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Authors: Aimee Thurlo

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BOOK: Eagle's Last Stand
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“I know, but there are rules here,” Daniel reminded him. “You’re home now.”

Daniel was right; he had to stand back. It wasn’t his case.

Seeing Kim arguing with the paramedics, who wouldn’t let her ride in the ambulance, he jogged over. “Come on, Kim, I’ll take you to the hospital.”

“Thanks, my car’s at home.”

As they strode to his rental SUV, Preston intercepted them. “Gene’s going to take the women over to Level One Security, just in case it’s a family threat. The kids will be brought over by the babysitters, too. Until we get a better handle on things, Daniel’s office is like a fortress.”

“What about Kim and the other two members of the tavern staff?” Rick asked.

“The servers have been told to stick around until I have the chance to ask them a few questions. Kim, you’ll need to come back here after you check on your uncle’s status,” Preston said, looking directly at her. “Or you can meet me later tonight at the station. Your choice.”

“I’ll be sticking around at the hospital. If you need to speak to me before tomorrow, it’ll have to be there.”

“Fair enough. Under the circumstances, I don’t blame you for wanting to stay close to your family, but it might be late before I make it to the hospital,” Preston advised.

“As for you, Rick,” Preston continued, “I’d like you to stick around. In your work I’m sure you’ve grown familiar with makeshift bombs, and I’d like you to go inside the building with me to help search for evidence.”

Rick turned to Kim and held out his keys. “Take my SUV. It’s the dark blue one toward the end of the block.”

“Don’t worry about it. I know Uncle Frank keeps a spare set of car keys. They’re in a magnetic holder by the right front tire. It’s okay if I take his car, isn’t it?” she asked Preston.

“Yes. It’ll have to be moved anyway once heavy equipment is brought in to clear the rubble off the street,” Preston answered.

“Good,” Kim said. “I’ll be at the hospital, probably all night, if anyone else needs me.”

“I’ll catch up to you later,” Rick said, watching her hurry down the sidewalk to a parked car. Kim was great-looking, and had guts. He’d only just met her but he sure liked what he’d seen.

* * *

A
S
R
ICK
STRODE
toward what was left of the building, he saw it was now illuminated by floodlights placed strategically along the street and inside the dining room. Going into agent mode, he stilled his thoughts and allowed a familiar coldness to envelop him.

He stopped by the front door and studied it without touching anything. “What kept this from opening?” he asked Preston, who’d jogged over to meet him after speaking to the Hartley Fire Department station chief.

“A pipe was wedged into the wrought-iron security grillwork on both sides of the door, barring it from the outside. I bagged and tagged it before anyone else besides Erin touched it. It’ll need to be processed for prints.”

“The chains on the outside kitchen doors...those being processed, too?” Rick asked.

“Yes, including the lock and the metal door hardware. It’s all been tagged for the lab.”

“All right, then, let’s go into the kitchen. I only got a quick glance before we got out, so I’m still not sure what actually set off the explosion—an open flame, some kind of timer, or something else.”

Preston led the way through the front entrance where a metal door dangled by the upper hinge. Broken chairs, table lamps, dishes, utensils and other items were scattered all around them.

As they started to pick their way across the interior, a tall man carrying a camera and wearing an H.F.D. jacket stepped out of the shadows.

“Stop. The kitchen area is off-limits to everyone except fire department personnel right now.” He identified himself to Rick as the fire marshal. “There’s no surveillance footage here, so it’ll probably take me until tomorrow to compile my report on what caused the explosion. For now, you guys have to get out of here.” Without another word, he strode into the kitchen.

“That’s Arnie Medina,” Preston said. “He has jurisdiction here at the scene, so let’s leave the kitchen to him and we’ll concentrate on evidence that might help us determine who the suspect was, or how long he was inside the building. That would give us a time line when tracking people who were in the area.”

Rick glanced around at the wreckage. Over the past four years, deep undercover, he’d worked alongside people who would have slit his throat just for practice. He’d looked forward to coming home and no longer having to sleep with his weapon at arm’s reach.

