Eagle Warrior. Jenna Kernan

position of having to chat with a woman he had no intention of sleeping with.

      He knew enough to stay clear of single mothers for a lot of valid reasons. And beyond that, it was a bad idea to mix work and play.

      “He didn’t tell me you’d be watching the place,” said Morgan.

      Because Kenshaw had called Potts after he’d left to ask if a fellow Turquoise Guardian could stay in his place. The answer, of course, was yes.

      “Well, I’m watching it but he’s helping me out. I lost my place recently so...” He looked to Jack to take over. Because he was terrible at making stuff up. Not at lying, he was very good at lying, convincing to a fault.

      Morgan held her smile and she now did look beautiful. The pause stretched and her smile faded.

      “Ray is a hotshot,” said Jack. “One of our captains.”

      Morgan looked impressed and well she should. Their forest-fighting team was nationally recognized and much requested. They flew all over the country battling blazes. Seemed the Apache men were good at fighting anything, including fires.

      Morgan gave Ray a long, speculative look and he could almost feel her gaze like a caress. His skin tingled and his palms began to itch. That wasn’t good. Now he was staring at her mouth and his gaze had become speculative. Her lips and cheeks seemed especially pink.

      She cleared her throat and he met her curious expression with a grin. That grin had gotten him into more trouble than his fists. Her brows lifted as if reading the vibe he was sending and not knowing what to do with it.

      “He’ll be back next week. Will you be staying on when he comes home?” asked Morgan.

      Ray squinted, wondering how to play this. “I need to find a place. I’m looking around.”

      Her gaze swept over him and he wished they were alone. He thought of Morgan’s bed and imagined her stretched out naked on that the white coverlet. Clearly the sexual part of his brain had re-emerged. He shifted his position at the unwelcome ache that began below his belt.

      “You were in the casino today,” she said.

      And yesterday and the day before that, he thought.

      “Guilty,” he said.

      “Did I get you a drink?” she asked.

      “No. I just come in to watch...”

      Her frown deepened.

      He grinned wider. “To watch the games on the big screens.”

      “Oh!” Her cheeks went bright pink.

      Shame on her for making assumptions, he thought.

      “Baseball,” she said and smiled, the tension easing out of her shoulders.

      Her daughter wiggled out from beneath her mother’s arm to take a step closer to Jack. She was staring up at the detective who was six-five in his stocking feet and now wore boots. If she didn’t quit she’d get a crick in her neck.

      “Are you Apache?” she asked him.

      Ray’s gaze shifted to Jack whose mouth went tight. Most folks didn’t come right out and ask, but Lisa was ten and ten-year-olds were as blunt as dull axes.

      “Yeah. Sure am. Roadrunner Clan. You?”

      Lisa was still eying the mountain of a man that Jack had become. He looked more Samoan than Apache and it was a constant sore spot for Jack.

      “I’m Butterfly Clan,” said Lisa. “Why was that man in our house?”

      Ray watched Morgan to see what her reaction might be and found her looking as curious as Lisa. Had working in that casino taught her to bluff or was she in the dark?

      Was it possible that her father had not told her about the money?

      He had other questions, chief of which was what in the wide world had Karl Hutton Hooke done to receive a bank check for two hundred thousand dollars with his name written on it?

      The answer seemed obvious. Her father had been paid to kill the Lilac Copper Mine Gunman. That meant that Karl Hutton Hooke was a hitman and whoever paid him had not wanted the mass gunman to stand trial. It also meant that there was a whole mess of money missing.

      Jack escorted Morgan back inside and together they checked the house. Only her father’s room had been disturbed, but Andy had even gone so far as to slice the pillows and mattress.

      “What a mess,” Ray said from the doorway.

      Morgan directed her question to Jack. “What was he looking for, Detective Bear Den?”

       Chapter Four

      “Not sure what he was looking for, Morgan,” said Detective Bear Den. “Did your dad have anything of special value?”

      Both Jack and Ray watched Morgan who seemed to be considering the question while lightly rubbing her fingertips over her lips. The small gesture sent an unexpected shot of longing straight to Ray’s groin.

      He lifted his brows in surprise. He didn’t go for this sort of woman, the “attached with child, daughter of a murderer who might be involved with some very bad people” sort. But there it was, Ray Strong making the worst possible choice, as usual.

      His attention now became speculative. What kind of a woman was Morgan in bed?

      “He had some of those state quarters,” said Morgan. “Turquoise jewelry. Not a lot.”

      She convinced Ray. If he was a betting man, and of course, he was, he would say dear old Dad had forgotten to tell his girl that he’d had a payday that might just get her and her daughter killed.

      They all moved inside and gathered in the kitchen in a loose circle between the dinette and the worn Formica counters.

      “You have somewhere you can stay tonight?” asked Jack.

      Morgan drew Lisa in beside her, and her daughter hugged her mom around the middle. Morgan stood in bare feet still wearing the cocktail outfit that looked garish in the drab little kitchen.

      “Lisa could stay at her best friend’s. The Herons live right next door. But I... I think I’d better stay here.”

      “You have someone to call, maybe help you clean up?” asked Jack.

      “I can help,” said Ray.

      Morgan’s face scrunched up in a way that told Ray that he was less than smooth in her eyes.

      “That’s not necessary,” she said, her smile all tight and dismissive now. That made Ray want to remind her who had removed the vermin from her house.

      “I’ll have an officer escort you and Lisa to the Herons’,” said Jack.

      Jack left them and called from the door into the yard. Ray clasped his bloody hands behind his back and gave Morgan a half smile that he hoped made him look less threatening. Jack returned with a young man that Ray knew.

      “Ms. Hooke, this is Officer Wetselline,” said Jack, sounding all professional now. “He’ll walk you over to the Herons’. Maybe you want to wait over there until we finish up here.”

      She nodded her head and took hold of Lisa’s hand. “I’ll be back.”

      Ray watched Morgan go and wondered what she’d look like in tight jeans and a thin white T-shirt. Ever since he’d started watching her, he couldn’t stop these images from creeping into his mind. Why her? He didn’t date women with children but he liked Lisa and Morgan had the sort of appeal that seemed deeper than physical. She was such a dedicated mom and supportive daughter. Many women would have distanced themselves from a father who committed such a reprehensible act. Not her. According to Kenshaw, she visited her father, often. Respectable, upstanding,