The Last Warrior

The scream that bounced through the mine’s interior was an eerie echo from the past. The memories threatened to rush in, reaching for her with eager clutching fingers. But Delaney was moving, racing to retrieve the weapon.

She had an inkling of what Joe saw when he looked up then, a wild-eyed woman holding the automatic weapon in surprisingly steady hands. She recognized the concern in his expression. His grip on Bruce loosened, as he slowly, cautiously rose, keeping his gaze on her face as he held out his hand for the weapon.

There was a single terrifying moment when her mind replaced him with an apparition that lingered from the nightmare of her past. But an instant later her vision cleared and he was there again. Grim, competent and amazingly unhurt. Gingerly she handed the gun to him. An instant later his free arm reached out to haul her close, and a tidal wave of relief slammed into her, turning her bones to water.

“You did good, ’Laney,” he whispered as they watched the man writhing in pain on the ground. “You did real good.”

The blanket around her shoulders should have warmed her, but Delaney’s form continued to be racked with shudders. Her mind, though, was clear as she watched the police work the scene.

The place was swarming with law enforcement, and once she’d rejected the need for medical assistance, the ambulance had taken Bruce Gle

The police units’ headlights had the area lit up like near dawn but she kept her gaze carefully away from the mine hulking in the background. She didn’t want to consider how easy it would have been to succumb to its chilly embrace.

The aftermath of the ordeal continued wreaking its private misery. The warmth of the blanket couldn’t quite chase the chill from her skin. Her heart refused to regain a normal beat and her stomach was a twisted mass of clenching nausea.

But she was still standing. She wasn’t sure she could do it without support, but she was on her feet. She’d faced her darkest fears, and she’d done it without the help of a bottle of Absolut. She’d celebrate her private victories in the tiny increments with which she achieved them.

She didn’t fool herself that there wouldn’t be further repercussions from this experience, but she did believe she’d weather them without reaching for that bottle on top of her cupboard. It wasn’t a drink she wanted right now, at any rate.

Joe detached himself from the group of officers and headed toward her. She noted his searching gaze, and thought he realized just how close she’d stepped to the abyss. For once the thought of allowing someone near enough to know her that well failed to terrify her.

“I’ve commandeered one of these rides. Are you ready to go home with me?”

She stared at him, her mind filled with a sort of clarity that had been missing for longer than she could remember. “Yes.” She pushed away from the car and walked toward him. “I think I’m ready.”

Epilogue

Eighteen Months Later

“You missed! I win again!”

Jo

The evening air was still warm enough to have them both perspiring. They’d shed their shirts an hour earlier. Maybe with the workout Jo

His son had gone through a lot of adjustments in the last year and a half. It had only been recently that Joe felt as though he could stop scrutinizing the boy for any signs of trauma over the changes in his family unit. Kids were resilient, far more so than adults, although Joe had undergone a few major changes of his own.

He checked his watch. Thirty minutes to bedtime. He rebounded for his son and pulled up for a short jump shot. When he missed, he turned his son’s jeer into a groan by a

“Come on, Dad! Another fifteen minutes?”

Looking down in his son’s eyes he steeled himself against the familiar con and said, “You know the rules. Doesn’t matter if you’re at your mom’s house or mine. Summer bedtime is eight-thirty.” Although the theatrics didn’t diminish, something in his voice must have convinced the boy because he started trudging toward the house.

Joe retrieved their discarded shirts and went to put the ball away. It had been difficult to forgive Heather for what she’d pla

But his son didn’t.

The scandal that had swept the reservation when Bruce Gle

Joe headed toward the house. It had taken nearly a year, but he and his ex had come to a wary sort of truce. She’d taken up residence in Chinle and Joe was as fair as he could be with the time she spent with Jo

And it had been three months eleven days since Delaney had left.

The familiar longing traced through him as his mental calendar notched another day. She’d stayed put longer than he should have expected. Perhaps the most remarkable of the changes he’d undergone had been a gradual understanding that he could no more ask her to stop doing what she loved than she would have suggested he stop being a cop.

So he’d stepped aside when she’d taken that new job, swallowing his protests, his worry, and learned to live with the gut-clenching desolation that had been a constant companion since she’d walked away. He had his son. His family. His job. It should have been enough. But ever since she’d left there had been an acid-etched void that no one else seemed capable of filling.

Joe walked over to pick up Jo

“I didn’t know superheroes rode bikes.” Delaney slammed the car door and rounded the hood. “Another myth bites the dust. One of these days I’m going to completely lose every ounce of naiveté I hold dear.”

He was at her side in two quick steps, his arms closing around her. “You didn’t tell me you were coming back this week.” He kissed her, long and deep, before raising his head to get his fill of looking at her. “We would have come to the airport to get you.”

“I wanted to surprise you.” He looked good, she decided, staring hungrily at him.

“You’ve got the book done already?”

He hadn’t released her and that was fine with her. Leaning against him, she murmured, “I’ve got enough material, I think. And if not, I can always fly back for a quick follow-up.”

The sordid tales that had emerged from the Graywolf and Gle