Eagle Warrior

by Jenna Kernan

  “Are you telling me that Kenshaw hired Ray to get information on what I know?” said Morgan.

  “The FBI agents are speaking to him. Ray asked for me to be present. Detective Bear Den told them that Ray related to him that the head of our medicine society sent Ray to be your protector while he discovered what you knew about your father’s business, especially if you knew who hired your father.”

  “So all this time...” She had trusted him. Confided in him. Slept with him. And just like the other important men in her life, he had deceived her.

  * * *

  RAY DIDN’T LIKE his friend’s sour expression. You didn’t need to be one of Detective Jack Bear Den’s best friends to read his mood from the glowering look and furrowed brow. He had just come from the chief’s office where Tinnin and the FBI agents had been questioning Morgan. He could see her through the wall of glass windows but she sat with her back to him.

  Ray stood to meet Jack. “Is she all right?”

  Jack nodded.

  “I want to see her.”

  Jack’s mouth twitched and the breath he drew was long and labored. “But she doesn’t want to see you.”

  “What do you mean?” The fear that he had felt when he’d watched Hatch taken by insurgents came back to gnaw on his gut like termites in wet wood. Before Jack even spoke, he knew because it was the only reason that Morgan would refuse to see him.

  Ray sat heavily on his friend’s swivel chair staring sightlessly at Jack’s desktop. “She knows.”

  “Tinnin told her about your mission, all of it.”

  “How did he know?” asked Ray. Ray had confided in only one person and that man was standing right before him. Ray leaped to his feet and grabbed Jack by the front of his shirt. Jack didn’t lift a hand.

  “You’re a Turquoise Guardian!” said Ray. “You’re a brother in Tribal Thunder.”

  Jack’s mouth twitched. “I’m also a detective for the tribe.”

  “You told Tinnin,” said Ray.

  “Also a Turquoise Warrior. Also my boss and the chief of police.”

  “Your first responsibility is to your tribe.”

  Jack shook his head. “It’s to the law. And if either you or Kenshaw have broken tribal law, I’m the one who will arrest you.”

  Ray released him, choosing the reply that would cause the most damage. “You are not Apache.”

  The hurt filled Jack’s face twisting it in an expression of pain mixed with grief.

  “Perhaps not. But my heart is Apache.” His voice cracked and he swallowed before speaking again. “Do you understand what has happened? These men, the ones that will come next are not after the money. They will come to protect their operation, the operation that has secured an unknown quantity of explosives for an unknown target. They sent Sanchez to kill Amber Kitcheyan not because she realized the mining explosives were missing but because she overheard a name.”

  “Theron Wrangler,” said Ray, knowing Jack’s brother Carter had told Jack that before they took him into protective custody.

  The implications now settled like dust from the bombshell Jack had just thrown. Morgan had powerful enemies. The kind that hired assassins and arranged mass shootings and stole explosives—all in the name of protecting the earth. But who would protect Morgan?

  He would. With everything he had and everything he was. Not only for Kenshaw, his medicine society and for his tribe, but because he needed Morgan to live. No one had to tell him that Morgan deserved better or that he wasn’t the sort of man she would choose for a mate and a father to her daughter. But he knew that somewhere along the journey, he had lost his heart to Morgan Hooke.

  “Did Kenshaw tell you who hired Morgan’s father?”

  “You want to read me my rights before you arrest me?” asked Ray.

  “I’m not arresting you. I’m asking you a question.”

  “He did not.”

  “Do you have knowledge of WOLF, BEAR or the contacts that approached Karl Hooke to hire him to assassinate Sanchez?”

  “No, again. I need to speak to her.”

  Jack shook his head. “She’s elected to work with the FBI.”

  “What? No!”

  Ray’s gaze flicked to Morgan to find her now watching him with eyes that accused him of deceit.

  His friend rested a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Ray, she’s traded her cooperation for FBI protection for Lisa.”

