Til Death Do Us Part (17 page)

“Speaking of Joseph reminds me that I promised to do a sketch of him as well as one of the children next time I came to visit,” Joanna said.

“Who's this Joseph?” J.T. frowned.

“Joseph is Kate's younger brother.” Elena ran her fingers through her long dark hair, pulling the flyaway strands off her face. “He's been sweet on Joanna since the first time they met.”

“Elena!” Joanna's green eyes widened. Her cheeks flushed.

“Joseph is our cousin,” Elena told J.T. “His mother and our mother were sisters, so that makes Joseph the great-grandson of Benjamin Greymountain, too.”

“Is that right?” J.T. deliberately avoided eye contact with Joanna, knowing exactly what his sister was trying to do. She wanted to elicit his jealousy over another man's interest in Joanna. And not just any man, but another direct descendant of Annabelle Beaumont's one true love.

“Well, why don't you two finalize your plans for the trip.” Elena grabbed Alex's arm. “I'll get one of the guest bedrooms ready for you for tonight, Jo.” She pulled Alex toward the door, halting just before walking out into the hall. “Let me know if you want my help packing. I can run over to your house with you and J.T. before supper.”

When Elena and Alex had left, Joanna turned to J.T. “I'm sorry about that. Elena wasn't very subtle, was she?”

“Subtlety isn't one of Elena's strong points.” J.T. rubbed his chin. “Have you ever dated my cousin Joseph?”

“Have I ever…?” Joanna smiled, bit down on her bottom lip and then covered her mouth, trying to suppress her laughter.

“Why do you find the question so amusing? All I asked was whether or not you'd ever dated Benjamin Greymountain's other great-grandson.”

“Yes, Joseph and I have
dated
a few times,” Joanna said. “I've dated several men since I moved to New Mexico. Cliff Lansdell for one, and Joseph for another. I like Joseph a lot, I just don't like him in
that
way.”

“He's a full-blooded Navajo just like Benjamin Greymountain,” J.T. said. “If you've been looking for a lover like the one your great-grandmother had, what was wrong with Joseph? Is he ugly or stupid or a jerk or—”

Joanna kissed J.T. on the mouth very quickly, then tilted her head just a fraction and looked directly at him. “Joseph Ornelas is a handsome, intelligent, sweet man and I think of him as a friend, but there is no magic between us. Not the way there is between…” Joanna shut her eyes, escaping the hard look on J.T.'s face.

J.T. pulled her into his arms. “Not the way there is between you and me.” His kiss proclaimed his barely contained jealousy as well as his need to brand her as his own.

Joanna gave herself over to his possession, accepting his momentary domination, realizing that he had no idea how revealing his actions were. Did she dare hope that at the very core of his protective, possessive desire, the seeds of love had taken root?

 

J
OANNA FLUNG BACK
the covers and jumped out of bed. There was no use trying to sleep; she had tried for over
two hours. Sleep wouldn't come. She couldn't stop thinking, couldn't stop worrying, couldn't stop wishing tonight was last night, when she had become J. T. Blackwood's woman in every sense of the word.

Not bothering to turn on a lamp or put on her robe, Joanna walked across the room and slumped down in the chair beside the windows. Tucking her bare feet up under her, she sighed, leaned back and stretched.

If only there was a switch inside her brain that could be flipped on and off; she'd flip it off right this minute and put an end to her thoughts. Her mind kept running the gamut from the night Lenny Plott had raped her to today when she and J.T. had made love in Annabelle and Benjamin's special place. She had struggled diligently to put the past behind her, to come to terms with the brutal violation that had forever changed her life. But with Lenny Plott free and bent on revenge, she couldn't help reliving that horrible night when she had come home to her apartment after working late at the museum.

Don't think about it! Don't remember! It happened nearly five years ago. Put it in the past where it belongs. Don't allow Lenny Plott's threats to force you to relive what he did to you. That's what he wants—for you to recall the terror and the pain and the humiliation. He wants you to think about how it could happen again.