Now his much needed R & R would have to wait. His family was in the line of fire. The first attempt had failed, but experience taught him that killers seldom gave up until they succeeded—or were put down.

As they entered an employee area adjacent to the kitchen, Rick noticed a canvas tote next to the wall and lifted it out from behind a fallen roof tile. He looked inside and saw several textbooks. There was also a small purse along with a set of keys. He held up the purse so his brother could see. “Still dry. Somebody got lucky.”

Preston took the wallet and located the driver’s license. “It’s Kim’s. I hope she doesn’t get stopped. I’ll make sure to take it with me when I go to the hospital later tonight.”

Rick nodded absently, then taking a closer look at the books, realized that one of the volumes was a textbook on police procedures, another on criminal law and a third one on evidence collection. “What’s this all about?” he asked, surprised.

“Kim’s working on an associate’s degree in criminology. Her dad was one of ours, and she wants to follow in his footsteps. Jimmy Nelson was a good man.”

“‘Was’?”

“He was killed in the line of duty,” Preston said, noticing a crime scene investigator waving him over. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Rick hung the bag from a wall bracket that was still intact, minus a shelf, and continued to search. It was becoming increasingly difficult to stay alert this time of night. He’d spent most of the day on the road and was physically beat. He was running on pure adrenaline.

Preston motioned him outside. “I think you should consider staying with everyone else at Daniel’s tonight. I’ve got a late night ahead of me.”

“Do what you have to,” Rick said. “I was thinking of stopping by the hospital and talking to Kim.”

“No. Not until I question her.” Preston took a breath and let it out slowly. “I won’t bother telling you not to get involved in this case, Rick, because you already are, but you need to remember you’re not FBI anymore. Most important of all, you have no concealed carry permit.”

“Actually, I do. The Bureau made sure of that before I left.”

“Okay, one less problem. Where’s Kim’s purse?”

“Inside,” Rick answered, telling him the location.

“Okay,” Preston said with a nod. “Considering this might yet track back to your past, let me know if you’ll feel safer carrying a badge just in case you have to mix it up with someone. I’m pretty sure the chief would deputize you, considering you’re a highly trained former special agent with a distinguished record.”

“Good. Do that as soon as you can. It’ll be good backup.”

“Consider it done. So, will you be going to Daniel’s?” Preston asked.

He shook his head. “If someone’s after me...” He let the sentence hang.

“There’s no safer place on this earth than Daniel’s compound,” Preston told him, as if the issue was settled. He looked toward the brother in question, who was coming up the sidewalk.

For the first time since the blast, Rick smiled. Out of all his Navajo foster brothers, Daniel, the owner of a major security company, was the one he understood best. “I hear your place is as secure as Fort Knox.”

“Did you expect anything less?” Daniel said as he stopped in front of them. “Speaking of safety, Rick, you’re driving a rental SUV, but considering what happened tonight, you’d be better off with something from my company’s motor pool. Tomorrow I’ll match you up with a more suitable ride.”

Preston excused himself and went to interview the two waiting employees, while Daniel walked with Rick back to the rental.

“Death follows me,” Rick said as he climbed into the SUV. “Undercover, that’s a given, but I never expected to find it here.” His lips straightened into a thin hard line. “I guess they don’t realize it yet.”

“What?”

“Hosteen Silver’s boys are damned hard to kill.”

Chapter Two

After spending a restless night, Rick headed to the kitchen for coffee, desperate for a shot of caffeine.

Paul and Preston’s adopted sons, Jason and Bobby, were playing a loud video game in the next room, and as he poured himself a mug of the dark steamy brew, Daniel intercepted him.

“Come on, time to work. This way.”

Rick followed his brother into the main room, the office’s planning and computer center. A huge horizontal computer screen the size of a table rested adjacent to four large monitors on the wall.

“I have access to intelligence chatter, courtesy of my Department of Homeland Security and National Security Agency contacts. There’s been nothing at all to indicate you were specifically targeted last night. I contacted the Bureau, as well, and their sources agree with the other agencies. No flags were raised,” Daniel said.

