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Rider on Fire & When You Call My Name: Rider on Fire / When You Call My Name - Шарон Сала - Читать любовный роман онлайн в женской библиотеке LadyLib.Net
Rider on Fire & When You Call My Name: Rider on Fire / When You Call My Name - Шарон Сала - Скачать любовный роман в женской библиотеке LadyLib.Net
Сала Шарон
Rider on Fire & When You Call My Name: Rider on Fire / When You Call My Name
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Chapter 7
Sonora spent the rest of the evening in a daze. It was difficult to wrap her mind around the fact that she not only had a father, but that she was actually in his house. While the premise was far-fetched and almost too good to be true, whatever doubts she might have had about being his daughter ended the moment she’d seen her grandmother’s picture.
Thinking about how she got here could make her crazy if she dwelled on it, so she didn’t. For a woman who’d spent all of her adult life dealing in truth and facts, accepting the notion of being guided by what amounted to ghosts seemed ridiculous. Still, however it had happened, she was grateful to be here.
And Franklin, who was normally shy and reticent toward strangers, was struggling to give her space. The last thing he wanted was to scare her off, but he felt a constant need to be with her. With his life span already limited, he was resentful that their time together was destined to be short.
So, while they wrestled to find comfort with each other, the thunderstorm that threatened earlier had come full force. Sonora and Franklin ate their evening meal with an accompaniment of thunder and lightning, then washed dishes with rain splattering against the windows. After that, Franklin had taken her on a tour of the house, only to have it interrupted by a power failure. Sonora had embarrassed herself by panicking when the lights had gone out. By the time Franklin found flashlights and lit a few candles, the power was on.
Now they sat in front of a television without paying any attention to the programming, trying to find points of connection between their separate lives.
Sonora was fascinated with his artistic skills and was going through a photo album that represented a complete set of his work once he’d turned a hobby into a profession. She was in awe of where he’d been, and the heads of states he’d met in faraway countries.
Franklin, on the other hand, was trying to hide his dismay at the profession his only child had chosen.
“So, when did you begin working with the DEA?” he asked.
Sonora turned a page in the album, then looked up.
“It seems like forever, but I guess it’s been about seven or eight years now. I had just turned twenty-one. I’m twenty-nine now. I’ll be thirty in September.”
Franklin’s nostrils flared. It was the only indication he gave of realizing there was another slot to be filled.
“Your birthday,” he said softly.
Sonora nodded, then stopped.
“Oh. Yes. Another gap in our knowledge of each other, which I can quickly fix. My birthday is September 12. I’m five feet ten inches tall in my bare feet. I wear a size ten in clothes, and I love chocolate.”
He tried to smile and hugged her, thankful that she was trying to make light of the vast gap between them, because the truth of it broke his heart.
“You are tall, like me,” he said. “Your mother, Leila, was a small woman, but she had a big laugh.” His smile faded. “It was the first thing I loved about her.” Then he shook his head. “But that’s for another time. I was born on June 4 in a storm cellar while a tornado blew away the house that was here. This is the one they built to replace it, so it is the only home I’ve ever known.”
Sonora nodded as she listened to him talk, but she wasn’t listening as intently as she should have been. Instead, she was marking the way his left eyebrow arched as he told something funny, noticing his slim hands and long fingers, hands of an artist. His skin was darker than hers, but not by much, and she suspected part of the washed-out color of his skin was due to his illness. She thought of seeing him unconscious on the floor and not knowing the connection between them, and how blessed she was to be sitting here now.
Then she thought of Adam coming to his rescue.
“Tell me about Adam Two Eagles,” she said.
Franklin had sensed what seemed to be interest between the two and could only hope something came of it.
“His father was my best friend,” he said. “His mother was a distant cousin on my mother’s side.”
“We’re related?” she asked, unaware that she was frowning.
This time, Franklin allowed himself a grin. “Only in the most distant sense of the word. Probably what would amount to a sixth or seventh cousin.”
“Oh. Well. That hardly counts, does it?”
Franklin’s grin spread. “Definitely does not count.”
Sonora realized he was having fun at her expense and made a face at him. “It’s not what you think. I was asking only because I would want to know of any relatives.”
Franklin sighed, and then took her hand in his. “I’m afraid, when it comes to close family, we’re it.” Then Franklin shifted gears to Sonora’s life. “Have you ever been married?”
