Tribal Law. Jenna KernanЧитать онлайн книгу.
Her attention returned to her side mirror. “Okay, he’s beside the truck.”
The passenger door eased open and her father hopped out. The door clicked shut. Her attention slipped back to the empty seat and she caught movement through the window beyond. The large rectangular side mirror showed a view of her father crouching on the runner. She gave a little shout. He straightened just enough to peer back inside and she pointed frantically at the mirror. He disappeared like a prairie dog ducking into its burrow, hopping off the running boards and moving out of sight.
“Selena?” Gabe’s voice was muffled by the glass.
She jumped in her seat, then rolled down the window to face the chief of the tribal police. The truck was old, refurbished and didn’t have power anything. In fact, it even had a cassette player on the console. But she’d chosen this truck because she’d been able to pay cash for the whole thing. Unfortunately she’d had to use it and her sister’s box truck as collateral against the 18-wheeler.
“Hey there,” he said. His breath came in a puff of condensation that disappeared almost instantly. “Everything okay?”
Her ears were buzzing. Did that mean she was going to faint? You absolutely are not going to faint. You can’t.
“Was I doing something wrong, Chief?” Her attempt to keep her voice level failed and Gabe pushed back the brim of his hat, giving her a closer look. How did he manage to get more handsome every single year? she wondered as she stared at his ruggedly attractive face.
“You’re flushed,” he said.
“Hot in here. Heater is wonky.” That lie came so easily.
“I see. What’s up?”
“What do you mean?” she asked, keeping her sweating hands on the wheel.
“Your route is finished and you’re heading out. Usually you take the car on errands.”
He had watched her that closely? She had no idea. Now she didn’t know if she should be flattered, furious or frightened.
Should she go with indignation or civility? The indignation won, hands down.
“I don’t think that’s any business of yours.”
Gabe’s brows shot up as he stared steadily back at her. His long nose and flared nostrils reminded her of a wolf on the hunt. The air of authority did not come solely from his position. She felt it even now, the need to do whatever he said merely because he said it. And that mouth, oh, she had memories of that mouth on her body.
Gabe looked Apache—his brown skin, his broad forehead and his full, sensual mouth all spoke of his strength and lineage. But his hair did not. Unlike the rest of his brothers, he wore it clipped short. Perhaps to annoy his older brother, Clyne, the tribal councilman and family traditionalist. If possible, Gabe’s thick black hair and stylish cut only made him more attractive. Gabe had once been approached by the tribe’s casino promotion team, who wanted to use him in their ad campaigns. His brothers never let him live that one down. But they didn’t want Gabe because he was boyish, like his kid brother Kino, or handsome like Clay or distinguished like his older brother, Clyne. They chose him because he made women want to take him to bed.
And she was no better than any of the rest of them because she still wanted that, too.
He narrowed his eyes. “You sure you’re all right?”
She swallowed, released the wheel and gave him her stone face. The one her father said she didn’t have. The one all Apache girls practiced before their Sunrise Ceremony.
“Can I go now?” she asked summoning a tone of flat annoyance and thinking her voice still sounded like the whine of a mosquito.
Gabe stepped back but kept a hand on the open window. She kept hers on the crank.
“I’m sorry I didn’t bring him home,” he said. “I should have been the one there today.”
An apology? Selena’s mouth dropped open. Gabe Cosen was the most unapologetic man she knew, except for perhaps her father. Somehow his words had the opposite effect of what he had likely intended. Now Selena was not frightened. She was pissed.
“Well, you were there when he left, so that’s something.”
Gabe grimaced.
“If you need anything,” he said.
“I need to get going.” She lifted her brows to show her impatience and gave the crank a tug for good measure. It met the resistance of his gloved hand, but he released her door. He stood there studying her. She glared back. Why wouldn’t he leave? Her father couldn’t get back inside with him standing there and if he tried, Gabe would see him.
“Are we finished?” she asked. But she already knew the answer. They’d been finished for nearly five years and since then all their conversations had been brief, awkward and tense. But maybe not this tense.
He inclined his chin.
“Then get back to your car. It’s freezing out here.”
His brow lifted to show his surprise and she knew why. No one ever told Gabe Cosen what to do. No, this man gave orders. He didn’t take them.
“Please call me if you need me,” he said, using that infuriating, polite, professional tone.
She needed him every night. But she’d be damned if she’d call.
Gabe hesitated, waiting perhaps for her to reply or say farewell. She cranked up the window and placed her hands on the wheel, staring straight ahead. Finally, he withdrew, melting back and away from her.
She leaned across the seat but before she could open the door her father had it open and swept back into the cab.
“Go,” he said. “But not too fast.” Her father ducked down below the door so as not to be visible in the wide rectangular mirrors that flanked each side of the cab, the ones that gave her a clear view of Gabe returning to his police car.
She set them in motion, then glanced to the road and then back to Gabe. Then to the road. They had gotten away with it. She grabbed a breath of icy air.
“You missed our turn when he stopped us. Turn around. And get us out of here before he stops you again.”
Selena swung them around and caught a blur as Gabe flashed by her driver’s side window. Then he was behind her, hands on hips as he watched her taillights.
Just keep going.
“Uh-oh,” said her father, peeking at the side mirror.
Selena looked back to see Gabe had returned to the place where she had parked. He was studying the ground.
“He’s spotted my tracks,” said her father. “Drive faster.”
Gabe Cosen watched Selena go and then returned to the tracks. The snow had started again and he knew that this was his best chance to get a good read. Like all of the men in his family, he had learned to read sign, which meant he could interpret the tracks of animals and men. He was adequate for an Apache, but his younger brothers, Kino and Clay, were much better.
The prints were from a large individual wearing moccasins. That was not unheard of, but most folks wore their tribe’s traditional foot gear only for hunting, ceremonies and dance competitions. The rest of the time they wore boots. He crouched beside the tracks and guessed at the person’s weight—less than two hundred pounds—from the place where the person had slipped en route to the front of the truck. Who had been in the cab with Selena and why didn’t that person want him to know?
His first thought was that Selena had found someone else. The white-hot fury at that prospect surprised him enough that he lost his balance and had to put a hand down to keep from