Tribal Law. Jenna Kernan

turned to Dryer. “Do you want to press charges?”

      Dryer cocked his head. “Against you?” He snorted. “No.”

      It was hard, but Gabe thanked him and Dryer offered his hand. The handshake was brief and halfhearted.

      “Okay,” said Dryer, as if getting back to business. “No comments about Selena. Got it. But that box truck. It can’t be mentioned in your reports or on the radio. I know Escalanti listens to the police scanner. So, no mention of the truck, the Doselas or me.”

      Gabe’s gaze flicked to the DOJ agent, wishing he could put him in a gag as well as handcuffs. “If there’s no box truck, why did I shoot Jason Leekela and an unknown gunman again?”

      “I don’t know...brandishing a weapon. Shooting at you.”

      “So you want me to lie.”

      “I want you to keep a lid on the undercover operation.”

      “In exchange for full disclosure,” said Gabe.

      Dryer considered his offer. Then qualified. “To you, only. Not to the council.”

      “I could get fired for doing that.”

      “And you could catch these guys if you do what I’m telling you.”

      Gabe didn’t like being told what to do by outsiders.

      “My brother and first officer here already know.”

      “That’s all they know from here forward, and you keep them quiet.”

      Both his men put their hands on their hips, clearly not liking that plan.

      “Deal?” Dryer offered his hand.

      Gabe thought of all the deals offered by white men to Indians and grimaced. This one didn’t seem any better.

       Chapter Seven

      “No deal,” said Gabe, and turned toward his unit and Selena.

      “Oh, you’re going to blow this whole operation.”

      Gabe kept walking.

      “And you’re going to get Selena killed.”

      Gabe stopped walking.

      He turned back to Dryer, feeling trapped and angry and afraid for the first time in many years.

      “You brought this here,” said Gabe.

      “I brought an investigation. The rest was already here.”

      He was right and that pissed Gabe off.

      “Updates daily,” said Gabe. “And you tell Selena who you are.”

      Dryer grinned, knowing he had won. “Sure. Sure. Mind if I release Frasco? I got to clean up his face, if I can.”

      “He needs a stitch or two,” said Juris.

      “Use snow,” said Kino. “Helps with the swelling.”

      Dryer walked between Kino and Juris to the unit where Frasco waited.

      Juris helped Frasco up out of the rear seat. Frasco still held the towel to his face.

      “How you going to explain that?” asked Gabe.

      Dryer glanced at Frasco. “Fell on the ice. I just told them we had to use chains.”

      Gabe left the men and returned to his SUV where Selena waited. He opened the rear door. Selena stepped through the gap.

      “Are they safe?” she asked.

      Her family, of course. They were always her first concern.

      “I have units on-site.”

      She blew out a breath and her features momentarily relaxed.

      “Thank you,” she whispered.

      Selena had every quality he admired in a woman. She worked hard, cared for her family, was funny, gracious and kind. But he better than most understood that a family’s reputation was just as important as an individual’s. Maybe more important here than elsewhere. There was a reason Apache gave their first name only after they had given the names of their tribe, parents and clan. Apache people understood that who and where you came from was more important than who you were.

      But now he didn’t know what to think.

      Selena stood bracing her feet, with her arms folded across her chest. Her gloved hands gripped each sleeve. His gaze swept her form, taking in her work boots, tight faded jeans and that shapeless, unlined brown coat that he knew for certain was more than five years old because he had planned to buy her a new one. Why didn’t she buy a proper winter coat?

      But he knew why. Selena spent her money on her brother’s therapy, her twin sister’s driving school and her mother’s medical bills. Ruth Dosela was in the midst of chemotherapy treatment again after the cancer had returned. She’d opted for double mastectomy, according to his grandmother, and doctors were hopeful.

      Gabe regarded Selena and her shabby attire. This woman had no time or money for frills.

      Gabe lifted his attention to her face. Her wide forehead was the perfect foil for her dark, arched brows. Snowflakes caught on the long lashes that hooded her cocoa-brown eyes. She neither smiled nor frowned, leaving her full mouth to form a perfect bow. Gabe’s heart hammered, sending blood pulsing at his neck and down below his belt as he regarded that mouth. Memories stirred with the rest of him.

      Even dressed as a workman, she still was the most desirable woman he’d ever known and the most exasperating. Her head was uncovered, and snowflakes sparkled like diamonds in the thick black hair that wrapped her shoulders like a curtain and framed her heart-shaped face. That angry, stubborn face that he couldn’t stop dreaming about.

      Gabe wiped his hand over his mouth, surprised to find sweat on his upper lip. His stomach ached. Why were they always at odds?