Chapter Fourteen #2
Caleb stepped inside and shrugged off his leather jacket.
The layout was traditional, but the interior contained modern amenities.
He made a slow clockwise circuit—past a square pine dining table, a galley kitchen, a walled in bathroom, Zach’s bed covered with a red and blue Navajo wool blanket, and a brown cowhide sofa.
At the open center, a black wood-burning stove radiated warmth.
“Nice place.”
Zach chuckled. “I see you remember Grandmother’s rules about entering a Diné home.”
Caleb smiled faintly. He hadn’t given it conscious thought. Patricia Blackwater had been determined to teach her grandchildren the old ways. “Maybe I’m afraid she’ll come to me in a dream and scold me.”
“Coffee?” Zach pointed to the percolator on the stove. “Mugs are top left cabinet.”
“Thanks.” Caleb draped his jacket over a chair and retrieved two mugs. “You want one?”
“ Ahéhee’ .” Zach pulled on his uniform top and tied back his hair.
The percolator hissed. Caleb poured the coffee and handed over a mug.
“Oatmeal should be ready,” Zach said. “Want some?”
As if on cue, Caleb’s stomach growled. “If it’s not too much trouble.”
Zach scooped generous portions of creamy white porridge into two bowls and set one in front of Caleb with a spoon. “Did you come to tell me you were leaving?”
Caleb looked up, a retort on his lips, but paused at the twinkle in Zach’s eyes.
Progress, of sorts. Yesterday, his cousin might have given him a police escort off the rez.
He quirked a brow and let his own amusement show. “Trying to get rid of me, Cousin?”
Zach sobered, his eyes taking on a distant quality. “Remember the year before Grandmother died—when Grandfather took us to the Navajo Fair? ”
“I remember.” Caleb’s lips twitched. “We talked him into buying us cowboy hats, then tried roping sheep.”
“We sucked at it.” Zach chuckled. “But it was a good day.”
“Until we ate too much fry bread and candy,” Caleb reminded him. “We spent the night at their house on the floor with a bucket between us, whimpering like babies.”
They shared a quiet laugh.
Caleb’s chest tightened. Somehow, he’d buried those good memories.
Zach looked down at his bowl, then back up. “You should take time to reconnect with your people while you’re here.” He looked away, as if the display of sentiment embarrassed him. “What brings you to my home at sunrise?”
Caleb set down his spoon. “I had my colleague at Dìleas dig into Gia’s ex.” He paused. “And Gia.”
A muscle twitched in Zach’s jaw, a silent protest building. “And?”
“Her ex is Vincente Lopez. Son of El Víbora . Head of the Espina Negra cartel.”
Zach blew out a harsh breath. “Hell.”
Caleb shifted, the oatmeal sitting heavy in his stomach. “Yeah. She’s not the innocent we thought. But,” he lifted a hand, “I’m not saying she isn’t afraid. Or undeserving of protection.”
His cousin wouldn’t like what came next.
“There’s more. I tracked down Manuel Ortega and his sidekick the other night.”
Zach’s mug hit the table, coffee sloshing over the rim. “What the hell were you thinking?”
The censure in Zach’s voice hit a nerve, but Caleb deserved it.
“Espina Negra’s using the Aztec Kings to expand their fentanyl distribution.” His training emphasized being part of a unit. A team. He’d let anger drive him—anger and grief. “Ortega knew my father. Might’ve given my mother the pills that killed her. Or he knows who did.”
The memory of that call from Camila cut through him.
Caleb, I’m so sorry. Your mother…she’s gone.
His hands curled into fists beneath the table. He shoved his emotions in a mental box and slammed the lid. What he was about to propose required a clear head.
He’d had all night to think about Gia’s lies. About the lives Vincente Lopez destroyed as he lived the high life in Miami.
“We could deal a serious blow to the cartel if we take down Lopez.” Even as the words left his mouth, his gut twisted.
A heavy silence blanketed the room.
Storm clouds gathered behind Zach’s eyes. “How do you propose we do that?”
“ He wants Gia back.”
“Fuck.” Zach shot to his feet. Circled the small space with restrained fury, then came back to face Caleb head on. “Is that all she is to you? A mission objective? You planning to use her as bait and hope she survives?”
“That’s not fair.” Caleb shot back, then winced at the defensiveness in his tone. “She’ll never be safe until Lopez is in prison or dead. You know that.”
Using Gia to draw out Lopez felt too damn close to crossing a line that would leave a permanent black mark on his soul. She’d already sacrificed so much simply to survive. If he lost sight of that, he was no better than the man she was running from.
He rubbed the tension in his neck. His argument was sound, even if it left a taste like ash in his mouth. “I can help her start over, but she’ll always be running unless we stop him here, where we have the upper hand.”
“Have you discussed this with Gia?”
“Yes.” He should tell Zach everything—what Nathan had found, what Gia had confessed. But something held him back. “She’s…hesitant.”
More than hesitant. Terrified.
A slow tilt of Zach’s head, and Caleb found himself pinned by a stare sharp enough to draw blood. “Why come to me?”
“She trusts you. Considers you a friend. Maybe she’ll listen if you back me up.”
Zach scoffed. “A friend.” His jaw set. “What does she consider you?”
Caleb looked down, remembering Gia’s soft lips, her whispered plea. The quiet betrayal in her eyes when she’d realized his plan. It had felt like a dagger to his heart.
And his conscience.
“Someone who won’t be around long enough to matter.”
The job in New York waited. And after that, the next job.
He carried his mug and bowl to the sink. “Thanks for breakfast.”
At the door, Zach called after him, “I won’t agree unless Gia does.”
Caleb turned. “If she still wants to leave, I’ll relocate her myself. Somewhere safe.”
He’d be frustrated as hell, but he’d do it. As long as she didn’t practice medicine, Nathan could bury her identity deep enough that not even the cartel would find her.
But at what cost? She’d never again be able to do what she clearly loved—use her medical skills to help people.
And he’d never see her again.
“And Grandfather?” Zach asked .
Caleb’s spine stiffened. “Did you know he showed up for dinner at Gia’s last night?” His mouth twisted. “Funny, I didn’t get the memo he was coming when she invited me.”
And what he’d shown Caleb. The rehab papers.
Caleb was still processing that.
“No. But he wants to know you.” Zach held his stare. “Give him a chance.”
A chance to be a family.
“Why did you never reach out to me after I left?” The question burst from Caleb, or rather the boy inside Caleb who’d missed his cousin desperately.
Surprise flared in Zach’s eyes. “I did. I wrote you letters. Why didn’t you ever respond?”
Caleb frowned. “I never got any letters. I wrote some to you, too.”
“I never got them.”
They stared at each other, the past an arroyo still too wide to jump over.
Caleb shook his head, a silent dismissal of a wound deeper than any he’d received in combat, and stepped outside.
Every answer only raised more questions—and distracted him from his new mission.
Bring down Vincente Lopez.
For that, he’d kiss his grandfather’s ring if he had to.
But first, Gia had to say yes.