Native Born. Jenna Kernan
line went dead.
She held the phone to her chest for just a moment, eyes closed against the darkness that crept into her heart. What would she do if they took her daughter away?
“Was that her?”
The gruff male voice brought her about and she faced Clyne, who had snuck up on her without a sound.
Cassidy straightened for a fight with Clyne—her daughter’s eldest brother and the first name on the complaint petitioning to have her daughter’s closed adoption opened and overturned. She knew he’d win. He knew it, too. She saw not an ounce of pity for her in those deep brown eyes. Just the alert stare of a confident man facing a foe.
His face was all angles where her daughter’s was all soft curves and the promise of the woman she would soon become.
An Apache woman. Not if she could help it. Amanda would be whatever she wanted and not be limited to one place and one clannish tribe who clung to that mountain as if it were more than just another outcropping of stone. Cold as his heart, she suspected. What did he know about Amanda, anyway? Nothing. According to his records he’d been deployed with the US Marines when his sister had been born and hadn’t been discharged until after the accident that took his mother.
“Was that who?” she asked. But she knew. Still she made him say it.
“Jovanna?” he said, breathing the word, just a whisper.
Her skin prickled at the hushed intimate tone.
“Her name is Amanda Gail Walker.”
“Amanda?” Clyne spat the word as he threw up his hands. “I’ve never met an Apache woman named Amanda.”
“And you won’t meet this one if I have any say in it.”
“We are her family,” said Clyne. “Her real family.”
“Hey, I’m just as real as the family that didn’t even know she was alive for twelve years.”
“Nine,” he corrected. Nine years on July 4 since his mother had died in that auto accident.
“If it were up to you all, she would have been raised in a series of group homes in South Dakota.”
“You are not a mother. You’re a field agent.”
“And?”
“You have no husband, no other children.”
“What’s your point?”
“You are alone raising my sister and you have a very dangerous job. You were shot today! You could get killed at any moment. A good mother doesn’t put her child at that kind of risk.”
“It’s an important job.”
“So is motherhood,” said Clyne. “So is teaching her who she is, who her people are, where she comes from. She belongs where her tribe has lived for centuries. You move her around like she’s a canary.”
“You finished? Because it isn’t up to you. It’s up to the judge. Until then I do my job and you keep away from my daughter.”
“Walker!” She turned to see her boss closing in. “Outside. Now.”
She followed him out into the hallway.
“What was that?” asked Tully.
“Custody battle,” she said.
“I know all about that. What I’m asking about is why are you fighting with a tribal councilman?”
“Perhaps I’m not the right one for this assignment,” she said, hating herself for saying it. She’d never turned down an assignment before.
“I agree. But I need an agent up there on Black Mountain. One who is not Apache and Chief Cosen just gave me an in. So you’re it. Find out what’s going on up there. You got it? We’ve got permission for two agents on that rez. That’s never happened before. So shut your mouth and do your job.”
“Yes, sir.” Cassidy had a thought. “Do you think the Cosens might be involved with the distribution ring?”
“How do I know? That’s for you to find out.”
Cassidy’s mood brightened.
If she were up there, in his home, in his community, perhaps she could find some chink in the Cosen armor, something to make them unfit to raise a twelve-year-old child.
But if that were so, then why in the wide world would Chief Gabe Cosen allow her up in his territory?
She had a terrible thought. What if the Cosen brothers wanted her up there, away from the protection of other agents, so that something bad could happen to her? That would remove her from the equation when it came to the custody of her daughter.
Cassidy drew in a breath and faced her boss. It was a gamble. But it was the only way she could see to keep Amanda without putting her daughter in the position to choose.
A twelve-year-old should not have to choose between her mother and her brothers. It wasn’t fair to ask a child to make such a choice. But Amanda would have to, if it came down to that.
Cassidy squared her shoulders as if she were still at attention in lineup. Then she met the analytical gaze of Donald Tully.
“If I do this, will you put in that recommendation for my transfer to DC?” she asked.
Tully’s mouth went tight, but the glimmer in his eyes showed he knew she had won. “You know we do some good work here, too.”
“Answer the question.”
“Yes, damn it. I will.”
“All right. I’ll do it.”
* * *
HIS BROTHER ANSWERED on the first ring.
“I got her!” he said, his voice full of jubilation.
“You sure?” asked his brother, Johnny.
“Gray Volvo station wagon, right?”
“That’s what I said.”
Johnny had tailed her the day she’d shown up in court to testify on a big case. She’d lost the tail easily but now they knew the make and model of her personal vehicle.
“She heading to the hospital?” Johnny asked.
“Don’t know,” he said.
“Damned, I hit her dead center. Should have knocked her down, at least. Then I would have had another shot,” said Johnny.
“We need to get that tungsten ammo.”
“We don’t. Common caliber will get the job done.”
“If it’s a head shot.”
“It was a head shot,” said Johnny. “She moved. Jumped on him.”
“What about a bigger caliber or a hollow point?”
“We buy that and we might as well wave a red flag in front of the Feds’ eyes. No reason to buy that ammo but one.”
“No guts, no glory,” he said, using Johnny’s favorite expression.
“Hey, I’m all about hitting the target. Just don’t want a spot next to Brett’s.”
“What do you mean?”
“In the cemetery, stupid,” said Johnny.
“Right,” he said. Johnny was always the smart one. “She’s heading for the interstate.”
“Heading home, maybe. That’d be a break. Get her address if you can,” said Johnny.
“Sure. Sure.”
“Hey, kid? Finding her car? Ya done good.”
He basked in