Native Born (13 page)

“You better make up your mind quick,” said his grandmother in a low whisper. “That girl is a mother and you don't mess around with a single mother unless you intend to marry her.”

“She might not be a mother for long,” said Clyne.

“She will always be that child's mother. No court in the world will change that. All you'll do is force them apart and make her choose her mother over us. But...”

Clyne looked at his grandmother but she had stopped speaking.

“What?”

“If you marry her, then Jovanna can stay with her mother.”

“She's not staying on the reservation, Grandmother. Cassidy wants a transfer to Washington.”

“She
wants
to stay with her daughter. And from the look she just gave you, she wants you, too. Maybe she just can't see how that would work out.”

“Neither can I,” he said.

In response his grandmother patted his knee and smiled.

Cassidy's phone rang, making them all jump. She glanced at the number and then took the call.

“Walker here, sir.”

Her boss, Tully, Clyne knew.

“Yes?”

Clyne watched her use that index finger to plug her opposite ear as she pressed the phone to her opposite cheek. Her eyes moved restlessly as she listened. He knew the instant that it was over because she exhaled a long audible breath and her shoulders dropped a good two inches. A moment later her eyes closed for just a few seconds. When they opened they found him and she smiled.

“Yes, sir. I'll meet Agent Forrest there. Thank you.”

Cassidy punched at the screen and slipped the phone away. Then she hugged her daughter.

“All clear,” she said.

“What happened?” asked Gabe.

“They got him.”

“Who?” asked Jovanna.

Clyne waited to see what Cassidy would do. This was the point adults sent children to their rooms or spoke in vague generalities.

“The bad man who was after me.”

“You? Why?”

“His brother was a kidnapper. I caught him and...well, he died.”

Jovanna cut straight to the point. “You shot him?”

Cassidy nodded, then glanced at Clyne. “I did. I had to. He was hurting someone and I had to make him stop.”

“Is that person okay now?”

Her smile was sad. “No, darling. I was too late. His brother is really mad at me for hurting his brother, so he...” Here Cassidy did go vague. “He tried to hurt me. My offices figured out who it was from the fingerprints on, well...”

“A gun?”

“Something like that.”

“Bullet casings,” said Gabe in Apache.

Clyne nodded.

“So they chased him and arrested him and he's going to jail now.”

“And you'll have to testify again?” asked her daughter.

“Yes. Likely.”

“So can we go home now?” asked Jovanna.

Cassidy looked around the room at the Cosen family.

“Well, you are going home with your brothers.”

“You, too?” asked Jovanna.

Cassidy's mouth went grim and Jovanna clung to her mom. Clyne glanced at his grandmother, whose brow lifted pointedly.

“You can stay in our house as long as you like,” he said to Cassidy. His brothers added their consent with the simple nod of their heads.

“No,” said Cassidy. “Jovanna, you remember what I told you. Six months. That's the court's order.”

“But what if I get scared again?”

“Call your grandmother or any of your brothers. I trust them, doodlebug. You can, too.”

Jovanna clung to her mother, who kissed the top of her head.

“You have to be strong, Jovanna. A strong Apache woman like Changing Woman.”

Her daughter sniffed but then pushed herself upright and let go of her mother. That nearly broke Cassidy's heart. Her willingness to be brave and not cling like a child. She looked at Jovanna and thought she saw a glimpse of the woman she would become.

She turned to Clyne and asked him to drive her back to the station. Then she walked out the door.

Buster roused to his feet and gave a long, soulful whine of discontent.

Cassidy felt exactly the same way.

Chapter Seventeen

Cassidy buried herself in work. The interrogation of Ronnie Hare took her to Salt River for all the next day. Jovanna had not called. Clyne had not come to the hotel to fetch her. Her daughter was safe and fast becoming part of her family again. And that was as it should be.

Cassidy was no longer afraid that Jovanna would not choose her. She was now afraid that her daughter
would
choose her and by doing so, lose the family of her birth. She could see now that separating them twice was cruel and wrong. But how could she keep them together and become a part of this family?

On Saturday, Cassidy succeeded in getting her boss to agree to pay for the overtime to add additional security on Ronnie Hare. The Salt River jail was really only three holding cells in the Salt River police station. She remained at the station filling out paperwork to petition to move him to federal custody, while Luke took on the more difficult task of convincing individual members of the tribal council to vote to turn Hare over to them. They needed the consent of the Salt River tribal council to do so. Luke had spoken to the tribal chairman and, even after hearing of the charges, Luke said that he was still reluctant to relinquish custody of any of his people. If they did not, Hare would be tried here and the sentence would be very short. Luke did manage to get their chairman to at least agree to raise the matter with his fellows at the next meeting.

