by Jenna Kernan
“You asked her?”
“I just said so.”
“With a ring?”
“What?”
“Did you have a ring? Did you get down on one knee like your father and beg her to marry you?”
Jack scowled. “No, of course not.”
His mother was now staring at the ceiling as if counting to ten. When her eyes met his, her brows were up and her chin down again.
“What did you say, exactly?”
Now he was looking away. “I don’t remember.”
She placed a hand on his folded arms. “Jack?”
“I said that if she married me, she’d gain tribal protection against federal prosecution. That I could marry her and the tribe would keep her safe.”
“How romantic.”
“I was offering to be her husband.”
His mother shook her head in a way that signified either disappointment or that he’d blown it somehow. He thought the latter but wasn’t quite sure. He shifted from side to side and her hand squeezed his arm, bringing him back to stillness.
“You offered,” his mother said. “You didn’t ask.”
“Mom, she said she didn’t need a husband. She needed her job back.”
“You made her feel like an obligation. Do you love her?”
“Of course.”
“Start with that.”
“That’s stupid,” he said.
“Why? Because you will have to wear that heart of yours on your sleeve instead of keeping it trapped in that big barrel of a chest? That’s the point, Jack. You have to take a risk to show her that you can’t live without her. You have to say the words and hope she doesn’t turn you down. You offered a plea bargain, not a proposal.”
Had he? He swiped a hand over his mouth.
“Try again, Jack, and bring the biggest diamond ring you can afford.”
*
SOPHIA HEADED FOR the break room to freshen up her coffee. She had been riding a desk for two weeks. She didn’t like it, watching the other agents in her office come and go as she remained behind with the paperwork. Her captain did a much better job at keeping her informed. The official line was that her little round of private explosives were counterterror measures taken by the Turquoise Canyon tribe in conjunction with federal authorities. That sounded so much better than rogue agent. She was under the impression that they’d keep her awhile and fire her when the media coverage petered out. Her union rep and their attorney suggested she get a deal in writing and get out while the getting was good. But where and to what? She thought of Turquoise Canyon and grimaced. The canyon was much wider now and the US Army Corps of Engineers was working up there.
She wanted to call Jack and see how he was doing. Busy, of course. She wondered about Federal Agent Cassidy Cosen. She knew the Anglo had married tribal councilman Clyne Cosen, but what did she do, commute from way up there on Black Mountain all the way down to Phoenix every day?
Logistics. That was not what was keeping her from Jack. It was stubbornness and fear. Stubbornness that he wanted to protect her instead of love her all her life. And fear that if she took him up on the offer to protect her, she’d lose the control she’d gained over her life.
“That’s why they call it falling,” she muttered.
Like a trust fall, you had to take a risk.
“Knock, knock.” She knew the voice without looking up. It was one of the agents in the office, Patrick Gaffney.
She plastered a smile on her face and turned toward Patrick. Why was he verbally knock-knocking on the open break-room door?
“You busy?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“I brought you a visitor.” His expression was entirely too manic for the generally taciturn agent.
“Yeah?”
Normally, they went out to meet visitors and did not bring them back to the break room. She had a sudden terror that it was her mother. Sophia set down her mug on the table.
Patrick stepped aside and Jack Bear Den filled the doorway. Patrick poked his head up from behind Jack’s shoulder like a prairie dog emerging from his burrow.
“I’ll leave you to it,” said Patrick and he disappeared.
Jack stood with his hat in his hand. Sophia sucked in a breath as her heart began a jolting beat that made her eardrums pound. It was hard not to rush forward and leap into his arms. How she wanted to do just that. Instead she casually reached for a chair back for support, fumbling her grip. She got a tight hold on the second try and she allowed her gaze to sweep over him, searching for changes.
His attire was more formal than usual.
He wore lean jeans. Beneath the cuff poked large, elaborately tooled boots she had never seen. The leather was obviously gator and some of the stitching and accent pieces were turquoise in color. His belt she recalled, staring for a moment at the familiar enameled buckle—the medicine wheel to help him find which way to go.
Had it led him here?
There was a visitor’s pass stuck to the lapel of his gray sports coat. Around his neck hung a necklace of disc-shaped turquoise beads holding a medallion featuring a large piece of turquoise framed by two bear claws set in silver. The ornament was bright against his white cotton shirt. Jack had dressed in his best.
She lifted her gaze to his familiar face. He was clean shaven and his chin dipped as he peered at her from beneath a hooded brow.
“Sophia,” he said. “I’ve missed you.”
Her heart continued its silly pounding. She licked her lower lip and saw his gaze drop to her mouth. Now the pounding moved south and her grip on the chair back tightened.
