Chapter Thirty-Four
After graduating from the Green Beret Qualification—or “Q”—course, an intense, months-long Special Forces training pipeline, and earning his Green Beret, Caleb had moved his mother from the crime infested South Side neighborhood he’d grown up in to a modest one-bedroom apartment in northeast Phoenix.
That was where he took Gia after leaving the FBI office and renting a car at the airport.
The place was nearly empty—only his mother’s bed and dining table remained.
A donation truck would collect them in the morning.
At Caleb’s request, Camila had offered his mother’s friends whatever they wanted.
She’d donated the rest, sending everything important in the box his grandfather had passed along.
Gia stood beside him, just as she had the day of his mother’s funeral, when he’d sworn never to return.
Only he’d stayed.
For Gia.
And in doing so, he’d found love. Reconnected with his family. His roots.
Gia twined her fingers with his. “Do you need more time?”
He shook his head, giving the apartment one final glance. “Let’s go home.”
They made the f ive-hour journey back to the Navajo reservation, winding through the Tonto National Forest. The day was beautiful—sunny and warm, cooling to jacket weather as they climbed into the Colorado Plateau.
One hand on the steering wheel, the other resting on Gia’s denim-clad thigh, Caleb drove while she dozed in the passenger seat. Her hand covered his, thumb grazing his knuckles in a slow rhythm.
By the time they reached Window Rock and continued north, the sun had dipped beneath layers of golden haze, the clouds ablaze with orange fire.
Tomorrow would be busy—he’d arranged a meeting with his grandfather while Gia met with the medical clinic’s director. Then visits to Zach and Jennie.
He reached Gia’s home and parked the rental behind her old SUV.
Gia smiled. “It’s not much, but it’s home.”
The first time she’d said those words, she’d been self-conscious. Now her voice held something different.
Peace. Belonging.
Home.
He liked the sound of it.
Inside, everything was as they’d left it a few days ago—the worn brown sofa, the colorful rugs, the dark wood dining table. Gia’s scent lingered strongest here, that desert floral note that clung to her skin and hair.
She stood in her living room, gaze drifting over the space. “I keep thinking this is a dream. That I’ll wake up and Vincente will still be hunting me.”
She turned, the ghostly remnants of fear clinging to the edges of her expression. “And you were just a fantasy I made up to survive.”
Caleb stepped i n close, brushing his knuckles along her cheek. “If it is a dream, don’t wake me up.”
He kissed her—not so much in hunger, but in release. The moment built slowly, like trust.
When they pulled apart, the shadows of fear had faded, but worry still lingered in Gia’s eyes.
“What if I don’t have a job anymore?”
He tugged her into his arms, kissed the top of her head. “You do.”
She pressed her face to his chest. “How do you know?”
“I just do.”
He trusted his grandfather. And he knew Gia was too valuable to lose. She’d had a long, emotionally draining couple of days. Her mind was spiraling, reaching for worst-case scenarios.
He had just the distraction in mind.
His lips brushed the shell of her ear. Tasted her skin.
She shivered, and his body tightened, the need to mark her as his a primal call in his blood.
“Are you hungry?” she murmured. “I know we had a late lunch on the road but—”
Her voice broke off as he kissed her throat. His hands slid up from her waist to cup her breasts. “Not for food.”
Last night he’d held her while an FBI agent slept in the next room, his need to feel her fall apart beneath him, scream his name, kept on a tight leash.
She was alive. Safe. Her tormenter on a metal slab in the morgue.
Tonight, he’d show Gia exactly what she meant to him.
She moaned, tipping her head back to give him greater access.
He nipped the sensitive skin. Soaked in her breathy moan. Peeled her shirt over her head.
Her bra was plain, flesh-toned
Her body? B reathtaking.
He kissed each breast, inhaling a heady mix of desert flowers and hotel body wash.
She held his head to her chest, fingers delving in this hair.
“Bed.” Her voice was ragged with need.
It went straight to his groin.
Twining his fingers with hers, he led her to her bedroom.
They undressed in haste, too desperate to explore, to build passion that already raged like molten lava.
His fingers shook. This woman wanted him. Loved him.
He dipped between her thighs. Found her slick and ready. Her hips rocked to meet his touch, soft mewls falling from her lips.
