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He’d had to fill Nathan in—about the ambush, the cartel connection, and the job in New York he wouldn’t be able to take now.
The conversation replayed in his head.
“I made friends in all the wrong places. Got ambushed between Gallup and the rez this morning.”
Nathan let out a string of low curses. “Garcia? Or should I say… Lopez?”
“The men who tried to abduct Gia. And they brought friends. Local muscle. Probably part of the biker crew Espina Negra’s using to move fentanyl through the area.” Caleb grimaced. “I may have stirred up some shit between Lopez and his new business partners using that rumor about Los Coyotes moving north. And I sent him a message through his errand boys to stay the hell away from Gia.”
He braced for the lecture.
Instead, a low rumble, then a snort, and finally—outright laughter.
Caleb scowled at his phone.
What the fuck?
Nathan was still chuckling when Caleb brought it back to his ear.
“Welcome to the club, amigo. I cannot wait to tell Lachlan this one.”
“What club?”
“The stupid-shit-we-do-for-the-women-we-love club. When’s the wedding?”
Love.
The word hit Caleb like a sucker punch.
“That’s not what’s going on here,” he snapped.
But the word stuck. Burrowed in.
Caleb shoved the thought away. “Just find me a safe house.”
Zach’s voice cut through the memory, sharp with irritation. “Grandfather called me. He already heard about what happened. I’m sure he’s not pleased the police chief was the one to tellhim and not us.”
“We’ve been a little busy.” Caleb followed his cousin outside to the cruiser.
Zach slid into the Tahoe and rested his arm on the steering wheel. His gaze appraised Caleb. “This attack on you changes things. Grandfather wants to know what you plan to do next.”
“I’m here until this thing with Lopez is finished.”
“And after that?”
Caleb glanced behind him at the clinic. “After that will depend on Gia. What she wants.”
“Don’t break her heart.” Zach’s jaw tightened. “She doesn’t deserve that.”
Caleb held his cousin’s stare. “I won’t.”
An older-model Toyota four-door turned into the clinic. Caleb and Zach went still, their eyes on the occupants.
A Diné woman in her forties stepped from the driver’s seat and walked around to help an elderly man from the passenger seat.
Caleb trotted to the clinic’s glass entrance door and held it open for them before returning to his conversation with Zach.
“Get Gia’s name and photo scrubbed from the clinic’s website and black out her address in any public Navajo Nation records,” he told his cousin. “I’ll ask Nathan to scrub any identifying information he finds on the internet.”