by Jenna Kernan
The jeans were big on her, but the sports bra and underwear fit perfectly. She had fastened the pearl snaps of the green-checked Western-style cotton shirt when she smelled the mouthwatering aroma of fresh-brewed coffee, eggs and sausage. She followed her nose to the kitchen and discovered that Dotty had added fried potatoes to the offering.
“This smells wonderful.”
“Everything does when you are hungry.” Dotty handed her a plate and motioned to the frying pans. “I made this because it is quick. You eat meat, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do,” said Meadow as she helped herself to some of everything.
“Fine. You must be starving.”
“I’m going to burn that hospital gown,” said Meadow.
“I already threw it in the trash,” said Dotty.
They shared a smile.
“Thank you for the clothing.”
“Those belonged to my youngest daughter, Rita, when she was a teenager. She wore it for barrel racing. I never throw anything out.”
“Well, lucky for me,” said Meadow, and she settled in at the table before her full plate.
“Eat,” said Dotty, and Meadow dug in.
Meadow was on her second helping when Dylan arrived and joined her. Dotty said her goodbyes and left them alone.
Suddenly Meadow felt afraid. She wasn’t brave or smart or selfless. She was a trainwreck about to blow the one chance she had with a man whom she loved with every ounce of her being.
The men in her past had been interested in her for the obvious reasons. Sex, of course, but also her money and all that came with it. Dylan wasn’t like them. But who was she now that she was not the youngest daughter of Theron and Lupe Wrangler?
“How you feeling?” asked Dylan.
“Clearheaded for a change.” And terrified, she thought. “Thank you for getting me out of there.
“Why’d you come back for me?” she asked, and then she stilled at the intent look he cast her. She couldn’t seem to draw a full breath under the incredulous stare.
“You needed help.”
She bowed her head. “Oh, yeah. I really did. You must get tired of pulling my fanny from the fire.”
He said nothing.
Meadow glanced up. “I heard Ray Strong is home.”
“Safe and sound. He wants to see you, but I held him off.”
His friend wanted to check on her. That was good, wasn’t it?
“That’d be great.”
Dylan grabbed a plate and filled it with eggs and potatoes, then joined her. He polished off the food in short order. When he had finished his meal, he retrieved his coffee mug, cupping it between both his strong hands as he settled across from her once more.
Her belly twitched at the urge she suppressed to stroke those long elegant fingers.
“You spoke with the FBI?” asked Meadow.
“Yes. Forrest and Cosen will want to talk with you again. They have some options for you.”
She swallowed and placed a hand over her quaking stomach as she met his gaze across the table. This was bad.
“Options?”
“Yeah. Like you could be relocated as a protected witness.”
Meadow felt her heart clench. His friend Carter and his wife, Amber, had entered that program. They had been gone for months and had still not testified in the federal case against the surviving gunman. The thought of being separated from Dylan for such an extended period made her entire body ache. What would she do if he sent her away?
But why would he want her to remain? She’d been trouble for him since the moment they met. That’s what she was everywhere she went. Her one true gift was her ability to make a mess.
“I’d rather not,” she said.
He exhaled and his hold on the coffee mug tightened. Had he hoped to have someone take her off his hands?
“I can’t go home.”
“No, you sure can’t. Trouble is that Forrest’s superiors are not convinced of your mother’s involvement. She is contending that she was unaware of her husband’s illegal activities.”
“What about last night? Rhodes was there to kill me, and my father could not have sent him or the other gunmen.”
“She denies any knowledge of why he might have attacked you or of the two men who killed Louisa Crane at the medical health facility. If she’s as good as Forrest suspects, there will be nothing to connect any of this to her. She’s used your dad as a shield between her and the operation for years. As far as the FBI can determine, Rhodes worked for your father.”
“What about the other two?”
“Gone.”
“What about the explosives?”
“All I know is what Cosen told me. The traces from the ridge-fire explosion match the type taken from the Lilac mine.”
“Did you tell them that the reservoir system is the target?”
“They know. Our word against your mother’s, and there is zero evidence she was up there with us that day.”
“But the FBI will protect the reservoirs. Right?”
Dylan pressed his lips together. “I hope so. Forrest is worried the bureau might not find the intel credible.”
“That’s a fancy way to say that they think we made it all up.”
He nodded.
“Sure,” she said. “Why wouldn’t they? I’m crazy. Right? Just broke out of a psych ward. All hopped up on who knows what.” Meadow found herself pacing across the kitchen floor.
