probably could have started a wildlife sanctuary on the reservation. It would have taken years to get the funding and all the permits. But I don’t want to live far from my brother. Once my grandfather makes the journey, he and Naomi will be all the close family I have.”
“I get that. Family is important. But do you think little Shota will grow up to have the same sense of what it means to be Lakota that you and your brother have?”
Winona hoped so. “Chaska plans to speak only Lakota to him, and he will spend time on Pine Ridge visiting relatives, even if he doesn’t grow up there.”
Jason’s gaze dropped to the table for a moment. “Sorry. I don’t mean to question your choices.”
“Yes, you do.” Winona let go of her frustration. “But I understand why.”
She understood something else, too. No matter how attractive or courageous Jason was, she couldn’t afford to let herself develop feelings for him. He would never leave Sells, and her home was in Scarlet Springs.
Jason watched the news while Winona packed for their stay at the ranch, brushed her teeth, and got ready for bed. He did his best to ignore the sight of her as she moved back and forth from her bedroom to the bathroom, but it wasn’t easy. He wasn’t sure what he found sexier—her sleeveless white sleepshirt with pink sheep on it that showed off her smooth, slender legs or the blue bathrobe she’d left open.
She’d been wearing that same bathrobe this morning, except it had been tied, and she’d been soaking wet and naked beneath it. Yes, he’d noticed. How could he not?
He dragged his gaze away from the hallway and back to the TV, where CNN had aerial footage of a fire at an apartment complex in Miami. But Jason was too restless to take in the news, their dinner conversation on loop in his head. He shouldn’t have pushed Winona the way he had.
No matter how strongly he felt about the issues, he was a guest in her house. How she lived her life wasn’t his business. She and her family were doing a lot of good in this world, which is why he was here in Scarlet in the first place.
Sometimes it pays to keep your mouth shut.
Yeah, well, that was a lesson he was still learning.
He turned off the TV and walked toward his room, colliding with Winona in the hallway when she stepped out of the bathroom. He caught her around the waist, her body soft against his, her hair like silk beneath his palm. “We keep bumping into each other.”
She looked up at him through wide eyes, the minty scent of her toothpaste making him want to kiss her. “I … uh…”
For a moment, neither of them moved, his gaze locked with hers.
He could tell by the way her pupils dilated and her body tensed that she felt it, too, this attraction between them.
You’re playing with fire.
“Do you … uh … need anything?” There was a slight quaver in her voice.
It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her that he needed her tonight, but he let her go, stepped back. “No. Thank you. I’m turning in.”
“Goodnight then.”
“Goodnight.”
She walked to her room and closed the door behind her.
Well, he had passed that test.
Damn.
He walked to his room, grabbed his toothbrush, and went to the bathroom to brush his teeth, his gaze fixing on his reflection.
Idiot.
He could have kissed her, and she would have melted in his arms. It would have been sweet. But then morning would come, and things would be awkward between them. There was no chance that they could be together, so there was no point in crossing the line and getting physical. Strange that he could feel so drawn to a woman who wasn’t right for him.
Remember Elena?
Yeah. Maybe it wasn’t strange. Maybe it was a pattern. Jason had felt drawn to Elena, and she’d turned out to be the enemy.
Moral of the story? Don’t let your cock make decisions for you.
He finished brushing his teeth, walked back to his room, and stripped down to his boxers. Then he turned out the light and crawled beneath the covers.
He willed himself to relax, to let the sexual tension ebb away—or tried to, anyway. Images of the day passed through his mind. Winona, wet and naked in her bathrobe. Winona, listening as he interpreted the sign, dark hair caught in the breeze. Winona, excitement on her face when Jack invited them to stay at the ranch.
He had no idea how long he’d been sleeping when something woke him. He sat up, listened. Was Winona crying?
He got out of bed, slipped into his jeans and a T-shirt, opened his door, and stepped into the hallway.
A stifled sob.
He walked to Winona’s door, knocked. “Winona, are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
Ah, hell.
He stood there for a moment, trying to decide whether to let her lie stand. “I know that’s not true.”
Footsteps.
The door opened.
Winona stood there in her sleepshirt with the pink sheep, her face wet with tears, misery mixed with embarrassment on her pretty face. “I woke you, didn’t I?”
“That’s okay. What’s wrong?”
She leaned against the doorjamb, her dark hair tangled around her shoulders. “Just a bad dream. I have nightmares about it sometimes.”
“About the time the bastard attacked you in your clinic?”
She nodded, sniffed. “The dreams always seem so real.”
Jason understood a thing or two about that. “Why don’t I make you a cup of tea or warm some milk, and we can talk?”
“I should be making you the tea. You’re my guest.”
“Hey, you told me to make myself at home, remember? Follow me to my kitchen.”
