Breathing calmly, the Wolf tried to focus on the last couple of days. The Owl was certainly a traitor. That much he knew for sure. But the Wolf had determined to use every last drop of whatever intelligence remained in the traitor before his death. When it came down to it, the Wolf would let the Owl exchange the parchment translations for his own life. Neat. Simple.
But then, what else could be…?
His mind clicked over to consider the new beginning that was coming for the Skinwalker cult. When the parchments were at last translated and in his hands, his army would be unstoppable.
The idea of a new start brought him around to thoughts of the origin of his cult. It had been a long time since he’d remembered how clever he’d been in the beginning. Of how he’d made sure of every detail. Taken care to leave no loose ends.
The Owl had mentioned a stranger looking into an old murder. Could that have something to do with this odd certainty some problem had not been addressed? He felt assured nothing remained for anyone to find from that long-ago time. No clues. No traces.
But with a gasp and a frisson of shock, the old scene suddenly popped into Wolf’s scattered mind. After a moment’s reflection, he wondered if perhaps there really was one small detail he had not attended to. Still, that man had seemed so inconsequential at the time. His knowledge so slight.
On the eve of the dawning of the Skinwalkers’ ultimate power, it would pay to be sure. The Wolf needed to resolve all potential problems, regardless of how remote, now, while there was time.
Time, he mused as the fog in his brain crept in again. The Wolf was about to wield the heavy sword of time as no one else had before him. He would be unstoppable.
In short order he would possess the ultimate Skinwalker destiny: immortality.
“I’ll drive.” Cisco held out his hand for the keys.
Sunnie pulled the sunglasses off her head and slipped them onto the bridge of her nose. The movement gave her a moment to appreciate the man standing before her.
Long and lean with strong shoulders and thick, muscular thighs, his body was hot and sweet. Mouth-watering. Just looking at him was setting off rockets in her toes.
“Forget it,” she said in answer, as much to herself as to him.
“I’m a better driver than you are, sugar.” He reached over and brushed a stray hair from her face. “And I’m not thrilled about ending upside down in some ditch. I’d rather take my chances with the bad guys, thanks.”
Her first reaction to his touch was to rear back, but she stood in place and argued her point. “I know the best routes. I’ve spent most of my life on the reservation.”
“We’re off the rez in Farmington at the moment, don’t forget.” He dropped his hand and gave her a wry grin. “I spent hours in this town with a map the other day, scouting the streets looking for opportunities to find local gossips. I may know more about Farmington than even you do.
“You navigate and keep watch,” he urged. “I’ll do the driving.”
When he was right, he was right. But she didn’t have to like it. She dropped the keys into his hand, careful not to let their fingers touch in the process.
“We need to stop and get you a pair of sunglasses and a hat.” She took off around the front of the Jeep and climbed into the passenger side.
Waiting until she’d buckled up, he started the engine. “My skin isn’t exactly fair, as you may have noticed. Riding in an open car won’t hurt me any.”
“It will if the Skinwalkers or their friends catch sight of you. The hat and glasses are for covering up the bandage and your looks.”
Shrugging a shoulder, he said, “I don’t think that Navajo from the other night got a decent ID on me in the darkened bar. And I’m not sure those guys in the SUV last night caught sight of the bandage, either. I didn’t catch any glimpses of them at all.
“Though,” he continued with a note of reluctance in his voice, “I suppose a small disguise wouldn’t actually be a terrible idea. I own sunglasses—they’re in the duffel. And we can stop for a hat. But I’m betting the Jeep is a bigger giveaway than my looks.”
Winds picked up strands of her hair and blew them crazily around her mouth. “Jeeps like this one are common on the rez,” she told him as she shoved the wayward hair behind her ears. “Everybody uses them in desert country. If we’re lucky, we won’t be spotted.”
He flashed her a grin. “And if we’re not lucky?”
“We’ll be dead.”