“So they might have been hoping to kill everyone, or maybe only one or two of us, while the rest of the family became collateral damage,” Rick said. “That’s pretty cold.”

“There’s no way to be certain, but my instincts are telling me that if they wanted one of us specifically, they would have taken their shot before now,” Daniel said. “Their real target could have also been Frank, Kim, one of the two servers or the Brickhouse Tavern itself.”

“The timing was linked to my homecoming, though,” Rick said. “Besides that, was there anything special about last night?”

“Not that we know of,” Daniel said, “but if your theory is right and this has nothing to do with your undercover work, then we should be looking for an enemy you made here, maybe during one of your infrequent visits.”

“I can’t think of anyone,” Rick said, shaking his head, “but I’ll give it some thought.”

Preston came in just then. “Frank Nelson still can’t be questioned. He’s out of danger, according to the doctors, but they want to keep him sedated and are monitoring him closely for swelling of the brain. Kim gave us a preliminary statement late last night, but she was too shaken to remember anything we don’t already know.”

“It was close to home for her, but if she’s going to be a cop, she’ll have to toughen up fast,” Rick said, his voice heavy.

Preston looked at his brother. “She will, but she’s barely out of the starting gate. Her dad’s gone and right now her uncle’s her only living relative. The incident last night turned her world upside down.”

For a moment Rick found himself indulging in an emotion he seldom experienced—sympathy. He knew what it was like to suddenly find yourself all alone.

“I’d still like to talk to her. Kim may know something useful. I’m not a cop, at least not anymore, so that might set her at ease and help her remember some details,” Rick said.

Preston nodded. “Go for it.”

“Before anyone leaves, we need to decide if our families need extra protection,” Daniel said.

“I spoke to Gene this morning, and he agrees with me,” Preston said. “The best solution is to get them out of town. Fortunately, Kendra has her U.S. Marshals training, so she’ll keep them safe,” Preston added, referring to Paul’s wife. “We can also send two of your top security people along with them, Daniel, just to make sure.”

“Where are you planning to send them?” Rick asked.

“To Gene’s ranch,” Preston replied. “You’ve never been there, Rick, but it’s in Colorado, a few hours from here, out in open country where intruders are easily spotted.”

“Since the trouble his wife, Lori, had a few years back, Gene’s place now has surveillance cameras that feed to our computers here,” Daniel explained. “With some handpicked men, and Gene and Kendra on the job, they’ll be safe.”

“Good plan,” Rick said.

Paul came in just then. He still favored his shoulder when he moved, the result of the gunshot that had forced him to retire from the U.S. Marshals Service. “I’ll be monitoring things from here.”

“I’ll handle the details,” Daniel said, then looked at Rick. “You’re going to need one of our special SUVs. Just leave the rental here and one of my men will take care of it. I’ve got a black one outside that’ll be perfect for you. It’s got extra Kevlar armor, a GPS tracker and run-flat tires.”

“Good. I’d like to get going,” Rick admitted.

“They wouldn’t let Kim in to be with her uncle after I spoke with her last night, so she went home,” Preston said. “If Kim isn’t at the hospital this morning, you’ll find her at Silver Heritage Jewelry and Gifts. The shop is owned by a member of our tribe, a Navajo woman, Angelina Curley.”

“So Kim has two jobs, one at the Brickhouse and one at a jewelry store?” he asked.

“She’s paying her way through college with gigs that let her keep flexible hours,” Preston answered.

“I know she thinks highly of you. What’s the story there?” Rick asked Preston.

“I put the man who shot her dad behind bars. Her uncle Frank really stepped up for her after that, but the P.D. kept an eye on her, as well. We wanted Kim to know that officers take care of our own, and if she needed anything, she had help. After she enlisted in the army out of high school, we kept in touch. She was deployed for a few years and then came home determined to follow in her dad’s footsteps.”

