Eagle Warrior

“I have to report that to the FBI. So what I want to know from you is, did you know about this money?”

She couldn’t even speak, so she shook her head.

“Do you know where the money currently is?”

“No.” Her words were a whisper. “I don’t. You think he actually had that much money?”

Jack nodded. “I believe your father was accepting payment.”

“Payment? What could he possibly do that was worth that kind of...”

Morgan’s knees buckled and Bear Den caught her, drew out a chair and guided her into it. Her fanny hit with enough force to jar her gaze to the detective.

“This can’t be happening.”

Bear Den looked down the hall. “Ray? Can you come out?”

Her protector emerged from the hall. The front of his shirt was soaking wet and stuck to his chest, revealing the ripped muscles of his abdomen. Morgan’s breath caught at the perfection of his form.

“Why are you all wet?” she asked.

Bear Den followed the direction of her gaze. Ray shrugged. “Washed off the blood.”

The detective groaned and Morgan blinked, finally forcing her attention away, but took one more long look because a sight like that should be committed to memory.

Bear Den took a seat across from her and Ray retrieved the one between them, spun it and sat, his long legs straddling the back. Then he hugged the top and rested his chin on his hands. At least she couldn’t see the wet spot or his tight abs any longer.

Bear Den cleared his throat. “I was just relaying what the intruder told you.”

Ray’s gaze flicked from the detective to her. “You have some problems, Morgan.”

“What are you two implying exactly?”

Ray deferred to the detective.

“It appears that your father cashed a check twenty-four hours prior to his attack on the prime suspect in the Lilac Copper Mine shooting.”

“I don’t understand.”

Ray tucked in his legs and lifted his chin from his hands. “Your father was a paid hitman. Now word is out about the payday, and that means you can expect more like that nitwit I found in your hallway.”

Morgan’s stomach heaved. She pressed a hand over her pounding heart.

“More.”

“More and more competent.”

“Competent?”

“Dangerous. The kind of men that don’t pull hair. And they won’t stop until you deliver that money.”

“What money? I don’t have it.”

“Well I suggest you find it fast. The trick will be to keep you safe in the meantime.”

She sat back in the chair. “How am I supposed to do that, exactly?”

“That’s where I come in.”

Morgan looked from Ray to Detective Bear Den.

“You need a bodyguard, Morgan. Someone tough, resourceful and capable of protecting you.”

Her gaze flicked back to Ray Strong.

“Ray has agreed to act as your bodyguard,” said Detective Bear Den.

He stood there watching her like a hungry wolf in his transparent T-shirt rippling with contained potency. He was just the sort of male to cause a woman all kinds of trouble.

“I can’t afford to put gas in my car,” Morgan said. “How am I going to pay for...” She let her traitorous eyes caress him and his mouth twitched. His eyes glittered as if he knew what she was thinking. “I couldn’t afford to even feed him let alone pay him.”

“You can’t afford not to,” said Bear Den.

Morgan regarded Ray Strong. The man was tough, powerful and had already shown himself capable of protecting her and Lisa. He also ignited in Morgan an unwelcome burst of lust coupled with a rational sense of fear. The man was dangerous and the threat he posed was more than physical.

She shook her head. “This is a bad idea.”

Bear Den spoke again, his voice deep and resonant. “Are you familiar with the Turquoise Guardians?”

“My dad’s medicine society? Sure.”

“There is a sect within that organization called Tribal Thunder. This is a warrior band.”

Morgan didn’t think they still had warriors, not the real kind that defended their families to the death, made war on their enemies and took what they liked. She found her gaze slipping back to Ray like a thief on a night raid.

“I don’t know of Tribal Thunder.”

“Ray is a member of that sect. So am I. We’ve sworn an oath to defend our tribe.”

Now Ray took up the conversation. His voice did funny things to her insides.

He thumbed over his shoulder at her closed back door. “That little twerp is going to spill his guts. Word will get out. There is no calling it back. If you won’t do this for yourself, do it for your daughter.”

Word will get out.

Lisa. Her gaze went to the back door. What had she caught while her mother was attacked? What had she overheard the officers say afterward and most importantly, what had she told their neighbors?

