by D. D. Ayres
He watched her, his eyes darkening with that golden glint of fire in their dark depths. “Why not?”
“I told you before. I don’t like being told what I can and can’t do.”
“It wasn’t a challenge, Jori. It was a warning.” His voice was no more than a deep breath of air.
“That you’re unlovable?” She lunged forward and kissed his jaw. “They lied. Everyone who ever said that lied. Look in my eyes and tell me you still believe them.”
He did look, looking so far and deep into her open gaze that he began to see something he did not know he wanted until now, a future.
“What if I screw it up for us?”
“You can’t screw it up. If it’s what you want.” Her turn to whisper. “You get to decide.”
He felt her warm breath stir his chest hair, the fragrance that was Jori already familiar to him. He’d never been this close to another person before. Not in this way. He stopped breathing. “I do want it, Jori.”
“Good.” She slid back down to snuggle against his warmth.
There was a long silence before he said, “So how will this work?”
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to go all nesting pigeon on you. Your cabin is safe. I have a job nearly two hours away. Your solitude is safe, except maybe on the weekends.”
“You may have a job. What if I don’t? I didn’t get to pass the trooper physical.” A beat. “I’m not even sure I want to be a trooper any longer.”
“No biggie. Mr. Task Force guy practically offered you a job at the veterinarian hospital. You can still be in law enforcement if you want.”
“Maybe I don’t want that anymore.”
Jori stilled. “If this is about what I said a few days ago about not liking the idea of you risking your life I—well, honestly? I meant it. But that’s not my decision. It’s what you do. It’s who you are. I’ll figure out how to live with it.”
He turned and came up on his elbow. “I have problems, Jori. It’s why we met. I’ll be a burden.”
“Says the cop whose girlfriend’s an ex-con.”
He laughed then, like a man who needed that cleansing relief in his life a lot more often. “So, it’s going to be that way? I’m unemployed and you’re a felon, and life will be just one happy dance.”
“No.” She rose up on her knees, bending over him and putting a hand on either side of his face. “It’s going to be hard. But we will find moments. And those moments of happiness will grow and expand until we can hold the dark places at bay most of the time. I want to try that with you. If you want it, too.”
“Dance with you?” His eyes turned soft into liquid gold currents where the dark shadows shimmered. “Anytime. Anyplace. Anywhere.”
She kissed him and it was warm and soft and so very nice. The hum of passion never left him but this time it was muted, a part but not all of his need for her.
Much later, when her phone rang, Jori was reluctant to answer but when she saw who it was, she had to. Yardley Summers. They had talked twice in the past two days. She supposed she should have told Law. But both brother and sister were hard to slow down, impossible to stop once they were on a mission.
“Hi. Yes, Yardley, he’s here.” Jori rolled over and handed Law her phone.
He frowned and didn’t take it. “My sister? Why is she calling you?”
“You’d better let her tell you herself.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Jori sighed in gratitude when the Albuquerque VA Medical Center came into view through the cab window. Albuquerque was clear and as cold as ice the week before Christmas. If not for the cold, it was easy to imagine it was summer. She doubted the season changed the brown desert landscape very much.
She glanced at Law, who sat next to her with his legs spread and his arms relaxed, but the pose didn’t fool her. The lines around his mouth were deeper than usual. His gaze unfocused. Only the presence of Sam, who had recovered surprisingly quickly, seemed to hold him in place. He rhythmically petted her while she leaned fully against his good leg. Everyone at the airport had smiled at the rusty-red floppy-eared dog wearing a service vest with a purple paw, and camo-print protective booties.
Jori looked away. She hoped she and Yardley were doing the right thing.
When the car pulled up to a parking lot near the main building, Jori sat forward, looking for the woman Law had earlier described as tall and striking, with deep-mahogany-red hair. The moment she spotted Yardley standing on the shallow steps of the main building, Jori knew she could have picked her out in a crowd of hundreds. She had an Elle Macpherson curviness about her. And hair like a horse’s mane. Jori was glad she was Law’s sister.
When they had exited, Jori went ahead while Law paid the driver.
Jori held out her hand to the beautiful woman who shared Law’s sludge-gold eyes and direct gaze. “Hi, I’m Jori.”
Yardley looked at her and then embraced her. “You’re a miracle worker. I could never have gotten him to do this.”
“I just hope we did the right thing.”
Both women turned to watch Law approach. He and Sam were truly an inseparable pair these days. They had arranged for Law to spend three days here to take part in the Native American healing ceremonies at the VA center, where PTSD issues were treated with a holistic approach and ancient Native American ceremonies.
Yardley embraced her brother, whispering in his ear, “I like her. She can handle you.”
Law smiled. “You have no idea.”
Then his gaze shifted to the two men who stood a little to one side. The taller of the two, a man with a deeply lined tanned face, long gray ponytail, and plaid shirt, came forward. Silver glinted on his wrists and his bolo. He smiled and nodded politely at the women but he reserved his attention for Law.
“Welcome, warrior Battise. I am John Ayze, one of the traditional practitioners. You understand what we do here today?”