As for Hare himself, he was remaining tight-lipped until he knew if he would face tribal or federal court. All they could do now was wait.

“He'll spill if we have a federal case,” said Luke. “He won't want to be in the same prison as Raggar.”

That was the head of the American distribution ring and Cassidy agreed that turning state's witness was far better than facing Raggar's men in prison.

“We'd have no way to guarantee his safety there,” she said.

“But if he plays ball we can move him to any prison, even process him under a different identity.”

“He'll try for witness protection,” she said.

“Not going to happen,” said Luke. “We got him. I'm going to squeeze him like toothpaste until I have every last name of every last man who is involved with smuggling on the rez.”

His home, she realized. His ancestral home. Cassidy filled with a deep longing for something she could only vaguely grasp. A place she belonged.

Why had she never noticed the need to be a part of a place and a community? Who was she fighting for? Americans?

Not really. She had never fought for anyone until yesterday. Yesterday she had fought for her daughter and it felt right. All this time she had been fighting against something—bad guys who broke federal law and the organization that killed Gerard. She'd never bring them all to justice. Never stop them. But the fight itself was the thing? Wasn't it?

She let the weariness weigh her down as she recognized the impossibility of the task she had set for herself. She'd never do it. Even if she made the most important case in FBI history. It wouldn't bring Gerard back.

“You all right?” asked Luke.

“Yeah. I was just thinking.”

“About?”

“If I really need to go to DC to make a difference.”

Luke's jaw dropped and gradually a smile replaced the stunned expression. “That's the smartest thing you've said in weeks. You staying?”

“Maybe. For a while at least.”

* * *

C
LYNE
TOOK
K
AREN
Little Hill out on Saturday night. He usually took one of three women out, keeping it obvious to all that he was unattached. But this was two nights in a row.

Karen adjusted her shawl against the chilly air. The temperatures always dipped with the sunset, but March was susceptible to wild temperature swings.

His date had worn pants as a matter of practicality. Her necklace was Navajo and the many bangle bracelets represented most of the silversmiths in the area. She collected them the way some women collected glass figurines. Her shop at the Apache Cultural Museum showed off her knowledge of Native American Indian jewelry and pottery.

Clyne had been trying to summon up the courage to have a serious talk with Karen. Trying to gather the conviction to look her in the eyes and ask her to marry him. She'd say yes. He was certain. At least she had made her desires known to him last Christmas when he had given her a silver bangle instead of an engagement ring.

He walked her back from the restaurant to his truck, still toying with the idea of asking for her hand. He didn't have a ring, of course, except the one that had belonged to his mother and he felt loathed to give Karen that. He just felt filled with the desire to get this over with and behind him.

She beat him to her door and managed the handle without his help. Karen didn't need him. And he didn't need her. But he needed children. Ached for them.

Not just to help his tribe survive, but to fill the empty places in his heart.

“I saw a therapist yesterday,” he said, once seated beside her in the dark cab.

“Why?”

“To talk about things. Things that happened while I was in the service.”

“Do you think it's wise to dig up all that ancient history?”

Cassidy had encouraged him to do so, felt it was essential, in fact.

“Well, he's a medicine man and he served in Vietnam, so he knows about such things.”

“I would not raise old ghosts,” she said and shivered.

“Did you notice that I haven't been able to hunt since I came back home?” he asked.

“No. But it doesn't matter. We have enough guides and hunters. We need leaders. Strong role models. Which is why I was surprised to hear from Yepa that you had taken that white FBI agent to lunch.”

“Gabe asked me to take her.”

“You should have said no. You are the one who told me that she didn't belong here. That the federal authorities trample our rights.”

“I did say that.” He thought of Cassidy fighting to reach her daughter and trying to catch the man who had run messages to the cartel from the reservation. Gabe wanted that man caught and punished.

“It's bad for the people to see you with an FBI woman. It sends the wrong message.”

“She raised my sister.”

“I know who she is. But
you
won custody. How is Glendora managing?”

“She's fine.” Clyne turned over the engine.

“She's a little old to raise a teenager.”

Clyne did not dignify that with an answer.

“Your sister will need a mentor. Someone to teach her before the ceremony and mold her into the kind of woman who will make her family proud and serve her people with dignity.”

“My grandmother is asking Selena Dosela.”

“Selena? She's a criminal and her father was in federal prison. I wouldn't let her anywhere near Jovanna.”

“My grandmother thinks she is the right choice.”

