Native Born (9 page)

Chapter Eleven

When Clyne arrived home, the late supper was nearly ready and he could not understand why he did not feel the satisfaction he had expected to experience at this moment.

Glendora ushered Jovanna over to him and he looked down at the girl he had dreamed of since he'd learned she survived. He compared her against the little child she had been. He had not been there when she was born because he'd been on a rooftop in Iraq. And on the day his sister had left them for her first competition in South Dakota, he'd been riding the rodeo and sending all he could from his winnings back to his mom, who had just separated from their dad. He had seen his sister briefly, then almost two, on visits home. Kino, the youngest of the brothers, had been nine when Jovanna was born.

Jovanna stood and accepted the touching of foreheads and then the greeting in Apache that she did not return. The spark of fury ignited. She'd been robbed of her native tongue, her culture and her family. All because of a stupid bureaucratic mistake. If not for that mistake Cassidy would have a Sioux baby who had no other home and his family would never have lost Jovanna. But then he would never have known Cassidy.

That didn't matter. It couldn't.

“Jovanna, do you remember me?” Clyne asked.

She gave her head a little shake and her silky hair slipped over her shoulders. He stared at the blond tips that he now saw had a distinctive pink tint.

He lifted a strand and scowled at the cultural intrusion. This little girl was now as much white as she was Apache.

“Well, perhaps in time,” he said and released her hair. “We welcome you back to your home. Our people have lived in this place for thousands of years.”

She looked around and then back to him. “Doesn't seem big enough for all those people.”

Kino burst out laughing. Jovanna had a sense of humor. He quirked a brow not sure if that was good or bad.

“Supper time,” announced Glendora.

Jovanna rested a hand on Buster, who accompanied her to the table and sat at her feet. It seemed this shepherd was not going to let this sheep out of his sight again. He looked at Clay with his bicolored eyes as if to say, “You lost her.”

It was only an ordinary Wednesday but his grandmother had made it a holiday with a pot roast cooked with potatoes and root vegetables. Nothing too exotic. But when they sat to eat, after the prayer to thank the food, Clyne noted that Jovanna did not take any of the meat.

Glendora noted the same thing and glanced to him in confusion. His sister's plate consisted of bread and green beans.

“Is there something wrong?” asked Glendora.

“Um. No, everything is fine,” said Jovanna, looking very small surrounded by her brothers and their wives.

“You don't like pot roast or potatoes?”

“I love potatoes. It's just...”

Lea took up the conversation. “I couldn't eat meat when I first got pregnant. Just the smell.” She rolled her eyes.

Clay looked at Jovanna and hazarded a guess. “You're a vegetarian?”

Jovanna nodded. “Yes.”

“What? You're Apache. We've raised cattle for hundreds of years. We all have cattle in the communal herd. This is from our herd,” he said motioning toward the meat.

“I don't eat anything with a face,” she said, but her voice now trembled.

Glendora placed a hand on Clyne's arm, a signal to stop talking.

“The potatoes don't have a face, unless you count the eyes.”

Jovanna smiled. “But they were cooked with the meat. I'm sorry, Grandmother. I don't want to be rude. I just think animals should not be food.”

“That's ridiculous,” said Clyne.

Jovanna's eyes went wide and glassy.

His grandmother rose from the table and disappeared into the kitchen.

“We're hunters and ranchers,” said Clyne, lifting his hands in frustration. “We have some of the best trout fishing in the country not twenty minutes from here.” He pointed east toward Pinyon Lake.

Jovanna seemed to grow smaller in her seat.

His grandmother returned with a jar of peanut butter and jelly.

Jovanna smiled as a look of relief lifted her features.

Clyne's scowl deepened. Peanut butter and jelly, on the dinner table.

He continued to glower as Kino took up the conversation, recalling tales of his childhood of which Clyne had no recollection because he had already been in the service at that time. Kino told stories that involved Jovanna. When he mentioned the time she had used a green marker to color the family dog and herself, Jovanna straightened.

“I remember that!” She looked at her hands as if seeing the green marks. “I remember that. How old was I?”

Kino's smile was sad. “You just turned two. It was right before the contest. Mom was furious because she didn't think the ink would come off before then.”

