Renee Simons Special Edition (65 page)

Chapter 10

The debris from the fire was warm and damp and smelled of smoke as Stormwalker worked steadily to clear the ground. He loaded the remnants into the bed of a borrowed pickup and sifted through the soggy ashes to salvage any items still worth saving: a Zuni fetish in the form of a bear carved from obsidian, a battered gold ring and a comb of silver and turquoise blackened by the fire. When these few had been set aside for later examination, he went over the area with a rake to expose the clean brown earth.

He welcomed the crackle of knee and shoulder joints, the loosening of vertebrae, and the stretching of muscles that had forgotten the feel of physical labor. Tomorrow he might be stiff; he might ache. Today he was grateful for the activity that put to use a body held too long in check.

The sweat poured down his face and glistened on his bare skin. It cooled him as he worked, and he made no effort to wipe it away. He simply removed the bandanna from around his neck, coiled it tightly against his forehead and tied it at the back of his head.

He moved to the area that had been the front room of the house, picked up a sledge hammer and, with a mighty, strangely satisfying swing, landed the first of the blows destined to demolish the fireplace and chimney.

As the red brick crumbled to the ground, Zan's voice behind him asked sadly, "Couldn't you save what was left?"

"If we're gonna start over, we need to start clean."

He realized how much he'd missed her, though the choice to be alone had been his. When he turned, desire stirred at the sight of her in a yellow halter and frayed denim cutoffs.

A pair of work gloves showed from a hip pocket and a towel hung over one shoulder. She looked like a goddess as she unscrewed the top of a thermos jug and held it out to him. He drank thirstily of the cold, sweet liquid. She reached out and draped the towel around his neck, pressing the rough fabric against his chest to blot up the moisture.

He felt her gaze, dark and hot as he lowered the jug to the ground beside them. Her hands lay lightly against his chest and he covered them with his own.

"Stop looking at me that way."

"What way?"

"As if I were a present you can't wait to open." He examined eyes that seemed to reflect the late afternoon sun, lips that parted to show the tip of her tongue as it rested on the edge of her straight white teeth.

She threw back her head and laughed with delight at the reference to the old Elton John song, then looked him up and down before settling on his face. "You are," she said.

"I'm also dirty, smelly and unfit for human contact."

"I don't care," she whispered and came a step closer.

"I do." He backed away. "In the old days, a man would never have come to his woman without washing away the grime of the hunt or a battle."

She tilted her head. "Every once in a while you harken back to the old traditions. It always surprises me."

He shrugged. "Just because I don't flaunt my heritage doesn't mean I've forgotten." His eyes went dark. "Does that bother you?"

"No, it doesn't bother me." Zan passed a hand down his towel covered chest. "You don't show that side of yourself much, that's all."

Her touch distracted him from the conversation and he forced himself to focus. "Don't I?"

"You know you don't. You keep part of you private, like Dar used to."

"It isn't deliberate," he said. "It's just who I am and I've never found it necessary to make statements about that."

"I suppose trying to correct the damage caused by that Marine Lance Corporal, that other Lakota, wasn't making a statement?"

He grinned suddenly. "Yeah, and look where that got me."

"Indeed!" she said with an answering smile.

"I don't keep much from you, you know." He touched her cheek.

"I do know." She sighed. "I'll try to remember that when I start feeling insecure." She pulled on her gloves.

"What are you planning?"

"To help."

"This is heavy work."

"I'll stop when you do."

They worked side by side for the next two hours, managing to load the stove and the double sink and its plumbing into the truck. The refrigerator proved too heavy, so they removed the door and heaved that onto the truck bed.

"That's enough for today," Stormwalker declared.

"Don't quit on my account," Zan protested. "I'm not tired."

"Then you're a better man than I am, Red." He gave her a look filled with irony, then turned and went into the barn. He rummaged through the contents of an old, scarred military foot locker and came up with a change of clothes.

Zan followed him. "Lucky you have those things."

"They belonged to my cousin, Cat. He's the only guy I know anywhere near my size."

As they walked back to the newspaper, Zan wondered where he would sleep tonight. "Does he live here on the reservation? Maybe you could stay with him so you wouldn't have to sleep in the loft."

"He's got a house full of kids. That's more humanity than I can stand right now. The barn suits me fine."

He took her hand in his and Zan examined his palm.

"You got some blisters, today," she said.

"Haven't done any real work to speak of in years." He made an off-hand gesture. "They'll heal and make calluses and the next job'll be easier."

The next day, Zan stood in the doorway of the RV and wondered how he was doing with the cleanup. Once again, he refused her offer of help. "You've got work of your own. Leave me to mine."

"I keep forgetting what a sexist you are," she taunted.

He put his arms around her and held her close as he gazed into her eyes. "At the moment, what you can do with your brain is far more important than what you can do with your muscles," he kissed the tip of her nose and then each cheek, "while I have only brawn to supply and must be relegated to hard labor."

She made an impudent remark about his "brawn", then quickly darted out of reach, but her concentration had been minimal. She packed what was surely too much lunch for two and started back to the house. Or the place where the house once stood.

When she reached the site, she saw that he no longer worked alone. She watched him for a moment, as he and a helper lifted a charred panel of plaster board and manhandled it into the truck.