“I need to get Lisa back.” Was that her voice? It didn’t even sound like hers.

“I’ll have one of my officers fetch her,” said Jack.

“No!” Morgan headed out the door at a run and Ray caught her easily. He didn’t grab her or try to stop her, just jogged along beside her across the dirt and gravel that separated her door from the Herons’.

She burst through the back door to find Guy Heron alone in the kitchen with Lisa. He had a hold of each of her daughter’s shoulders. Every hair on Morgan’s neck lifted. At seeing Morgan, his expression changed from eagerness to guilt. His gaze flashed from her to Ray Strong, now standing behind her. Now she saw fear.

“Oh, hey,” said Guy. “Everything all right?”

Morgan glanced to Lisa. Her daughter looked frightened and she did not need to call to her. Morgan just lifted a hand and Lisa ran to her mother. Their hands clasped and Morgan drew herself up as she tugged Lisa behind her.

“We were just talking about what happened tonight. Just your dad’s room, huh?” Guy’s voice held a note of force levity but the room had gone deadly quiet.

“Take Lisa home,” said Ray.

Morgan turned to go and then paused as she recalled the man Ray had beaten in her house. She’d seen him dragged out by two officers. His face had been swollen, raw and bloody. Morgan glanced at Mr. Heron. The man had been interrogating her daughter. Morgan knew it and so did Mr. Strong. The fury and fear mingled into a hard lump in Morgan’s stomach. Then she looked at Ray Strong, who had dipped his chin and fixed his gaze on Guy in a way that seemed like anticipation. The muscles at his neck bunched in coiled potential energy.

He tore his gaze from Guy to meet hers.

“You’re hired, Mr. Strong.”

Chapter Six

Ray returned to Morgan’s kitchen to find Jack alone at the dinette taking notes on a notepad.

Ray’s head swiveled. “Where’s the girl?”

“Bedroom. Morgan’s with her. Lisa was crying.”

Ray’s fists clenched and he considered taking Lisa’s distress out on Mr. Heron.

“Everything okay?” asked Jack, lifting his chin in the direction of the neighbor.

“He’s not bleeding, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Ray briefly related the high points of his chat with her dorky, slimy neighbor.

“He knows from the girl that Karl had money. Not how much. But he’s already put two and two together.”

Ray hoped he had reached an understanding with Guy Heron. But in his experience, the one thing that trumped fear was greed.

“We’re done here,” said Jack. “You’ll be staying in her father’s room.”

Appropriate, he thought because her father and he shared certain things. They were both Turquoise Guardians, Apache men and they both had a tendency to break the law. The downside of the room choice was that Karl had a big bed and it was right across the hall from the tempting Morgan Hooke.

“You staying while I get my kit?” asked Ray.

Jack nodded and laced the fingers of his massive hands on the dining room table.

“Be back as quick as I can.”

* * *

RAY MOVED QUICKLY, scouting once around the perimeter before returning to Felix Potts’s home to retrieve his belongings. He returned from Potts’s house and moved his truck, parking prominently in the driveway beside Jack’s tribal police SUV. Then he pulled his olive green gunnysack over one shoulder and lifted his small duffel, which held mostly weapons.

When he reached the kitchen stoop he was greeted by a gray cat that meowed loudly. Then it stood and rubbed against his leg.

“You live here, too?” he asked.

He rapped on the door and let himself in. The cat scooted past him.

He found Jack leaning with his back to the sink beside Morgan who stood at the stove. The aroma of tomato soup and cooking macaroni greeted him. Morgan stopped stirring the contents of one pot and held the dripping spoon poised over it as she watched him drop his things beside the door, wipe his feet and step into the space. Maybe he should have knocked.

Jack pushed off the sink, which was good because Ray thought there was only one reason to stand that close to a woman. Jack was single. So was Morgan. It shouldn’t have mattered because Morgan was a job and a burden, yet her boyish looks had unexpectedly hit him down low and deep. So it did matter.

He glared at Jack, who lifted his brows in surprise and moved out of the kitchen.

“Need any help?” asked Jack.

Ray shook his head.

“I’ll check in tomorrow. Let you know what else we get from the bank manager.”