“Dead?” The corners of his mouth curled in a wry smile. “Maybe they want you dead—or believe you’re already dead—but I’ve gotten the feeling they want me alive for some reason.”
“Then you’ll just wish you were dead.”
It wasn’t so much that Cisco didn’t believe her about the Jeep being a common sight. It was more that he took her word about not getting caught out in the open and being captured alive.
So when she’d given him the cross streets of a store where he could obtain a hat, he’d taken a roundabout route. Finding back alleys. Driving blocks out of the way and circling. He wound around until he found a parking spot within walking distance.
Grabbing his sunglasses from the side pocket of his duffel in the backseat, he turned to her. “You want to stay here?”
She shook her head and stepped out, slamming the Jeep’s door behind her. “I know the high-pitched sound they make. I may even be able to recognize one of them in their human form. I should go.”
He couldn’t help the easy grin. “To protect me?”
With a quick frown, she took off down the street, staying in the shadows close to the buildings.
Glorious spirit, he mused. And fearless. The woman was a giant in a tiny, well-packed body.
There were few people on the streets for this time of the morning. A couple of SUVs drove past, but none of the traffic seemed threatening.
Right before coming to the corner, they had to step over the prone body of a drunk. Sunnie hid her face in her collar as the guy moaned and rolled over. But the old Navajo man never opened his eyes, and the two of them hurried past him in single file.
Was she so worried about supposed Skinwalkers in disguise that she wanted to hide from everyone on the streets?
“How come you’re so skittish?” he asked in a hoarse whisper when he caught up.
“I told you—everyone thinks I’m dead. That’s the way I want to keep it.”
Had she told him that? He remembered her saying that the Skinwalkers didn’t know she existed. But not everyone thought she was dead. He’d met a few people that clearly had seen her alive.
He didn’t get a chance to ask anything else because they came to the storefront right then. He’d been ready for a Western-wear place, one where he would be able to buy a decent Stetson. Instead she headed into a sporting-goods store.
“Hold on,” he said as he put a hand on her arm. “I was going for a Western hat, maybe a Stetson. Why here?”
“You want to blend in, not stand out, don’t you?”
For this sort of work, blending in was good. “Yeah.”
Sunnie moved down an aisle to a rack holding various team baseball caps. “Then pick your favorite team and try one on.”
“A ball cap? Just a logo away from a gimme cap? No way.”
She quirked one side of her mouth and rolled her eyes. “Even deadly Latino hombres can wear caps. Especially when every other man on the rez wears them, too.”
“I could swear I’ve seen magazine photos showing men in Navajoland wearing Western hats.”
Sunnie nodded as she pulled a couple of caps off the rack and handed him one. “Those who ride horses, either working horses or for the rodeos, wear them. I don’t think my Jeep qualifies, do you?” She raised her eyebrows as she glanced up at him. “Weren’t you paying attention to the other customers back at the restaurant?”
He guessed not. Which was really weird. Usually Cisco was well tuned-in to his surroundings. Like being able to recite accurate descriptions of
people, he prided himself in always watching his back and keeping an eye on what was going on around him.
So where had his mind been this morning? One glance at Sunnie as she turned her back to try on a couple of caps herself made things perfectly clear. The shiny black hair pulled back in a soft ponytail drew his attention first. Then his gaze wandered down her straight back and the feminine curve of her waist, landing on her rounded bottom in the worn pair of jeans.
The tantalizing sight made him remember the lacy thongs he’d found in her backpack. Did she have a pair like those on under the jeans? In colors of pink, blue and sunshine-yellow, they had seemed so incongruous for the melancholy, practical woman sniper.
Once again he thought of how she might have a split personality. He’d seen no real evidence save for the Skinwalker story, but he grew more curious about her story every minute.
Fifteen minutes later, the two of them were back in the Jeep with University of New Mexico caps pulled down on their foreheads and sunglasses covering their eyes. As she gave him directions for driving south and leaving town the back way, he tried to distance himself from any further thoughts of her underwear. From any thoughts of her—period.
