by Jenna Kernan
Amber’s lips seemed fused. It must have been hard for Kay being here, especially when her husband, Aiden, had a good job in the tribe’s highway department.
Silence yawned between them.
“I’m sorry this is all on you now,” said Amber.
“And I’m sorry you had to leave. You know, if you just tell them what happened, maybe...”
“I’m not going to embarrass them. He is still my father.”
Kay stared at the worn carpet runner and nodded. Then she reached for the door, and they crept into the room to admire the two sleeping boys.
When they returned from the bedrooms, Amber wore one of Kay’s pretty cotton dresses in a rich coral color with a wide yoke and belt. She’d also cast off her flats for silver sandals. Amber wished she’d had time to shower.
Carter had been in conversation with Dylan, but his gaze locked on her and then dropped as his eyes swept over her. His smile was full of appreciation, and Amber felt her cheeks heat.
“That dress never looked so good,” whispered Kay and left her to help Aunt Gigi set the table.
Amber’s brother-in-law, Aiden, held the kitchen door open as Carter’s uncle Paul and Carter’s dad stepped into the kitchen, bringing with them the aroma of charred steak. Amber, Kay and their mom laid the rest of the meal upon the table as Carter’s mother, Annette, forked the last of the fry bread from the bubbling pot of hot oil. Everyone dug in. The fry bread was so hot, the transfer from platter to plate had to be done with speed and dexterity. Carter had not expected to be so famished, but he ate with a good appetite. Amber ate more than he had ever seen her as her mother jabbered on about Ellie, who was away at college. Amber was happy for her youngest sister’s achievements, but there was a pang of regret at never having seen the inside of a college classroom.
Her mother never mentioned her dad, and Amber did not ask about him.
Carter watched the stiffness between Amber and her mother with curiosity. He knew there was bad blood but did not know exactly what caused Amber to leave home while he was away on his first tour in the Sandbox. But he had an idea it was tied to the reason she’d given him back his ring. Now he found he wanted to fill in those blank spots.
Finally the dishes were cleared. Amber rubbed her eyes and stifled a series of yawns.
“Are we staying the night?” asked Carter, suddenly so weary he feared he wouldn’t be able to stand.
Dylan answered, “My place. It’s here in Koun’nde. I have two bedrooms. Ray, Jack and I will take watch, and Jack recruited some of the tribal police for surveillance.”
Carter did not wait but rose to his feet and helped Amber stand. Carter’s mom forced the remains of the fry bread on Ray and the uneaten dessert on Dylan. Kay gave Amber a travel bag, which he assumed held clothing and such.
Amber was asleep on his shoulder before they had left the drive. They passed two tribal vehicles on the way, which was reassuring.
When they reached their destination, Carter waited in the truck with Jack as Ray and Dylan swept the perimeter. When they returned, Carter woke Amber, who was so groggy he had to walk her up the steps.
Her scent and her warm body stirred him. She felt so right there against him, and it made him long for all that they had missed. Their host directed him. Carter was pleased but not surprised to see that Dylan’s house, like his person, was neat, clean and welcoming. The guest room for Amber was functional, with a queen-size bed and side table, but looked more like a library with all the bookshelves stacked to overflowing and a sagging overstuffed reading chair beside a floor lamp.
Ray and Dylan stopped in the hall as Carter assisted Amber in, where she sank into the comfortable chair.
Ray peered around the room. “Geesh, Dylan, you actually read all these?”
“Not yet.”
“Looks like a library.”
“There aren’t a lot of books up here.”
“There are now,” said Ray.
Dylan had laid a clean towel on the bed with a bag from the drugstore.
“Got you two some things. There’s a toothbrush, comb and some travel-sized things in there,” he said and blushed. Then he thumbed over his shoulder. “You’re in my room. Clean towel. You can use my shaving kit. Take any clothing you like.”