Winona sat on the sofa with a fleece throw around her shoulders and a cup of chamomile tea in her hands, while Jason put wood on a fire that had burned down to glowing coals.
He closed the wood stove. “That ought to warm things up.”
“Thanks.” She sipped her tea. “Sorry again to wake you.”
“Don’t apologize.” He sat down on the other end of the sofa, one long leg tucked beneath him so that he faced her. “Some nightmares are a lot worse than others.”
That was the truth.
She wasn’t sure where to start. “It’s hard for me to talk about this.”
“If it makes it any easier, Zach told me what happened.”
“He did?” That was a huge relief.
“He didn’t go into the finer details, but he told me enough.” Jason’s brow furrowed, his gaze dropping to the sofa for a moment. “Truth is, I brought it up with him. I hope that doesn’t upset you.”
She shook her head. “Of course not.
You two are friends. You’re both federal agents, and you both know me. After what I told you today, it’s understandable that you’d be curious.”
“Not just curious, Winona. You and I haven’t known each other for long, but I consider you a friend. I hate it when bad guys hurt good people.”
She got the feeling he’d seen a lot of that—and not just with his parents. “What did Zach tell you?”
“He said some fugitive came into your clinic to get you to treat the burns he got from the dye pack on a money bag. He said the bastard forced you to help him at gunpoint, made all kinds of awful threats, and then injected you with a lethal overdose of ketamine. He said you were sure you were dead.”
Winona nodded, her throat going tight. “He came through the front door. I was in the back with my friend Bear, who’d brought in an orphaned fawn. He barged in on us, gun pointed straight at us, and demanded I help him. I didn’t have any choice.”
“No, you really didn’t.”
“He had bad second-degree burns on one hand, and it had become infected. I told him he needed to be seen at a hospital by a burn specialist, but he jammed the barrel of his pistol into my temple and told me to shut up.”
“What did this friend of yours, Bear, do?”
“Bear is a big guy with a big beard, but he suffered brain damage from a fever as a child. He has the mind of a little boy. He’s one of the most wonderful people I know, but he couldn’t do anything to help. He was terrified.”
“You felt like you needed to protect him.”
“Yes.” Winona’s stomach knotted at the memory of terror. “I put a topical anesthetic on the man’s burns and cleaned them as best I could. The whole time, he was saying terrible things. ‘When you’re done, I’m going to make you suck my dick. I think this pistol turns you on. Maybe I’ll fuck you with the barrel. Would you like that? I bet a bitch like you loves taking it up the ass. Do you fuck the animals?’ Stuff like that.”
“Jesus. I’m so sorry.”
“I was so afraid.” Winona didn’t realize how much her hands were shaking until Jason gently took her tea mug and set it on the coffee table. “I thought maybe I could inject him with anesthetic instead of antibiotics, but he demanded to see the vial. I gave him an IM injection of amoxicillin. Then he demanded the ketamine.”
“We catch people trafficking small amounts of that from time to time.”
“Yes. It’s an anesthetic.” Winona hugged the blanket tighter around herself. “I thought he wanted to steal it. Vet clinics get burglarized all the time by people trying to steal ketamine.”
“It makes sense you would think that.”
“He took a syringe and the ketamine and drew a big dose—more than enough to anesthetize two or three bull moose. I asked him what he was going to do with it, and he told me that firing his pistol would attract attention. He walked over to Bear and jammed the needle into his thigh. I tried to stop him, but he was stronger than I was. He shoved me away. I fell and hit the floor hard. Then he walked over and injected me. I knew Bear and I were dead, that someone would find us there on the floor.”
Winona could still feel the prick of the needle, the sting of the medication in her muscle, the racing of her own heart.
Jason moved closer, took her hand, held it, his fingers warm. “It was Lexi who found you—and just in time, from what McBride says.”
Winona blinked back tears. “He abducted her and almost got her killed.”
Jason leaned forward, cupped her face in his palms. “But you’re a daughter of this land. The very earth that raised you saw what he’d done and decided he didn’t deserve to be in this world. It crashed down on him, ending him, but sparing Lexi.”
Winona had never thought of it like that before. “Yes.”
“He’s gone, Win. He can never hurt you or Bear or anyone else again.”
“My mind knows that, but there’s some part of me inside that is still terrified.”
“I know.” Jason drew her into his arms, held her, stroked her hair, the heat of his body chasing away the chill inside her, the strength of his embrace soothing.
Chapter 9
While Winona made her rounds at the clinic, Jason loaded her bag and backpack and his duffel into his truck and went to get gas at Frank’s Pump ‘N’ Go, the only gas station in Scarlet Springs. He paid inside, tossing a pack of condoms on the counter.
What are you doing, man?
Hell, he didn’t know.
He climbed into his truck and shut the door—a bit too hard.