Clay broke in. “I was supposed to be watching you, so it was my fault. Boy, was she angry.” He smiled.

“She scrubbed me in the tub.” Jovanna pointed to the bathroom. “Here. In this house.” And she inhaled and looked around as if for the first time. “I lived here!”

“That's right,” said Glendora. She expertly made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and offered it to Jovanna.

“Why did we live with you, Grandma?”

The men went quiet but Glendora replied. “Your mom and dad were having some trouble.”

Some trouble, thought Clyne. His dad had been a drug trafficker and his mom had been right to get his siblings clear of him. It was what Clyne had used his signing bonus on. Money for his mother and siblings until she could get her feet under her.

“Where is he?” she asked.

Kino went pale. He'd been there, hiding under a kitchen table in their dad's home when their father's contact had murdered their dad. Thankfully a tablecloth had kept him from seeing Kino but also kept his little brother from seeing the killer's face.

“He's gone, too, sweetie,” said Glendora. “He died a long time ago.”

“Oh,” said Jovanna, and her expression of joy dropped.

His sister would never know their father. Clyne didn't know if he should be heartbroken or relieved. Both, he decided.

The somber moment passed when Clay launched into stories of their mother. How she sewed contest regalia for powwow dance competitions and danced. Jovanna munched her peanut butter sandwich and drank her milk. After the meal they shared a cake with Welcome Home Jovanna written in blue frosting on the top.

Everything went well until Kino and Clay said good-night and left with their wives. Gabe announced the ongoing investigation and took his leave shortly afterward. His grandmother took Jovanna down the hall to the bedroom and he and Buster trailed along. His sister had only her school backpack, so Glendora offered a worn flannel nightie that looked miles too big for her granddaughter. On the bed, Glendora had placed some of the stuffed animals that had belonged to Jovanna a lifetime ago. Buster left Clyne's side to sit at Jovanna's bedside, resting his head on her knee.

Jovanna sat on the bed and lifted a lavender elephant with wide felt eyes. She studied the toy she once called Fafa and tucked it under her arm. Then she set it aside and rested a hand on Buster's head.

“Do you have a Wi-Fi code?” asked Jovanna.

“A what?” asked Glendora.

“To connect to the internet. I want to write my mom.”

Glendora glanced to him. He shook his head.

“I'm sorry, sweetheart. We don't have that here.”

“Oh.” Jovanna did not quite hide the crestfallen look.

From there it all fell apart. It must have struck her that she was going to spend the night in a strange house with these strangers who were her family.

Her lip trembled and tears sprang from her eyes. She sank to the floor and wrapped her arms about Buster. Her words where more wail than speech.

“I want my mom!”

Glendora spent the next hour trying to comfort Jovanna while Clyne paced up and down in the hallway.

In his mind, Jovanna's return had gone much differently. Jovanna would remember them and slip back into her old life. Now he saw the problem with that plan. He'd never really considered his sister's feelings. Only what was best for her.

Gabe had tried to warn him. Even said flat out that their sister had already lost one mother and that making her lose another would be cruel.

Cruel.

That was something Clyne never intended. He knew it was best for children to be raised by their tribe. He knew in his heart that without that heritage the Indian part of them died. But his philosophical and moral stand did not take into consideration the pain of his sister's tears.

Her first night back with her family and Jovanna was sobbing into Buster's damp fur.

Glendora stepped out into the hall. She held the doorknob as she met Clyne's gaze.

“What do we do?”

“Only thing to do is let her cry. She's homesick.”

“But this is her home,” said Clyne.

“She's not a cactus. You can't just plop her down anywhere and expect her to grow.”

“She belongs here.”

“She does. But she was just escorted from her school by police officers and dropped here like a sack of laundry. She wants to be a part of this family and to have her big brothers around her. But Clay and Kino won't be here for her. They're starting families of their own. Gabe is going to marry Selena.”

Which was a mistake. He'd already told Gabe that Selena's connections to illegal doings would be nothing but a problem to him and his reputation.

“Where is Agent Walker staying?” asked Glendora.

Clyne's heart sank.

“The casino hotel. Why?”

“Maybe she could come by. Tuck in her little girl.”

“That's a bad idea.”

“Why?”