Amber thanked Ray and Dylan, who left them alone. Amber left the chair to explore Dylan’s offerings, lifting the bag and passing Carter one of two new toothbrushes.
“This was sweet of Dylan,” she said, her voice slurred from exhaustion.
“Razor?” she asked.
He nodded his head. “Sure.”
She handed over the razor and then leaned forward and rubbed the coarse whiskers on his jaw with her palm. He struggled not to capture her hand against his cheek; it felt so damned right.
A tired smile curled her lips. “Rough.”
He was dead on his feet, nearly swaying with fatigue, yet that simple touch had electrified him as if he’d stuck his finger in a light socket.
“That dress is very pretty on you.”
“Kay made it. She’s great at sewing.”
It wasn’t the sewing but the fit that was perfect, showing Amber’s curves and just enough leg.
His attention flicked from her hand to her eyes. She watched him, her dark eyes hooded. He tried to remember why he shouldn’t kiss her. Remember the reason it was a bad idea. They were now tied inexorably to the worst murder spree to take place in Arizona. And she was, at best, a witness and, at worst, a suspect. But that wasn’t the only reason, not all of it anyway. There was the ring. The one she’d dropped in the dirt and he still had.
And yet, she captivated him. No, disturbed, that was a better word. Yes, she disturbed him. Deep down and relentlessly.
She let her fingers drag over his jaw and down his throat. He captured her hand in both of his and pressed her palm over his heart, pinning her before him as he debated his choices, let her rest or...
Amber cast him a certain look.
Decision made.
Chapter Ten
Amber didn’t look away or retreat as Carter stepped closer. Instead she lifted her hand to finger the collar of his shirt, letting the back of her hand graze his neck. In her wake his skin buzzed and tingled, every nerve alive and yearning for her touch. Carter lifted his hand to cup the back of her head, and she tipped forward, lifting to her toes.
“Bad idea,” he said.
“The worst,” she replied.
Then she tilted her head and kissed him. Her soft full lips set off a tremor inside him. The epicenter lay south of his belt. He planted a hand at the center of her back and pulled, thrusting her forward. She fell against his chest. Her hands splayed over his shoulders and then slid up until they threaded in his hair. She seemed starved for him, and he felt like the desert in a long-awaited rain.
Her mouth opened, and her tongue darted into his mouth. Carter tipped her across one arm to give him better access to her mouth and neck and...he opened one eye to find a place where he could stretch her out. What he saw was Dylan’s desk piled with books.
Carter groaned and drew her back to her feet. Then he broke the kiss and stepped away, keeping only one hand on her arm to be sure she was steady on her feet, then letting her go.
He’s seen that expression before. That sort of dazed stare and crooked smile of pleasure.
“Why, Amber? Why now?” he asked.
She flushed. “I just thought... I hoped that it wasn’t as good as I remembered.”
“And?” he asked, then tensed waiting for her reply.
“Better. So much better,” she whispered and gripped both her hands before her as if to make them behave.
“Yeah,” he said and rubbed his neck. “What are we going to do about it?”
“I don’t know.” She glanced tow
ard the door. “They’re taking me. Maybe soon. Tinnin said so.”
It added urgency to his need. The thought of losing her again hit him hard. He fought it and almost told her he wouldn’t let them take her. But it was a lie. She’d know there was no way to keep her from federal custody other than running, maybe to Mexico. And then he’d lose it all, his medicine society, his friends, his family and his tribe. The thought washed him cold, and he took a step back.
Her smile was weary, as if belonging to a much older woman, one who knew the disappointments life can bring.
“We should get some sleep.”
“Yes. We should.”
He wanted to tell her that he still had feelings for her and that he’d never gotten past the hurt and betrayal of her leaving.
Instead he played it safe, not willing to risk her rejection again because, oh, how it hurt the last time. Still hurt like a phantom limb, gone but still aching, the nerves confused at losing something so vital.
“It was nice to see everyone together tonight,” she said.