He was out of sorts this morning, on edge. Listening to Winona talk about her ordeal had triggered something in him, a sense of protectiveness mingled with rage. He’d done his best to comfort her, but he knew nothing could take away the horror of what that bastard had done.
God, she’d felt sweet in his arms.
Holding her had done nothing to curb his growing infatuation with her. In fact, it had made things worse. He’d wanted to kiss her, but that would have made him a world-class asshole. She’d bared her soul to him. She’d been vulnerable and upset, her face wet with tears, her body shaking. The last thing she’d needed was him coming onto her.
No matter what he’d like to believe, his dick wasn’t magic. It couldn’t heal that kind of pain.
That’s why you’re going to keep your junk in your pants.
He found Winona locking up, the bright smile on her face, a strange tenderness for her blossoming in his chest. “Ready to go?”
“Let’s hit the road.”
Jason knew the way now and followed the signs toward the Peak to Peak Highway. “It’s beautiful up here.”
“I’m sure it’s beautiful in the desert, too.”
“It’s a different kind of beauty.”
“Tell me about it.”
Jason searched for a way to put a lifetime of experience into words. “The colors are always changing depending on the light. In the mountains, you can see the different geological strata—dark gray, red, white, tan. In spring, the land explodes with life. Prickly pear and giant saguaro in bloom. Tadpoles in every puddle. Tiny yellow flowers on the greasewood trees. A sky that goes on forever. You can see a rainstorm coming from miles away, ghost rain falling like a gray curtain, evaporating before it hits the ground, the sky purple.”
“It sounds amazing.”
“Maybe you can visit and see for yourself one day.”
“I’d like that. I…” She seemed to hesitate. “I wanted to thank you for your kindness last night. I feel a little ashamed that I fell apart like that.”
“You shouldn’t. We’re friends, right?” It was too damned bad they couldn’t be more than that. “What you went through would give anyone nightmares. Look at who you are and all the good you do. You should feel proud of yourself.”
“Thanks.”
“It’s the truth. I’ve never been through anything like what you experienced, but I’ve been shot. I’ve witnessed a lot of violence and seen more than my share of dead and decomposing bodies. I have nightmares, too.”
“You do?” She seemed genuinely surprised by this.
He couldn’t help but laugh. “Hell, yeah.”
“Do you ever cry all over your guests?”
“I haven’t cried since the day we buried my parents.”
She rested her hand against his arm. “That must have been so hard.”
“Yeah.” It had been hell.
They reached the Cimarron just before nine. Jack and Nate welcomed them, took their bags, and invited them in for a quick cup of coffee.
“One of the hands will take your bags to the guest cabin,” Jack told them. “They’ll be waiting for you when you get there.”
No sooner had they finished their coffee than the sheriff’s deputy arrived.
Deputy Julia Marcs introduced herself to Jason. “It’s a pleasure to meet a Shadow Wolf. You sure impressed Sheriff Pella yesterday.”
“I was happy to help.”
While Deputy Marcs went
over the day’s plan of action with Jack and Nate, Jason geared up, setting out his Glock, holster, and two extra loaded magazines. As a Shadow Wolf, he carried an M4 rifle in the field, so it felt strange to be armed only with his pistol.
“You brought a gun?” Winona came up behind him.
“I usually carry concealed. Drug runners sometimes target Wolves and their families. I haven’t had it on me since I arrived in Scarlet, but I always have a firearm. Does that bother you?”
“I’d rather have the gun in your hands than someone else’s.”
“Fair enough.” He racked the slide on the pistol and holstered it.
They climbed into the cab of Jack’s truck, Jason and Winona in the back, Nate riding shotgun, Jack at the wheel, and drove to the pasture where Jason had found the four-wheeler tracks, Deputy Marcs following in her sheriff’s vehicle.
Jack turned the truck’s radio to a weather station. “They’re saying that a cold front will move down from Wyoming this evening, bringing snow to the high country. We’ll need to keep our eyes on the weather. I don’t want to get benighted in the middle of a winter storm.”
“It’s good we’re doing this today then.” Jason met Jack’s gaze in the rearview mirror. “A snowfall could destroy the sign.”
“I think you might be right, Win.”
“Of course I am,” Winona teased. “About what?”
“The wolf sign disappears here. My guess? The animal rode with the poacher in the four-wheeler.”
Nate turned to Winona. “Could a wolf do that?”
“Shota did. I never took him four-wheeling, but he rode in my vehicle at least once a week when Chaska and I took him out for trail runs.”
They set off again, Jason following the four-wheeler’s tracks. While Winona could see those plainly enough—the wheels had torn through the duff to the mud beneath—she would never have noticed the minute details that were obvious to Jason. A bit of gray thread from a wool sweater caught on a pine branch. A log overturned by tires, its sun-bleached side now facing the ground. The mud pushed up onto a slab of rock by one of the vehicle’s tires.