But it wouldn't happen again. She wouldn't let it happen again! And J.T. would never allow anyone to hurt her. He'd made her a solemn promise to protect her. She had to trust him, had to believe in him and his ability to keep her safe.

J.T. J.T. J.T.
She had put her life in his hands. She had given him her heart. And yet she could not bring herself to trust him fully, completely, to have faith in their fu
ture together, when he had made no lasting commitment to her.

Would hiding away on the Navajo reservation keep her hidden from Lenny Plott, or would he find her regardless of where J.T. took her? And what would happen if Plott came after her, if he confronted J.T.? J.T. might have to kill him.

Joanna shuddered. Pulling her knees up against her, she wrapped her arms around her legs. Unless the FBI apprehended Lenny Plott before he found her, a showdown between J.T. and him was inevitable. On some purely primitive level, she gloried in the fact that her mate was a brave warrior who would defend her to the death. And yet there was a part of her that personally wanted to rip out Lenny Plott's heart and feed it to the buzzards.

How did such creatures as Leonard Plott III come into being? What malevolent twist of fate turned a man into an inhuman monster capable of physically, sexually and emotionally brutalizing woman after woman and deriving immense pleasure from subjugating them to his cruelties?

Joanna's stomach churned. Bitterness coated her tongue. Her body quivered. Tears gathered in her eyes.

The door to the guest bedroom slowly opened. Joanna snapped her head around, staring at the silhouette in the doorway. Biting down on her bottom lip, she tried not to cry aloud.

Moonlight filtered through the sheer curtains, spreading a soft, muted glow over the room. J.T. glanced at the bed, saw that it was empty, and visually searched the room.

“Jo?” he whispered, then saw her huddled in the chair by the windows.

Swallowing her tears, she tried to answer him, but couldn't. He closed the door behind him, walked over to the chair and knelt beside her.

“What's wrong, honey?”

Cupping her chin in his hand, he lifted her face. She pulled away from him. Her long, fiery hair covered her features when she lowered her head. Slipping his hands under her neck, he swept up her hair, then let it fall through his fingers and down onto her shoulders.

“I couldn't sleep, either,” he said. “I kept thinking about how much I wanted to be with you. Wanted to hold you in my arms.”

Placing his arms around her stiff body, he pulled her toward him. “Talk to me, Jo. Let me help you. You don't have to be alone, unless you want to be. Just tell me, do you want me to stay or go?”

Joanna grabbed J.T., clinging to him fiercely. Wrapping herself around him, she allowed him to slide his big body into the chair as he lifted her onto his lap. She gasped for air, then laid her head on his shoulder and wept.

“Stay…please…stay.” She cried softly, quietly, but with heartbreaking force.

J.T. stroked her back, kissed the side of her face and whispered comforting words, telling her it was all right to cry, to be angry, to be afraid.

Holding her, he encouraged her to vent her feelings, and when she was spent and lay exhausted in his arms, he lifted her and carried her to bed. He laid her in the middle of the huge oak bed, then sat down beside her, pulling her upward to rest again in his arms.

“Would it help to talk to me, to tell me about it?” he asked.

“I thought I'd put it behind me,” she said, cuddling against him. “I had to tell the police, the rape counselor, the district attorney, my own therapist and…worst of all, I had to sit there in a courtroom with Lenny Plott watching me and tell the jury what he'd done to me.”

“You were very brave,” J.T. told her. “It took more courage than most people have.”

“I wanted him dead!” Joanna clung to J.T., pressing against him, seeking and finding comfort.

J.T. couldn't hold her close enough. He wanted to weld her to him, to encompass her completely and make her a part of him. “Plott deserves to die.”

“I testified against him for the same reasons Melody and Claire and Libby did. We wanted him punished and we wanted to make sure he could never hurt another woman. And now Melody is dead and Claire is missing.”

“It isn't fair,” J.T. said. “Sometimes there's just no rhyme or reason to life.”

“The FBI have to find him and stop him before he…before he—”

J.T. placed his finger over her lips. “Hush, honey. Don't think about it. It isn't going to happen. They'll find Plott.” J.T. slid his finger over her chin and down her neck.