“So I should treat her with kid gloves, is that it?” Rick asked. It was a fair question, and there was no rancor in his voice.

“No, not at all. Just be aware that she’s got a lot of officers watching out for her.”

Daniel tossed Rick a set of keys. “Check in when you can. As soon as I get the family squared away, I’m going to dig into the backgrounds of each of the players, including Kim and her uncle. I have the contacts and clearance to get into databases the PD can’t access without a truckload of paperwork.”

Rick walked out and found the black SUV. It had a lot of extras and must have cost his brother’s company a lot of money, but he was glad to have it. Something was telling him the case would be getting even messier soon.

As he drove down Hartley’s Main Street, one thought continued to nag at him. He had to know if he’d somehow been responsible—if his arrival in Hartley had set off the attack. Maybe his instincts were still on overdrive, but he’d learned not to ignore them. They’d kept him alive.

* * *

K
IM
WAS
CLEANING
the glass-topped display case when she heard the bell over the door jingle. Glancing up, she saw Rick stride in and nod to Fred, the security guard, who was standing nearby.

She smiled. Rick had that elusive “it” quality that commanded attention without even trying. He’d been her secret crush back in high school. Rick had been the larger-than-life high school quarterback, and she’d been the nerdy freshman buried in homework. Back then, between her thick glasses and her braces, she’d barely got a glance from the popular guys. Of course, it also could have been because her father was a cop.

The boy she’d watched from a distance was gone now, and in his place stood a sexy, earthy, dangerous-looking man. The scar made him look tough, seasoned by a hard life and infinitely masculine.

As he walked around the counter in her direction, she couldn’t take her eyes off him. He moved without wasted motion, sure of himself, aware of his surroundings.

When he saw her he smiled and for a moment his face gentled, but the emotion was gone in a flash.

“Good morning, Rick. What can I do for you?” she asked, going up to him.

“I know the police have already interviewed you, Kim, but I’d like to discuss last night again. When do you take your next break?” he asked in a voice so low only she could hear.

She glanced at the clock. Angelina wasn’t in yet, so it wouldn’t hurt to take her fifteen minutes a little early, particularly since they had no customers at the moment.

“Now would be fine.”

She went to the coffeepot in the corner and offered him a cup. When he shook his head, she poured herself one. “I’ve been thinking of nothing else but the explosion. I barely slept last night, but I still haven’t been able to remember anything that might help the police.”

“Then shift your focus. Don’t think about the explosion. Concentrate on what happened earlier that evening.”

“Okay.” As she looked into his eyes she saw something there that made her hold her breath. The angry scar across his face spoke of life-and-death struggles, but his steady gaze shone with strength, courage and determination.

“Your brother Preston asked the hospital staff for permission to speak to Uncle Frank last night, but the doctors refused. They had to sedate him. He was so scared, waking up in the emergency room.”

“Did you get to talk to him at all?”

“For a bit. Uncle Frank told me he caught a glimpse of a big man wearing overalls, a blue ball cap and mirrored sunglasses right before he was hit on the back of the head. I should have asked him more, but all I could think of was how lucky we were. We’d all nearly died.” She stopped and looked up at him. “Does that make me sound like a coward?”

“It makes you sound human. When it counted, you stepped up. Your first thought was to find your uncle, then you did everything you could to get him out of danger. You worked to save a life, and did a lot more than was expected of you. In my book, that’s the definition of a hero.”

She shook her head and gave him a quick half smile. “Thanks, but no. There were no heroes there. We were all just people doing what we had to do.”

“It was a crazy time,” he said quietly.

“The person who did this took a huge risk. If my uncle hadn’t had the Cowboys game going full blast, he probably would have heard the guy sneak up behind him.”

Hearing the jingle at the front door, they both glanced in that direction and saw the security guard hold the door open for Angelina. “That’s my boss,” she said quietly. “She’s got a bad temper, so I better get back to work. We can meet later for lunch at the Desert Rose Café and talk some more if you want.”

