Stargazer's Woman

By Aimée Thurlo

Highly regarded for his mystic prowess, Max Natoni took an oath to find lost people. For only he held the Navajo tribe's deepest senses and the strength to awe those who beheld the man in the flesh. Yet even his heightened awareness couldn't help him when it came to Kris Reynolds, who had her own sacred crusade to uphold .

Kris had no need for secrets, yet the noble Navajo warrior was hers alone to unravel. He had the ability to guide her, but not without pushing Kris's desire to uncharted territory. Bound by honour, together they tracked a killer with the same ardour that they stalked each other. While Kris yearned for justice, Max sought to restore harmony to his nation only to expose the passions of a woman who was more than his match.

• Language: English
• Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers Australia
• Release date: Jul 1, 2012
• ISBN: 9781460815694

Aimée Thurlo

David and Aimee Thurlo are award-winning authors who, together, wrote romantic suspense for Harlequin Intrigue until Aimee’s passing in 2014. David continues to write and maintain their web site at http://www.aimeeanddavidthurlo.com. The Thurlo novels have been translated into a dozen languages and are available worldwide.

Book preview

Prologue

Max Natoni joined the circle of men gathered inside the cave of secrets. The red sandstone walls that surrounded them held the echoes of tradition and honor. It was that core of strength that had sustained the Brotherhood of Warriors under all circumstances.

The pungent scent of piñon from the small campfire in the center of the chamber filled the air, and the flames cast fleeting shadows on the faces of those gathered there. He could see loyalty and courage—their life’s blood—indelibly etched on the features of each man present.

Max knew most of those gathered around the fire only by their code names—the only form of identification that would be used tonight. He’d be addressed as Thunder, the name given to him by Hastiin Bigodii, the medicine man who currently served as their leader.

The Brotherhood of Warriors, established during the time of Kit Carson, was an impenetrable line of defense that stood between the tribe and its enemies. This elite force worked in the shadows—rarely seen but always felt. It existed so that the Diné, the Navajo people, could walk in beauty.

Much was demanded of anyone wanting to join their ranks. They’d undergo trials meant to break all but the strongest. Most ultimately failed. In the end, only the best of the best remained and earned the right to join the Brotherhood of Warriors.

Though he was staring at the fire, Max could feel Hastiin Bigodii’s gaze on him.

Thunder, Hastiin Bigodii said at last, you’re named for Yellow Thunder, who had the power to find things. You, too, have that gift, though you still haven’t accepted it and learned how to use your ability.

Max started to argue, then clamped his mouth shut. He was a man who relied on facts. Logic was the only foundation he trusted. That’s why he’d become a police officer, and later a detective, for an Anglo department outside the Rez.

Then the unimaginable had happened.

After that, Max had been forced to carve out a new life for himself. The land between the sacred mountains, the Rez, was his home now, and the men around him were his brothers in every way that counted. He wouldn’t fail them.

"I am the man for this job, Max said. John Harris, the ex-detective from the Farmington Police, betrayed us. Though my partner paid with her life, she also made sure Harris didn’t find what he tried to steal—the tribe’s platinum. I know the way my partner thinks—thought—and can figure out where she hid it. He released a deep breath. She and I worked together as police officers for many years. That makes me the logical choice for this assignment. I ask the Brotherhood to give me a chance to complete what we started. Let me restore the harmony and balance, the hózhg."

Pride—and revenge—that’s what’s really driving you, isn’t it? The challenge came from a warrior known as Wind. Although Max and he were also first cousins, here, they were bound by something deeper than kinship—an unqualified allegiance to the Brotherhood of Warriors.

It’s more than that, Max replied firmly. "My partner died defending that platinum, but now her reputation’s in question. Too many are convinced that she was involved in the theft, even though she forfeited her life protecting that shipment. Her sacrifice cries out for justice."

You’re too personally involved. That’ll decrease your effectiveness. She was a well-paid courier who was hired to deliver the platinum our tribe purchased. That’s all, another warrior he knew only as Smoke said, his voice a mere whisper. She knew the risks.

Max looked at Hastiin Bigodii. In Navajo, the words simply meant man with the bad knee. But his real name had power and would never be used lightly.