“She's wrong. It sends a bad message to the people.”

Clyne set them in motion. He was not asking Karen Little Hill to be his wife. She was the perfect choice and the only emotion she raised in him was annoyance.

He knew what he felt for Cassidy was real and dangerous. But to pursue Cassidy would threaten everything he believed he was. How could he preserve their culture and their way of life if he chose a woman who knew nothing of them?

Others had married outside the community, of course. But not a tribal council member. Not one single tribal leader had married anyone other than an Apache. Clay's wife, Izzie, was Apache. Gabe's fiancé, Selena, was Apache and Kino's wife, Lea, was Apache, though she had only one clan because her mother was Mexican. But her dad was Salt River Apache.

Clyne dropped Karen at her door and gave her a kiss that left much to be desired. He couldn't help but compare the cold perfunctory touching of lips to the scorching desire stirred by just a glance in Cassidy Walker's direction. Each kiss vibrated through him like a drumbeat, building in power.

A warrior woman. A fighter.

He drew back and Karen smiled up at him. Did she feel something that he did not?

“Would you like to come in?” she asked, stroking her hand down the lapel of his overcoat.

“Ah, Karen?”

“Yes?” Her eyes were dark and bright, her mouth curled in a coy smile.

“I can't see you again.”

The smile fell and her mouth dropped open.

“What are you talking about?”

“I'm seeing someone else.”

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously and her words came like the hiss of a snake.

“It's that white woman. Isn't it?”

He drew a breath and then admitted it, saying it aloud.

“Yes.”

“Are you crazy? She'll ruin you.”

“I used to think so.”

“Clyne. I know you. You're one of the most respected men in Black Mountain. And you are smarter than this.”

“Goodbye, Karen. I'm sorry.”

Her eyes glittered dangerously. “You will be.”

Clyne left her on the stoop to her home and returned to his SUV.

Karen was going to make trouble. He knew it and he didn't care. If he was going to court Cassidy, he'd have to face this sooner or later. Many would be disappointed. But he hoped a few would see that a good woman could be Anglo as well as Apache.

He kept telling himself this as he drove to the casino hotel where Cassidy was staying. They had been strong adversaries and she was a brave woman but was she brave enough for this?

Chapter Eighteen

Clyne knocked on her hotel door and waited. He could feel her on the opposite side of the door staring at him through the peephole.

The bolt clacked, the lock turned and the door flew open.

“Jovanna?” said Cassidy.

“Fine.”

She cocked her head. He saw that she was still dressed in her pants and shirt. But she wore no shoes or socks and her blazer and holster were absent. She had released her hair from the short, stiff little ponytail she usually wore so her hair fell like silk beside her face.

“What's wrong, then?”

“I needed to see you.”

Cassidy still gripped the door and her opposite hand held the pistol. She motioned him in with a gesture of her head. He found her room had one king-size bed, a chair and a desk with a second chair. The only illumination came from the desk lamp and her glowing laptop that was up and open, with two files beside it on the glass surface. Near the window, her belongings were neatly folded in an open suitcase on a stand and her laptop.

“Going over some things,” she said. “Can I get you something? I have pop in the mini-fridge.”

“Nothing.”

Cassidy sat on the bed. Clyne took the desk chair. She waited for him to speak.

“I just broke up with a woman I have been seeing.”

Cassidy's pale brow lifted. Was she wondering what this had to do with her?

“I'm sorry.”

“Don't be.” He waved away the concern. “I told her I was seeing someone else.”

Cassidy's head tilted as she thought about this.

“Are you?”

He gave his head a shake.

Cassidy's mouth dropped open as she put it together.

“Clyne... I don't think... This isn't a good idea.”

“That's what Gabe said.”

“This could affect my custody.”

“How? She's ours for six months and then she makes a choice. Us or you. If you stay here, maybe she won't have to choose.”

“Stay?” She gave her head a little shake. “So you're doing this for your sister?”

“No. For me.” Clyne's head sank. He was trying every way he could think of to rationalize doing the irrational. And she was fighting him, still.

Cassidy was on her feet. “I think you should go.”

“Probably.” He didn't get up.

“I'm white,” she said.

“No one's perfect.”

She chuckled at that. Clyne stood and her eyes swept over him like a caress.

“Maybe this is just, you know, an infatuation.”

He didn't think so. “Maybe.”

“It's just because, well, you were over there. So was I. We understand what it was like.”

“Yes. That's true. But it's more.”

“I don't want this to hurt Jovanna. I don't want you thinking that sleeping with me will fix all that. I'm still her mother and I plan to win full custody.”