“Caleb, I need you. Now.”
A few firm strokes and she shattered.
His own control broke. He positioned himself and thrust.
So tight. Hot.
Her inner walls milked him as her orgasm crested. He soon followed, the tingle spiraling from his toes upward to explode through him, hard and fast, as he poured himself into her, body, heart, and soul.
Gia owned it all.
“I love you,” he groaned, the words dragged from the deepest part of him.
Gia traced his damp skin as he caught his breath. Her voice was soft, eyes clear, the fear haunting them gone.
“I love you, Caleb—I didn’t think I deserved this kind of love.”
He hadn’t either. But now that he had it, he’d fight to keep it with his last breath.
“I’m going to prove you wrong.” He kissed her deeply, tasting her, anchoring himself in her. “Every day. Every night.”
And when he mad e love to her again, he drifted to sleep with her wrapped in his arms, his vow tattooed on his soul.
The next morning, Caleb met his grandfather at the tribal park beneath the Window Rock sandstone arch. The day was bright, the winter air cold but not bitter. He wore his leather jacket over a white Henley and black jeans.
Ben Blackwater stood near the Code Talker monument, dressed in a dark blue suit, traditional beaded necklace over his light blue dress shirt, turquoise and silver jewelry adorning his wrists and fingers. His gaze was fixed on the bronze statue of a kneeling World War II Navajo Marine.
Caleb’s throat tightened. His grandfather was a man of honor. A leader. He saw that now. And, at long last, he was proud to be his grandson.
He walked up the path. Nodded to the security detail.
“Grandfather.”
Ben turned. “Grandson.” He patted Caleb’s shoulder. “Walk with me.”
They strolled the paved circular path of Tribal Park, passing beneath angled steel sculptures that honored Navajo war veterans.
“Have you seen your cousin?” Ben asked.
“Not yet. Gia and I plan to visit him this afternoon.” Caleb paused. “What about…the situation at Old Joe’s place?”
His grandfather’s gaze lifted to the sandstone arch. “Chief Nez interviewed everyone. His official report states you and Zach were lured there by a f alse lead and ambushed. You acted to save Jennie and prevent Gia’s abduction.”
Two women walking along the path greeted Ben as they passed. Caleb nodded respectfully.
“Of course,” Ben continued, “the FBI could still open their own investigation.”
“They won’t,” Caleb said. “They’ve got bigger problems than two dead cartel soldiers.”
“Hmm.” Ben sighed. “After this, I may have to endorse the chief for president when my term ends.”
Caleb’s lips curled.
Politics were the same everywhere.
“So, this cartel leader who was after Gia—is he dead?” Ben asked.
“Yes. And Espina Negra has no further interest in her.”
Caleb squinted into the sun, then glanced at his grandfather, an uncharacteristic flutter of nerves striking him. “Which means Gia’s presence isn’t a threat to the Navajo. She’d like to stay.”
“We need her,” Ben answered without hesitation. “I’ll speak to the medical director.”
They stopped walking. Ben’s gaze turned warm, holding a flicker of hope. “And you, Grandson?”
Caleb’s throat swelled. The past couldn’t be undone, but it didn’t have to define his future.
“I’d like to stay, too.”
Ben’s expression remained neutral, though Caleb swore the elder’s eyes misted. “I’m glad.”
“I’m sorry, Grandfather.” Caleb’s apology had layers to it. “I read Mom’s journals. I understand now.”
Silence.
Then, “I shou ld have tried harder.” The sadness in Ben’s voice—and on his face—finally pushed Caleb to acknowledge his grandfather’s pain.
“You did the best you could. So did she.”
“And so did you.” Ben’s voice was gruff. “I’m proud of the man you’ve become.”
His grandfather’s praise hit a part of him long buried.
Caleb blinked back sudden tears.
Ben gestured to the silver and turquoise bracelet peeking from beneath Caleb’s sleeve.
“I gave that one to Lillie.” He smiled. “I have others, when you’re ready.”
They’d come full circle, back to the Code Talker monument.
“I have duties to attend to,” Ben said. “Perhaps we can have dinner together soon?”
“I’d like that.” Caleb turned to go.
“Grandson,” his grandfather called.
He looked back.
“Welcome home.”
His throat too tight to speak, Caleb simply nodded.