I can fix this—I can right what went wrong, Max said in an even stronger voice.

It’s your gift—what brought you back here to us, Stargazer. That may, in the end, prove invaluable, Hastiin Bigodii said quietly, adjusting a piece of pine at the edge of the fire.

Max didn’t answer. Gift? He had many words for it, but that had sure never been one of them.

But you haven’t developed your abilities, and without that… Hastiin Bigodii added, leaving the sentence hanging.

As you yourself have admitted on many occasions, Smoke pressed, your abilities as a stargazer are questionable. Under the circumstances it’s not much of an advantage. You’re also saddled with personal baggage that could interfere with what you have to do. Someone with no ties to this case may be a better choice.

Smoke was lean and built for speed. Once during training, Max had seen him take down three of the Brotherhood’s top fighters in a move so quick no one had even seen it coming. Max knew Smoke wanted the case, but this one was his.

My connection to my partner’s family will open doors that’ll remain closed to anyone else, Max insisted.

I’ll be seeing my partner’s sister soon. She may not know me personally, but she’s heard about me from her sister for years. That’ll help foster trust between us. She’s an asset I can use to help me do what needs to be done.

Silence settled over all the ones gathered there. At long last Hastiin Bigodii spoke. "Thunder, you are my choice. The insurance companies will take their time responding to the Tribal claim, and without the jewelry sales that platinum represents, our craftsmen will go hungry this winter. The tribe can’t afford to wait. Though his voice dropped to a whisper, his words reverberated with conviction. It’s time for us to get to work. You’ll have the full support of the Brotherhood behind you."

As the warriors left the chamber, Max hung back, knowing Hastiin Bigodii would have some final words for him.

Hastiin Bigodii remained seated next to the fire and across from Max. He didn’t speak again until they were alone.

"Your jish," Hastiin Bigodii said, pointing Navajo-style with his lips to the medicine bundle at Max’s waist. Is the crystal there along with the other items I gave you?

Yes. I’ve also made sure the crystal is well coated in the pollen you gathered for me.

Hastiin Bigodii nodded in approval. "Keep the jish with you at all times and under all circumstances. During the time of the beginning, a crystal was placed in the mouths of our people so that their spoken words would come true. Pollen represents safety and well-being. Together, they become a prayer that’ll draw those blessings to you."

It’s a powerful gift. Thank you, Max said with a nod.

Hastiin Bigodii said nothing for several long moments, then at long last spoke again. Remember one thing. Your greatest strength is inside you. Honor who and what you are, and everything else will fall into place.

Max knew what he was referring to and felt obliged to point out a hard truth. I’ve tried crystal gazing several times to find the answers we need, but nothing’s come to me. Maybe I don’t have the ability anymore…if I ever really did, that is.

"The missing child you found owes his life to your gift. What you did back then was not a product of logic and you know it," Hastiin Bigodii answered. Let go—trust that there’s more to life than what the eyes can see. In your heart you already know this.

Max didn’t meet his gaze. To do so would have been seen as a sign of great disrespect. The mind works better when the heart is kept out of the equation.

Hastiin Bigodii smiled, but said nothing as he stood and left.

Though Max had found the elder’s reaction unsettling, he refused to dwell on it now. He had a job to finish.

Max smothered the burning embers with a bucket of sand left for that purpose, and departed the cave shortly thereafter. With the fading glow of the moon to show him the way, he climbed down the ladder to the piñon juniper forest below.

Clouds covered the blue-black sky and, as he reached the ground, thunder shook the earth beneath his feet. Max glanced at the growing storm clouds above him. Their anger mirrored his own. Sound and fury would be his soul’s dark companions as he searched for answers in the days ahead.

Chapter One

Kris Reynolds adjusted her baseball cap, protecting her light brown eyes with the bill, and continued repotting a Great Basin Sage into a larger decorative pot.

She loved working with growing things—plants that would add character to any garden or household and give their new owners pleasure for years to come. It was part of the reason she’d opened Smiling Cactus Nursery, a place where she’d be sharing gardener’s tips instead of survival tactics.

