by Pamela Clare
After all he'd done to help her, she didn't want to get him fired.
He seemed to consider the possibility for a moment, then shook his head. "It will become public record soon enough. Just don't attribute it to me."
"Do you have a number I can reach you at if I have any questions?"
He reached into his pocket, took out his wallet, and wrote his number on the back of a business card. "It's best if you call my cell."
"Thanks." She gave him her card, then took one last sip of her coffee. "We're hoping the city will apologize and then amend its charter to guarantee us access to Mesa Butte. If only we could make the public understand ... But then I guess it's impossible for anyone who wasn't brought up with the Native way of life to see the land the way we do and understand why the butte is so important to us."
He raised a single dark brow. "Is that so?"
The note of challenge in his voice made it clear he wasn't convinced.
She stood her ground. "Of course, it is."
"Well, then how about this? Meet me up there on Saturday at four. My shift will be over, and it will still be daylight. You can show me what the land looks like through your eyes, and I'll tell you how I see it through mine."
KAT's ARTICLE HIT the street the next morning, her version of the story so much more complete that the other news outlets were now scrambling to catch up. She'd gone to print with the tip about Daniels she'd gotten from Gabe, a tip she'd verified using transcripts from police dispatch. She'd also included the Native community's demand for a formal apology and guaranteed access to Mesa Butte. A radio station in Boulder had asked her to come on the air this evening to talk about what had happened at the butte. But best of all, Grandpa Red Crow had already called her to tell her how much he appreciated the article.
"It's good to read our side of the story for once, Kimimila," he'd said.
She'd promised to stop by with a few extra copies of the paper after work, his praise touching her deeply, some part of her wishing her mother could hear him.
Of course, hers wasn't the only I-Team article making waves this morning. Matt's story about the embezzled pension fund was a scoop, the clamor from city hall deafening as city council members demanded answers from the confused mayor, who knew nothing about it and had to defer to Matt's article. Because Tom had taken the time to copyright both stories, the TV networks were forced to credit the Denver Independent with breaking the news.
"Find the bastards, and nail 'em to the wall. That's what we do." Tom was in a very good mood.
Kat should have been in high spirits, too, but her thoughts kept drifting to Gabe. She shouldn't be thinking of him at all. He was exactly the kind of man she'd spent her adult life avoiding, the kind who made love to lots of women without loving any of them, who couldn't be burdened with something as inconvenient as monogamy or family and saw sex as nothing more than recreation.
What had he called it? Chemistry.
How could a man who cared enough about people to save the lives of strangers have such a cynical view of love and human relationships?
Kat didn't know. But she did know that she wasn't willing to settle for random hormonal impulses. She wanted love. She wanted "happily ever after."
You're not going to find it with him.
No, she wasn't.
And with that realization, her day became a bit grayer.
Forcing her emotions aside, she followed the rest of the I-Team to the conference room for their morning meeting. Matt was doing a follow-up to yesterday's article, hoping to be present for the embezzler's arrest. Natalie wanted to write a follow-up about the wounded officer, who had been moved out of intensive care this morning. Sophie was researching the lack of community corrections programs for women and how that meant more time behind bars for them.
"Also," she said, meeting Kat's gaze in an unspoken plea for support, "I wanted to share some exciting news. Hunt and I are expecting another baby in May."
Natalie gave a little squeal. "That's wonderful! Congratulations!"
"I'm so happy for you!" Kat reached over and gave Sophie's hand a squeeze.
"You know, they've figured out what causes that," Matt said with feigned seriousness. "You might want to research it."
Sophie smiled. "Research it, Matt? Obviously, I'm an expert."
Matt turned red.
"Do you know if it's a boy or a girl yet?" Syd asked.
Sophie shook her head. "Either way I'm happy."
Then the room fell silent, everyone seeming to hold their breath, waiting for Tom's reaction. But Sophie had timed her news well.
