Navajo Courage. Aimee Thurlo

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      Bijishii burned five herbs in a fireclay container. He then placed a spear point–shaped flint within the ashes. As the Blackening began, Bijishii’s song recounted how the Holy People had taught the Earth People to use Blackening as a protection from evil.

      As his father’s voice rose in the confines of the hogan, Luca could feel the raw power of the ancient rite strengthening his spirit. In the days ahead, he would be challenged repeatedly and his life might even hang in the balance. But he was a member of the Brotherhood of Warriors and a tribal police officer. This was his destiny.

      Chapter One

      It was nearly 9:00 a.m. on a muggy August morning and Detective Valerie Jonas of the County Sheriff’s Department wasn’t in a good mood. She’d just received a cell phone call from her watch commander.

      Another body had turned up less than a half hour ago, yet here she was at the Albuquerque Sunport. The chartered flight from Shiprock delivering the special investigator from the Navajo Police had been delayed—naturally.

      Right now she should have been at the crime scene, working, not cooling her heels. It was true that the first murder, and the second from what she’d been told, held the stamp of tribal magic. Yet she’d need to focus on forensic evidence, not superstition, to solve the crimes.

      Valerie adjusted her badge, making sure it showed as clearly as the pancake holster at her belt. The procedures for an officer at this airport were clear. Although none of them could fly armed without filling out a boatload of paperwork, they were able to carry a weapon throughout the airport terminal and facilities.

      On her way to the gate—a long walk to the small local carrier’s location—Valerie answered two more calls from the Sheriff’s Office. The days of handheld radios were gone, and most detectives now lived with cell phones attached to their ears.

      At the far west end of the terminal, Valerie noticed a Pueblo Indian man, small of stature but with ample girth, looking around with apprehension as he accompanied another man into a hallway off the main corridor.

      She slowed her step, her instinct for trouble working overtime. As she passed the small corridor lined with snack machines, she glanced down it. The big, no-neck blond in a knit shirt and dark blue blazer was standing nose to nose with the Pueblo man, pushing him against the wall. The muscular Anglo also had something in his hand—a weapon maybe. Unfortunately, from her vantage point, she couldn’t swear he wasn’t holding a cell phone.

      She moved to the side of the crowd hurrying past her, stopped and watched out of the corner of her eye. As she looked on, the Pueblo man reached into his pocket, brought out his wallet and handed it over to no-neck.

      Her body tensed as she realized what was going down. The goon was probably armed with a pointed weapon of some sort, perhaps something made of hard plastic that could pass through the electronic screeners.

      As the robber glanced around quickly, Valerie turned her body so that her service weapon wouldn’t show and avoided eye contact. If the robber identified her as law enforcement, he might panic and turn his victim into a hostage.

      Somehow, she had to get closer. Then she’d make her move. Reaching into her pants pocket, she brought out a handful of coins. Then, jiggling the loose change in her hand, she drifted toward the vending machines as if contemplating a snack.

      She was easing down the corridor when a tall, good-looking Navajo man brushed past her.

      “Excuse me, ma’am,” he said, giving her a cocky half grin that was so intensely masculine, it practically took her breath away. His gaze still on her, he collided hard with no-neck, knocking him to one side.

      Catching a glimpse of the semi-auto in no-neck’s hand, Valerie instantly reached for her weapon but, in a heartbeat, the good-natured Navajo man underwent a transformation.

      Positioned just right, and with no wasted motion, he moved in like a Special Forces pro. Brushing away no-neck’s pistol with his left hand, he stepped up and decked the robber with a bone-jarring punch to the jaw. To Valerie’s surprise, the pistol fell to the tile floor with a rattle instead of a thud.

      “The gun’s a toy, Officer. Check out the vic.” The Navajo man flipped the groggy thief onto his belly, then produced a set of handcuffs from beneath his jacket and quickly secured his prisoner.

      Valerie called for backup as she went to help the victim, who’d just taken a puff from his asthma inhaler. Verifying that he was all right, she went to join the Navajo man whom she now guessed was either undercover security or a police officer.

      As she drew closer to him, she got her first clear look at the Navajo fighter. Her earlier impression had been incomplete. There was far more to him than just a charming smile. His eyes were a deep brown and burned with fire and determination. Broad shouldered and strong, but not muscle-bound like the blond hugging the ceramic tile, he had the kind of masculinity that reached out to a woman with a whisper, not a shout.

      Glancing up at her, he met her gaze and there Valerie saw an inner stillness, a quiet confidence that added a whole new dimension to the strength and ability she’d already seen him display.

      With effort, Valerie brought her thoughts back to the business at hand. Fantasies were for vacation and off-duty hours. “You knew the perp’s gun wasn’t real. That’s why you weren’t concerned about taking direct action. But how did you know that?”

      “No oil or gunpowder scent,” he answered.

      She blinked. In a terminal filled with fast food, perfumes and aftershaves, it would have taken a bloodhound to pick out oil or gunpowder residue. He had to be kidding.

      “Do you have an evidence bag?” he asked, going over to where the weapon lay.

      “Yeah, I’ve got several—just not handy,” she said, then, hoping she was right and this was her new partner, added, “I’m Valerie Jonas of the Sheriff’s Department. By any chance are you Detective Luca Nakai of the Tribal Police?”

      “That’s me,” he answered. Though the terminal was loud and people were starting to gather, his low, sexy voice carried clearly.

      Pen in hand, he bent down and retrieved the realistic-looking toy by the trigger guard. “This guy might need an EMT to check him out. He went down pretty hard.”

      The robber moaned and, suddenly realizing he’d been cuffed, kicked out at Valerie.

      She tried to dodge, but stumbled from the glancing blow to her calf and fell against Luca. He was built solid and the hard expanse of his chest was like iron and steel, but that warmth…

      Luca steadied her, then moving away, caught no-neck scrambling to his feet and swept his legs out from under him with a well-placed boot.

      The handcuffed man fell to a sitting position, then realizing he was outmatched said, “No more, I’ll stay still,” and scooted to put his back to the wall.

      Two armed airport security officers joined them seconds later. Valerie turned the prisoner over to them, gave a quick rundown of the events then pointed out the initial victim, who’d kept his distance.

      “We’re needed at a crime scene right now, guys, but here’s where you can reach me,” Valerie said, giving the closest man her card. Luca handed the toy gun to one СКАЧАТЬ