Dylan stood and captured her in his arms and drew her back so that his mouth was beside her cheek.
“I believe you.”
She turned toward him, lifting her arms to loop around his neck. How she wanted him. Deep down and with every part of her.
“Our tribal leadership has met with our medicine society. Tribal Thunder will protect the reservoirs.”
“All of them?”
Dylan nodded. “Yes, all. Because if any of the dams above our reservation fail, they will take out the next and the next.”
How many of his people might die in such a flood?
“Dylan, I don’t want to be relocated.”
His expression gave away nothing as he continued to stare.
“I want to stay here and guard the reservoirs...with you.”
“It’s dangerous.”
“I know.”
“And boring. Guard duty isn’t like, well, the life you are used to living.”
“I know that, too.”
“And it’s not your land.”
“My mother and father did this. I have a responsibility to set this right.”
“Is that why you want to stay? Out of duty?” He leaned forward, as if her answer was important to him.
“Partly.”
“What’s the other part, Meadow?”
She looked away and realized she was not as brave as Dotty gave her credit for. Not brave enough to say that she loved Dylan, because to say that aloud was to risk her heart. And that was something far more fragile than a life.
“Forrest said that as long as you stay on federal land he can keep the sheriff and highway patrol from getting to you. You won’t be arrested or detained. But you are wanted for questioning in the death of your father.”
She felt her skin prickle. “They think I killed him?”
“Forrest says they think that Mark Perkinson shot him and that your father shot Perkinson. You and I are witnesses.”
“I see.”
“Both Forrest and Cosen think your mother might try again. That’s why they are recommending witness protection.”
“I see.” She drew back. His hands brushed her hips as he released her. “I suppose she canceled my credit cards.”
“I would. Your father left no will. His est
ate will go to probate, but...”
“She gets it all.”
He nodded.
“It was all hers to begin with.” She raked her fingers through her drying hair. “I want to find out about my real mother.”
“We can try. There have to be records.”
“I need to know who I really am.”
Dylan nodded. “Everyone does. But you are who you make yourself. We choose who we will become.”
She nodded. There was truth in that. Who did she want to become? Her gaze met his.
“You could stay here with us.”
“Your tribe, you mean?”
“With me.”
He looked frightened for the first time since she had met him. His fingers drummed on his thighs like a piano player practicing scales, and his entire body looked as tense as one big muscle spasm.
“Dylan, do you want me to stay here with you?” She bit her lower lip as she waited for his reply.
She watched his Adam’s apple bob.
“I want you to stay with me, and not because you have to or because you’ll be arrested if you leave. I want to know that you...” He pressed his hand to his forehead as if taking his own temperature. Then he blew out a breath.
Hope swelled in that place behind her breastbone, right beside her heart. Dylan wanted her to love him and to stay because there was no other choice but to be where he was—always.
She stepped forward, filled with a hope that he wanted her as much as she wanted him. Meadow took both her hands in his and squeezed.
“Dylan, if I stay it will not be because of the danger of leaving, or because the FBI recommends it, or because you are willing to protect me. It will be because you love me, too.”
“Too?” he asked.
She nodded.
He sucked in a breath of surprise and then wrapped her up in his arms so tight she could barely breathe. Then he gripped her shoulders and pushed her back so he could look at her upturned face.
“You love me?” he asked.
“I do. So much that the thought of leaving you hurts. I need to be with you and I’ll help you fight them.”
“I was afraid you’d have no choice. Marrying me would give you the protection of a full member of the tribe.”
“And you thought I’d do that to save my own skin.”
He lowered his head until his forehead pressed to hers. “I just wanted you to have a choice.”
“I do have a choice.”
“And you’ll marry me?” he asked.
She stepped back. “No.”
His smile fell away.
“No?” he asked.
“No. I won’t. I’ll stay here and fight with you. I’ll love you until you have no doubt, and when we have stopped them and I’m free, then I’ll marry you.”
“We don’t have to wait.”
“Yes, we do. Not just for you, Dylan. For me, too. I want everyone to know why I choose you. I won’t have your tribe thinking you married me from pity or that I had to be your bride. I won’t marry you—because I love you too much.”
Dylan smiled and then he nodded. “Once they know you, they’ll know why you stay.”
She was giving him what he needed. Dylan would keep his dignity and she would find pride in doing something of use.
“This will be a new experience for me,” she said. “I’m more the immediate-gratification kind of gal.”
“Patience comes with its own reward.” There was a certain twinkle in his eyes that made her blood rush.