“No.” She thought of Buddy and smiled. “Not even close, although I’ve had a couple of relationships and gotten a good friend from one of them.”
“Friends are good,” Franklin said.
Sonora thought of the dream she’d had of Adam, of the whisper of his breath on the back of her neck and the challenge he’d given her right before she’d awakened.
“Come to me,” he’d said.
And she would have done it—willingly. However, faced with the real man and not one out of some dream, she was far more discerning. As intriguing as he was—as handsome and compelling as he was—he was still a stranger.
Unaware of the places her mind had taken her, Franklin had shifted a few mental gears of his own.
“In the morning, I’ll show you the boundaries of our land,” Franklin said.
Sonora was so taken aback by the fact that he’d referred to the property as “ours” that she could hardly speak. Still, she felt a need to slow him down from committing to things he might later come to regret.
“Franklin…wait. Please. You don’t need to do this,” she said.
“Do what?” Franklin asked.
“Include me in your life so quickly. It’s not ‘our’ land, it’s yours.”
Franklin frowned, then shook his head.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” he said. “Everything I do these days is done quickly. I don’t have the luxury of assuming there will be a tomorrow. And knowing you exist and that you are of my flesh is a joy you don’t understand. To the Native American, family is everything, and my family has lived in this area for generations. The last four generations are buried here, and until your arrival, that heritage was going to end with my death. Now I can die with peace. Even if you choose not to live here, it will always be yours, and hopefully, the generations that come after.”
Sonora was too moved to speak. All she managed to do was nod and then look away.
Franklin sighed. “I did not mean to upset you, but these are things you must know.”
Sonora’s voice was shaking, but she looked him square in the eyes. “And by the same token, you cannot know what this means to me. I have lived twenty-nine years without belonging anywhere or to anyone. Now to have been given both at the same time is almost more than I can comprehend. I’m not upset. I’m overwhelmed.”
Franklin relaxed, then patted her hand. “Then this is good, yes?”
Sonora sighed. “Yes, this is good.”
“So…would you mind very much if, from time to time, I called you daughter?”
Sonora blinked away tears. “I would be honored. And for the same reasons, it would be wonderful to know I could call you Dad.”
There was a time in Franklin’s life when he would have hesitated to let someone see him cry, but that time had long since passed. His eyes filled with tears as he took her in his arms and held her.
They might have stayed there longer, but Sonora felt his body trembling and knew it was from fatigue. Without calling attention to his weakness, she claimed exhaustion on her own.
“I hate to be the party pooper, but this has been a long day. If you don’t mind, I think I’d like to go to bed.”
“Of course,” Franklin said, and got up as she stood.
“So…you invited Adam for breakfast, didn’t you?”
Franklin grinned.
“Quit that,” she muttered. “I’m just asking so I won’t oversleep. That would be rude.”
“Oh, definitely, that would be rude,” Franklin said, and then they both laughed out loud. “He’ll probably show up around nine. He knows I don’t get up as early as I used to.”
“I’m a pretty good cook,” Sonora said. “If you show me where stuff is, I’d love to make the meal.”
Franklin took a slow breath, and then touched her face with the back of his hand. “And I would love to eat your cooking,” he said, then puffed out his chest in an exaggerated manner. “My daughter cooks for me tomorrow. If someone had told me I would be saying these words tonight, I would have called them crazy.”
“So it’s a deal?” Sonora asked, and held out her hand.
Franklin shook it. “It’s a deal,” he said.
Sonora nodded and started to leave the room, then she paused and looked back.
Franklin was watching her go.
She bit her lip, then took a slow breath. Revealing her vulnerability was more difficult than she’d imagined it would be. Still, she’d waited a lifetime to say these words and she wasn’t going to cheat herself out of the opportunity because she was afraid.
“Night… Dad.”
Franklin smiled.
“Good night…daughter. Sleep well.”
Soon the house went dark, and both father and daughter slept with a peace in their hearts they’d never known before.
* * *
Adam, on the other hand, didn’t get much sleep. His dreams were troubled with a faceless enemy stalking Franklin’s daughter. Finally, he woke up in a sweat, and abandoned his bed for the swing on his front porch.
The air was cooler and rain washed. Bullfrogs sang from the overflowing creek while their tinier cousins, the tree frogs, contributed to the chorus. The quarter moon hung low in the sky, shyly showing its face from behind the swiftly moving clouds.