Since Jack wasn’t allowed to use his fists with the same liberty as Ray, he doubted he’d get much. Little dweebs like that always lawyered up.

Jack called a farewell to Lisa and then to Morgan.

“You’re in good hands, Morgan. I’d trust Ray Strong with my life. You can do the same.”

She thanked Jack with a sincerity that made Ray scowl all over again. He could see them together—naked. Ray rubbed his eyes. Jack shook his hand and headed out into the night. Ray locked the door behind him and found satisfaction in the click.

The cat rubbed against his leg and meowed loudly again.

“What?” Ray asked it. “If you want food you’re at the wrong human.”

“Cookie!” Morgan ran to the feline and lifted the boneless ball of fluff. “Where did you find her? Lisa will be so happy.”

In Ray’s experience cats never needed finding. Morgan squeezed the cat, which now hung over her shoulder, its green eyes watching Ray. Morgan carried the cat to Lisa’s room and was met with squeals of delight from the interior. When Morgan came back, her smile eased away at the sight of him still in her kitchen.

“How’s your girl?” asked Ray.

“Better now that she has Cookie.” Her smile was so sweet and so compelling, Ray took a step toward her before he realized he had moved.

“Detective Bear Den said that you would work for room and board as a favor to my father.” He’d work for nothing, but staying on site would make it much easier to guard Lisa and Morgan.

Morgan poured the macaroni into a colander in the sink, sending steam billowing upward.

If Morgan Hooke knew the location of the two hundred thousand dollars, would she be eating condensed soup for dinner?

“And on behalf of your medicine society.”

He nodded and tugged at his drying shirt, wishing he could avoid this chatting.

“Tribal Thunder,” said Morgan. “I never heard of that sect.”

He really could not speak of his medicine society with a woman, even an Apache woman like Morgan. But he did say that it was a warrior sect.

“We’ve vowed to protect the sovereignty of our heritage, resources and tribe.”

“And I fall under tribe,” she said, flipping on the hot water and engaging the sprayer to give the limp pasta a shower. Deftly she dumped the noodles back into the pot, added milk, butter and the envelope of fluorescent yellow cheese-like product. Then the pot went back on the stove on a low flame.

“I added another box because—” she waved a clean wooden spoon at him “—you look hungry.”

Wow, she shouldn’t have said that. He stepped closer. Her eyes rounded. He closed in on an impulse so strong he didn’t even question it.

He wrapped her up and found that slippery cocktail dress made her glide up his chest as if she wore satin. When he angled his head to kiss her she pointed the clean end of the wooden spoon into his chest like the butt end of a nightstick.

The mac and cheese was sizzling as the milk boiled away.

“Bad idea,” she said, but then licked her wide lower lip, sending him mixed signals.

“That’s what I’m best at.”

She pulled away and he let her go.

They faced off.

“Listen, you might have some ideas about me because I have a child and no husband. And because I serve drinks. So let me set you straight. I’m not interested in casual sex.”

“Great. Because sex is one of two things I take very seriously.”

She lowered the spoon. “What’s the other?”

“Protecting you and Lisa.”

* * *

MORGAN STARED UP at her protector. He stood only an arm’s length from her with his hand still resting on her shoulder. His face was clean-shaven, revealing the hard line of his jaw and his prominent chin. It looked like the kind of jaw that could take a punch and the kind of chin that dared you to try. He had tousled thick black hair that needed a trim and a wide square forehead with heavy brows. His brown eyes now seemed to hold a hint of green and shone with mischief. He wasn’t done with her, they seemed to say. Not by a long shot. His mouth quirked, confirming her suspicion. The man was imposing as all get out, but right now that was what she needed. A man capable of taking care of things as well as her and her daughter.

Morgan understood the seriousness of her situation. It was bleeding into her consciousness like dye into fabric.

“You going to be able to do this?” she asked.

He never took his eyes off her as he nodded.

Ray Strong cocked his head, lifting a hand to trail his fingertips down the sensitive skin of her neck and on to the hollow at her throat. She shivered as sensation rocked her.

“I’ve been wanting to do that,” he said.

His grin promised devilment.

Trouble.

“Mom?”

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