by Taylor Lee
Jake laughed. “Hmm, that’s the second time today I’ve been accused of slumming. You Native Americans are a suspicious bunch, aren’t you? But I’ll ignore your paranoia and simply say I’ll have my regular. And, Tiny…make it a double.” He turned to the stoic woman beside him and raised an inquiring brow. “How about you, Chief Delgado, what would you like to drink?”
When Sam just raised her chin another notch and pressed her lips in a thin, hard line, Tiny stepped into the tense silence. Eyeing Sam, his puffy lips curled up in a grin. “You want your usual, princess?” The big man glanced at Jake, and winked. “You gotta ignore our police chief, Jake. Most times she comes in here with a bug up her butt, but she mellows after Tiny serves her a couple of her favorite potions, don’t cha, princess?”
Jake laughed. “Hmm, I’m glad I’m not the only one responsible for that particular ‘bug’, but by all means, Tiny, bring us both the chief’s usual potion. Once I’ve chipped the top seven layers of ice off Chief Delgado’s frozen brow, we’re gonna need menus. I, for one, am famished.”
Tiny laughed and winked at Jake again. “You got it, boss man. The princess digs Jameson. By the way, big guy, if anybody can slog through that glacier encasing our police chief, it’s you. Just know, Jake, there’s a bar full of men here who’ve tried and failed. They’ll be watching to see if it takes one of the Justice brothers to do the impossible.”
With that, Tiny waddled away, chuckling. His flabby ass cheeks lurched from side to side under his size forty-eight dungarees, reminding Jake of two little kids rough housing under a blanket. He waited while Sadie, the worn server whose face looked as heavily traveled as the dusty reservation roads surrounding the bar, plunked their drinks on the table and raised an inquiring brow to Jake.
“Thanks, Sadie. That’ll do for now. When you bring us refills, you can also bring menus.”
Jake waited until the sullen server made her way back to her perch on the corner stool at the bar, then picked up his glass and raised it to Sam.
“To you, Chief Delgado, and what promises to be an interesting night.”
Ignoring him, Sam reached for her glass. She raised it to her lips and tipped it back, draining the potent amber liquid in one swallow. Then with a sharp smack, she plunked the empty glass on the table.
Jake laughed aloud. “Hmm, looks like I’m going to have to go some to keep up with you, Samantha Kalani. It appears that the prickly princess is loaded for bear.” He chuckled at her annoyed frown at his use of her Chippewa name and added, “Hell, the last thing I want to do with an angry woman is hold back her booze.” He raised his hand, signaling Sadie to bring refills. When the hard-eyed waitress returned with their drinks and menus, Jake shook his head. “No need for a menu for me, Sadie. I’ll have a double-decker cheeseburger with everything on it and double the fries.” He glanced at Sam, who pointedly ignored him, and added, “Bring Chief Delgado the same, but lighten up on the fries. The chief is watching her girlish figure.”
At Sam’s disgusted snort, a glimmer of a smile lightened Sadie’s dour expression and she winked at Jake as she walked away from the table.
Sipping on the Jameson, Jake studied the clearly angry woman who had yet to favor him with as much as a sideways glance. Knowing he had nothing to lose, he decided to go on the offensive.
He leaned back in his chair and narrowed his gaze. He kept his voice cool, but didn’t mask his serious intent. “You know, Samantha, you should be ashamed of yourself for the way you treated your grandfather today.”
Sam whirled on him, her eyes widening with surprise, then quickly hardening to icy azure pools. The flush of scarlet staining her cheeks forecast her angry retort. “You…you have no right—”
He held up his hand and interrupted her. “You’re wrong, Samantha. I have every right to call you out. You know that you hurt your grandfather badly. You questioned his honor and his allegiance to you and your tribe. Unfortunately, it is the kind of wound that will take time to heal, if it ever does. No matter what, it will leave a scar. I hope that the reservoir of love you share with your honored grandfather can weather the blow you inflicted on him this afternoon. Perhaps knowing how rash you are, how quick to anger, he will be able to write off your intemperance as but another example of your recklessness.”
Her face flaming with anger, Sam started to speak, then shoved her chair back and rose to her feet. Her lips were trembling, and her hands were clenched in tight fists at her sides.