Adam walked to the edge of the steps and then looked up, inhaling deeply as he combed his fingers through his hair.
There was a power in the dark that daylight didn’t share. He’d known it since childhood, and it had saved his life more than once during his years with the military. Night was a shield for those who needed it, and kept secrets better than a best friend ever could. It protected but at the same time left the weak more vulnerable.
Adam thought about the creek running out its banks down the hill below. If it wasn’t for the copperheads between him and the water, he’d chance a midnight dip. However, his foolish days were long gone, and he would gladly settle for a cold shower.
He was about to go back inside when he heard a coyote yip. Within seconds, another answered, and then another and another, until the night was alive with their calls. He smiled. It was one of the sounds of the Kiamichi Mountains that he loved most.
He thought of the years he’d spent in foreign countries, living his life for the American government instead of for himself, and said a quiet prayer of thanks that he’d lived to make it home.
He stood on the porch and gave the coyotes their due by waiting until the chorus had ended.
“Good job, boys,” he said softly, then started into the house. He was crossing the threshold when his cat, Charlie, slipped between his legs and darted beneath a chair.
He closed the door, then got down on his hands and knees and grinned at the cat who was peering at him from beneath the small space.
“What’s wrong, old man? Coyotes make you a little nervous?”
“Rowrrr.”
“I feel your pain,” Adam said.
“Rrrpp?”
“Yeah, sure…why not?” Adam said. “I don’t have anyone else fighting you for the space.”
Since he’d been given permission, Charlie abandoned the space beneath the chair for a spot at the foot of Adam’s bed.
Both males were soon sound asleep, taking comfort in the knowledge that, for tonight, they were not alone.
* * *
Miguel Garcia was in Amarillo, Texas, pacing the room of his motel with his cell phone up to his ear. He’d trailed Sonora Jordan this far and then had lost her. At this point, he knew he needed help, and had been trying to contact some of his men in Juarez. But no matter who he called, he got no answer. That alone was enough to make him nervous.
And if he’d known the truth, nervous would have been an understatement. He didn’t know that there was already a big upheaval in his organization that had nothing to do with Enrique and Juanito’s absences. He didn’t know that Jorge was moving in on territory that had been under Garcia control for years. And, he didn’t know that Jorge had given the DEA the description and tag number of the car Miguel was driving. Miguel thought he was the hunter, but in truth, he was also the prey.
* * *
Gerald Mynton was beside himself with frustration. Twice he’d missed phone calls from Sonora. He didn’t know what she was trying to pull, dropping out of sight like this without staying in touch.
Yes, he knew he’d told her to get lost. But he hadn’t expected her to actually do it. As far as he knew, she was in imminent danger and he had no way of warning her about it. So, in order to offset the chance that they might miss connecting again, he was having all of his calls, both personal and professional, forwarded to his cell phone. No matter what time of day or night a call came in, he would get it. With this small assurance set in place, Mynton finally gave up and went to bed. And while he wasn’t a praying kind of man, he still said a prayer of safekeeping for Sonora before he could fall asleep.
* * *
Sonora woke abruptly, and for a moment couldn’t remember where she was. Then her gaze fell on the carving of the kitten and the dragonfly and breath caught in her throat.
Home.
She was home.
She glanced at the clock, then her eyes widened. It was already seven-thirty and Adam was coming for breakfast. She flew out of bed and raced into the bathroom. It was the quickest shower she’d ever had. She dressed in a pair of old jeans and a red sleeveless T-shirt, and as an afterthought pocketed her cell phone. Then she pulled her hair up on top of her head, securing it with an elastic band. She started to put on her tennis shoes, then decided against it and left the room in bare feet.
As she started down the hall, she could hear Franklin moving around in his room, so she knew he was up, but she was going to do her own investigating into what was available in the kitchen without bothering him.
Before she started looking in the fridge, she made a big pot of coffee, hoping that the men liked it strong. Soon the enticing aroma of freshly brewing coffee filled the air as she began looking to see what was available to cook.
It was easy to spot the bacon and eggs, and she found half a loaf of bread and two kinds of jelly in the refrigerator, as well. A set of canisters on the cabinet revealed flour and sugar. After digging through the pantry, she found a partially used bag of self-rising flour, a can of vegetable shortening and a small bottle of sorghum molasses. She was in business.