Though she’d served her hitch as a marine in a supposedly noncombat role, she’d seen more than her share of violence. She’d come home eager to find peace, and a healing of those wartime memories, but fate had stepped in and more tragedy had followed. Only a few days after her return, her only sister had been murdered. Death had been waiting by the roadside again just as it had been so often overseas. But there was one big difference. This time it was personal.

Thinking of Tina filled her with a familiar heaviness of spirit, and she swallowed quickly, hoping to stem the tears that usually followed. Tina had been her best friend, not just her sister. Kris could feel her absence every second of the day.

You’re thinking of Tina again, aren’t you? Maria Lucero observed, seeing Kris adjusting the gold four-leaf clover pendant that hung around her neck. On each leaf was a single letter—one side spelled Kris, the other, Tina.

Kris sighed. She missed Tina so much. Looking at her assistant, she nodded. "I can’t believe she’s really gone. What makes it even harder is that I still don’t know why Tina died. The police won’t tell me anything, except that she was on a courier run and on her way to the Rez from Arizona."

You’ll get the information out of them eventually, Maria said somberly. It’s not in your nature to give up.

Kris smiled. It’s the Marine in me. We never surrender.

But, remember, you’re not in the Corps anymore, Maria said softly.

Kris smiled. Once you earn the title Marine, it’s yours for life.

It was that discipline that would sustain her now. Before she was through, she’d know exactly why her sister had died. And if Tina had left unfinished business, she’d see it done as well. It would be her way of honoring her sister’s memory.

Kris looked around her nursery for the umpteenth time. Her heart was home, and through this nursery she’d learn to welcome each new day again. But first there was one more duty to fulfill.

MAX PARKED IN FRONT of the Smiling Cactus Nursery and walked toward the open greenhouse door. As he stepped inside, he suddenly bumped into someone coming out, a woman wearing a baseball cap and shouldering a large plastic bag of potting soil.

As she fell back, the woman lost her grip on her bag and it came crashing down on top of his foot.

Sorry, she said quickly, bending over to pick up the bag.

Unfortunately, he bent down at the same time and their heads collided with a resounding thud.

My fault, sir, I’m so sorry! How about a ten-percent discount on anything you buy today? she added, checking the bag for holes.

Stepping back to avoid another bump and rubbing his forehead, he took a closer look at the woman’s face. It’s you, isn’t it? Kris Reynolds?

As her gaze went up to his face, recognition flashed in her eyes. Max Natoni? I went to see you at the hospital, but you were pretty much out of it at the time. How are you feeling?

She was his former partner’s spitting image—or nearly so. Yet where Tina’s honey-brown eyes had been cold and hard—the long-term results of being a police officer—Kris’s were lighter and softer somehow, like the scent of flowers that clung to her. All in all, not what he’d expected from a former marine.

I’m doing much better, thanks, he said at last.

Max reached to pick up the bag, but she was faster. She grabbed it by the corners with perfectly manicured hands, and swung it into a nearby wheelbarrow before he could help. He’d always liked capable women, and Kris was obviously no exception. Her blend of toughness and femininity was an appealing contradiction.

I’ve been hoping for a chance to talk to you, she said. Why don’t we go into my office?

As she led the way, Max saw the huge smiling cactus on the back of her denim work shirt. Prickly but sweet? As his gaze drifted downward, he observed the way she filled out her jeans. The soft curve of her hips, and the way they swayed with each stride certainly held his attention. Definitely sweet—a few thorns never hurt anyone.

THE SECOND THEY ENTERED her small office, Kris stepped around her desk and reached for the bottle of aspirin she kept in her drawer. She offered him two, but he declined.

Kris made herself comfortable in her chair and regarded Max Natoni thoughtfully as he took the seat by the window, shifting it around to face her directly. The dimples that flashed at the corners of his mouth whenever he smiled contrasted with the scar on his left cheek. There was something infinitely masculine about the man…and that killer smile…. It made her heart beat a little faster—something a battalion of jarheads had never quite managed to do.

Irritated with herself for getting soft, she glanced down at her desk. Heatstroke. That’s why her heart was acting weird. Where was that water bottle? Since leaving the Middle East she’d stopped hydrating enough.