  Ray kept his gaze pinned to Morgan as he spoke to Jack. “Cooperation. What does that mean, exactly?”

  “It means you’re not her protector anymore.”

  * * *

  KENSHAW LITTLE FALCON spoke to Cheney Williams on a burner phone. His friend was a well-known environmental attorney and the production manager and long-time confidant for the powerful producer, Theron Wrangler. Williams updated him on Jefferson Rowe’s condition.

  “He’s maintaining his position that he was called in by the tribal police as backup and was the first on the scene. He says that when he tried to place Strong and Hooke under arrest that Ray threw a knife at him.”

  “The FBI buying that?”

  “Not sure. It will be interesting to see who they believe. I’d feel better if Rowe hadn’t admitted to Strong his part in giving Karl Hooke access to his suspect. It lends credence to Strong’s story.”

  “You know what BEAR will do about him?”

  “Nothing yet. But they are worried. They are too close to completion to take a risk.”

  “What about Morgan Hooke and Ray Strong?”

  “Strong doesn’t know anything but what Rowe told him, which isn’t much. But Morgan has seen Rowe with her father. If they believe her and arrest Rowe, then we lose access to Rowe and he can connect the money to our people in WOLF.”

  “WOLF made the delivery of funds?”

  “Yes, to Rowe. Rowe delivered the check to Karl Hooke. Rowe isn’t a member of either organization. Wrangler didn’t trust him enough. Seems he was right.”

  “Rowe must know they’ll kill him if he talks.”

  “He’s not a fool. He knows they might kill him either way. If I were him, I’d be working out a deal for witness protection.”

  “How did he know where to look for the money?”

  “WOLF’s delivery boy recruited him. Wanted Rowe’s help to find the money. Now WOLF is on damage control because it’s their man who fouled up. BEAR knows that it was WOLF’s delivery boy who followed Karl after Rowe delivered the check. Wrangler told me his people didn’t know their man went after the cash and had to hear it from him. I don’t expect BEAR will forgive the betrayal. His job was delivery and he got greedy.”

  Kenshaw wished Cheney had given up a name.

  “They found it, the money. Morgan and Ray. But hid it again up there in the canyon.”

  “I’ll pass that along.”

  “Is BEAR going to try to get it back?”

  “They don’t need money, friend. You know that. They have more money than Turquoise Canyon has water. I’ll let you know if I hear whether they’ll send someone for Morgan or Rowe.”

  “Who will they send?”

  “That’s up to them. Renzo won’t make a move without their say-so. They might send his son again.”

  Kenshaw smiled. He had a name.

  Cheney continued. “But his kid already disobeyed orders and they know it. Tough one.” There was a pause and Williams cleared his throat. “Kenshaw, your name has come up, too.”

  “I’m not surprised.”

  “They know you spoke to the FBI and that you were with Hooke the night he died. Funny. They don’t know whether to promote you or kill you.”

  “Difficult choice.”

  “You take care. I’ll let you know when I hear.”

  “Walk in beauty
, Cheney.”

  “Many blessings, Kenshaw.”

  Kenshaw disconnected and handed the phone to FBI agent Forrest.

  “Did you get it?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Ray waited outside the station for Kenshaw to be released. He knew that finding the money was not enough to protect her. Now he needed to find out who was coming after Morgan. Kenshaw appeared after dark and Ray met him before he reached his truck.

  “Ah, there you are. You have done well, Ray,” said Kenshaw.

  Ray wondered who was right. Jack who said their duty was to the law or their shaman who said their duty was to the tribe. Was Kenshaw using him as a pawn to do the bidding of the eco-extremists?

  “She still needs my protection,” said Ray.

  “Now more than ever. I have called for Tribal Thunder to meet tonight and have a sweat. We will pray and ask for guidance on what we must do.”

  “Where’s Morgan?” asked Ray. “What are they going to do with her?”