Before she could shower him with her wrath, Jake intercepted her. Straightening his leg, he caught her behind her knees and dropped her back down on her chair with a whoosh. Ignoring her startled cry, he said, “Uh-uh, little girl. No hit and run tonight. You know you were wrong to attack your grandfather. Have the courage to admit it.”
When she stared at him, a war of conflicting emotions wracking her face, not the least of which was pain, Jake softened his tone. “Look, sweetheart, it’s obvious you’re feeling overwhelmed—”
Sam cut him off. “How dare you presume to know how I feel? And how dare you interject yourself into my relationship with my grandfather?” Her voice hardening further, she hissed an angry sound. “You are a presumptuous asshole who thinks he can come on my reservation and throw his weight around to the cheers of the fawning little redskins you think will bow and scrape before you.”
Shoving at his restraining hand, Sam tried to rise, but Jake pressed her firmly down in her chair. His voice dropping lower, he didn’t mask the threat underlying his words.
“Listen up, princess. I’m giving you fair warning. You’re not going anywhere unless I say you are. If I have to pick you up and hold you on my lap until you settle down, I will. I’m confident that all the patrons enjoying your temper tantrum would like to see me do just that!”
Sam sunk back in her chair, gasping for breath. She didn’t know when she had been as angry. Glancing around the bar, she was shocked to see that Jake was right. They did have an audience. Virtually every person in the bar was openly staring at them or throwing surreptitious glances their way. Mortified at the salacious interest from the Pit Stop regulars, Sam did her best to contain her fury.
Struggling to respond to him, Sam was horrified when she protested inanely, “I am not having a temper tantrum.” Determined to control her shaking voice, she asserted as calmly as she could, “That is the second time you have accused me of having temper tantrums, and that is not true!”
Dismayed that her voice rose, she caught the glint of amusement lighting Jake’s eyes. Continuing to hold her in place, his strong hand anchoring her, he appeared to consider, then acknowledged dryly, “Hmm, granted you haven’t thrown yourself on the floor kicking and screaming. But a temper tantrum? Damn close in my book, Chief Delgado.”
To her surprise, Sam laughed. It was far from a happy sound, more like an absurd chortle. It was the only response her overwrought psyche could conjure up to the untenable position she found herself in. She wasn’t surprised to feel a rush of moisture burning the backs of her eyelids. Knowing that a flood of tears would confirm that not only was she having a temper tantrum but a meltdown as well, she tried to speak firmly. Unfortunately, the words spilling from her lips in an incoherent rush didn’t help. “I…I honestly don’t know what is wrong with me…”
Sam slammed her eyes closed to hold back the tears and bit down hard on her bottom lip to stifle the sob rising in her throat. To her surprise, she heard Jake’s chair scrape against the linoleum floor as he dragged it closer to hers. Sheltering her from the interested gazes coming their way, Jake wrapped his big arm around the back of her chair and pulled her into a clandestine embrace.
His voice was soft, comforting. “Hang in there, Chief Delgado. You’ve been riding a Tower of Terror-sized roller-coaster these last three days, complete with three hundred twenty-six-foot drops and then some.” Holding her closer, he reached for the glass of water in front of her and held it up to her lips. “How about you take a sip of good ole H2O and then
I’ll give you some of that fortifying Jameson to quiet those nerves of yours.”
Sam surprised herself when she did as he told her and then surprised herself more by leaning against him. A wave of fatigue hit her, a reminder of the mere scraps of sleep she’d managed to grab in the last couple of nights. For a long moment she didn’t know how she would be able to hold up her head, much less sit up on her own. Rather than fight the losing battle, she allowed herself to rest against Jake’s strong muscled chest, closing her eyes to shut out the embarrassing reality of her shaky situation.
She felt him pull her closer to him then say in a casual voice, “Thanks, Sadie, you can put those down there. I’ll let you know if we need anything else. But do bring the chief and me another shot of Jameson. It’s been a hard couple of days.”
Taking several deep breaths, Sam pushed herself up into a sitting position, surprised at how much she missed the comforting cushion and intoxicating scent of Jake’s lean body. Unwilling to look him in the eyes, she kept her head down and mumbled, “Sorry, you’re right, these last three days have been challenging.” She swallowed hard and forced herself to meet his narrowed gaze. “And you’re right about what I said to my grandfather. It was an awful thing to say and…yes…I am ashamed of myself.”