“Even if you take her, she'll come back when she is grown. She has to.”

“Why is that?”

“Because she will long to know where she comes from. Everyone needs to know that. Even if you take her for another nine years, she'll come back.”

Cassidy grabbed the lapel of his topcoat and choked the fabric in her fist.

“She's my daughter.”

He nodded. “Yes. She will always be that.”

Her eyes filled with tears that spilled down her cheeks. He used his thumbs to brush them both aside and kept them there for a moment before threading his fingers in her fine pale hair.

He knew what he felt for Cassidy was strong and real. He also knew that marrying her would unite their families and give Jovanna her mother back. She wouldn't have to choose.

What he didn't know was if he was strong enough to face his tribe with a white woman at his side after speaking on many occasions about the need to preserve their cultural heritage.

He didn't know if he could convince Cassidy Walker to give up her transfer and stay here with them. But he wanted to try.

Clyne angled his head. Cassidy tugged at his topcoat, lifting to meet his kiss. The heat sizzled through him at the first brushing contact. He felt as if he were falling, spinning with her in his arms.

Cassidy's hands moved over his shirt, releasing buttons. He found the zipper at the side of her slacks and tugged. She let the garment fall to the ground and stepped from them. Then she sat on the edge of the bed and glanced to the empty place beside her.

He shrugged out of his topcoat and blazer and tossed them to the chair. His shirt went next. She kept her eyes on him as she released the top rivet securing his jeans. He strained against the denim fabric, showing his need in the most obvious way possible. A smile flicked over her ripe pink lips. He sat beside her and each turned to their own attire, him throwing off shoes and jeans and shirts while she slipped out of her button-up blouse. When only his boxers remained, he turned to find Cassidy standing in only a scrap of fuchsia lace panties and a lacy top with underwire lifting her small breasts so the plump flesh spilled from the shallow cup. He could see the soft pink of her nipples and the fine blue veins that crossed under the pale flesh of her breasts and belly. She was so beautiful it took away his breath.

He stood, offering his hand. She laced her fingers with his and he tugged her forward, bringing her body to his.

* * *

C
ASSIDY
TRIED
HARD
not to remember the last time she had felt a man's touch. No, she pressed that down with her memories and her grief. Tonight was for the living, not the dead. And Clyne, no matter what his faults and how much they differed on every single issue, was alive and he wanted her. The attraction that roared between them created a need stronger than anything she'd ever experienced.

Tonight her need had caused her to call a truce. But it wouldn't last. What was he doing breaking up with his girl and coming here? She should have turned him around at the door, because she knew how this would end—badly.

Clyne wanted just what she wanted—to come alive, be desired, be consumed by the sweet taste and scent and feel of a perfect opposite.

But he wanted something else. He wanted her to stay and he wanted it enough to offer himself. Did he have feelings for her or was this some play to change her mind about leaving?

His strong hands lifted her until she settled on his body, a living bed of muscle and heat. Separated now by only his cotton briefs and her lacy panties, she felt the long length of him. He growled as she rocked, and lifted up to take the tip of one breast in his mouth. The dizzying sensation made her groan and arch to allow him free rein. He was not gentle. She was not submissive. No, Cassidy demanded what she wanted and took as she gave. And unfortunately for them both, their lovemaking was powerful and rare and thrilling.

Was it because it would not last?

She didn't know. But when they had finally come to rest, panting and slick with the sweat of their efforts, she closed her eyes and grieved again for this man who she feared she would never keep and for the union that marked the beginning and the end of all that could be between them.

Cassidy had a job to do here, a promotion to earn and, in six months, she was leaving Black Mountain with her daughter. Jovanna would not be coming back. She'd be certain of that.

She threw an arm over her closed eyes and purred. It was worth every bit of it, she decided.

“You okay?” he asked.

She didn't look at him. He was too handsome and seeing him in the light of one desk lamp might give her stupid ideas, like how to hold on to him.

“That was a mistake,” she said.

“Are you sorry?” He rolled to his side, his fingers dancing over her stomach and making her twitch.

“Yes and no.” She peered at him from under her arm. “You?”

He made a humming sound that was no answer. But his fingers continued to explore, moving from a gentle caress to purposeful stroking of her most sensitive places. Her body rose from lethargy so fast it startled her. Even with Gerard, she had never felt this kind of awareness. It wasn't fair, she thought.

“Slower, this time,” he said.

She nodded. Cassidy supposed she could take some consolation in knowing that she was not the first woman and would doubtless not be the last to leave Clyne Cosen's bed wanting more.