“Because we won custody but only for six months. Then Jovanna will have to choose. If I let Walker in here, she might pick her.”

“You're thinking what to do in six months.” Glendora inclined her head toward the door and the sobbing that came from within. “I am thinking of a little girl missing her mother.”

“She is not her mother.”

Glendora looked ready to cry herself. Her daughter, his mother, had lost her life and her chance to raise her baby girl.

Clyne dragged in a long breath and let it go.

“I'll go get her.”

Glendora turned the knob and reentered the room, leaving the door ajar.

“Honey Bear, your brother is going to fetch your mama.”

Jovanna's face came up from her pillow and stared at Clyne. Then she lifted the dragging hem of her nightgown and rushed to him, wrapping her arms about his middle and clinging like a monkey.

“Thank you, Clyne.
Ixehe
.”

Clyne stroked Jovanna's hair. His sister had just thanked him in Apache. Did she recall the language of her birth or had she learned it before returning to them?

He looked to Glendora, who was crying now. He just knew he was going to regret this. But he whispered to his sister in Apache that he would take care of her and that everything would be all right.

Chapter Twelve

Cassidy had just finished a call with Luke. They'd successfully followed one of the Salt River gang members to a remote location where he had left food and supplies at a drop. They were feeding someone and he believed it was Hare. He was staying on surveillance for the night.

“I have the calls from Escalanti,” she said.

“Anything good?”

“I don't know. The tech guys couldn't provide transcripts. It's all Apache.”

Luke made a sound in his throat. “Gabe, Kino or Clyne can translate. Clay, too. Any of them.”

Like she'd ask them.

When she didn't respond Luke spoke again.

“Cassidy. Don't be stubborn. There might be something there. Get it translated.”

“I will,” she promised.

Luke said good-night and she ended the call. She was heading for the shower, dressed only in her underwear when the knock sounded on her door. A firm rapping, unlike the polite tentative rap of housekeeping.

Cassidy stepped into the bathroom to retrieve her pistol. She wasn't going to stand in front of that peephole and ask who was there after the two attacks.

“Who is it?” she called from the security of the bathroom.

“Clyne Cosen.”

She lowered the pistol. Cosen? At this hour. Her suspicions peaked. Had he come to finish what they'd started? Her body came alive, tingling all over. That made her scowl. His timing sucked. She'd just finished up another round of tears before Luke phoned.

The nerve of hitting on her when he knew she would be sad and vulnerable. What a jerk.

“I'm not that lonely.”

“Open the door, Cassidy. Jovanna needs you.”

She shoved the pistol into her holster as she left the bathroom, and threw back the metal latch, released the lock and tugged open the door. The breeze from the hallway reminded her that she was wearing only a fuchsia lace bra and matching panties.

Clyne's eyes widened as he swept down the length of her, reversed course and lingered at the swell of her breasts. The lace cups of her bra did not include a lining, and she felt her nipples pucker up under the contact of nothing more than his stare.

When he finally met her gaze his eyes were glittering with an unmistakable intensity that had her backing up. Her ears tingled with the rest of her.

“Lace?” he said.

Cassidy ducked into the bathroom and grabbed a white bath towel winding it around herself. It covered her from beneath her armpits to just below her hips.

Her throat had gone dry and a glance in the mirror showed her that her skin was flushed nearly as pink as her underthings.

“I was about to take a shower,” she said.

Clyne remained in the hallway as if refusing to take the step that would lead him again over her threshold.

“Yes, I see.”

He certainly had.

“You said Amanda needs me?” He'd actually said Jovanna. But she refused to speak that name. The only person who could make her say otherwise was her daughter.

“She's crying. My grandmother sent me to fetch you.”

Cassidy let the towel drop as she rushed back into the room to retrieve her trousers. She slipped into her blouse and fumbled with the buttons, noticed they were out of alignment and left them that way as she reached for her coat. By the time she had her boots on and holster clipped Clyne was using a bandanna to wipe his brow.

“Hot?” she said with a wicked smile. The temperature in the hall was anything but. March up in the mountains felt more like January to her.

“Yeah,” he said, casting her a doleful look. “Ready?”

Cassidy slipped her phone into her pocket with the charger and scooped up her computer. Everything else she could live without.

