Black Rock Guardian. Jenna Kernan

She could see a row of windows above the shop and knew that was where he lived.

      She rolled up to the bay doors and cut the engine. Something moved to her left, an animal, big and black. Beth startled.

      “That’s just my dog, Hemi.”

      She glanced back at him. “Like the motor?”

      His smile showed a kind of appreciation that warmed her far more than it should have. “That’s right.”

      He slid off the bike and she removed her helmet, leaving it on the seat.

      “Nice ride,” he said, and then he turned to Hemi and scratched her behind the ears. “Hemi, this is Beth.”

      She dropped the kickstand and straddled the bike, offering her hand to the canine, who had a definite wolfish look to her.

      “Hey there, Hemi,” said Beth.

      Hemi took two steps in her direction and then dropped to the ground, her head between her front paws. Beth’s brow wrinkled as she watched the dog, trying to interpret this odd behavior.

      “What’s with that?” she asked, lifting her gaze to Ty, who was now scowling at her.

      “You packing?”

      “What?”

      “Hemi says you’re carrying a gun.”

      Beth eyed the dog. Likely his brother would have warned her about the gunpowder-sniffing dog if she’d told anyone what she had in mind. She hadn’t because the chances were too great that Jake would tip off his big brother.

      Forrest had agreed, but she had only one shot, because every agent he put on the abduction case was one less on the eco-extremist investigation.

      Beth set her jaw and glared at the dog.

      “So what is it?” asked Ty.

      She opened her jacket and showed him the holster and her service weapon. She did not show him the FBI shield she had around her neck and under her blouse.

      Ty’s expression went grim and all anticipation left his eyes. They went flat and lifeless. He looked at her as if she had disappointed him. That would be ironic.

      “I don’t allow weapons in my place.”

      “Girl’s got a right to protect herself.”

      “Deal breaker,” he said.

      “You act like you’re on parole.”

      That made him glare. So he didn’t like being painted as a criminal, even if that was just what he was.

      “Not on parole,” he said, raking a hand through his hair. “Tell you what. I’ll get you started again. Take it to Piňon Forks. Spend the night at the casino and call Ron in the morning.” He grabbed a pen from his shop and extended his hand for hers. She gave it to him and he wrote a number on the palm of her hand.

      Was he actually sending her off? Beth couldn’t believe it and she really couldn’t believe that her disappointment was way more physical than emotional. Damn him and that kiss.

      “He’s good with bikes,” said Ty.

      “Where’s his shop?”

      “Across from the police station. You know where that is, right?”

      He didn’t wait for her to answer, just positioned himself behind her bike. She didn’t even have her helmet on when he started to push as if he could not wait to be rid of her.

      But he wasn’t. Not by a long shot.

       Chapter Six

      On Sunday mornings, Ty worked on his own projects. Today it was body repair on the 1978 Pontiac Trans Am that he’d saved from the scrap yard. But his enthusiasm for muscle cars did not generally get him up at 5:00 a.m. Still, that was what had happened the last two mornings and he knew exactly who to blame for that. The woman—Beth.

      She captivated him. Not just the way she looked but the way she handled that bike and how she knew things, like that his dog was named after his favorite engine and how to bump-start a bike. Who was he kidding? It had been their kisses that had kept him from sleep.

      Beth was too good to be true. Women like that did not just show up in your life. Someone had sent her. And that was the other reason he could not sleep. It wasn’t the Wolf Posse. She didn’t have the look of Russian mob. That left cop.

      “Damn.” He threw aside the rag he used to wipe his hands.

      The phone rang, echoing in the empty space. He glanced at the clock on the wall to see it was already eight in the morning. Ty reached for the greasy handset. Jake was on the line, telling him that they needed him to come into the station.

      Ty’s stomach dropped. Had the tribe reversed their decision about not turning him over to the Feds? As much as Ty wanted to be free of the Wolf Posse, a prison cell was not his chosen route. He had driven Kacey to the Russians, but her statement corroborated his. She had known where he was taking her and gotten into his vehicle voluntarily.

      Maybe they matched his blood from the window at Antelope Lake. Some trumped-up charge on B&E? he wondered. The coffee he’d had for breakfast now clung to his stomach lining like motor oil.

      “I’ll be there,” he said. He thought about his go-bag, the one under his bed. He’d added to it bit by bit, knowing that someday he’d have to use it.

      Was today that day?

      You could only dance with the devil for so long. Eventually the devil had to be paid. What kept him here was his mother and his brothers and the looming threat of his father’s return.

      They were all worried about what would happen upon Colton Redhorse’s return. Ty wasn’t worried because he knew how it would go—badly. Because people didn’t change except to get worse.

      He’d have to leave in forty minutes because the ride from Koun’nde to Piňon Forks took twenty. Ty removed his welding helmet and hung it back on the wall. Then he turned off the tanks. Friday, he’d spoken to tribal police and he’d made his position very clear. He didn’t imagine that Detective Bear Den was going to have a second round of asking for his cooperation. So that meant they were going to charge him.

      It was his own stupid fault. He must be losing his edge because he did not make that incredibly sexy woman as a cop. The way she hugged those curves on her bike, the woman could ride. And that kiss. Ty growled and headed upstairs with Hemi at his heels.

      He showered and packed a duffel in case they kept him. Ty dragged out the go-bag from beneath his bed and unzipped it. Inside was survival gear, camping gear, first-aid supplies, ready-to-eat food, tools, money, a horse bridle and the keys to one car and one bike. Was today the day he’d need to run?

      Ty carried both duffels to the GTO. Then he fed Hemi. After they’d both eaten, he took his dog to his mother’s place. His mother, May, lived on the high ground outside Piňon Forks. Redhorse was busy getting his sister, Abbie, and the foster girls ready for church. She tried to feed him, of course, and accepted a kiss on the cheek. He asked Burt Rope, her new husband, to look after Hemi.

      Burt knew exactly what that meant. “You in trouble, son?”

      “Maybe. Tribal police want to talk to me again.”

      “Three times, isn’t it?”

      “Four.” Four times and each time they had more pieces of the puzzle. Maybe they’d just take a blood sample today and let him go.

      “We’ll look after your dog, Ty.” Burt laid a hand on Ty’s shoulder and gave him a little pat.

      Burt was a good man. Not like his rotten of a father. He felt relieved that his mother had found a man who, though not very industrious, was as reliable and kind as any he’d