Tribal Law. Jenna Kernan

off somehow.”

      “That where the lab is, on Leekela’s place?” asked Juris.

      “Yes. In a tractor trailer. Leekela is paid to look the other way. His brother must have found the lab and decided to make a few bucks.”

      “What exactly is your operation and how does it involve the Doselas?”

      “It’s the first delivery. If we make it, then they plan to put Frasco’s family in charge of transportation, bringing the chemicals to the lab and the product from the lab. We’ll have the precursor’s location. But we pull a no-show in Phoenix, then these rats will scurry back into their holes. One of those holes is likely on your reservation, Chief. And it’s full of fifty-gallon barrels of precursor. Enough to supply Raggar’s customers with meth for years. This is big, Chief. I’m ordering you to release the box truck and the Doselas to me immediately.”

      Dryer’s order seemed the last straw for Detective Juris. He wheeled on Dryer, aiming a finger at him like a gun as he spoke to his chief.

      “He doesn’t call the shots here.”

      Gabe lifted a hand in conciliation. “Let’s take it easy.”

      But Juris was past that. “He can’t set up a sting operation on our reservation without letting us know.”

      “See, now that’s the trouble,” said Dryer. “Every time we let you know anything, they move the operation.”

      “That was before we got Tessay,” said Gabe.

      “You got that first lab up on Nosie’s land thanks to your brother Clay. But not the second mobile meth lab on the Leekela place,” said Dryer.

      That was true.

      “The precursor? Any leads?” asked Dryer.

      “I found you,” said Gabe.

      Dryer huffed. “An undercover federal agent. Not stellar. You can detain me, but I have immunity.”

      “Don’t you always,” said Juris, regaining his control and his stoic expression.

      Dryer shrugged. “Bottom line, you haven’t found that second mobile meth lab or the precursor.”

      “It’s twelve thousand acres,” said Juris.

      Dryer ignored Juris and directed his attention to Gabe. Gabe knew what Dryer implied—someone was informing the cartel of their movements. Someone on the inside.

       Chapter Six

      The cold spot in Gabe’s stomach was gone, replaced by a solid pain that shot across his middle. It felt like that bucking strap they used in the rodeo to make the horses kick.

      “You think my department has a leak.”

      “Leak? You have a damned river. Tessay isn’t the only one here on Raggar’s payroll.”

      “Who?”

      Dryer rubbed his neck. “Escalanti is the only one we’re sure of.” He waved a hand at the highway. “Roadblock?”

      Gabe turned to Kino. “Put the cuffs back on him.”

      Kino moved to comply, looking much more content.

      Dryer held up his hands, talking fast, trying to get it out before someone drove past and saw Selena’s truck. “All right. I’ll tell you. But only you. If you’re the ones, we’re screwed anyway.”

      “What ones?”

      “There’s a reason we haven’t sought permission this time.” Dryer rubbed his neck. “We don’t know who it is. What we do know is that when there is a joint operation, they know. Nota bragged about it.”

      Gabe felt sick. When he had arrested Arnold Tessay, he thought he had found the one traitor here. Had that been naive?

      “It’s back to business, here on Black Mountain,” said Dryer. “But with only one meth lab they aren’t meeting supply demands. They need to expand. But since Tessay’s arrest, they have moved the precursor stores twice. Just in case Tessay rolls, they’re moving it again. I don’t know when or where. But not here. You’re too much of a pain in their asses, Chief. I hear that you’ve even been close a few times. They’ve been debating if they should move operations or just kill you.”

      Gabe glanced at Kino and saw him go white.

      “Lucky you,” said Dryer. “They’re moving. Nota says it will be to Salt River Reservation.”

      “I have to notify my tribal council of your presence here and alert the authorities on Salt River,” said Gabe.

      “And he has to go. I’ll be glad to show him off our sovereign lands personally,” said Juris pointing at Dryer.

      Dryer threw up his hands. “You need help. Admit it.”

      “Not your kind of help,” said Juris.

      “You telling me the federal authorities don’t have rights to investigate federal crimes on federal land?”

      “They do,” said Gabe. “With our knowledge. The FBI uses the channels we established. DOJ needs to do the same.”

      Dryer made a face. “You think I’m alone up here? I’m not. This is a joint operation.”

      In spite of the doubts he felt, Gabe kept his poker face.

      “You get a call about those barrels?” asked Dryer.

      He had. From his uncle Luke. Gabe felt sick. Had Luke been playing him? Was it true that an Indian who worked for the Feds wasn’t Indian anymore?

      Gabe had aspirations to become a field agent. But not if it meant betraying his people.

      “The FBI is aware of our investigation.”

      And yet his uncle had not notified him. Was that because Gabe was also a suspect? Frasco was back trafficking and Gabe had once been engaged to Frasco’s daughter. Guilt by association. Gabe wondered.

      “Before you get all pissy, your uncle doesn’t know about me. It’s above his pay grade.”

      Because his uncle was Black Mountain Apache and so could not totally be trusted? Gabe narrowed his eyes. The fury sparked, burning his carefully cultivated control.

      “He should have been informed,” said Gabe.

      Kino’s brows lifted, recognizing the potential for danger in Gabe’s quiet tone.

      “He’s Apache. You are thick as thieves up here. Everyone is somebody’s cousin. His department thought it best to keep him out of the loop. Not my call. We’ve been coordinating with his supervisor and his partner.”

      “Cassidy Walker?”

      “Right.”

      Cassidy Walker, the one his uncle said had ambitions to transfer to DC. Gabe smelled a rat all right, but not in the Apache hierarchy.

      “She’s running this. Senior man, even though she’s a woman.”

      “So you suspected my uncle?” he said.

      “Seemed logical.”

      “Because he’s Indian.”

      “Black Mountain Apache. Brother to a known drug trafficker.”

      Dryer was referring now to Gabe’s father. He had been a convicted felon when he had been murdered by a trafficker who went by the name The Viper.

      “My uncle went through FBI screening. He’s clean.”

      “He’s related to people involved with this case, just like your big brother, the tribal councilor.”

      “Clyne? You suspect Clyne?