Law nodded. “I know the sweat lodge ceremony.”
“Yes. But this is a special ceremony for Native American war veterans. Before a soldier goes to war, you are given the ceremony of training and armor and comrades so that you can protect yourself in battle. But when you return, there is no ceremony to remove these things, and all the spirits you have collected at war. Many suffer because of this rift between war and peace. It goes by many names. Here we remove that armor in ceremonies meant to honor your service and allow you to return to us in peace.”
The man touched Law’s arm. “You were wounded. Western medicine has healed what is possible to physically heal. Here we deal with spiritual matters. We begin with a sweat lodge ceremony. Afterward we will conduct the first ‘enemy way’ ceremony. It is the traditional ceremony for countering the harmful effects of the spirits you collected in battle. In three days we will have completed the ritual. You may come back as often as you need to until body, mind, and spirit are one in peace. Are you ready?”
Law took a breath and nodded.
They followed John Ayze to a spot near the parking lot that had been walled off. As they stepped through the gate, Law stopped short. There were other men present, some clearly Native Americans. Some not.
Law didn’t recognize the others at first, dressed as civilians. It wasn’t until one of them raised a hand in greeting that Law knew who they were. Four men from his old squad stood waiting with hands folded before them at military rest.
He stopped short, his gaze going hard, his stance rigid.
Jori moved in and squeezed Law’s hand. “They wanted to be part of this. To share the healing. They have a story to tell you, Law. We thought you should hear it.”
He looked at her, his mouth hard. “Whose idea was it that they come?”
Jori held that daunting gaze. “Mine. Don’t be angry at Yardley. When we planned this, with the healing ceremony, I asked her to contact them, too. You told me you thought they were responsible for Scud’s death. Let them tell you their side.”
His body stayed still, rigid, but his eyes were
alive as he continued to look at her. “You thought of this?”
“I want to help make it better. After Yardley told me about the healing ceremony, I knew it would help to have other men you know to share it with. I hope it’s okay.”
He turned to stare again at the men who waited for him to approach then slowly nodded. “You will be here when it’s over?”
“I’ll be here as long as you want me to be.”
A faraway smile curved his mouth. “Thank you.”
He squeezed her hand so hard she would have protested at any other time. But the emotion coursing through him was more important.
Law looked down at Sam and nodded. “Hier, Sam. We’ve got some healing to do.”
Jori watched them head toward the sweat lodge but she would not stay to watch. This was not for her. This was for Law.
* * *
“You’re not keeping up.” Yardley pushed another tequila shot under Jori’s nose.
Jori stared at the row of four shot glasses on the table before her. “How many am I behind?”
“Two.”
“Didn’t we order food?”
Yardley laughed. “Yes. Meanwhile, don’t embarrass me. Drink up.”
“Right.” Jori reached for another shot of clear liquid. She wasn’t much of a drinker. Two shots and her eyes were doing independent rotation. That old saying, One tequila, two tequila, three tequila, Floor, now made a lot of sense.
They were seated in a private corner of a dimly lit bar in Albuquerque that Jori would never have had the courage to enter on her own. Yardley’s declaration that she knew the owner/bartender wasn’t as reassuring as it might have been. She was waiting for Law to return from his first day of healing.
She hoped they’d done the right thing. Yardley was positive Jori had. But then she learned in a very short time that Yardley was a force of nature much like her brother. She seemed never uncertain about anything she said or did.
Jori glanced at her drinking partner, who had consumed all four shots. She didn’t appear the least bit affected. Dressed in slim jeans and a tailored white shirt with turquoise snaps and cuff links, she was a Ralph Lauren dream come true. The silver earrings dancing against her dark-red hair made Jori green with envy. The woman was gorgeous without trying. And every man here was aware of that fact.
Only Jori was close enough to notice the strain around Yardley’s eyes. Something was definitely worrying her. Was it Law? Or something else? Jori decided it was not her place to ask.
The sound of male laughter across the room shifted Jori’s sideways as she fingered her still-full glass.
Across the room a group of men wearing turquoise bracelets or bolo ties, sporting long luxurious hair that flowed over the shoulders of their plaid shirts, were playing pool. Sort of. Mostly, they were using pool as an excuse to keep an eye on the two women who were very close to being “drunk available.” At least their frequent glances told Jori they were hoping that was so.
Jori smiled to herself. Wasn’t going to happen.
She glanced again at Yardley, who was fishing in her pocket for her beeping phone. “Yes?” Jori watched Yardley’s face go slack as whoever was on the other end began to talk. Then her dark eyes flared. “That’s not possible!” The panic in Yardley’s voice was like a punch in the chest.
Jori reached out to touch Yardley’s arm. “What’s wrong? Is it Law?”
But Yardley was already sliding out of the booth. “No. Not Law. I need to take this.” She turned and hurried toward the restroom.
Jori swallowed her unease. What on earth could alarm a woman like Yardley? Maybe she would tell her when she came back.
She pushed the third undrunk shot back beside the fourth. No more until food came.
