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Gia’s fear came wrapped in secrets.
And now that he’d confirmed Manuel Ortega’s ties to Espina Negra, he needed answers.
Protecting her served a purpose now—finding out who was responsible for his mother’s death.
Bullshit.
If that were all it was, he wouldn’t notice every time her hands trembled, or her breath hitched. Wouldn’t dream of her scent or the way she tasted when he kissed her.
If she were just a means to an end, he wouldn’t have the urge to bury Vincente Garcia in a remote desert canyon every time fear darkened Gia’s eyes, or she glanced over her shoulder.
No, this was personal now. In more ways than one.
And that was dangerous.
His muscles began to loosen as they drove deeper into the rez. The medical clinic sat tucked in a sparsely populated valley, far enough off the highway that outsiders wouldn’t go unnoticed.
“There’s the clinic. Up ahead.” Gia pointed to a single-story metal building with a ramp leading up to glass doors.
Caleb parked in a space marked for staff and glanced down at his black suit trousers—the only pair he’d packed that weren’t jeans. “As far as your coworkers are concerned, I’m staying a few days to reconnect with family and offered to help out at the clinic given you’re short-staffed.”
His white dress shirt still looked passably clean. He’d packed light, because he hadn’t planned on sticking around. “I’m a trained Army medic.”
She pivoted to stare at him. “Army medic, huh? You neglected to mention that.”
He shrugged. “Special Forces train for a lot of roles. And it’s a decent explanation for my presence—keep people from asking questions.”
“So many layers to you, Caleb Varella,” Gia murmured, stepping from the Jeep.
Inside, a middle-aged Diné woman with short, black hair and oval, rose-tinted glasses greeted them from behind the white reception counter.
“Morning, Susan.” Gia greeted her warmly. She indicated Caleb. “This is Caleb Varella, President Blackwater’s grandson. He’s volunteering at the clinic for a few days.”
Susan’s eyes lit with curiosity. “Yá’át’ééh,Caleb. It’s been a long time since you’ve been home. I’m sorry about your mother.”
He kept his expression politely neutral. “Yá’át’ééh, Susan. Thank you.”
“There you are!” A slender woman in blue scrubs hurried toward them, her long dark braid swinging.
She wrapped Gia in a hug—one Gia didn’t flinch from. “I heard what happened the other night at Lucero’s. I’m glad you’re okay.”
A friend, then.
Gia’s face tightened. “Word travels fast, huh, Jennie? This is Caleb Varella.”
“So, you’re the long-lost grandson.” Jennie Tsosie, RN, according to her badge, offered her hand with a friendly smile. “Nice to meet you.”
Shorter than Gia by an inch, she had high cheekbones and long lashes over expressive brown eyes that studied him with open curiosity.
“Not lost.” He held her fingers gently before letting go. “Just not here.”
Gia was right. Despite the vastness of the reservation, gossip rode the wind.
“Jennie’s my head nurse and a good friend,” Gia said.
“Galina Wauneka’s back, room one.” Jennie handed Gia a clipboard. “Her arthritis is flaring again.”
Gia skimmed the chart. “Is she following the anti-inflammatory diet I recommended?”