He walked with her through the casino, greeting various members of his circle as he escorted her out and to the large SUV.

“Should I follow you?”

“I'll drive you back.” Her radar went up again as she imagined Clyne walking her to her room late at night, lingering outside her door with that big empty bed inside.

“I'll take my car.”

“Fine.”

He drove her to the lot, following her directions. When she told him to stop, he did and then turned to her.

“Did you really think that I'd come back for...”

She closed the door because she was sick of him seeing her turn pink every time he asked her a question.

“Listen, I'm sorry about that.”

“Would you have let me in, Cassidy, if I had been there for that?”

“What do you think?” She tried for a look of impatience but her stomach was tightening and her toes curled in her boots as she looked at his appealing features and that wide, full mouth. Her mind flashed an image of that mouth fixed on her breast, his tongue working against the lace cup of her bra.

His mouth quirked and she lifted her gaze to meet his. His eyes held the glitter of desire that fueled her own.

“Let's go,” she said and pulled the latch before slipping out into the crisp evening air. She was afraid cold air would not be enough to cool her heated blood but she kept walking.

* * *

C
LYNE
STOOD
LIKE
a silent sentinel as Cassidy spoke with her daughter. Their reunion had tugged at his heart and made him question his decisions to end her custody.

It was clear that Cassidy loved Jovanna and that Jovanna adored her mom. He considered for the first time that Jovanna would not choose to remain with her brothers after the six months were over. Even his grandmother didn't think Jovanna would pick them. She might learn to love them, but she already loved Cassidy Walker.

Now Clyne had to think of a way to keep Jovanna here, even if his sister chose Walker. His gaze flicked to the woman in question. There was no doubt what she wanted. She had told him. She was going to get her promotion and move east. She was going to take Jovanna. He had to think of a way to stop her.

Cassidy looked up at him and smiled. Her gratitude shone clear on her face. Jovanna's eyes were drooping. Cassidy moved to stand.

Jovanna roused herself. “Mom. Where are you going?”

“Back to the hotel.”

“No, stay.”

She stroked her daughter's dark hair off her forehead. “All right. I'll stay until you fall asleep.”

“No. All night.” Jovanna glanced at him and Glendora hovered in the doorway. “In case I have that dream.”

Cassidy glanced to Glendora, who nodded her silent consent.

Clyne looked from one woman to the next, miffed that he had not even been consulted.

“All right, doodlebug. I'll stay.” She glanced to Clyne and this time she had the smug smile of a poker player holding the winning hand.

* * *

C
ASSIDY
STRETCHED
OUT
on the narrow bed beside her daughter and listened to Amanda tell her about her day from the moment Child Protective Services scooped her up to this moment.

“I'm sorry this is happening to you,” said Cassidy.

“It's okay now, Mom. I want to be here. But I want you here, too.”

“That's not the way it works. The court has ordered you to stay with them. I'm not allowed to stay here. It's just that your grandmother thought I could help. You understand. It's just for tonight.”

Amanda clung tighter. She stroked her daughter's hair and Amanda settled. Her breathing grew steady and her eyelids drooped.

“Don't leave, Mom. Don't sneak out when I fall asleep.”

“All right. I'll stay.”

“Promise?” asked Amanda.

“Promise.”

Amanda drifted to sleep and Cassidy lay in the room that smelled like wool, cedar and old dog. Were these scents familiar to her daughter? When Amanda rolled to her side, Cassidy slipped off the bed and across the room. She needed to find a bathroom.

Buster lifted his head at her departure but did not move from the rug beside her daughter's bed. Cassidy regarded him, trying to decide if he was a threat. Finally she retrieved her gun and holster from the bookcase near the door and slipped the holster on before retreating to the hall. She closed the door softly behind her.

“Is she asleep?”

The male voice made her jump clear off the ground. The corridor was dark and he stood in shadows, leaning against the opposite wall. A shaft of light stabbed across the runner in the hall, supplied by a lamp in the living room.

Clyne, she realized. Now her heart accelerated for a different reason. She pressed a hand over her racing heart and felt the strap of her lace bra beneath her blouse. A tingling ache grew inside her.

He stepped forward, his face all shadows and hard angles.

“Yes.”

“Are you staying?”

