Black Rock Guardian

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter One (#u7475bd17-6481-583d-a178-0b418cee479b)

At the sound of tires crunching on the gravel drive, Ty Redhorse glanced up from beneath the hood of the ’76 Cadillac Eldorado to see two cop cars pull before the open bay of his garage. His heart sank as he straightened and came to attention, as if he was still in the US Marines. The tribal police vehicles rolled to a stop. Trouble, he thought, arriving on his doorstep.

They only had six men on the Turquoise Canyon force, and two of them were here at his shop. That did not bode well, and the fact that one of them was his younger brother only made things worse. He and Jake rarely spoke and when they did it usually ended badly. But Jake had been by yesterday and Ty had been touched to see how relieved Jakey was to see him alive and well. Small wonder after what Ty had been through.

Hemi, Ty’s dog, had been even happier, showing her unrestrained joy at finding him again. Jake had Hemi out searching and she tracked him, but by then he’d already made it home to the rez and to Kee, who stitched him up. Wasn’t easy because he’d lost a lot of blood.

Jake cast him a worried look and glanced at Ty’s shoulder as he put his unit in Park. Clearly Kee had told him about the injury. Ty inclined his chin at Jake.

The little brother Ty had helped raise, and protect from the gang, had turned out fine. The late-day sun of an ordinary Friday afternoon in late October gilded Jake’s skin, and the uniform gave him an air of respectability. Ty smiled, unable to resist indulging in the pride that rose in his chest at Jake inside his SUV.

The big man stepped from his police unit. That was Jack Bear Den, the tribe’s only detective, since they’d rescinded the offer to hire detective Ava Hood. Now, there was a woman after his heart, breaking the law to get her niece back. Yes, her career had imploded, but Ty would bet she didn’t regret a thing.

Bear Den took charge of the most important cases on the rez. And he was here. Ty’s eyes narrowed. Not good.

“Hello, Ty,” said Bear Den, extending his paw of a hand.

Ty glanced at the rag he held, knowing he could use it to wipe away the worst of the motor oil, but opted against it. He accepted Jack’s hand and watched as realization dawned. Bear Den’s clean palm was now slick with filthy brown motor oil. Ty’s smile brightened. The day was looking up.

“This is a surprise. You boys need an oil change?” asked Ty.

Jack shook his head.

“Search my shop?” He motioned to the interior.

It wasn’t really a joke. They’d done it before. But Ty’s days of running a chop shop were over. He had mediated a position that allowed him to exist on the fringe of the tribe’s gang, the Wolf Posse, which had helped him when no one else would. All that had changed when each of his brothers needed his help. Getting that help had been costly. And one, two, three, the gang had him again. Favors did not come free.

He was caught.

Bear Den held his smile as he kept his right hand well away from his spotless clothing.

“It’s clean,” said Ty, indicating the Cadillac with its hood up. “Even have the paperwork.”

“I believe you,” said the detective. “I saw the car you restored for the chief’s boy, Gus. The detailing is amazing.”

Ty’s eyes narrowed at the flattery.

Jake was now making his way over. He, at least, knew not to block the bay doors with his vehicle. His little brother had the look of a man who wished to be anywhere but where he was. He came to a stop two steps behind the detective, making it clear who was in charge. Ty’s gaze flicked to Jake’s and he read stress in his brother’s wrinkled brow. Jake did not think this would go well. Ty flicked his focus back to Bear Den.

“What can I do for the boys in blue?” Ty’s hand went to his forearm and he rubbed his thumb over his skin where his gang tattoo sat below the one of the marine emblem that he’d had done when in the United States Marine Corps. When he realized what he was doing, he forced his hand to his side. The grease covered most of the ink anyway.

“We’re here about our missing girls,” said Bear Den.

Ty knew about the missing teenagers. Suspected he knew far more than Detective Bear Den.

Police had a crime, they needed a suspect. So what crime was Jack Bear Den interested in pinning on him?

“When you getting married to that Fed, Jack?” asked Ty, changing the subject and using the detective’s first name with the desired result. Bear Den’s face flushed. “She’s an explosives expert, right? Should make life interesting.”

Bear Den did not take the bait, but he shifted from one foot to the other. Ty had him off balance.

Bear Den glanced to Jake, who stepped alongside his superior, hands on hips, as if he even had the least control of his oldest brother. Jake had two years of community college and had passed the test and joined the force right after graduation. But he’d never joined the Marine Corps or seen the kind of horrors both Ty and his youngest brother, Colt, had witnessed. Thank God.

Maybe that was why Jake felt comfortable with a gun strapped to his hip while Ty had had his fill of them in the marines.

To Jake there was right and there was wrong. That must be so comforting, not to be bothered with all those shades of gray. But who had Jake called when he realized that little white newborn he had already fallen in love with was in danger? Not the tribal police force.

“We have reason to believe that the Wolf Posse is responsible for the selection of the women that the Russian mob is targeting,” said Bear Den. “Our women.”

“Girls, wouldn’t you say?” said Ty. “What I hear, not one is over nineteen and Maggie Kesselman’s only fourteen. Right?”

Ty folded his arms, the grease on his palms sliding easily around his formidable biceps.

“You didn’t deny gang involvement,” said Bear Den.