“But if they don't—”

“Then I'll take care of Plott.”

“I don't want you to have to kill him.” Joanna jerked away from J.T. and sat up ramrod straight in the bed. Closing her eyes, she hugged herself, gripping her elbows in the palms of her hands. “If anyone should kill him, I should. But I'm not sure I could…that I'd have the guts to.”

“The night he attacked you, would you have killed him, if you could have?”

“Yes. Yes. A thousand times, yes.” Joanna covered her face with her hands.

J.T. touched her trembling back. Wiping the tears from her eyes, she turned around and looked at him.

“While he was beating me…touching me…I kept thinking that if only I had a gun…or if only I was strong
enough to take his knife away from him. Yes, I would have killed him.”

J.T. rubbed her back, but didn't try to pull her into his arms again. He waited, unsure what to say or do to comfort her. Tonight she had reverted to the past, to the most horrible night of her life, and only by allowing her to tell him about Plott's vicious attack, could J.T. truly help her. But, God in heaven, he wasn't sure he was strong enough to hear the details without completely losing control. Already, there was a part of him that wanted nothing more than to hunt Plott down and take him apart, piece by piece.

“I tried to fight him, you know,” Joanna said. “He liked that, my fighting him. He beat me. God, how he beat me.” She swallowed the tears, pushing back the emotions threatening to overcome her. “The first blow was to my stomach. I'd never been hit before. Not ever. It took me by surprise. And it hurt. Oh, how it hurt.”

J.T. wanted to take her in his arms and beg her not to tell him anymore. He had read a copy of the police report, and that had been more than enough reality for him.

“And when I doubled over, he shoved me down on the floor and kicked me.” With each word she spoke, her voice became calmer, her face more somber, her eyes glazed with an unemotional stare. “I fought him even harder when he tried to rip off my clothes. That's when he hit me in the face, over and over again. I—I think I passed out. All I remember is his tearing my clothes and pawing me. Squeezing. Biting. Hurting me.” Joanna clutched her throat. “And cutting me.”

J.T. clenched his teeth. The roar of his own pain rumbled inside him—an agonized, wounded bellow forced into silence.

“And when he…when he… I wanted to die. In that one moment, I prayed to God to let me die.” Joanna clutched
the bedcovers, wadding them up in her fists. “But when he crawled off me, I prayed to God to let me live, to let me live long enough to kill him!”

She had to stop talking! J.T. told himself. He couldn't bear to hear another word. But, dear God, if just listening to her tell about what Plott had done to her hurt J.T. more than anything ever had, how must Joanna feel? What indescribable suffering she must have endured, and must still, at this very moment, be enduring!

Slowly, cautiously and with the utmost gentleness, J.T. eased his arms around Joanna. A loose, tentative hold. One from which she could readily escape. He kissed the side of her face over and over again, soft, delicate touches along her forehead, down her cheek and to her jaw. “Will you let me hold you?” he asked, strengthening his precarious clasp about her waist. “Will you let me lie here in this bed and hold you in my arms all night? I want to show you that you can trust me. That you're safe with me. That I'll never let anyone hurt you ever again.”

Joanna gave herself over to J.T.'s kindness, knowing in her heart that he meant every word he'd said. He could give her his comfort and his promise of protection. He could guard her against the threat of Plott's murderous scheme. He could hold her in his arms and make her feel cherished and desired. But he could not give her his love, when he had none to give. She could be J. T. Blackwood's woman on a temporary basis in the same way Annabelle had been Benjamin Greymountain's woman. And Joanna knew that she, as her ancestress had done, would go to her grave, still in love with a man who could never be truly hers.

J.T.
HAD RETURNED
to the Navajo reservation only three times since old John Thomas had taken him away when he was five. Once when his mother was dying. Then for her funeral. And a final trip to get Elena. Now, after all these years, here he was, back on the land where he'd been born, back among his mother's people. Elena's suggestion to bring Joanna here for sakekeeping had made perfect sense to J.T., but he'd known that his sister's plan included more than keeping her best friend safe. Elena was hoping a stay on the reservation would open his mind and his heart to a part of his heritage he had been taught to shun.

