by Jenna Kernan
“My dad’s medicine society? Sure.”
“There is a sect within that organization called Tribal Thunder. This is a warrior band.”
Morgan didn’t think they still had warriors, not the real kind that defended their families to the death, made war on their enemies and took what they liked. She found her gaze slipping back to Ray like a thief on a night raid.
“I don’t know of Tribal Thunder.”
“Ray is a member of that sect. So am I. We’ve sworn an oath to defend our tribe.”
Now Ray took up the conversation. His voice did funny things to her insides.
He thumbed over his shoulder at her closed back door. “That little twerp is going to spill his guts. Word will get out. There is no calling it back. If you won’t do this for yourself, do it for your daughter.”
Word will get out.
Lisa. Her gaze went to the back door. What had she caught while her mother was attacked? What had she overheard the officers say afterward and most importantly, what had she told their neighbors?
“I need to get Lisa back.” Was that her voice? It didn’t even sound like hers.
“I’ll have one of my officers fetch her,” said Jack.
“No!” Morgan headed out the door at a run and Ray caught her easily. He didn’t grab her or try to stop her, just jogged along beside her across the dirt and gravel that separated her door from the Herons’.
She burst through the back door to find Guy Heron alone in the kitchen with Lisa. He had a hold of each of her daughter’s shoulders. Every hair on Morgan’s neck lifted. At seeing Morgan, his expression changed from eagerness to guilt. His gaze flashed from her to Ray Strong, now standing behind her. Now she saw fear.
“Oh, hey,” said Guy. “Everything all right?”
Morgan glanced to Lisa. Her daughter looked frightened and she did not need to call to her. Morgan just lifted a hand and Lisa ran to her mother. Their hands clasped and Morgan drew herself up as she tugged Lisa behind her.
“We were just talking about what happened tonight. Just your dad’s room, huh?” Guy’s voice held a note of force levity but the room had gone deadly quiet.
“Take Lisa home,” said Ray.
Morgan turned to go and then paused as she recalled the man Ray had beaten in her house. She’d seen him dragged out by two officers. His face had been swollen, raw and bloody. Morgan glanced at Mr. Heron. The man had been interrogating her daughter. Morgan knew it and so did Mr. Strong. The fury and fear mingled into a hard lump in Morgan’s stomach. Then she looked at Ray Strong, who had dipped his chin and fixed his gaze on Guy in a way that seemed like anticipation. The muscles at his neck bunched in coiled potential energy.
He tore his gaze from Guy to meet hers.
“You’re hired, Mr. Strong.”
Chapter Six
Ray returned to Morgan’s kitchen to find Jack alone at the dinette taking notes on a notepad.
Ray’s head swiveled. “Where’s the girl?”
“Bedroom. Morgan’s with her. Lisa was crying.”
Ray’s fists clenched and he considered taking Lisa’s distress out on Mr. Heron.
“Everything okay?” asked Jack, lifting his chin in the direction of the neighbor.
“He’s not bleeding, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Ray briefly related the high points of his chat with her dorky, slimy neighbor.
“He knows from the girl that Karl had money. Not how much. But he’s already put two and two together.”
Ray hoped he had reached an understanding with Guy Heron. But in his experience, the one thing that trumped fear was greed.
“We’re done here,” said Jack. “You’ll be staying in her father’s room.”
Appropriate, he thought because her father and he shared certain things. They were both Turquoise Guardians, Apache men and they both had a tendency to break the law. The downside of the room choice was that Karl had a big bed and it was right across the hall from the tempting Morgan Hooke.
“You staying while I get my kit?” asked Ray.
Jack nodded and laced the fingers of his massive hands on the dining room table.
“Be back as quick as I can.”
* * *
RAY MOVED QUICKLY, scouting once around the perimeter before returning to Felix Potts’s home to retrieve his belongings. He returned from Potts’s house and moved his truck, parking prominently in the driveway beside Jack’s tribal police SUV. Then he pulled his olive green gunnysack over one shoulder and lifted his small duffel, which held mostly weapons.
When he reached the kitchen stoop he was greeted by a gray cat that meowed loudly. Then it stood and rubbed against his leg.
“You live here, too?” he asked.
He rapped on the door and let himself in. The cat scooted past him.
He found Jack leaning with his back to the sink beside Morgan who stood at the stove. The aroma of tomato soup and cooking macaroni greeted him. Morgan stopped stirring the contents of one pot and held the dripping spoon poised over it as she watched him drop his things beside the door, wipe his feet and step into the space. Maybe he should have knocked.
Jack pushed off the sink, which was good because Ray thought there was only one reason to stand that close to a woman. Jack was single. So was Morgan. It shouldn’t have mattered because Morgan was a job and a burden, yet her boyish looks had unexpectedly hit him down low and deep. So it did matter.
He glared at Jack, who lifted his brows in surprise and moved out of the kitchen.
“Need any help?” asked Jack.
Ray shook his head.
“I’ll check in tomorrow. Let you know what else we get from the bank manager.”
Since Jack wasn’t allowed to use his fists with the same liberty as Ray, he doubted he’d get much. Little dweebs like that always lawyered up.