He was losing his edge. And he didn’t want to die—or see her die—because of it.
She gave directions as Cisco drove them south on Highway 371. They kept going, passing by the stark landscapes of the Bisti Wilderness area and driving through the small town of Crownpoint.
As they moved farther away from the Four Corners area, Sunnie was careful to keep them just outside the Navajo border. The midday sky turned winter-gray and colored the vast emptiness of the western New Mexico landscape with a bleak look, the same as her current mood. Sandstone, shale, goat weed and chamisa…the whole of their world seemed pale and wan.
Turning west after Crownpoint, she found a way for them to skirt the city of Gallup. Taking Route 264 through the wide spots called Yah-Ta-Hey and Black Hat, they finally came back onto the reservation right at the Navajo Nation’s capital of Window Rock—her temporary home.
Window Rock was not as far away from the Four Corners area as you could possibly go on the reservation. Not the way Page or Tuba City would be. But it was a good-size town with apartments and jobs and had seemed far enough removed from the bulk of the Skinwalker activity to keep her whereabouts unknown.
Still, you never knew what neighbor or coworker might be one of the evil ones. So she kept Cisco driving on busy streets until they turned down the narrow road toward her duplex apartment. She directed him to park the Jeep in back. And when he stopped, she grabbed his duffel and her pack, jumped out and raced to the kitchen door.
“Hold it,” he said as he pocketed the Jeep’s keys and caught up to her. “I can carry my own weight. You—”
“Quiet. We’ll discuss everything inside.” She fumbled her key in the lock but had the door open and then slammed shut behind them before he could even take another breath.
“I thought we would be safe here,” he said as he glanced around her tiny one-bedroom apartment.
“I think we will be,” she hedged, out of breath and out of excuses.
“Think? Yeah, thinking is so much better than knowing for sure.” He winked at her and shook his head.
Ignoring him, she dumped the bags, went to the small stove and set a kettle of water on a burner to boil. “No one pays any attention to me. They’re used to seeing the lonely waitress who lives here coming and going. But you’re another story. I don’t have men in my apartment.”
“No? Not ever?”
“Not ever.”
Taking off her coat, she waited for his, then hung them and both the hats on the rack behind the front door. “I hope you like tea. Or instant coffee. That’s all I have. I don’t have much food in the fridge, either.”
She hadn’t really expected to come back here after…after killing the Navajo Wolf. There had been little chance of her living long enough to go anywhere past the assassination.
But things had changed. The way to reach the Wolf was no longer as clear as it had once been. She figured his old route would be useless now and didn’t know where to find him for sure. And even if she knew, she no longer had her rifle.
Sunnie found herself caught in a place she’d never thought she would be in again. Having to rely on someone else’s help stung her pride. And that the someone was a man who challenged her both mentally and physically was a particular blow. He’d twisted her senses into knots and had destroyed her careful reserve with one touch of his lips.
“Tea will be fine,” Cisco said evenly. “We can go out for food later, once we’ve checked around and made sure it’ll be safe.”
The kettle whistled and she made them both tea. While she did that, Cisco wandered over to her computer and flipped it on.
“Tell me this isn’t dial-up,” he moaned.
“It is. I’m not real sure broadband has arrived in Window Rock yet. Even if it has, I couldn’t afford the service. I have a friend with fast access, but Reagan Long lives an hour and a half away. Do you want me to call her?”
“Reagan Long? Is she married to that tribal cop?”
Sunnie remembered how oddly Cisco had reacted to Hunter. Now he’d acted strangely to just the name Long.
“Reagan is Hunter’s sister-in-law,” she replied. “Married to his brother Kody. Hunter’s wife is named Bailey. She’s a nice woman who tends her sick grandmother most of the time.”
“And is Kody Long also a cop?”