“Oh, yeah?”
He looped an arm around her shoulder and leaned in, taking the lobe of her ear into his mouth. Tiny ripples of pleasure cascaded along every nerve, and she trembled with anticipation.
Dylan drew back and looked down at her, his smile wicked.
“Withholding personal gratification makes the pleasure more satisfying,” he said.
“I’m looking forward to trying that sometime,” she said as she steered him down the hall toward his bedroom. “But not today.”
She thought about the first time she’d laid eyes on him, when she’d blocked his way up that ridge, delaying him just enough that he had survived the blast, and then he’d rescued her.
It was important that he know her heart, and it would take time to show him—and his people—that this outsider had changed her ways and was here for the duration.
They were a team and they were in love. She didn’t need a wedding band as evidence of his devotion. His mouth and his hands and his heart were proof enough.
She knew the July monsoons were coming. Knew, too, that the reservoirs would be full to bursting after the storms. This would be the time to strike, when the damage would be most great.
Meadow knew all that, and she knew that they must stop her mother and the extremists of BEAR because Meadow and the brave warriors of Tribal Thunder would protect what they loved.
Meadow’s heart beat with hope and excitement. She was no longer lost or alone because she had found her place and her purpose. Dylan had given her so much more than his love. He had given her respect, a mission larger than herself and a chance to make a difference in the world. She felt ready for what would come; ready to join Dylan in this fight and ready to become the woman worthy of his love.
Bobcat had found a mate.
“You are my heartbeat,” she said and kissed him long and slow.
* * * * *
Prepare as tribal police detective Jack Bear Den
goes undercover with FBI field agent Sophia
Fowler in the final showdown between
the eco-extremists of BEAR and the
warriors of Tribal Thunder in book 4,
TURQUOISE WARRIORS,
coming June 2017.
Keep reading for an excerpt from SHEIK’S RESCUE by Ryshia Kennie.
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Sheik’s Rescue
by Ryshia Kennie
Chapter One
The howl of a lone wolf cut through the gray Wyoming sky, shattering the valley’s early-morning silence. The howl echoed across the sharp lines of the Teton mountain range, which rose in a jagged line against the horizon. The raw cry broke through the unseasonably late April snow as it drifted down in a freezing veil that covered the prairie grass surrounding Nassar Security.
&nb
sp; On his office balcony just outside Jackson, Wyoming, Vice President Zafir Al-Nassar took a deep breath. A sense of foreboding ran through him. Normally he would have enjoyed the reflective stillness of the late-spring snowfall, but now his thoughts were elsewhere. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for. There was nothing disturbing the area except the blanket of snow that covered everything. It seemed to mock his unease as it powdered the nearby landscape and the roofs of the distant houses. It was Hollywood snow, big white flakes coming down in a gentle curtain beneath a still sky. It was the kind of weather that the film industry sometimes chased through the northern states and Canada. His thoughts were broken as, in the distance, he saw a dirt bike buzzing along the road that ran along the interstate.
He rubbed his temple. He’d had a low-grade headache all morning. He’d been up too late last night trying out the limits of an online game his brother Faisal had shown him a few days earlier. They’d played it a number of times while he’d been in Marrakech and Faisal had been here in Wyoming. He’d been looking forward to playing it with him in person when he arrived in Wyoming. He’d been disappointed to find Faisal was on assignment on the East Coast, departing just before his arrival. He’d just arrived with his sister, Tara, from Marrakech, Morocco, via New York, only thirty-five hours ago. Yesterday afternoon he’d seen her off on the last leg of her return journey to the university via the company jet. The travel, the online game, all of it combined into too many days with too little sleep. He stuffed his hand into the pocket of his low-rise jeans.
“Idiot,” he muttered as he watched the motorcycle. Driving a bike in this kind of weather was, across the board, a bad idea. He shook his head and would have lost interest, except for the fact that minutes later, the bike turned into his parking lot.
“What the...” His mouth was set in a grim line. Could this be one of the employees from the Wyoming branch of Nassar? Who else would come out here on a Saturday? They didn’t hire risk-adverse individuals, but they didn’t hire thrill-seekers, either. Both personality types came with their own set of problems. He stayed where he was, intrigued by whom it might be as the bike swerved in a wide arc and pulled in beside his rental. Minutes passed. The rider seemed to be fiddling with something on the bike. It was an older model dirt bike—even worse as far as handling on slick roads. The driver might be a teenager.