Following Joanna's instructions, J.T. drove along the endless stretch of road leading to Kate and Ed Whitehorn's place. Finally he saw their mobile home, the metal gleaming brightly in the hot morning sun. He pulled the Jeep up in front of the corrals where Ed kept his sheep and cattle when they weren't grazing. A small dark-eyed boy sat on the fence, cradling a baby lamb in his arms. Jumping down, he ran toward the Jeep, calling out a greeting to Joanna.

“That's Eddie, Kate and Ed's oldest child,” Joanna said. “He helps Ed with the sheep and cattle.”

“He seems awfully young for that kind of responsibility.” J.T. opened the door, rounded the hood and assisted Joanna out of the Jeep.

Little Eddie ran up to Joanna, skidding to a halt before
running right into her. “Mama said you were coming back for a visit, and you and Elena's brother will be staying at Aunt Mary's house.” Eddie stared up at J.T., his dark eyes sparkling with interest. “Are you my cousin? Mama says you are, that you're of our clan. If you're Elena's brother, why haven't I ever seen you before?”

Eddie wore faded jeans and a white cotton T-shirt. A strip of light-colored cloth wrapped around his forehead kept his chin-length black hair off his full face. When J.T. looked at the boy, he saw himself as a child and couldn't help wondering what his own fate would have been, had his grandfather not taken him away from the reservation. Would he have helped tend the small herds of sheep and cattle that had to be moved often from pasture to pasture because of the sparse vegetation on this land? Would he have attended a contract school the way Elena had, where he could have learned to read and write in
Saad?
His mother's language. A language he had forgotten, except for a few words and phrases. Except for something he said to Joanna every time they made love.

“Yes, Eddie, this man is your cousin.” Smiling at Eddie, Joanna stroked the lamb he held in his arms, then glared at J.T. “The reason you've never met him before is because he lives far away in Atlanta, Georgia, and is here in New Mexico only for a visit.”

The front door of the mobile home swung open and a plump young woman carrying a toddler on her hip stepped out onto the lattice-trimmed porch. A little girl with huge brown eyes clung to her mother's leg.

“Joanna!” Kate Whitehorn called out as she walked down the front steps. “And J.T.” She stared at her cousin, her smile fading from brightness to softness, a look of curiosity in her eyes. “I'm sure you do not remember me.
We met very briefly at Aunt Mary's funeral. I was just a girl then.”

J.T. held out his hand to Kate, noticing the strong family resemblance between her and Elena. The two could be sisters. “I appreciate everything you've done to help us. Elena said she explained the situation to you and your husband.”

“Yes. Ed is at work, but you will meet him during your stay here.” Kate shook hands with J.T., then rearranged the child on her hip and petted the top of her little girl's head. “You've met Eddie. He's our oldest. And this young lady hanging on to me is Summer. She's very shy and quiet, much like her father. And this—” Kate hugged her youngest to her side “—is Joey.”

J.T. could not resist touching the plump bronze cherub in his cousin's arms. He cupped the child's face between his thumb and forefinger. A thicket of black hair covered Joey's round little head and his big dark eyes sparkled as he looked up at J.T. and laughed.

J.T. had never had a family—not until he had brought Elena to the ranch. But in many ways, he and Elena still were not truly family, and he knew the strain between them was his fault. He had been raised a loner, taught to neither need nor expect anything from anyone, to be totally self-sufficient. Needing others was a sign of weakness.

But as he grew older, J.T. realized that keeping others at a distance doomed a man to loneliness. As Elena was family, so were these people. This woman and her children were his cousins, from his mother's clan, people who had offered a sanctuary to Joanna and him.

“You will come inside and have lunch with us?” Kate asked.

“Thank you,” J.T. said. “But I'd like to go on over to my
mother's house and get settled in. Is there a corral there where we can put our horses?” He nodded at the horse trailer hitched to the Jeep.

Kate shook her head. “No, I'm sorry, there isn't. But we have a small corral. We once had several horses, but now only one. You are welcome to keep your animals there. Eddie can show you.”