She turned on the oven to preheat, laid her cell phone on the counter out of the way, then dug through the cabinets and drawers until she found the rest of what she needed. It wasn’t long until the smell of baking bread was added to the aromas drifting through the house.
Sonora was frying bacon when she sensed she was no longer alone. She looked up. Franklin was standing in the doorway to the kitchen. She smiled.
“Good morning. How did you sleep?” she asked as he moved toward her.
Franklin touched her shoulder in a gentle, hesitant manner, then kissed the side of her cheek.
Sonora leaned against him for a fraction of a second, then made herself smile when all she wanted to do was cry. This family stuff was harder than she would have thought.
“I slept well,” Franklin said. “And you?”
“Like a baby,” Sonora said. “How are you feeling?”
He shrugged. “Some mornings are better than others.”
She eyed the food she was making. “Does this bother you… I mean, the smells of food cooking? I didn’t think that you might not be—”
Franklin held up a hand to silence her. “It smells wonderful. I will drink some coffee and take my meds and maybe steal a piece of that bacon when it’s done before Adam comes and eats all my food.”
Sonora nodded and made herself smile, but she could tell he wasn’t right. Either he was weak, or in pain, or possibly both. It broke her heart to think that she had just met this wonderful man and might lose him before they got to know each other the way father and daughter should.
She pretended not to notice his hand shaking as he poured coffee into a cup, and she busied herself making gravy when he counted out more than a dozen pills and swallowed them one by one.
Biscuits had just come out of the oven when someone knocked on the front door.
Franklin looked up at the clock and grinned.
“Adam already? It’s barely eight-thirty. I’m thinking he must really be hungry…or something.”
Sonora heard the sarcasm in his voice and laughed in spite of herself. Franklin was obviously a big tease and she may as well face the fact that he wasn’t going to give up alluding to Adam’s interest in her.
“Probably smelled the biscuits,” she said. “Want me to let him in?”
Franklin’s smile widened. “Someone has to. Might as well be you.”
She threw a pot holder at him.
Surprise lit his face as he caught it. This daughter of his had fire in her soul. But he should have known that. No one did what she did for a living without having a large amount of faith in herself. It made him sick at heart to think of her growing up so alone. It was a good thing that she’d had a strong belief in herself, because there had been no one else to do it for her.
He heard Adam’s deep voice, then the sound of Sonora laughing. He smiled. It had been years since such joy had filled this house. His blessing was that he’d lived long enough to hear it.
“Good morning, Franklin,” Adam said as he followed Sonora into the kitchen. Then he eyed the stove and the pan of biscuits. “You outdid yourself this morning, didn’t you?”
Franklin beamed. “I did nothing but oversleep. My daughter has cooked our food this morning.”
Sonora bit her lip to keep it from trembling as she cracked eggs into the hot skillet. This was nothing short of a miracle, and she was frying eggs in this kitchen as if it was no big deal.
“I like mine over easy,” Adam said.
Sonora jumped. She hadn’t known he’d come up behind her.
“How many?” she asked.
“Two, please.”
She grabbed another egg and broke it into the skillet beside the three that were already beginning to cook.
“What about you, Dad? How many eggs for you?”
“Oh…maybe one. My appetite isn’t what it used to be.”
Sonora turned around and frowned at Franklin. His color was ashen, and there was a bead of sweat on his upper lip. She took a piece of bacon from the platter, handed it to him and pointed toward the table.
“Sit.”
Franklin took the bacon and sat without argument. Adam looked startled by Sonora’s perception, and without comment, poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down by Franklin.
Sonora noticed the way Adam cared for Franklin, subtly checking the older man’s pulse, then shaking out two painkillers for him from a bottle in the cabinet. By the time the eggs were done, Franklin appeared to be feeling better.
Sonora carried the plates to the table, then added the biscuits, bacon and jelly. She poured the gravy and refilled the coffee cups, then finally sat down.
Franklin eyed the table, then Adam, then Sonora.
“Today, I am truly blessed,” he said softly. “And so I ask blessings for the food we are about to eat, and for the company of my daughter and my best friend.”
“I am the one who’s honored. Are those biscuits homemade?”
Sonora eyed Franklin, who appeared ready to offer another comment regarding her expertise in a kitchen, and headed him off.