“This is a surprise,” she said.
“A happy one, I hope.” He cleared the doorway and she saw he carried a bouquet of red roses mingled with baby’s breath. The paper-cone wrapping was crushed tight in his fist as he held the flowers upright like an ice-cream cone. “I brought you these.”
Red roses. A dozen, at least.
Her gaze flicked to them and back to him as she tried to interpret the gesture. These were not the sort of flowers a man brought a woman in the hospital or to congratulate or to thank. He knew that, right?
“You look well,” he said.
She didn’t, but the cover-up helped disguise the circles and weight loss, which she blamed on the surgery.
He continued forward, stiffly, as if his boots hurt his feet. His finger slipped under the collar of his buttoned shirt and tugged. There was sweat on his upper lip.
Now, she had seen Jack in situations that should have made him sweat. Under fire in his SUV. Helping her lay det cord on the canyon and flying across the river in a boat to reroute the explosive series. He had not ever looked this nervous.
“What are you doing here, Jack?”
“Came down to ask you a question.”
A question or the question?
“These are for you.” He approached, arm extended as he thrust the flowers at her.
She collected the bouquet and inhaled the floral perfume. “Thank you.”
At first she thought he was bowing because his head inclined. But then she realized he was kneeling. Jack sank to one knee before her and fished in his pocket.
Sophia stopped breathing.
*
“SOPHIA?” JACK SAID. His mouth was so dry it tasted like sand.
The darn box wouldn’t open. He pulled and realized too late that he had it backward, as the tiny hinge came apart and the top section dangled like a bird’s broken wing. He scowled at the damaged black velvet. The slot still held the white gold band set with a low-profile solitaire.
He held out the offering.
“Sophia, I’m in love with you. I want you to be my wife.”
Her mouth dropped open and her eyes went wide as she looked at the ring and the box with the dangling top.
He rushed on, trying to assure her. He knew her feelings about commitment and relying on a man to provide for her.
“I want a partner, Sophia. I want you as my
partner. You might not believe me, but I will always protect you and provide for you. But I don’t expect you to give up anything. I want to join your life, not take it over. Will you at least consider me as a husband?”
Her mouth closed and her chin began trembling. He hadn’t seen this before. Should he stand up now and gather her in his arms, or just stay here holding out the ring?
Sophia set the roses on the table and reached, placing her hands on his extended one. She was nodding frantically as if she had suddenly lost the ability to speak.
“Is that yes?” he asked.
“Yes,” she squeaked.
He blasted forward like a center tackle coming off the line at the snap and pulled Sophia to his chest. She hugged him around the neck, and he inhaled the sweet familiar scent of her.
How he had missed her. Suddenly everything seemed just right. He set her on her feet and pulled the ring from the slot.
She smiled up at him as he held the tiny ring between them. She gazed down at the glittering ornament.
“The guy said he could size it to fit or that you can return this one and pick something you like better.”
She wiped the tears from her cheeks and glanced down at the engagement ring. “I couldn’t like anything better than this one.”
Sophia offered her left hand and he slipped the circlet to her knuckle. She took it from there, sliding the ring down her slim finger and into place. She took a moment to admire the setting, smiling down. Then she lifted her gaze to meet his.
“I never thought I’d want this,” she said.
“I always wanted this,” he said. “I just never thought I’d find the right woman. But I have found her in you.” He took her left hand in his, picturing the wedding vows and knowing they could not come soon enough. “I’m sorry about the first time I asked you. It was stupid. I made it sound like I was doing you a favor because I was afraid of doing this.” He lifted her left hand.
“Asking me?”
“You told me flat out that you would never depend on a man.”
“I did say that.”
“I think it’s just smart to be in control of your life, Sophia. I understand that and only want to be with you, always.”
“I love you, Jack. You make me want to believe. You’re worth the risk.”
He dragged her in for another hug and then a kiss and then another. When they finally came up for air, Sophia giggled and cried all at once.
“I want a honeymoon,” she said.
“All right. Where to?” he asked.
“Hawaii.”
Now Jack’s mouth dropped open as his breath caught.
“I want you to find your father’s people, Jack. We’ll go together. I’ll help you.”
“‘I’ll help you,’” he repeated on a whisper. “Those might be words as important as ‘I love you.’”
“What about my job?” she asked.
“I’d never ask you to leave your work, Sophia. It’s important, what we do. The world needs protectors.”
She smiled up at him and in her sparkling eyes he could see a brave woman, a survivor and a life mate who would walk with him on the journey of their lives. Jack had finally found his direction and his true path, here with Sophia.
*
Can’t get enough of
APACHE PROTECTORS: TRIBAL THUNDER?