“Thanks.” J.T. glanced at Eddie, who grinned from ear to ear. “Oh, yeah, I was expecting someone from the tribal police to meet us here. Has anyone stopped by?”

“Yes, Joseph is here. He came early to visit with the children and me,” Kate said. “That's his truck.” She pointed to the dusty red pickup beside the house.

J.T. looked at the truck, noticing the feathers attached to the rearview mirror, and remembered Elena telling him something about feathers being attached to Navajo vehicles to ward off evil spirits. Undoubtedly this Navajo policeman still practiced old customs. “You said his name is Joseph?”

“Yes, my brother, Joseph. Didn't Joanna and Elena tell you that he is a tribal policeman? He is off duty right now. When he discovered Joanna was in trouble, he asked to help, to be your police contact here on the reservation.”

“Joseph Ornelas?” J.T. asked. “No one told me anything about him being a tribal policeman.”

“Did I hear someone mention my name?”

Joanna turned at the sound of the man's voice. J.T. watched her smile at Joseph Ornelas as he walked out on the porch. Slipping off a huge white apron, Joseph draped it over the porch railing and took several giant steps toward Joanna. He grasped her by the shoulders.

“It is good to see you again, Joanna.” Joseph slid his hands down her arms and took her hands into his. “It's
good that you've come to us. We'll do all that we can to keep you safe.”

Clearing his throat, J.T. stepped forward and placed his hand on Joanna's shoulder. He glared at Joseph Ornelas, a tribal policeman, his relative, a Navajo and the great-grandson of Benjamin Greymountain. His cousin was several inches shorter than him, but the man's big, muscular body compensated for his lack of height.

The two men looked at each other, then J.T. glanced down at Joseph's and Joanna's clasped hands, and at that exact moment Joseph stared up at J.T.'s hand resting possessively on Joanna's shoulder. Joanna pulled her hand from Joseph's and laid her open palm over J.T.'s hand resting on her shoulder.

Joseph looked directly into Joanna's eyes, nodded his head and smiled. “You must stay for lunch. We've prepared a delicious mutton stew. Come. Stay.”

“It's up to J.T.,” Joanna said. “But I'd love to stay.”

Joseph held out his hand to J.T. “Enjoy a meal with your cousins and give us the opportunity to become better acquainted.”

J.T. shook hands with Joseph, and both men were careful not to exert too much strength, keeping the exchange nonthreatening. “Kate—” J.T. glanced at her “—mentioned that she and I had met at my mother's funeral. Were you there, too?”

“Yes,” Joseph said. “I was only a teenager, just a few years older than Elena. I was attending the Navajo Community College in Tsaile when Aunt Mary died, but I came home for her funeral.”

“I'm sorry I don't remember either of you.” J.T. removed his Stetson, ran his fingers through his thick hair and replaced his hat. “I don't remember much of anything about that day.”
Except how out of place I felt. I
was an outsider.
Mary Greymountain Neboyia had been his mother, and yet she had been as much of a stranger to him as he had been to her. Until Elena had told him the truth, J.T. had thought his mother had willingly given him to old John Thomas. That was one of the many lies his grandfather had told him. But even now, the bitter little boy who had hated both his Navajo mother and his white grandfather lived in J.T.'s heart. Knowing the truth and accepting it on an emotional level were two entirely different things.

“Let the women go inside and I will help you with your horses,” Joseph said. “Then we'll eat and talk before you take Joanna to Aunt Mary's house.”

J.T. squeezed Joanna's shoulder. “All right?” he asked her.

She nodded, stepped away from J.T. and followed Kate up to the porch.

“Joanna?” Joseph called out to her.

“Yes?”

“While you're visiting here, I promise that I will make time to pose for you, but it will have to be on my next off day.”

Joanna swallowed, forced a smile and refused to look at J.T. “Wonderful.”

“I will take you out to Painted Canyon,” Joseph said. “The scenery there is beautiful and would make a good background for the picture.”

“Anywhere Joanna goes, I go,” J.T. said.