Jack called a farewell to Lisa and then to Morgan.
“You’re in good hands, Morgan. I’d trust Ray Strong with my life. You can do the same.”
She thanked Jack with a sincerity that made Ray scowl all over again. He could see them together—naked. Ray rubbed his eyes. Jack shook his hand and headed out into the night. Ray locked the door behind him and found satisfaction in the click.
The cat rubbed against his leg and meowed loudly again.
“What?” Ray asked it. “If you want food you’re at the wrong human.”
“Cookie!” Morgan ran to the feline and lifted the boneless ball of fluff. “Where did you find her? Lisa will be so happy.”
In Ray’s experience cats never needed finding. Morgan squeezed the cat, which now hung over her shoulder, its green eyes watching Ray. Morgan carried the cat to Lisa’s room and was met with squeals of delight from the interior. When Morgan came back, her smile eased away at the sight of him still in her kitchen.
“How’s your girl?” asked Ray.
“Better now that she has Cookie.” Her smile was so sweet and so compelling, Ray took a step toward her before he realized he had moved.
“Detective Bear Den said that you would work for room and board as a favor to my father.” He’d work for nothing, but staying on site would make it much easier to guard Lisa and Morgan.
Morgan poured the macaroni into a colander in the sink, sending steam billowing upward.
If Morgan Hooke knew the location of the two hundred thousand dollars, would she be eating condensed soup for dinner?
“And on behalf of your medicine society.”
He nodded and tugged at his drying shirt, wishing he could avoid this chatting.
“Tribal Thunder,” said Morgan. “I never heard of that sect.”
He really could not speak of his medicine society with a woman, even an Apache woman like Morgan. But he did say th
at it was a warrior sect.
“We’ve vowed to protect the sovereignty of our heritage, resources and tribe.”
“And I fall under tribe,” she said, flipping on the hot water and engaging the sprayer to give the limp pasta a shower. Deftly she dumped the noodles back into the pot, added milk, butter and the envelope of fluorescent yellow cheese-like product. Then the pot went back on the stove on a low flame.
“I added another box because—” she waved a clean wooden spoon at him “—you look hungry.”
Wow, she shouldn’t have said that. He stepped closer. Her eyes rounded. He closed in on an impulse so strong he didn’t even question it.
He wrapped her up and found that slippery cocktail dress made her glide up his chest as if she wore satin. When he angled his head to kiss her she pointed the clean end of the wooden spoon into his chest like the butt end of a nightstick.
The mac and cheese was sizzling as the milk boiled away.
“Bad idea,” she said, but then licked her wide lower lip, sending him mixed signals.
“That’s what I’m best at.”
She pulled away and he let her go.
They faced off.
“Listen, you might have some ideas about me because I have a child and no husband. And because I serve drinks. So let me set you straight. I’m not interested in casual sex.”
“Great. Because sex is one of two things I take very seriously.”
She lowered the spoon. “What’s the other?”
“Protecting you and Lisa.”
* * *
MORGAN STARED UP at her protector. He stood only an arm’s length from her with his hand still resting on her shoulder. His face was clean-shaven, revealing the hard line of his jaw and his prominent chin. It looked like the kind of jaw that could take a punch and the kind of chin that dared you to try. He had tousled thick black hair that needed a trim and a wide square forehead with heavy brows. His brown eyes now seemed to hold a hint of green and shone with mischief. He wasn’t done with her, they seemed to say. Not by a long shot. His mouth quirked, confirming her suspicion. The man was imposing as all get out, but right now that was what she needed. A man capable of taking care of things as well as her and her daughter.
Morgan understood the seriousness of her situation. It was bleeding into her consciousness like dye into fabric.
“You going to be able to do this?” she asked.
He never took his eyes off her as he nodded.
Ray Strong cocked his head, lifting a hand to trail his fingertips down the sensitive skin of her neck and on to the hollow at her throat. She shivered as sensation rocked her.
“I’ve been wanting to do that,” he said.
His grin promised devilment.
Trouble.
“Mom?”
Chapter Seven
The man was a chameleon, Morgan thought.
Ray now stood at a respectable distance from Morgan, his powerful arms folded and his posture relaxed. Even his smile was different. His expression held none of the banked desire she’d witnessed. Instead she saw only a benign hint of a smile that made him seem, if not exactly safe, at least not imminently dangerous.
She cleared her throat and forced a tight smile.
“Lisa honey, dinner is ready.”
Lisa had halted on the bare floor where the carpet runner had been pausing at the place where hallway gave way to the worn floor tiles of the kitchen. The cat sat at her heels, tail tucked around its front feet. They both stared at Ray with curiosity. Lisa’s eyes were focused on Ray as if seeing a rattlesnake coiled in her path and calculating her way clear. Her dark eyes seemed to assess a new potential threat. Her girl had more sense than her mother, thought Morgan.
“Lisa, this is Mr. Strong. He will be staying in Pop-Pop’s room for a while.”
“Why?”
While Morgan debated how much to tell her, Ray stepped forward as Lisa slid a foot backward, preparing to retreat.
“Because the man who broke in here was looking for something of your grandfather’s. You have friends at school?”
Lisa nodded.