I’ve been hoping for the chance to talk to you alone, Max said quietly, slipping his leather jacket off with a shrug and tossing it casually onto the corner coat rack’s hook.

Kris knew that if she wanted to find out what had happened to her sister, Max was the key. Tina respected you, she started, then saw him flinch. Is that a surprise? she asked.

He shook his head. That’s not it. Navajos don’t speak the name of the dead out loud, particularly this soon after their passing.

Kris nodded. I’m sorry. I’d forgotten about that. I meant no disrespect. I know how important it is to cling to your own culture—to the things that define you. She paused, organizing her thoughts. My sister spoke highly of you—and often, too, I should add. That’s why I’m hoping you’ll help me now. I need to know what happened to her. Everyone I’ve spoken to so far, the sheriff’s department, the Farmington police, the Tribal cops, give me the same answer. They’re not free to talk about a case under investigation.

What exactly have they told you so far about the way she died?

I know my sister was working with you and another man—another courier named Harris. Your objective was to protect some tribal assets. From the bits and pieces I overheard at the station, those assets were some kind of jewelry. Now I want the rest of the details.

What led you to think jewelry was involved? Max asked her.

I overheard one of the detectives saying that the missing suitcase is worth over a half-million dollars. Then a few days later an investigator working for a company called Jewelry Outlet, a tall redhead by the name of Bruce Talbot, came by, she said. The man was a pain in the butt. He hung around questioning my employees, and then tried to grill me. From his questions I know he believes that my sister—and I—had something to do with the robbery.

She met his gaze and saw how his dark brown eyes could change at a moment’s notice. Yet it was his air of self-possession that intrigued her most.

I won’t allow that cloud of suspicion to remain over my sister or on me, she continued. "I have every intention of finding out exactly what went down. Then I’m going to prove that my sister’s innocent, and that she died doing her job."

Do you have any background in investigative work?

I have a logical mind and I was an intelligence analyst in the Corps. That’ll be enough. She paused, then continued. "Honor is more than just a word to me. It’s worth dying for."

Your sister gave her life to protect tribal assets. Next time Talbot comes around, send him to me.

I know you work for the tribe. But in what capacity? A courier? Security guard? Judging from his neutral expression and his questions, he’d come with more than a social visit in mind.

He took out his card and handed it to her.

She studied it for a moment. Security. Office of the Navajo Tribal President. That doesn’t tell me much.

I work on the President’s behalf, carrying out whatever assignments come up, he answered, leaning back in his chair and stretching his long legs. I’m an investigator who answers only to the tribe.

She held his gaze. The man was holding back. Instinct and training told her that, and much more. Keeping secrets was second nature to him. His body language attested to his ease with them.

While serving in the military, she’d had to do the same thing. She wondered if Max knew what a toll secrets eventually took on those who guarded them.

Almost as quickly as the thought had formed, she focused back on the situation at hand. Those assets you won’t identify—let’s just call them jewelry for now. Talbot intimated that I might know where they are, so he’s talking conspiracy.

What did you tell him?

"Not much. I, shall we say, escorted him off my property?" She watched his gaze skim over her lips, then drop lower, grazing her neck, and taking in the soft swell of her breasts. The look hadn’t been insolent or disrespectful. It had been…appreciative.

Kris suppressed the shiver that touched her spine. He was playing her. He knew that nature had given him a certain amount of power over the opposite sex and he’d learned to use it. She wouldn’t be taken in.

Back to my sister…what happened? she pressed again. At one point, Talbot had the nerve to suggest that I’d previously met with Harris and that I knew where the stolen merchandise was. She paused. He’s lucky he can still walk upright.

Harris is dead, but he was the key player. He betrayed the tribe, your sister and me, he said, then taking a breath continued. We all set out in the same vehicle with our cargo, Harris driving. Our route took us through Four Corners, and you know how desolate that stretch is. Not long after we passed into New Mexico, he insisted on pulling over. He claimed that there was something wrong with the steering and he wanted to stop and take a look. We all got out and he suddenly pulled a gun on us. He shot me, then fired at your sister as she scrambled out of the backseat. I went down, but managed to return fire and force him back, giving your sister the chance to drive away with the cargo. Unfortunately, her only option was to head down a dirt road, not the highway.

She