“Of course, I understand.” Joseph placed his big, broad hand on J.T.'s shoulder. “You are Joanna's bodyguard and must be with her at all times.”

“Come on, let's set the table for our meal.” Kate hurried Joanna into the trailer.

Putting Joey in his high chair, Kate picked up Sum
mer, handed her a pot and spoon and set her down in the middle of the kitchen floor.

“You are J. T. Blackwood's woman, yes?” Kate asked.

Staring wide-eyed at her friend, Joanna gasped. “What?”

“I saw it and so did Joseph, that you are J. T. Blackwood's woman. My brother is deliberately trying to make our cousin jealous because he is not pleased that you chose J.T. over him.”

“Kate, I'm very fond of Joseph—”

“But you love J.T., yes?”

“I'll talk to Joseph.”

“And say what?” Kate asked. “That your heart belongs to another? That somehow, against your will, even against your better judgment, you have fallen in love with a man made of stone?”

“You've been talking to Elena,” Joanna said.

“She has told me what a hard man her brother is, how unhappy he is, but that now you have come into his life, she has hope.”

“Sometimes I wonder if there is any hope for J.T.,” Joanna admitted. “He's never faced the truth about who he is, never come to terms with his feelings for his mother or his grandfather.”

“Perhaps there is no love or forgiveness in him.” Kate opened an upper cupboard door and removed a stack of soup bowls. “Although I hope my brother marries a Navajo girl, I would not have been terribly disappointed to have you for a sister-in-law. Joseph is a good man. He will make a good, loving husband and father. Can you say the same for J. T. Blackwood?”

“I don't know. But it doesn't matter.” Joanna took the bowls from Kate and set them around on the table. “I can't change the fact that I love him.”

 

“W
E CAN WASH
up out here.” Joseph led J.T. from the corral to an outside faucet beside the house, unbuttoned his shirt, turned on the water and threw several handfuls into his sweaty face. Rivulets of water ran down his leather-brown throat and hard, muscular chest.

J.T. watched while this man—his cousin, another great-grandson of Benjamin Greymountain—cleaned himself. All elements of a civilized man seemed to vanish. J.T. followed suit, tossing his Stetson on a nearby rusty barrel and thrusting his hands beneath the running water. He wet his head and face, lifting the sweaty black patch that covered his blind eye.

“Elena told us that you lost the vision in that eye by taking a bullet meant for another,” Joseph said. “You're a brave man.”

“I was just doing my job.” J.T. unbuttoned his own shirt, allowing the water to cool his heated skin. “Being a policeman, I'm sure you understand.”

“You're very good at guarding people, in risking your own life to save others. You would die to protect Joanna, wouldn't you?”

“Yeah, I would, but that doesn't surprise you, does it? I get the idea you'd be willing to do the same thing.”

“Our Joanna is a very special woman.” Joseph wiped his wet face with his shirttail. “
Our
Joanna?”

Joseph grinned. “We, Elena's family here on the reservation, have adopted Joanna. She has a love for this land and for our people that endears her to us.”

“She told me that you two have gone out together.” J.T. lifted his face to the sun, soaking in the drying warmth. “And she said there wasn't anything serious between you.”

“Her choice, not mine.” Bending over, Joseph shut off the water faucet, then rose and faced J.T. “Is there some
thing serious between the two of you? Have you made a commitment to her? Is that what you are trying to tell me?”

J.T. stared at the other man who would have gladly become Joanna's lover. If all she had wanted in a fantasy lover was a Navajo, why had she rejected Joseph Ornelas? He was young, handsome and intelligent, and seemed to be a good man.

“I don't think my relationship with Joanna is any of your business.” J.T. turned his back on Joseph, walked away and finished buttoning his shirt.

Following him, Joseph laid his hand on J.T.'s shoulder. “Wait.”

J.T. halted, but did not turn around.

Joseph removed his hand from J.T.'s shoulder. “Since Joanna has no father or brother to question your intentions, then perhaps I do have a right.” When J.T. made no reply, Joseph grunted. “Joanna deserves marriage and children and a man who is unafraid to love. Can you give her what she wants and needs?”