"Congratulations, Alton." He gave Sophie a nod, then turned to Kat. "James, what have you got?"
GABE PARKED HIS service vehicle, then headed inside Mountain Parks headquarters, leaving his copy of the Denver Independent on the truck's seat. He'd already read through Kat's article twice, impressed by the way she'd put it together, explaining what had happened and asking the tough questions about the city's land-use policies. It felt fair, and yet, at the same time, it did a much better job of explaining the Native perspective than the other papers had done. And he was in it, right there in the fourth paragraph: "according to a source close to the investigation."
He'd bet that had made the suits at city hall shit their pants.
He drew his key card from inside his coat and scanned it, entering through the back door and heading straight to the john, where he washed the dried deer blood off his hands. Then he walked toward the break room, stripping off his coat and his heavy Kevlar as he went, his mind on what had already been a busy day.
Just after sunrise, he'd found a vagrant frozen half to death in the parking lot at the mouth of Gregory Canyon and had had to call an ambulance. He recognized the man, an old guy who drifted through town every so often. The man had apparently gotten kicked out of the homeless shelter late last night for being drunk and had tried to sleep it off in an old sleeping bag beneath a picnic table. Not the best decision he'd ever made.
Then a call had come in from a couple of hysterical cross-country skiers who said they'd seen a mountain lion. The lion hadn't attacked them; in fact, it had done what mountain lions were supposed to do. It had taken one look at their shocked faces and had run the hell away. But Gabe had gone up to check it out. He'd found a freshly killed doe about ten feet off the Lost Canyon Trail, mountain lion tracks all around it. He'd called for backup, and then, with Hatfield watching to make sure he wasn't jumped from behind by a pissed-off cat, he'd moved the half-eaten carcass deeper into the forest where the mountain lion could feed in peace.
Of course, the whole time he'd been thinking about Kat. He'd found it almost impossible not to think about her, even though thinking about her only made him want what he couldn't have. She'd made it good and clear that she wasn't going to get naked with him, not without a ring. But Gabe no longer did rings. He'd buried the only one he would ever buy with Jill.
It was probably for the best that Kat had made her position clear. It would save them both time. He preferred his sex straight up--no illusions, no attachments, no complications. She was a virgin who believed in happily-ever-afters. A virgin! When was the last time he'd used that word to describe anything other than olive oil?
I bet it scares the shit out of most guys when you say that stuff.
It had certainly scared the shit out of him. But what freaked him out the most wasn't the idea that she was keeping herself for one man, but the realization that some deluded part of him actually respected her for it. What was that about?
I decided a long time ago that I would never be any man's conquest.
She'd looked at him, had seen the horn dog lurking inside him, and had handed him his ass. And how had he reacted? Like a jerk, of course.
You're a little too old to believe in fairy tales, aren't you?
The moment the words had left his mouth, he'd wished he could take them back--and not just because he'd ruined his chances of ever having sex with her. He'd seen the d
isappointment in her eyes, and it had made him feel lower than dirt. So, naturally, he'd dug himself in deeper.
I wasn't asking you to have sex with me. I just wanted to get to know you better.
What a fucking liar he was. He'd wanted to take her to dinner, but he'd hoped to have her for dessert. Rather than admitting that he was guilty as charged, he'd embarrassed her by acting like she was the one who was assuming too much. And still she'd reacted with dignity, taking a deep breath and changing the subject, her cheeks flushing bright pink.
Proud of yourself, dickhead?
In the break room, he poured himself a cup of coffee, then grabbed a couple of burritos out of the freezer, dumped them on a plate, and popped them in the microwave to nuke for three minutes. At the table, rangers Rick Sutherland and Dave Hatfield were already stuffing their faces--and reading Kat's article.
"There's a message for you." Hatfield pointed toward the counter. "A woman from some law firm. Said she's been trying to reach you and leaving voice mails but hasn't heard back. She sounded pretty desperate."