Did she miss her family as much as he missed her? He couldn’t imagine it, being away from them and his home. Every tour of duty he served was endurable only because he knew he would one day come home.
“Yeah.”
“Dylan looks good. But Ray seems a little sad, still.”
Yeager had been his best friend, Carter knew. Amber knew that, as well.
He felt like the cacti, down there on the flat scorched earth far below the mountains just waiting for the rain. Only he had waited nine years for Amber to come back, to explain, to apologize for turning her back on him and their future together. But she never came. She was here now only because she had no other choice. It hurt knowing that.
She fidgeted with a button on the dress Kay had made.
“I’m glad to see Ray doing well. A Hot Shot, too, Kay says. She was surprised after his troubles.”
Was she referring to the depression or the drinking or the car he flipped while his blood alcohol level was twice the legal limit?
“He’s doing okay now.”
“Do you guys ever talk about it?”
He met her cautious stare and considered kissing her in an effort to get her to stop talking, but he was too slow.
“Yeager, I mean.”
He locked his jaw.
“What happened to him, Carter?”
* * *
CARTER TENSED AT Amber’s question about his fallen comrade, Hatch Yeager. She leaned away to look up at him, and he grimaced at the gut-twisting reaction that always punched him low and deep when he thought of Hatch.
His face flushed as he recalled the last time Amber had asked that question. He was nineteen and home after two weeks in a field hospital in Baghdad, followed by eighteen days of rehab stateside. After they’d finished picking all the tiny metal fragments from his right arm and shoulder, they’d left him to pick at all the tiny emotional fragments of the attack. Carter had breathed in grief like air and needed psychological help. She’d visited him then, in that dark time.
They only knew Hatch was missing then. Abandoned, was there any worse fate? He looked down at Amber and some tiny bridge formed in his mind. Had she abandoned him or had he abandoned her?
Amber waited. He hedged, still trying to avoid speaking of this.
“Maybe now isn’t the best time,” he said. “I should let you rest.”
He watched the hopeful expression crumble to disappointment.
“I mean, especially not after today.” He left the rest unspoken. Not on the day when her coworkers had been murdered.
She met his gaze. “Especially today. Carter, every time I rest I think of them. Every time I close my eyes I see Nancy smiling at her desk or Frank or Trisha. And I feel so guilty that I wasn’t there and so grateful, too.”
Carter straightened. She understood.
“But it wasn’t your fault,” he said.
“Wasn’t it? If what the FBI said is true, then I brought that to them because of the error I pointed out to my boss. I did that.”
“But you didn’t know.”
Her eyes narrowed, and her lips pressed tight. “And whatever happened to Hatch wasn’t your fault either, even if you feel it was.”
He tore his gaze from hers. She rested a hand on his back.
“Tell me, Carter. Please.”
“Okay.”
It wasn’t okay, of course. Never would be.
“I heard he was found,” she said.
“Identified,” corrected Carter. “The Marines notified his family in July of ’09. We got him back in August and buried him with full honors.”
His body. A casket. A flag.
“I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah. It’s been hard.” Because they were always together, a team. The Bear Den twins, Ray, Dylan and Hatch...and Hatch. Carter’s throat closed, and so he clenched his teeth, fighting for control.
Amber began a rhythmic stroking of his back. Her small hand was warm and soothing.
She was brave to tread this ground again after what he had said the last time she asked. It showed she was willing to give him a second chance. Was he willing to do the same?
On her last visit he’d been angry at Amber and himself, and so he had barked at her like a rabid dog.
“Go away, Amber. It’s what you always wanted, to be rid of this place. So go.”
“I just wanted—”
“Look at you. All dressed up like an Anglo.” He had swept her with a look of contempt. “You’re a manzana.”
The tears had come then, and she’d turned away, dashing down the steps and out of his life.
“That’s right. Run away. It’s all you’re good at.”
