Tribal Law. Jenna Kernan

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      “Selena, if you were threatened, why didn’t you call me?”

      She slapped a hand over her eyes. “Because I didn’t want them to kill you, too.” She dropped her hand and gave him a beseeching look. “Please, Gabe. Send someone!”

      He lifted the radio he kept on his hip. Selena batted at his hand and he retreated another step.

      “Not the radio! They listen. Mr. Dryer said so to my father.”

      Gabe lowered the handset. “I already used it to call for backup and signal the all clear.”

      “Did you mention our names or Mr. Dryer’s?” asked Selena.

      “No.”

      “Please don’t.”

      He clipped the radio back to his belt. Then he called Juris. The detective appeared almost immediately. “Call Officer Cienega and tell him to go out to Selena’s place in our unmarked unit. Don’t park where he can be seen but keep an eye on her family. Then send the closest unit to the high school. No radio contact. Tell them to use cell phones only. Finally get two units at each end of this road. No traffic in.”

      “I’m on it.” Juris reversed course.

      Selena’s shoulders sagged. “Thank you.”

      He tried to ignore her watering eyes as he led her back to his vehicle.

      “You carrying a weapon, Selena?”

      She gave him a horrified look. “No.”

      “I have to check.” He took no pleasure in patting her down. He had spent more nights than he cared to remember trying to figure how to get his hands on Selena. This had never been one of the possibilities. She was clean, as she had said.

      He opened the door and she slipped in. He knew he should read Selena her rights, but he just could not summon the will.

      “I’m under arrest. Aren’t I?”

      He gave her a grim look. “Not yet. Wait here.”

      He closed the door, knowing she now had no choice but to stay put. She was locked in behind the cage that separated his front and backseats, and the doors did not open from the inside.

      Through the windshield, Selena cast Gabe a long look that seemed like regret.

      Kino called to him.

      “He’s waking up.”

      Gabe headed over to the prison official.

      Dryer now sat up, shivering in the thin nylon DOC windbreaker. Black Mountain had four seasons, something the rest of the Arizona residents couldn’t seem to remember. The wind made his pale skin blotchy and pink as a strawberry. His light blond hair had been clipped in a stylish cut, but strands of feathery hair now fell over his forehead. The man was muscular and fit, too fit for a guy who pushed paper for a living. But that wasn’t his only job, Gabe thought. He also arranged transportation from manufacturing to distribution. A bit of a drug-family middleman, Gabe thought.

      “You frisk him?” he asked Kino.

      “No. Not yet. He’s just coming around.”

      Dryer still seemed dazed, judging from his out-of-focus stare. Blue eyes, Gabe realized. He looked like a weatherman or TV personality and stood out here like an albino puppy.

      Gabe snapped the cuffs on him. Then he and Kino assisted Dryer to his feet. The man swayed.

      Gabe patted him down, beginning with his shoulders. He quickly found an empty shoulder holster and a hip holster that was not empty. He relieved Dryer of his phone and an automatic pistol with a sixteen-round clip, tucking the weapon in the back of his waistband. Gabe suspected that the gun Jason Leekela had brandished belonged to this man.

      “Any more weapons?” he asked Dryer.

      Dryer groaned.

      Gabe’s search reached his hips.

      “You got anything sharp in your pockets?”

      “No.”

      “Where’s your ID?” asked Kino.

      Dryer snorted in a humorless laugh.

      “I don’t carry ID when I’m working undercover,” said Dryer.

      Gabe’s eyes narrowed. Any federal operations on his reservation had to be cleared with his office. Kino looked to Gabe for direction, their gaze meeting for an instant before Gabe turned back to Dryer.

      “Who are you?” Gabe asked.

      “I’m with DOJ.”

      Department of Justice. But of course he had nothing to back up his claim.

      “Boy, you better not be,” said Gabe.

      “Well, I am.”

      Gabe stared at Dryer, who now stood with his hands cuffed behind his back. His jacket and shirt dangled open, revealing his body armor and the empty holsters.

      “You hear me?” said Dryer. “I’m a special agent.”

      Juris joined them, standing beside Kino to watch the unfolding developments.

      “You believe him?” asked Juris.

      “Easy to check.”

      “Does Dosela know?” Juris asked Dryer.

      “I sure hope so. I recruited him.”

      “What about Selena?” asked Gabe.

      Dryer gave him an odd look. “She doesn’t know I’m DOJ. Too much risk.”

      “For you or her?” asked Gabe.

      Dryer shrugged. “Less who know the better.” He gave the three tribal officers a gloomy look.

      “You going to tell her? Or should I?” asked Gabe.

      “Doesn’t matter. I got to tell her something.” Dryer looked toward Selena and then he directed his attention to Gabe. “She’s in because her dad told her that they’ll kill their family if she didn’t drive.”

      “Another lie?” asked Gabe.

      “That one is true. These guys are animals.”

      Gabe resisted the urge to shove Dryer up against the car for dragging Selena into this.

      Instead of falling in with criminals, Selena seemed to have done something more dangerous. She had fallen in with their hunters.

      He glanced back at the vehicle where she waited and met her gaze. The urge to go to her was so strong he had to brace against it.

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