Samantha. Cursing under his breath, Gabe grabbed the scrap of paper, crushed it in his fist, and tossed it into the recycling bin. It was one of at least a dozen messages she'd left him since Saturday night, apologizing for how she's acted, promising never to do it again, and pleading with him to call her.
When hell freezes over.
Sutherland looked at him from behind the newspaper and spoke with his mouth full of sandwich. "The city is up to its chin in shit this time. You read this?"
"Yeah." Gabe grabbed the salsa out of the fridge. "I was on call that night."
"Was it as bad as it sounds?"
Gabe nodded, searching for a clean fork. "I reported Frank Daniels. He tried to drag one of the women out of the lodge by her hair."
Sutherland shook his head. "Fucking idiot. Why didn't the call come to us?"
"Daniels was on patrol, saw the fire, and decided jurisdiction didn't matter."
"I wonder if this is why Webb's been in such a bad mood." Hatfield brushed crumbs from his shirt to the floor. "He had suits from the city in his office earlier this morning. There was some yelling behind closed doors."
Gabe kept his voice neutral, pretty sure he knew what the yelling had been about. "I wonder what's up."
The microwave beeped.
He retrieved his plate, dumped salsa on his burritos, and dug in.
"Me and some friends are planning some hut-to-hut skiing next month, Rossiter." Sutherland was the newest addition to the department and was always inviting Gabe to join him. "You should come along. I hear you're a badass."
Hatfield gave a snort. "Rossiter here skis shit no one should even try to ski, but forget about him joining the likes of us. He prefers to do everything solo."
Mouth full, Gabe gave Hatfield a quelling look. Hatfield had once been one of Gabe's closest friends and knew damned well he was treading on thin ice. "Thanks, Rick. Maybe some other time."
It was the answer Gabe always gave.
Chief Ranger Webb popped his head into the kitchen, a frown on his tanned face. "Rossiter, can I see you in my office?"
Shit.
"That depends. Can I bring my lunch?"
"Yes, for God's sake!"
Gabe stood and followed his boss down the hallway, Sutherland and Hatfield's chuckles following after him.
CHAPTER 4
ON FRIDAY, KAT found herself feeling unusually out of sorts. This she blamed on the whole Mesa Butte controversy. She'd had nothing new to report on it since the beginning of the week. The city still hadn't responded to her request for files on Mesa Butte, which meant the city had broken the law. The paper's legal team had opted to send a reminder rather than take the city to court. Meanwhile, the Boulder city council and mayor were still publicly promising to "look into" the incident, but were vague as to how or when, exactly, this would happen or when an apology might be forthcoming. And, of course, the complaint she'd filed against Officer Daniels for excessive use of force had resulted in a letter from Boulder's chief of police promising an internal investigation.
Lots of promises, no action.
Of course, the real reason for her bad mood was a certain mountain ranger who couldn't seem to leave her alone, intruding into her thoughts, pestering her even in her sleep. Why, oh, why had she agreed to meet with him tomorrow? Maybe there was still time to cancel. She could call his cell phone and...
Are you that afraid to be around him, Kat?
She was still trying to answer that question at five o'clock when Sophie stopped at her desk to remind her that it was the second Friday of the month and therefore Girls' Night Out--a tradition that had evolved out of weekly I-Team gettogethers in the nearest brewpub. With so many of the women now married with small children, they'd had to become more organized about their time together.
"I think both Kara and Tess will be there tonight." Sophie fished her keys out of her briefcase. "They read your article about what happened Sunday at the sweat lodge, and they both asked about you."
Kara McMillan and Tessa Darcangelo were former members of the I-Team who now worked as freelance journalists and nonfiction authors. It was Kara's departure from the paper that had opened up a position for Kat. Kara had married a state senator and was now the mother of three, while Tessa, whose courage had so impressed Kat during her first year at the paper, had married a former FBI agent turned cop. The two of them were parents to an adorable little girl who wasn't yet two. Kat admired both women and their husbands greatly and considered them friends.