“Yes, and before we get all carried away with praise for the cook, you should know that the eggs are getting cold,” she said.
With that, she passed the biscuits down the table, trying not to appear too pleased when both men took two apiece to start with.
For a few minutes, little was said other than a request for something to be passed. It wasn’t until Franklin was finishing his second biscuit that it occurred to him the food tasted good.
“Sonora, this food is very good,” Franklin said. “Who taught you to cook like this?”
“Betty Crocker.”
Adam grinned.
Franklin’s eyebrow arched.
“The Betty Crocker?”
“The one and only,” Sonora added.
Adam snagged another biscuit, slathered it with butter and jelly, then toasted Sonora with it.
“Then…my compliments to the cook,” he said.
But Franklin wasn’t satisfied.
“You learned to cook like this from a book?”
Sonora shrugged.
“Pretty much. I got tired of eating out all the time, bought myself an old Betty Crocker cookbook from a library sale when I was…oh…probably eighteen or nineteen. After that, it was largely a case of trial and error. I did get a few pointers from an elderly woman who was my neighbor at the time.”
Franklin lifted his head and then stared off into the distance. Sonora could tell that he was troubled, but she didn’t understand.
“What’s wrong? Are you feeling bad again? Maybe you should go lie down for a—”
“I’m sick, but not like you mean. I am sick at heart that you have marked every step in your life alone.”
Sonora got up and put her arms around her father’s neck and hugged him.
“You worry too much,” she said. “I’m fine. I’m strong. And if you’re feeling all that good, you can do dishes.”
Franklin looked startled, then he laughed and pointed at Adam.
“Two Eagles will do the dishes.”
Adam grinned. “It would be my pleasure. However, I hope you know that there’s a house rule about the dishwasher getting to take home the leftovers.”
Sonora frowned.
“There’s nothing left but biscuits.”
“Exactly,” Adam said, and then grabbed the bread plate and headed for the cabinet.
“We will be outside on the back porch for a while,” Franklin said. “When you’ve finished, please join us.”
“Hmmpf? Oh…shurr,” Adam mumbled.
Sonora wasn’t sure, but she thought he’d just stuffed another biscuit in his mouth, then Franklin took her hand and led her outside.
“Let’s sit here,” he said, and pointed to a couple of wicker chairs at the north end of the porch.
They sat. Franklin took a deep breath, folded his hands in his lap and then stared straight into Sonora’s eyes.
“Now we ask questions of each other, and the answers must be honest.”
Before they could start, Sonora heard the familiar ring of her cell phone that she’d left on the cabinet. At the same time, Adam called out.
“Sonora, your phone is ringing.”
“The only person it could be is my boss,” Sonora said. “I’d better get it.”
Adam met her at the door and handed it to her as she came inside.
“Thanks,” she said, glanced at the caller ID, then smiled. “I was right. It’s my boss. This won’t take a minute, okay?”
Franklin nodded, and then leaned back in the chair as Sonora answered.
“Hello.”
Gerald Mynton breathed a huge sigh of relief.
“Thank God,” he muttered. “You’ve been harder to find than the Loch Ness monster.”
Sonora frowned. “What’s wrong?”
Mynton sighed. There was no easy way to say this. “I’m afraid I have some bad news.”
Sonora stilled. “How bad?”
“Your friend Buddy Allen is dead. We think Garcia got to him, trying to find you.”
Sonora moaned. She didn’t know it, but her face had gone white as a sheet.
“What happened to him?” she asked.
“It doesn’t matter how. I don’t know what this means, but before he died, Buddy said to tell you that ‘he didn’t tell’.”
Sonora choked on a sob. Buddy the joker, the life of the party who could never shut up, yet he’d wanted her to know that he didn’t tell Garcia anything about how she’d left town.
She took a deep breath and then made herself calm when all she wanted to do was start screaming. She compromised by shouting. “I asked you a question and I need an answer. What did Garcia do to him?”
Startled by her outburst, Franklin started to get up and go to her, but Adam beat him to it. Adam walked up behind her and put an arm around her waist, just to let her know she wasn’t alone. To his surprise, her legs all but gave way.
“Easy, girl,” Adam said softly. “We’re here for you.”
Sonora’s knuckles were white from the grip she had on the phone and she was struggling to keep focused as she repeated herself one last time. “Please, boss. I have to know.”