“Sort of,” she answered, more hesitantly this time. What was the deal here? Why should he be so curious about the Long brothers? “Kody is an FBI agent. But he’s also one of the Brotherhood. He’s a good man you can count on.
“I’m sure Reagan and Kody wouldn’t mind if we went to the house tonight so you could use their Internet access,” she added carefully. “Should I call?”
“That’s okay,” he said, turning his back and going to work on her computer. “This may be slow, but I can still find the information I need eventually.”
“Sugar?”
“Huh?” He turned a blank stare in her direction.
“Do you take sugar in your tea?”
He chuckled and gave her a warm, sensual look. “No sugar for me today, míja. I’ll just suffer along with black while I try to make headway on recreating my research or gaining access to my notes stored online. Thanks, though.”
Sunnie understood the double meaning he’d used for the word sugar. And the images his sexy tone of voice had put into her mind were stirring up a whirlwind of trouble in her body. Damned man.
She quietly set down the old mug with his tea right next to the computer and took herself off to face a nice cold shower.
A little later, clean and back in control, Sunnie dried off, changed into jeans and a gray sweatshirt and then put clean sheets on her bed. Cisco could sleep in the one bedroom, though his feet would probably dangle off the end of her single bed. She wouldn’t have any trouble sleeping on the futon currently in the room passing as living and dining room, kitchen and office.
Walking back into that room, she came up behind him as he worked on the computer. “Are you getting anywhere?”
He kept on working. “I need more time.”
She left him grumbling and went to pick up a few things from the grocery store. By the time she’d dragged the first of the many grocery sacks into the apartment, the sun had dropped below the western cliffs surrounding Window Rock. The light had disappeared this day with a cold, dull thud, not with the usual spectacular and colorful explosion of sunsets in Dinetah.
“Stop and eat something,” she insisted when she put plates of hot mutton stew and corn tortillas on the card table that doubled as desk and dining table. “And talk to me about your research.”
Turning his chair around, he pulled it closer to the table and the food. “This smells good. Did you make it?”
Laughing, she went to the fridge for a soda. “Do I seem like I’d be a
good cook? It’s takeout. They don’t sell beer in Dinetah. You want a soda?”
He nodded, and she handed him one before sitting down in the only other chair in the entire apartment.
After letting him enjoy a few bites, her curiosity won out. “So…have you been getting anywhere online?”
“Some,” he said as he took a swig from the can.
“How can I help? Tell me what you know about this old murder you’re looking into.”
Studying her with a wary stare, he pushed his plate back. “Fifteen years ago a man was shot on the rez. His body was found burned beyond recognition in the shell of his car. It appeared the car had been driven off a thousand-foot cliff and exploded at the bottom. At first, the investigators thought it was an accident. Until the autopsy found the bullet hole in his skull.”
Sunnie thought of the newspaper clippings she’d seen in his duffel. “I would’ve been thirteen then. That was around the time my mother was diagnosed with cancer. As a typical teenage drama queen, I thought my life was over and wasn’t paying much attention to anything else. The dead man’s story does seem a little familiar, but I can’t think of why. Did they find out who killed him?”
Cisco shook his head. “The victim was retired from the U.S. Marshal’s service. He’d told his friends that one of the criminals he’d brought in years before had escaped from prison and that he’d been concerned the man would come after him for revenge. But when the FBI checked into it, they couldn’t find any record of a prison break.”
“So no one was ever charged?”
He shook his head again. “They identified the body with dental records and a wedding ring, but there wasn’t much else left. No obvious clues and no witnesses.”
“Are you saying you think the victim might not have been that same man? Couldn’t they use DNA testing to be sure?”
“DNA wasn’t as easy to identify back then, and at the time there didn’t seem any doubt about who the dead man was.” He straightened and picked up his soda. “I suppose I believe the body was identified correctly. But I just don’t understand why the case was never solved. That man had enemies. Why didn’t they pin it on one of them?”
Books by Linda Conrad Page 118