And she felt her spirits lift. "Yes, I'll come."
THEY MET AT the Wynkoop--Kat, Sophie, Natalie, Kara, Tessa, and Holly Bradshaw, one of the paper's entertainment reporters--and claimed the big round booth in the back corner. Kara, Tessa, Holly and Natalie ordered martinis, while Kat, who didn't drink, and Sophie, who couldn't drink, ordered Italian sodas.
Kara shared the news about Reece's decision not to run for Congress. "He's term limited, so after May he'll be out of office and done with politics."
Sophie nibbled her cherry. "How does he feel about that?"
"I think he's relieved." Kara took a sip of her martini and tucked her long dark hair behind her ear to reveal a smooth pearl earring. "Neither of us liked the thought of having to commute between Denver and D.C. He's looking forward to teaching again."
Sophie shared the names she and Marc had picked out for their baby. "If it's a girl, we've agreed on Addison Lyra, and if it's a boy, he'll be Elijah Phoenix."
Everyone laughed except Kat, who didn't understand what was funny.
"Chase Orion, Addison Lyra, Elijah Phoenix--they all have constellations as middle names," Tessa explained, smiling, her blond curls spilling over her shoulder.
It struck Kat as wonderful that parents would name their children after stars. "I think that's beautiful, Sophie."
"The three of you are so lucky." Natalie smiled--a sad smile, Kat thought. "You have it all--wonderful husbands, successful careers and beautiful kids."
"I'm sure you'll meet the right guy one of these days," Sophie reassured her. "Half the men at the paper think they're in love with you."
"Only half?" Natalie joked.
But Kat could see in her eyes that she wasn't really laughing.
Then Holly told them all a story that started with how her neighbor was pregnant with in-vitro twins and ended with how a local painter had asked Holly to pose for him in the nude. Platinum blond and stunningly beautiful, Holly lived on the light side of life, seeming to take nothing but her appearance and her sex life seriously. Though that often led her to say things that others found insensitive or superficial, Kat found her lightness to be a gift. No matter what was happening around them, Holly always made them laugh.
"So, are you going to do it?" Kara asked.
Holly took a sip of her martini, a thoughtful frown on her face. "Do you think people will assume he and I are lovers if he paints me naked? I mean, the guy isn't s
exy in the least, and I would never want people to think I'd slept with him."
The others debated this while Kat tried to imagine how any woman could be so bold as to pose naked for paintings that would be displayed in public art galleries.
It was Kara who finally changed the subject. "I read your article about the trouble up on Mesa Butte last weekend. I learned a lot from it. I thought you did a really good job of explaining to your audience what this meant to Indian people."
Kat met Kara's gaze and felt something in her chest swell at the compliment. "Thank you. That means a lot to me."
"What about this officer who pulled your hair?" Tessa asked. "You said in the article that you had filed a complaint against him. Any word on that?"
"They've promised to look into it. Gabe filed a complaint against him, too, so I hope that means they'll take it more seriously than they otherwise might."
Four pairs of eyes looked at Kat--and blinked.
"Gabe?" Sophie asked. "Who exactly is Gabe?"
"Gabe Rossiter. He's the park ranger who intervened. It turns out he's also the ranger who saved my life last summer."
Holly made a little sound in her throat like a purr. "Is he single?"
TALKING WITH HER friends about Gabe only made Kat think about him more. She thought about him on her way home. She thought about him when she brushed her teeth. She was still thinking about him the next morning--and thinking about how she might be able to get out of meeting him--when Grandpa Red Crow called to tell her there would be an inipi on the butte tonight in defiance of the unjust law.
When she told him how frustrated she felt about her progress on the Mesa Butte investigation, he urged her to be patient. "This problem is more than five hundred years old. You can't expect to solve it in five days, my Kimimila."
Then he changed the subject. "When are you seeing your ranger again? I think he is a good man, a man you can trust."