Something hot and churning stirred in her as she stared at him. Her gaze fixed on the powerful body, bare to the waist and revealing the play of muscle beneath warm, brown skin glistening with sweat. Her fingers tingled with the memory of the velvet feel of that skin. She recalled the last time they'd been together and how his strength and tenderness had brought a fulfillment wondrously new to her.

She closed her eyes for a moment. My God, Zan, you'd think you were sixteen, with your first crush. But she knew it was more than that. She loved him. She'd never thought the word before, or heard it from him, but it was true. The knowledge frightened her, as did the idea that this risky relationship might not have a future. She still hadn't found proof of his innocence, only clues that told her Dar hadn't been the man she'd thought he was. The possibility of failure overshadowed the joy she found in Stormwalker's arms. It did nothing to cool her desire.

She opened her eyes and shook off the yearning as she approached the group. Stormwalker had been joined by four others: Katti and her sister, John-Two Hunter and a young man introduced as Hunter's son.

She added the food and drinks to what already waited on a trestle table set up under a tree in the side yard. Zan handed Katti a glass of iced tea. "Why aren't you at work?" she asked.

"I'm on vacation," she replied. "Saw you two out here yesterday and figured you could use some help. When I realized you'd copped out on this poor guy, I recruited a couple of people to take up the slack."

Zan looked from one grimy face to the other and countered seriously, "Well, the ratio is about right."

After a momentary silence, the owner of the general store hooted loudly and nudged Katti. "You asked for that one, Daughter." He slapped his thigh and laughed raucously. "The ratio is about right."

The others joined him in laughter that seemed to free them from the seriousness with which they'd worked. They gathered around the table for a relaxed lunch break.

*****

Now that Stormwalker had all the help he needed, Zan went back to her computer. She probed the Agency's records, cross checking files and coordinating data. When a knock sounded on the door, she leaned over and popped the latch. The door opened and Stormwalker leaned in.

"Can I come in?"

Training prompted her to blank out the screen, but instinct told her to trust him. Hoping that trust was not misplaced, she nodded. "Sure. Come ahead."

He settled on a corner of her work table. "How's it going?"

"It's going. Did you take a break?"

"We finished. Everything's cleared away, so when my mother gets back she won't see the mess, just a place to rebuild."

"Does she know about the fire?"

"Mike went up to
Pierre
to tell her."

"When is she due back?"

"I'm not sure. She was really upset so he convinced her to take some extra time and visit relatives in Pine Ridge." He leaned over and glanced at the monitor. "Where are you?"

"I just pulled up the medical files."

"Can I sit in?"

"Sure." She silently crossed her fingers. Mac's instructions about sharing knowledge had extended to Stormwalker. The judgment call was hers to make. Maybe the time had come to see how accurate that judgment was.

His eyes held a soft expression, like sunlight shimmering on a calm lake. "I like that you trust me," he whispered. He leaned toward her and brushed her lips with his. "I know it can't be easy."

Her lips warmed to his touch and the feeling traveled smoothly through her body. It wouldn't be easy sitting side by side with this man without remembering their lovemaking. She gave herself a mental boot and turned to the screen.

He watched her sort through the database. "You're looking for someone who's had throat surgery, aren't you?"

"That I am," she murmured as a list of five agents, one woman and four men, emerged from the maze of data. "Even if I didn't know the woman agent, we can certainly rule her out. Recognize any of the others?"

He ran a finger down the screen. "Just this one."

His arm brushed hers. She tingled pleasantly where skin touched skin and glanced at him. His smile told her he, too, enjoyed the contact.

"Working together seems to have an advantage or two."

"The operative word being 'work'," she said, trying to suppress a laugh. She pointed to the name he'd chosen.

"That name is familiar to me, too. How do you know Ian Fields?"

"During my training, he briefed me on the Agency's standard operating procedures."

"What did you think of him?"

Stormwalker shrugged. "He seemed okay. Very urbane and sophisticated, like some of the embassy guys I met in
London
."

Zan smiled. "I used to call him 'Mr. Continental' because of his salt-and-pepper hair and the way he dressed. And of course, he was always the perfect gentleman."

"Our guy could have been any one of these agents," Stormwalker said, "but remember, Sawyer didn't appear to have any hair."

"Let's pull up Ian's records."

Zan's heart raced as they read the file. "Look at this," she said. Her voice shook with excitement. "He had a cancerous larynx removed only months ago and he's still undergoing chemotherapy." She looked at Stormwalker.

"That could explain the baldness," he said. "Let's check out the others on the list."

Of the agents other than the women, one had passed away six months after surgery and two had retired, one to
New Zealand
and one to
Majorca
, leaving Ian Fields as the chief candidate to fill the size 48 suit of Mr. Sawyer.

Of course, it was possible that either of the retirees could have made the trip here, but when she read the bios of all three men, she knew Ian, and only he, fit the profile. The fact that he'd graduated from a prestigious military academy in
England
had particular resonance.

"This stuff is too familiar. I've seen it all before."

"Where?"

She brought up Dar's biography and they compared the two.

The men had graduated two years apart from the same Canadian university and had, in fact, received appointments to the same military academy in
Great Britain
. They served in different regiments but both were recruited for work in Military Intelligence. After Ian's separation from the service, he came to the FSA. Dar followed only a few months later.

Zan leaned back in her chair and laced her fingers behind her head.