Amber’s hand stopped, and he opened his eyes, looking down at her lovely face. She deserved better than him.
“Is it better to pretend he does not still live in the hearts of all four of you?”
She was asking what to do—remember them? Try to forget. And she was right. Yeager wasn’t dead. He was the ghost that sat among them. He thought of the tattoo he had chosen with the help of their shaman and head of their medicine society. Five feathers. One for each direction and one for the center of their circle—Yeager.
She moved to sit on the bed, folding up her legs and retrieving a pillow, which she hugged before her, chin resting on the top. He sat beside her, his feet on the floor.
He would answer her question, and the realization exhausted him before he even spoke a single word.
He started talking. “Twenty-two hundred hours. May 1. We’re setting up an observation post in the death triangle. It’s a spot near Al-Yusufiyah, in Iraq, a bad spot. Our first tour. We were so charged to see action.” He shook his head in disgust at his naïveté. “So our SFC says he wants Bear Den and Tehauno in the first Humvee with him. We all know he means me, but Jack just winks at me and takes off for the first Humvee, and the SFC doesn’t make a big deal of the joke, just lets Jack go.” Now, Jack felt as if Carter’s wounds were his fault, but Carter kept that to himself. “So because of Jack, SFC Mullins hesitates before choosing the third man, and Ray yells, ‘And Strong.’ Mullins, our sergeant says, ‘Fine, Strong.’ But you can hear he isn’t thrilled, and we all know he likes Yeager better than Ray because Ray is a wiseass.” But not anymore. Not since that night. Carter swallowed.
Amber placed her hand on his shoulder, silently encouraging him to go on.
“That leaves second in command, Sergeant Tromgartner, with me, Yeager and our interpreter, Ahmed, in the second Humvee. I’m annoyed with Jack because he’s got Mullins. I’m stuck with Tromgartner who always drives, and I can drive if I’m with Mullins, so I tell Yeager to take the backseat.” Such a small decision but one to change all their lives. “We roll south of
Baghdad and set up the observation post with the two Humvees one hundred and fifty yards apart. facing opposite directions, trying to keep insurgents from attacking our guys on the road. Instead we’re ambushed by a group with automatic weapons and explosives.”
Amber set aside the pillow and took his hands. He hadn’t realized he had been pounding a fist against his knee until she held him still. He glanced at her, and she nodded for him to continue.
“They blew us to hell. That second Humvee. We were on fire, and my sergeant was bleeding.”
“That’s how you injured your arm?”
He glanced at the spiderweb of white scars. “Yeah. Parts of the Humvee and the IEDs. Because of the smoke, I couldn’t see Yeager or Ahmed. They were just gone. Tossed from the vehicle. So I grabbed Tromgartner and ran him to the first Humvee. They shot Tromgartner as I’m running him back. Then I look back and see Ahmed running after us. I yell ‘Where’s Hatch?’ He points down the hill, and I see the insurgents already at the second Humvee. I drop Tromgartner, and Ray and Dylan have him. I turn back for Yeager, but Jack stops me. He muscles me into the Humvee and we take off.”
“You thought they killed him,” whispered Amber.
“No. I prayed they killed him. I prayed for that every minute of every day. But they didn’t.” They’d tortured him for months. They’d tortured him. All because Carter had taken the front seat. Or chosen to rescue his sergeant instead of searching for his friend.
“They buried him here,” said Amber. “I’ve visited his grave.”
Amber’s fingers trailed over the white puckered skin that crisscrossed over his right forearm. The tattoo on his upper arm and shoulder covered some of the damage there.
“How badly were you injured?” she asked, tracing the white scars.
He removed the chambray shirt, showing her the rest, peeling back the sleeve of his borrowed T-shirt so it ringed his shoulder.
Amber winced at the damage. But her fingers continued to dance over his skin like a blind woman reading braille.
“Would you blame him if the reverse had happened?” she asked.
“I don’t know. I might.”