Clyne's hand dipped lower and she moved to her back, letting him roam as he would. The man knew his way around the female form, she'd give him credit for that.

She made the mistake of looking up at him, perched on one elbow. His muscles corded at his bicep and his braid lay upon his pillow.

“Take your hair down,” she said.

His brow dipped. “That some kind of white girl fantasy?” he asked, but there was still humor in his voice.

“Maybe. The men in my life were always military. Short hair. No hair. This...” she lifted his braid “...seems like a pretty good handhold.”

His brows lifted and he tugged away the leather band holding his hair. He swung his legs to the floor and finger combed the three strands into one. His hair was three times as long as hers. Then he looked back at her as she rolled to her knees behind him. She reached out and stroked his black hair, finding it thick and glossy.

“Well?” he asked.

“It's nice,” she said, arranging his hair over his shoulders.

“Feel free to grab hold any time,” he said.

She did, moving from his hair to his shoulders and then scoring her nails over his chest. He leaned back against her as her hands moved lower and lower.

Clyne reached back, captured one knee and dragged her before him until she straddled his hips. She rose up and then down. It wasn't slow this time either, but his hair did make a very good hold.

He gripped her tight, assuring her with his touch that he would not let her fall, which gave her the freedom to move. Her daring and the trust she showed captivated. When they fell back to the mattress together she tried to just savor the retreating pleasure. But her mind kept intruding, scrambling to think of some scenario where a tribal leader would choose a white military brat who worked for the organization he mistrusted most of all, the federal government. She had a very creative mind, but Cassidy Walker could not come up with one single plausible situation where he and she could make a go of it. He should know that, too.

She closed her eyes. Clyne tucked her close. Cassidy toyed with a strand of his hair, wondering if like Samson it was the secret to his virility and strength.

Silly, she thought and allowed sleep to carry her into dreams. She expected him to leave her, steal off in the night. He did leave the bed and she tried to pretend it didn't matter. It would be easier not to face him in the morning than have to deal with what they had done. But he came back. He pulled back the still-made bed and dragged the thick comforter over them both, then he slipped against her back and tugged her close, spooning against her as he dozed.

In the morning her phone alarm stirred her from sleep. She felt the weight of Clyne's arm across her chest and groaned.

What had they done?

She silenced the alarm and rolled away. He captured her wrist before she made a clean get away.

“Cassidy, we need to talk,” he said.

“I've got to get dressed.”

Clyne rolled to a seat. She tried and failed not to stare at all that bare skin and muscle. His hair, still loose, fell in a tangle down his back. And then she saw it, the small white puckered place just above his left hip. The bullet must have just missed the bottom of his vest. She wanted to touch it, that tiny scar that marred his perfect flesh. But she didn't.

Instead, she turned away, took exactly what she needed from her suitcase and fled to the bathroom. By the time she emerged, showered and completely dressed, he was still there.

“Clyne, let's not do this now.”

“You don't think we need to talk about this?”

“Probably. But right now I've got work.”

He gave her a long look and then nodded. “So we are both going to pretend this didn't happen?”

She hesitated, shifting her weight from side to side.

“Fine,” he said. “See you around, Agent Walker.”

“Hey. I didn't ask you to come here.”

“And you didn't ask me to leave.”

“Well, now I'm asking. That can't happen again.”

He snorted. “But it will. You know it will.”

With that he strode out the door.

* * *

C
LYNE
MADE
IT
home to find Gabe sitting in the dining room scrolling through an Apache social media platform used by the tribe.

“Thought you'd stayed at Karen's,” he said, laying the tablet on the tabletop.

“I broke up with her.”

Gabe absorbed that without comment but his brows lifted high on his forehead.

“She's mad as a wet cat,” said Clyne.

“Worse than when you gave her the bracelet?”

“Way worse.”

Gabe rubbed his neck.

“So where'd you spend the night?” asked Gabe.

Clyne thought from the way his brother looked at him that he already knew the answer.

“Paulina? Rita?” Gabe asked, his voice holding a note of hope.

Clyne let his head drop forward. “I don't want them either.”

“No?”

He met Gabe's troubled gaze.

“I want Cassidy Walker.”

Gabe rocketed to his feet. “I knew it.”

Clyne sighed.

“You've only known her a week.”

“I met her in January when you took that shipment from the cartel.”

“And you hated her on sight.”

Clyne shrugged. “She's a Fed.”

“I never thought I'd be asking you this but do you know what you're doing?”

“I don't think so. Rita or Paulina would be a lot easier.”

“Maybe we should have a sweat tomorrow after church. Talk about this.”