“I promised that I would.”

He nodded and motioned to the door behind him. “I put your things in here. Coat. Briefcase. It's Gabe's room but he's at the station tonight. And...I gave you one of my T-shirts because my grandmother said you would need it.”

“Thank you.” Why wasn't she moving?

“Do you need anything else from me?” he asked.

She felt the question was intentionally leading, an offer to finish what they had started in her hotel. She took a little too long answering and his nostrils flared as if catching her scent.

“Nothing,” she managed to say, her mouth now dry as dust.

He lifted his chin and she wondered if he was brave enough to take what they both wanted but also knew was just a really rotten idea.

“Thank you for the shirt.”

“Bathroom is right down there. My room is there.” He pointed and she wondered if this was another invitation.

“I'll be sure not to mix them up.”

He lifted his brows. “My grandmother is on the other side of the house, past the living room. So if Amanda has a bad dream, I don't think she would hear the noise.”

She didn't take the bait. “I'll be with her.”

“Protecting her at night and me all day.” He lifted a hand and stroked her cheek. “Chasing away bad dreams.”

Her body trembled but she managed to hold her ground. Unfortunately she didn't step past him or retreat into the spare room. What kind of game was he playing?

“We're talking about Amanda's nightmares. Right?”

He glanced away. Suddenly she didn't think Amanda was the only one who was afraid.

“Gerard had them. I did, too. No shame in it.”

“You?” he asked.

“I got some help. No shame in that either. But if you're asking me to tuck you in, I'm going to have to say no.”

“I want more than that, Cassidy. I think you do, too.”

“What about your reputation?” she asked. “Pillar of the community. Tribal leader. Bastion of Apache culture.” She hoped he heard the contempt in her words. She didn't like being treated like an undesirable merely because of her race.

“I will need to choose soon. There are several women who are interested. All Apache women.”

“So why point out your bedroom to me?”

He stepped closer. “Because you are different.”

She flipped her blond hair. “I'll say.”

He took hold of her arm. “No, Cassidy. I don't mean the way you look or the way you smell or your choice of undergarments, which are...memorable. And though you are a beautiful woman. It's deeper than that. You know. You understand what it was like.”

And then it made sense, the thing that none of the other women of his tribe could offer. They had not seen action in the Middle East. They had not experienced a war and survived and none of them had lost loved ones to that terrible war.

“How do you do it?” he asked.

“What?”

“Keep fighting?”

“Because it's not over,” she said.

“It will never be over,” he said. “Just like the battle to keep our land and our heritage. The struggle stretches through generations.”

He looked away, staring into the darkness.

“That's true,” he said at last.

“Luke says you don't carry a personal weapon. That you don't hunt.”

“I have done enough hunting for a lifetime.”

“But someone is trying to kill you. You should take some steps to protect yourself.”

“No.”

“You might die.”

“Yes. But I will not die with a gun in my hand.”

They shared a moment of silence as each considered their choice. To wear a gun. To set it aside forever.

“Do you remember them all?” she asked.

He met her intent gaze. “Every one. And that's not all. I remember the weather, the location, the moment just before I squeezed that trigger.” He sighted an imaginary rifle and looked through his imaginary scope. Then he moved his index finger and made the sound of the discharge. Cassidy flinched. He lowered his hands to his sides.

“You?”

“I remember. The second one was worse. Parker refused to put down his weapon. He pointed it toward me and I fired twice to mass.”

He took her hand.

“And I remember the smell of blood and the sound of him trying to breathe with two punctured lungs.”

“It's easy to take a life,” he said. “Hard to live with, though. You understand that.”

This was what attracted him, he realized. What made her different from all the rest of the women in his life. Cassidy knew what it was to fight to defend her life and live with the aftermath.

“But I saw someone afterward. A counselor. It helped, Clyne. You should try it.”

His hand slipped from hers. “I don't think so.”

“They have a program, some of the counselors are vets. They've seen action. They understand. They don't judge you. Just help you talk it out. I have a connection there.”

He hesitated, actually considering it. Then he shook his head.

“I'd go with you if you'd like.”

He checked to see if there was some joke associated with her offer, some smirk or facial expression. All he saw was earnestness and compassion. It was his undoing.