  “She is still in there.” Kenshaw pointed to the station. “And her girl is in protective custody, according to Chief Tinnin. No one but the FBI knows where.”

  “It’s blackmail, using Lisa. She’d do anything to keep her daughter safe,” said Ray.

  “Any good mother would. The question is can the FBI keep Morgan safe, or do they need the help of Tribal Thunder?”

  * * *

  MORGAN STARED AT the night through tinted glass in the hours when today became tomorrow. Pinyon Forks lay behind her and the community of Koun’nde just ahead. Luke Forrest rode beside her. His partner, Agent Cosen, had preceded them to make arrangements in Morgan’s home.

  They had allowed her to see Lisa, giving Morgan a chance to explain to her daughter what has happening before her child was moved to a safe house in Phoenix. Lisa was not reassured by strangers, despite the team of agents having included a seemingly very nice Anglo woman. Their parting had been tearful. Morgan’s throat still ached along with her head and her heart.

  Ray had deceived her, too. Why did this keep happening to her? The worst of it was that she still loved Ray, despite his deception. But she didn’t know if she could forgive him.

  Field agent Forrest refused her request to remain the night with Lisa, insisting that the less time Morgan spent with the FBI the more likely outsiders were to believe that she was still on the hunt for her father’s treasure. Only Morgan’s belief that she could not keep her daughter safe gave her the strength to let her go.

  Once away, and much to her shame, she admitted to herself that she preferred the lie and Ray’s protection to the cold, honest efficiency of the Federal Bureau of Investigations. Was their interest in her any more conscionable than Ray’s? They had both wanted something from her, information that she did not have, but could perhaps get. If she didn’t die in the process. She thought of Lisa going to live permanently with her mother’s brother. Uncle Agustin was a fine man, but too old to raise a girl. Perhaps one of his girls, her cousins, would take Lisa if something happened to her. She knew her tribe would see to raising her daughter but that did not mean she would lie down and die. She planned to fight for survival and her freedom.

  Morgan stared at the familiar fence line and the sparse sprinkling of houses. Most were dark because of the late hour and so no one witnessed her return. Still, Forrest explained that her car was waiting close to home and she would drive herself from Koun’nde in case the route was being watched.

  “Jefferson Rowe has already had several visitors. We have his room under surveillance, which is why I know that his food tray included a burner phone.”

  “A what?”

  “It’s a phone that is very hard to trace. After use, the phone is destroyed.”

  “Don’t you check his tray?”

  “Yes, but it was placed on the tray after the nurse carried it past us. She’s being questioned, but it looks like she has no involvement other than making a rather poor choice for a payday.”

  “She’ll lose her job.”

  “Already has,” said Forrest.

  “I didn’t think you would believe me,” she said.

  Forrest gave her a look. “Not sure we do yet. It seems unlikely that your father, who was so very ill, could have managed to keep all his meetings secret from you. You were his driver, after all.”

  “I already told you everything I recall.”

  “Yes.” Forrest looked out the window. “Now we need what you don’t recall.”

  They pulled onto a road she knew led only to the upper pasture of one of her neighbors. The headlights showed her battered white Honda. The large SUV drew to a stop.

  “We have every room but the bathroom hooked up with video. There are microphones in every room. Just speak to us and we’ll hear you.”

  “How will you know if they are in that extremist group and not just people looking for the money?”

  “Because the treasure hunters will be after the money.”

  He left the rest unsaid. The eco-extremists did not want the blood money they had paid. They wanted the silence that her father had promised. They wanted assurance that his daughter would reveal nothing that could jeopardize their plans. That meant her removal. She knew it. The Feds knew it. That’s why they needed her because you couldn’t catch a bear without the right kind of bait.

  Morgan climbed out of the large SUV used by the FBI and into her shabby wreck. There were a few moments of panic when her car refused to turn over, but at last it gasped to life and she was on her way.