Rick looked at Angelina and suddenly remembered meeting her before. Smiling, he went up to her. “Angelina Tso! I’m not sure if you remember me,” he said. “You got stuck in Copper Canyon after a hard rain several years ago after working with my father, and I towed you out to the highway.”

“I’m Angelina Curley now,” she said curtly.

“Weren’t you studying with Hosteen Silver to become a medicine woman?” Rick asked, using the Navajo equivalent of Mister that most of their tribe preferred. “Did you find another mentor after my foster father’s death?”

Her expression darkened, and Kim, who’d been watching the exchange, recognized the signs instantly.

“Kim, I’m paying you to work, so find something to do!” Angelina snapped. “And you,” she added, looking at Rick. “I’m warning you right now to stay out of my store. Neither you nor your family is welcome here. Hosteen Silver cheated me. He took my money and then wouldn’t let me come back for more instruction. He robbed me of my chance to become a Navajo healer, then tried to ruin my reputation.”

“There’s got to be more to the story.
Integrity
was more than a word to Hosteen Silver,” he said, biting back his anger. “Why don’t we talk about this in private?”

“I’m not saying another word to you. Fred, show Mr. Cloud out,” Angelina said, looking at the security guard.

“I know my foster father, and what you’re telling me isn’t something he’d do. Let’s talk and figure things out,” Rick insisted, taking a step closer to her and gesturing to the empty office behind them. “We can talk in private in there.”

“Keep your hands off me,” Angelina shouted at him.

“He didn’t—” Kim started, but in an instant everything went crazy.

As Fred rushed forward, squaring off in front of Rick, fists clenched, Kim squeezed in between them, facing the security guard.

“Fred, he didn’t touch her. Just calm down,” Kim urged, anxious to avoid a stupid confrontation.

“Do something, you fool,” Angelina yelled at Fred.

“Out of my way, Kim,” the security guard ordered.

“No. Just chill out, Fred, okay?”

“Throw him out, damn you!” Angelina screamed.

The guard grabbed Kim by the shoulders and pushed her aside. Kim stumbled and slammed her ribs against the edge of the counter. Groaning, she reached out with both hands and, getting a grip on the display case, managed not to fall.

Rick instantly grabbed the man by the belt and collar and hurled him facedown across the tiled floor.

Fred careened into a freestanding metal display filled with souvenirs and cheap Mexican pottery. The display rocked, sending a cascade of key chains, postcards and clay pots tumbling to the floor.

Angelina reached for the low shelf behind the front counter, brought out a revolver and pointed it directly at Rick. She was breathing hard, shaking and clearly out of control.

“No!” Kim lunged toward her boss, but Rick beat her to it.

In a blur he yanked the weapon from Angelina’s hand and looked over at the guard, who’d grabbed the display and managed to keep it from tipping over.

“Everyone,
calm down!
” he ordered, opening the cylinder and dumping the bullets onto the floor before placing the revolver on the counter.

Kim froze in place. Even without a weapon, he still commanded the room. “I’m leaving now,” he said, holding out his hand, palm up, as a signal for Fred to stay put. “See you at lunch, Miss Nelson?” he asked softly. Assessing the situation with a steely gaze, he never turned his back until he was out of the shop.

As the door swung shut, Angelina, still shaking, turned to Fred, who was down on one knee picking up the scattered merchandise. “You’re my brother’s son so I gave you a chance, but you stink as a security guard. Turn in your gear and get out. You’re fired.” Then she turned to Kim. “And you—”

“Angelina, I didn’t do anything wrong this morning, and you know it.” She wasn’t going to take any abuse from the woman, but she couldn’t afford to lose her job. If she could only manage to calm her down....

“He came to see
you.

“All he wanted to do was follow up on last night,” Kim said, struggling to keep her voice low and controlled. “That explosion at the Brickhouse could have killed fifteen people. Most of us got lucky, but my uncle is in the hospital with a fractured skull. You must have seen the burned-out building and street barricades. We were lucky to get out alive.”

BOOK: Eagle's Last Stand
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