“Anyone ever have a big secret?”
Lisa nodded again.
“What happened to that secret?”
Lisa looked to her mother and then fixed her attention on Ray. “My friend told our other friend and she promised never, ever to tell, but she must have because I didn’t tell and then Bobby Farrow knew and he told all the boys.”
“Exactly.”
He didn’t draw the connection. Just waited. Morgan waited, too.
“So that man, the one who grabbed my mother, he’s going to tell Pop-Pop’s big secret?”
Ray nodded. “Smart girl.”
Lisa’s eyes widened in understanding. “And Mr. Heron. He knows because I told him that man asked Mom for the money.”
“Yes.”
“I shouldn’t have said anything.”
Morgan went to her daughter and brushed her thick black hair from her face. “It’s all right, sweetheart.”
Lisa kept her attention on Ray.
“How did you know that the man would hurt us?”
“I didn’t. But I’ve been watching over you two for a while now.”
That made Morgan’s attention snap from her child to Ray. How long had he been watching them?
“I’ve seen you at the store and other places.”
Ray nodded. “That’s right. I got asked by a friend of your grandfather’s to watch over you and your mama.”
“Do you know the secret?”
“Just that it’s about money. Hidden money.”
Morgan didn’t think Lisa should know that. Didn’t want her at risk. But she was at risk, whether she knew or not.
“It’s here?” asked Lisa.
“Nobody knows where.”
“Except Pop-Pop, so let’s go ask him.”
Ray glanced back at her and Morgan nodded. That was the logical next step.
“Tomorrow,” said Morgan, knowing there were visiting hours then. “Wash up. Dinner is ready.”
Lisa moved to the kitchen sink and washed her hands. Morgan eyed him and he followed Lisa, but he had already washed his hands when he’d removed her intruder’s blood. Morgan fed the cat some mush from a can. Cookie, apparently, ate first.
They sat down to a meal of tomato soup with mac and cheese. Ray finished his portion and glanced around for more, finding the only remaining pasta on Lisa’s plate. He glanced at Morgan who shot him a stern look. She was such a fierce feisty woman it made him smile.
After supper, Lisa drew out her school books and mother and daughter sat together. Morgan read the paper and helped Lisa as needed. Ray took the opportunity to bring his things into Karl’s room and to peer out all the windows on the back of the house.
He heard someone enter the room and turned to see Morgan standing with a mound of folded sheets in her arms.
“I thought I’d change these,” she said, lifting her arms slightly to indicate the linen.
“Thanks.” He stripped off the lovely Pendleton wool blanket that had bold black stripes on a field of red and had the top sheet off before she reached the bed.
“I can do this,” she said.
“So can I. I was in the US Marines for a while. One thing I learned was how to make my bed.” He’d also perfected his aim with a rifle and handgun. Ray had already known a thing or two about hand-to-hand combat and had more practical experience tracking than most men gleaned in a lifetime.
“My father fought in Vietnam.”
Ray knew that. He’d shared a few stories with Karl at their medicine society.
“Sharpshooter,” said Ray.
Morgan’s jaw dropped but she recover
ed. “That’s right.”
She pulled free two corners of the fitted sheet and he released the corners on his side. Morgan began replacing the linen and Ray worked on the two pillowcases. They worked in silence with a fluidity that made their motions seem almost like a dance. They leaned over the bed from opposite sides to place the pillows and their eyes met. Morgan flushed so Ray guessed she was thinking of him stretched out on these clean white sheets...alone...possibly naked.
She straightened and threw out the top sheet so that it fluttered to his side. The blanket followed. She placed a clean sage-green towel on the foot of the bed.
“There. You’re all set.”
“Thank you again. And for letting me stay.”
“I have great respect for Kenshaw Little Falcon and for my father, despite what he has done.” She sat on the bed, her hands splayed on the red wool, her shoulders slumped again in that whipped-dog posture he despised. She glanced up at him. “Do you think people deserve second chances, Mr. Strong?”
He sat beside her. “I’ve already tried to kiss you, Morgan. I think you should call me Ray.”
He wanted to try again.
“Fine. Ray. My father killed a man. Probably for money. I can’t get my mind around that.”
He’d killed more than one man, Ray knew. More than Ray had killed. Karl had been very good at his assignment in Vietnam.
“I can think of two reasons he might want to earn money.”
She looked at him. “You mean me and Lisa. I would much prefer to have my father here with us. You might not believe this, but he was wonderful with Lisa. Very kind and patient. He’s been with her since she was born, more a father to her than a grandfather, and she doesn’t understand any more than I do why he would do such a thing.”
“We’ll ask him tomorrow.”
Her sigh was heavy and Ray felt an unexpected urge to comfort her. That wasn’t his forte, holding women who were wearing their clothing. But he wrapped an arm around her and tried to ignore the flowery fragrance of her hair. It took a few moments and his remembering being rocked back to sleep by Mrs. Yeager during one particularly vivid nightmare, but he finally remembered a long-forgotten skill, one he’d learned without realizing. Comfort was not something that women came to him for. Never before, actually, but Morgan hadn’t come to him. He’d been forced on her. He had to remember that.