She was grateful when he merely nodded and didn’t argue with her halting confession. He waited for a moment and then squeezed her shoulder slightly. “I don’t know about you, Samantha, but I’m about to chew off my arm, I’m so hungry. How about it? Are you ready to dig into Tiny’s cholesterol-laden mass of greasy goodness?”
Sam gave him a watery smile and nodding in agreement, confessed, “I think this is the first thing I’ve eaten in two days.”
Jake frowned at her. “Then, my unhealthy colleague, eat up. And know that if I have to feed you, I intend for you to eat every bite.”
Sam’s stomach took a nosedive at Jake’s shocking suggestion that he would feed her. She ducked her head to hide what she was sure was a flush on her heated cheeks. For the first time, she acknowledged how close she and Jake were sitting to each other. She admitted that she didn’t want to move away and was glad that apparently neither did he.
After they finished eating and Sam had surprised herself by eating her entire cheeseburger and most of her fries, she sat back in her chair, sipping her third double shot of Jameson. She didn’t know if it was the relaxing power of the potent alcohol or the warmth of Jake’s powerful presence, but she felt stronger and steadier than she had in days. They talked about unimportant things and then settled into a comfortable silence.
The rustling movements and scraping of chairs shook Sam out of her relaxed reverie. She heard heavy boots coming toward them before she looked over her shoulder to see Mingan Yazzie and some of his gang advancing on them. Mingan’s shoulder-length, coal black hair hung down his back warrior-style. His black eyes were flashing and his jaw was rigid with anger. The silver medallion hanging from a leather cord around his neck was emblazoned with the image of a wild, gray wolf, his Chippewa totem. Mingan Yazzie was the leader of the activist wing of the tribe and one of its most militant members. He’d had many run-ins over the years with what he called “white man injustice,” which he’d declared was personified by the powerful Justice brothers, particularly the commander of the DPD.
The expression on Yazzie’s face as he stormed toward them signaled his fury. Sam wasn’t surprised at his barely banked anger. Lately, Mingan’s diatribes had become so unhinged that Sam had felt the need to talk him down. Glaring at Jake, Yazzie snorted dismissively then turned to Sam and pointed with his chin to the exit.
“C’mon, Kalani. We need to leave.”
Jake’s eyes narrowed to mere slits. He casually unwound his imposing body from his chair. Rising to his full height, he was at least three inches taller than the fierce Indian warrior glaring at him. His voice was as casual as his powerful body was formidable.
“Good evening, Mingan.” He nodded to the trio crowding behind Yazzie. “Good to see you, Charlie, Pete, and you as well, Isabella.”
Mingan flushed a dark angry red, then ignoring Jake, he jerked his head at Sam. “You heard me, Kalani. Let’s go. We’re leaving.”
Jake’s lip quirked up at the corner for a fleeting moment. His voice was cool, contained. “You may be leaving, Mingan, but Chief Delgado isn’t—at least with you. The chief is with me tonight. I’ll be seeing her home.”
Mingan hesitated, his flush deepening. Glaring at Jake, he spat out, “You haven’t seen the last of me, asshole.”
Jake’s smile didn’t reach his slate-hard eyes. “Nor you, me, Mingan.”
Chapter 6
Sam lay in bed trying to sleep, an impossible task. Just as she started to drift off, yet another riveting image would grab her attention. It didn’t help that many of the vivid scenes accosting her agitated brain were X-rated. After she conjured up another image, thinking that a change in scenery would help, she finally admitted that no matter how she turned the kaleidoscope wheel in her mind, a tall, dark-haired, gray-eyed man with a teasing smile and commanding presence owned every scene in her imagination.