She felt more than saw Law enter the bar. It was the way the men at the pool table suddenly shifted their focus from her to the door, alerting her to their interest in the new arrival.
He was alone, except for Sam. Her heart sank. She had hoped he’d be with his squad, a sign they had settled things.
He looked around, giving a chin-up greeting to the bartender. And then he looked straight at her.
Jori lifted her hand in greeting, unable to guess by his expression what he was thinking and feeling. It was his professional face. But Sam looked at ease. A good sign.
His slow deliberate movements betrayed a trace of weariness. Yet it was the stride of a man on a mission as he came toward her.
He slid into the booth beside her, not quite touching her but close enough to leave no doubt for anyone who cared to notice that they were together. He didn’t look at her at first, just stared at the men, who suddenly found their game of pool much more interesting than anything going on in her booth.
After a moment, he reached under the table and grabbed her knee and squeezed. Hard.
She stared at his profile. It was that of a man hard, determined, whole. Her heart flipped over. Oh God. She had fallen so hard in love with him.
When he finally spoke his voice was low, steady, deep.
“Scud wasn’t an easy K-9. Most military handlers refused to work with him. But we were a good team. He was wounded, too, in the blast that took my leg. He went berserk when he realized I was down. Wouldn’t allow my own squad to touch me. Bit two of the guys. I saw the marks. I was bleeding out. They had no choice.”
He turned to her, a smile at last edging into his expression. “Thanks to you, I now know the truth. And I can live with that.”
Jori held the weight of his gaze as long as she could, choked by happiness and the realization that he really was grateful. Yet she knew not to make too much of it in public or she’d embarrass him.
Instead, she pushed a shot of tequila in front on him then picked up her own and held it up. “To Scud.”
A look intimate enough to set the liquor on fire entered his gold-black gaze. He picked up the shot glass and touched it to hers. “To Scud.”
EPILOGUE
Sam awakened in the night. The cabin was quiet and dark, except for the tree glowing in the corner near the fireplace.
She pulled herself to her feet and stepped out of her new bed, a fluffy round thing Alpha had given her when she came home. It was better than the floor on chilly nights. But not as good as the foot of Alpha’s bed. Still, there were different rules when Jori came to visit. At least she had not brought Cat.
Sam stretched her back, paws pushed forward while her rump and long tail thrust toward the ceiling. She still wore protective booties. Law said she was “Good Sam” because she did not chew them. It was not a difficult command to master. They did not taste good, and they did keep her paws warm.
She looked toward the refrigerator, as usual, and then toward the tree. The lights on it were still bright.
A few days before she and Alpha had gone into the woods nearby. He had hacked at it with a long sharp object until it fell over. Then he had dragged it back to the house, set it in a pan of water, and wrapped lights that twinkled all around it. He seemed very proud. Sam did not know why.
Earlier today, it had been surrounded by boxes of bright colors with shiny strings. Jori and Alpha had played with them until the strings came loose and the boxes broke. Then they took what was inside and played with that.
Sam did not understand why until they offered her a bright paper with strings. She tore at the paper as they had done. And out popped a ball with a bell. That was a good thing. It made a good treat.
Treat.
Maybe there were more treats. She’d checked regularly throughout the day. It paid to be sure.
She padded over and sniffed the tree. It smelled of pine resin, old bird droppings, the accumulated debris that had once been a nest, the shells of several cicadas, a few tiny insects burrowed in for the winter, and a faint whiff of bear urine that was more than a year old. All things Sam had smelled on an outside tree before.
The pair of cat eyes staring back at her from the interior was a new addition. She woofed her opinion of Argyle�
��s commandeering of the center of the tree. Better there, however, than in Alpha’s bed.
There were also shiny globes and hooks of sugary candy in the tree, hung too high for her to reach.
Alpha said No.
Sam huffed and turned toward the refrigerator. Since her return from the vet she did not have to hunt for midnight snacks anymore. There was always some tidbit of meat left unwrapped on the lowest shelf for her.
She pulled open the door and slid her nose inside. Treats!
Her mouth began to water. There were several small chunks of ham from dinner and two slices of turkey that Jori had brought with her the night before.
Jori made Alpha happy. Sam liked Jori.
Finally, when the treats were gobbled up, Sam closed the door and slowly made her way into the bedroom.
There were no noises now but those of sleeping people in the room, the signal that she could enter.
She went to the head of the bed on Alpha’s side. He smelled calm, without pain, and of Jori. Satisfied, she moved to the foot of the bed and climbed up, one leg at a time so as not to disturb the sleepers.
She found a shallow place between the humans, inviting from their warmth, and lay down.
She huffed a great sigh. Her new bed was nice. This quilt was nicer. It smelled of Alpha, and Jori, and Sam.
Alpha Happy. Sam Happy. Pack Happy.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
D.D. Ayres loves men in uniforms and dogs, making her series with St. Martin’s Press a dream come true. She currently lives in Texas where she’s at work on her next novel. Visit her website at: www.ddayres.com or sign up for email updates here.
St. Martin’s Paperbacks Titles by D.D. Ayres
Irresistible Force
Force of Attraction
Primal Force
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