  She pulled into her driveway before midnight. The eerie silence of the house stopped her. She gazed up at the starry night and realized that last night at this time she had slept in Ray’s embrace and had dreamed of a future that would never be. This morning she had awoken under that same sky and watched the golden sun paint the canyon wall. Now she stood alone before a quiet house that had once held her family.

  It was hard not to call a greeting as she entered. The house felt different, empty, invaded, for she knew the agents had been here with their wires and cameras. Some of their essence still remained. She dropped her keys on the counter and slipped out of her coat, draping it on the back of one of the dining room chairs.

  There came a scratching from the kitchen door and then a familiar meow. She opened the door to find Cookie looking put out. Lisa’s cat! She had forgotten to ask if they had taken Cookie with her daughter. Had the cat walked the several miles from her uncle’s home to here? The feline’s coat was dusty. Cookie circled her once, rubbing against Morgan’s legs and then looking about. Was she searching for Lisa?

  “She’s not here, Cookie.”

  The cat regarded her with unblinking eyes.

  Morgan scooped up the cat and carried her into the kitchen, crying on her soft, short fur. Cookie tolerated Morgan’s weeping to a point and then wriggled until Morgan set her down. Cookie paused at the empty food dish, which Morgan filled before sitting on the floor with her back to the cabinet as Lisa’s rescue kitty ate. The smell of the cat food and the sticky noise of Cookie’s ingestion made Morgan feel ill and she left Cookie to get ready for bed. When she came back, Cookie stood beside her empty food dish. Morgan changed her water and added dry food to the dish, which Cookie snubbed as she turned to the water instead. Though the house felt empty and she appeared to be alone, she knew the video monitors were all in place, and she wore a wire for when she left her house, plus a tracker to ensure the FBI could locate her or her body.

  Cookie demanded egress after her meal and then almost immediately howled for readmission. Once inside she glided past Morgan to Lisa’s room where she settled on her daughter’s comforter and turned her luminous green eyes on Morgan.

  “She won’t be back tonight,” said Morgan and then thought of the agents listening to her conversing with a cat.


  Once in her own bed, she did not sleep, but tossed from side to side, wondering if the microphone was transmitting her heavy sighs and the sound of the toilet flushing. They’d left her no privacy. Agent Cosen had mentioned that she might want to consider a fresh start in witness protection. Such a suggestion showed a complete lack of understanding of who and what she was. You might just as well uproot a pinyon pine and plant it in the Sedona Desert. Her people had fought hard through the federal legal system to gain back their land. She was not leaving her heritage or her daughter’s birthright because some crazy group was trying to return the southwest to its natural state.

  Morgan closed her eyes, kicked at the covers, rolled and finally forced herself to stillness. Now only her mind raced. Finally she left her bed in favor of Lisa’s. There, with Cookie coiled at her feet, Morgan finally dozed.

  She woke when the duct tape blanketed her mouth.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Morgan’s eyes opened to darkness as cold hands seized her. She writhed, struggling to escape, the duct tape muffling her cries. Something pricked her neck. The injection took her quickly as her mind clawed to remain conscious but her body felt strangely detached as if wrapped in cotton.

  The covers fell back and rough hands pushed up her tank top. The cool air brushed her bare skin. A dark shape loomed over her. She tried to scream. The adhesive of the tape tugged at her mouth. The intruder’s gloved hands brushed down her sternum and swept along in the darkness down her hip, over her legs but the touch felt a long way off somehow, as if her skin no longer wholly belonged to her.

  She could feel herself sliding away. Her eyes slid closed against her command as her hammering heart slowed and she accepted that she would die.

  Ray.

  Lisa.

  She closed her eyes and fought to stay alive.

  * * *

  RAY BREATHED IN the sweet moist air inside the sweat lodge. He sat in his black cotton gym shorts wearing nothing but his medicine bundle. The other men sat in a circle around the fire pit of hot river stones prepared in the sacred fire that sat outside the wickiup beyond the entrance that stood in the eastern portion of the round, domed enclosure.