Remembering Jake coolly telling Mingan Yazzie that “Chief Delgado was with him tonight and that he’d be seeing her home,” she wasn’t surprised that her rabid friend and his sycophant followers had backed down. Mingan wasn’t a fool. Even as furious as Mingan was that Sam was with Commander Justice, it was clear that the unruffled commander had the upper hand. Mingan stormed out of the Pit Stop, muttering incoherent threats and obscenities, a dark cloud of fury emanating from him. He’d sent Sam four texts since the simmering altercation, each one railing at her for being seen with their archenemy. Mingan had made no secret of the fact that he was interested in Sam, convinced that they were destined to be more than friends. While Sam had stated emphatically that she wasn’t interested, Mingan was single-minded about his intentions, as he was with everything, certain that his fierceness would overcome her resistance.
Sam wondered if Mingan had witnessed the MMA demonstration match between Jake and Bobby Mackey. If he had, he would be having second thoughts about taking on the commander no matter how much he despised him. Sam was still reeling from the memory of the ferocious contest. As a skilled martial artist, she was impressed with both combatants. They were as accomplished as any of the MMA champions she’d trained with. But it was the dark-haired commander’s sheer artistry that stole the show. Jake parried Mackey’s vicious kicks and strikes with a consummate grace that was breathtaking. He seemed to float through the air from one death-defying leap to another, his feet barely touching the ground. His large hands were a powerful jackhammer raining rapid-fire blows on every part of his opponent’s body. Knowing that both fighters were blocking their strikes, Sam couldn’t imagine what would happen if they were fighting for real.
As angry as she was that the arrogant cop had chastised her as if she were a misbehaving child, Sam was stunned at the sight of her nemesis in fighting attire. In his jeans and tight black t-shirt, it was clear that the commander was fit and strong. But stripped to the waist, wearing only grappling pants, his lean, muscled body was a sight to behold. Between his broad shoulders and narrow waist was an impressive eight-pack of sculptured muscle without an ounce of fat to mar the streamlined view. A smattering of wiry dark hair decorated his muscled chest and skimmed across his tight abs to his groin below. Wanting to hate him for the arrogant way he was injecting himself into her life, Sam had to shove her fist in her mouth to keep from groaning at the sight of the muscled Adonis before her.
Now, lying in bed remembering his stunning body, Sam couldn’t squelch a soft moan. Pressing the pillow between her legs to quiet the sensations flooding the lower half of her body, Sam admitted she’d never seen a sexier man. It wasn’t just his sensational body that was sending electric shocks sparking across her wire-tight nerves. No, in addition to being as perfect a specimen of male pulchritude as she’d seen, it was his presence that had her reelin
g. That he was willing to take her on, actually chastise her and hold her in his strong embrace when she started to fall apart, thoroughly undid her. She’d never had a man who dared to treat her the way Jake had. He’d cut through her hard shell and touched layers of her psyche and her body in ways that no other man had. He was right when he declared that she’d been riding a Tower of Terror roller-coaster for the past three days. What she knew and prayed that Jake didn’t was that those three hundred-foot, stomach-wrenching drops she was riding were primarily due to the powerful commander.
When it became clear that she was not going to be able to sleep, Sam sat up in her bed, determined to confront herself and, in absentia, the daunting man who had thoroughly discombobulated her. She reminded herself that Jake Justice was the epitome of the law enforcement arena that she was determined to upend. In every way, he was her adversary. Mingan was right to be angry at seeing them together. She should have refused to let Jake strong-arm her into his car and drag her to the Pit Stop, letting everyone there see them together as if they were friends instead of adversaries. Worse, she’d allowed the challenging man to get to her. To make her question herself, struggle with the strength of her convictions. God, she’d even attacked her grandfather, something she’d never done, because Jake had interjected himself into their relationship.
Looking in the mirror at the bleary-eyed woman with flushed cheeks staring back at her, Sam made a promise to herself. She had come too far, fought too many battles, and earned too many scars to throw it all away because of an arrogant man. She reminded herself that she had sworn off men when she found out that she was the product of an eighteen-year-old Native woman taken advantage of by an unscrupulous, rich Anglo. It was then, as a fifteen-year-old activist, that Sam declared that no man would ever keep her from achieving her goals. Over the years her mission had become crystal clear. She would take over where the AIM movement had stopped. Her focus was law enforcement. One fight at a time, she’d win back Native legal rights if she had to take on every law enforcement agency from the DEA to the local sheriff’s office. She reminded herself that arena most definitely included the Duluth Police Department. And its powerful Anglo commander.