Mynton was sick to his stomach to have to be the one to tell her. “He beat him, honey…bad. He beat him real bad.”
She bent over and grabbed her stomach, certain that her breakfast was about to come up.
“Oh, God, oh, God. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have—”
“No, damn it. It’s Miguel Garcia’s fault,” Mynton said. “And just so you know, he’s on your trail.”
Sonora straightened up with a jerk and cast a frantic glance at her father, and then at Adam. What evil had she brought to this beautiful place?
“How? How could he know where I am?” Sonora asked. “Nobody knew. Buddy sure as hell didn’t. Even I didn’t know where I was going and I’ll bet my life I didn’t leave a trail.”
“Well, that’s just it. You are betting your life and I don’t like it. I want you to come in. We’ll put you in protective custody and—”
“No. I will not hide from the bastard. Besides, how do you know he’s following me?”
“He was last seen in Flagstaff. Did you go through there?”
Sonora shuddered.
“Yes, but so what? There are four different ways to leave that city.”
“He’s moving east.”
“Shit.”
Mynton heard her muffled curse.
“I’m sorry.”
“Yeah,” she said, swiping tears from her face even as she pulled herself out of Adam’s arms. “I’m sorry, too, but not nearly as sorry as Garcia is going to be when I find him.”
Mynton nearly dropped the phone. “What the hell do you mean…when you find him?”
“I’m not going to sit here like a Judas goat and let everyone else—”
Adam didn’t know what was happening, but he could tell that it was bad. And he could tell that Sonora was in trouble.
He grabbed her arm and mouthed the words what’s wrong?
She frowned and waved him away.
He grabbed her arm again, and this time, said it out loud.
“What’s wrong?”
Sonora rolled her eyes.
“Boss…hang on just a minute, okay?” Then she turned her pain into anger and lit into Adam. “It’s business, Adam, my business, which means it’s none of yours. I’m a big girl and I can take care of myself.”
“Who’s Buddy?”
Her face crumpled like a used napkin.
“My friend. He is…was…my friend. The man who wants me dead beat him to death, trying to find out where I was.”
Franklin took the phone from Sonora’s hands.
She was so surprised by his actions that she let him do it.
“Excuse me,” Franklin said. “I’m Sonora’s father, and whatever trouble she is in, we will help her deal with it.”
Sonora grabbed the phone away. “Boss! It’s me! Don’t pay any attention to him. I’ll be leaving here as soon as I can pack. I’m not going to have Garcia come looking for me here.”
Mynton was too stunned to follow her conversation.
“I thought you were raised in an orphanage.”
“I was, damn it, but—”
“Then how did you find your father?”
“It’s a long story,” she muttered.
“I don’t know what’s going on there,” Mynton said. “But think a minute. No one knows you have family, so there’s no one to look for. However, if you leave, how are you going to be sure that Garcia doesn’t find them in his quest to look for you?”
“Because I’ll find him first,” she snapped.
“Yeah, well, Buddy Allen might have given you an argument with that thought.”
Sonora reeled as if she’d been slapped.
“That’s not fair,” she mumbled, then swiped a shaky hand across her face. “I can’t think right now. I’ll call you later, okay?”
“Promise?” Mynton asked. “Oh. Wait. You’re supposed to call a detective named Broyles with the Phoenix P.D. He’s working Buddy’s case.”
“Yes, all right,” she said, and then hung up.
For a moment, she stood with her head down and her shoulders shaking. Tears were rolling out of her eyes and down her face, but she wasn’t making a sound.
Adam waited silently until he could take no more.
“You’re not alone.”
She put a hand over her eyes and then turned away.
Franklin put a hand on her shoulder.
“You’re not alone,” he said, repeating Adam’s words.
She lifted her head, looking first at her father, then at Adam. Whatever might have been between them was over before it began.
“I can’t be here,” she said softly. “I will bring death to this place if I stay.”
Franklin waved his hand as if he was shooing a fly.
“Death is already here, daughter. It’s been here for months waiting for me to notice. Please, whatever is wrong, you must let us help you.”
“It’s DEA business,” she muttered. “I can’t get civilians involved in—”
Adam interrupted. “I spent twelve years with the army rangers. I was good at what I did. You’ll stay. We will help.”
“It is settled,” Franklin said.
Sonora was too overwhelmed to argue, and when they came to her and held her, she didn’t say no.
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