Check out the earlier books in the series:
TURQUOISE GUARDIAN
EAGLE WARRIOR
FIREWOLF
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SPECIAL EXCERPT FROM
Mariah Ayres never expected Darby Cahill to be
her hero—or the only man she’d ever need.
Read on for a sneak preview of
OUTLAW’S HONOR,
A CAHILL RANCH NOVEL from
New York Times bestselling author
B.J. Daniels.
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Don’t miss TAKE IT TO THE GRAVE!
A 6-part psychological thriller that will have you guessing till the very end!
“I know your secret. I’m going to tell.”
As Sarah Taylor-Cox stares at the anonymous letter, her body starts to shake with dread. She has everything to lose—a gorgeous husband, a beautiful baby, and a picture-perfect house in the Hamptons. And now, the lies she’s built her life on are starting to crumble, one by deadly one...
Collect all 6!
Take It to the Grave (Part 1 of 6)
by Zoe Carter
Take It to the Grave (Part 2 of 6)
by Zoe Carter
Take It to the Grave (Part 3 of 6)
by Zoe Carter
Take It to the Grave (Part 4 of 6)
by Zoe Carter
Take It to the Grave (Part 5 of 6)
by Zoe Carter
Take It to the Grave (Part 6 of 6)
by Zoe Carter
Outlaw’s Honor
by B.J. Daniels
DARBY CAHILL ADJUSTED his Stetson as he moved toward the bandstand. The streets of Gilt Edge, Montana, were filled with revelers who’d come to celebrate the yearly chokecherry harvest on this beautiful day. The main street had been blocked off for all the events. People had come from miles around for the celebration of a cherry that was so tart it made your mouth pucker.
As he climbed the steps, Darby figured it just proved that people would celebrate anything. Normally, his twin sister, Lillie, attended, but this year she was determined that he should do more of their promotion at these events.
“I hate it as much as you do,” she’d assured him. “But believe me, you’ll get more attention up there on the stage than me. Just say a few words, throw T-shirts into the crowd, have some fry bread and come home. You can do this.” Clearly, she knew his weakness for fry bread as well as his dislike of being the center of attention.
The T-shirts were from the Stagecoach Saloon, the bar and café the two of them owned and operated outside town. Since it had opened, the bar had helped sponsor the Chokecherry Festival each year.
He heard his name being announced and sighed as he made his way up the rest of the steps to the microphone to deafening applause. He tipped his hat to the crowd, swallowed the lump in his throat and said, “It’s an honor to be here and to be part of such a wonderful celebration.”
“Are you taking part in the pit-spitting competition?” someone yelled from the crowd, and others joined in. Along with being bitter, chokecherries were mostly pit.
“I’m going to leave that to the professionals,” he said, reaching for the box of T-shirts
, wanting this over with as quickly as possible. He didn’t like being in the spotlight any longer than he had to. Also, he hoped that once he started throwing the shirts, everyone would forget about the pit-spitting contest later.
He was midthrow when he spotted a woman in the crowd. What had caught his eye was the brightly colored scarf around her dark hair. It fluttered in the breeze, giving him glimpses of only her face.
He let go and the T-shirt sailed through the air as if caught on the breeze. He saw with a curse that it was headed right for the woman. Grimacing, he watched the rolled up T-shirt clip the woman’s shoulder.
She looked up, clearly startled. He had the impression of serious, dark eyes, full lips. Their gazes locked for an instant and he felt something like lightning pierce his heart. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe. Rooted to the spot, all he could hear was the drumming of his heart, the roaring crowd a dull hum in the background.
Someone behind the woman in the crowd scooped up the T-shirt and, scarf fluttering, the woman turned away, disappearing into the throng of people.
What had that been about? His heart was still pounding. What had he seen in those bottomless dark eyes that left him...breathless? He knew what Lillie would have said. Love at first sight. Something he would have scoffed at—just moments ago.
“Do you want me to help you?” a voice asked at his side.
Darby nodded to the festival volunteer. He threw another T-shirt, looking in the crowd for the woman. She was gone.
Once the box of T-shirts was empty, he hurriedly stepped off the stage into the moving mass. His job was done. His plan was to have some fry bread and then head back to the saloon. He was happiest behind the bar. Or on the back of a horse. Being Montana born and raised in open country, crowds made him nervous.
The main street had been blocked off and now booths lined both sides of the street all the way up the hill that led out of town. Everywhere he looked there were chokecherry T-shirts and hats, dish towels and coffee mugs. Most chokecherries found their way into wine or syrup or jelly, but today he could have purchased the berries in lemonade or pastries or even barbecue sauce. He passed stands of fresh fruit and vegetables, crafts of all kinds and every kind of food.
