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"Yeah. Because of Remi," Rachel said quietly. "And pressure from the rez. He wants the help, but can't admit it."
Ethan nodded, frowning through the windshield as they hastened, under the evening's eye, to confront a hostile deputy on his home turf.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The door of the Caddo Bar and Grill swung open with a creak that matched the aridity of the Texan night. The bar squatted on the edge of the reservation like an old toad basking in the Texan heat. Its neon sign flickered, half-dead, a beacon for the lost and the seeking. Rachel pushed through the swinging doors, her Ranger badge a heavy weight against her chest. The stench of stale beer and sweat hit her like a palpable wave, carrying with it the raucous laughter of men who had long since surrendered their sobriety to the night.
Kai sat at the bar, an island of disdain amidst a sea of drunken camaraderie. His dark hair was streaked with grease, and tonight, it held feathers – eagle feathers, symbols of courage and spirit, now a mockery in the context of his inebriation. He tossed back another shot, glass clinking, and his hand hovered near the holster at his hip, a viper coiled and ready to strike.
"Kai," she said, voice steady as a drumbeat.
He swiveled on his stool, eyes narrowing into slits. Rachel felt the weight of those eyes, the hostility pouring from him.
"Blackwood," he drawled, the name a sneer on his lips.
She kept her stance neutral, shoulders relaxed but alert. Her own hand itched toward her sidearm, but she resisted. This was a battle of wits, not weapons.
"Long night?" The words came out crisp, devoid of warmth.
"Better now that you're here," Kai spat, irony lacing his tone. "Saves me the trouble of hunting you down."
Rachel ignored the bait. "Just here for answers, Kai."
"Answers," he scoffed, his fingers brushing the feathers in his hair—a taunt, a challenge. "You always were good at asking questions, weren't you, Ranger?"
She did not rise to it. She kept her focus, even as the tension strung between them, a wire pulled taut enough to sing with danger. Every line of Kai's body spoke of a readiness to erupt into violence; the air itself seemed to thrum with the anticipation of it.
"Keep your hand away from that gun, Kai," Rachel warned, her voice low but carrying. A murmur rippled through the deputies flanking their leader, a pack sensing the shift in atmosphere.
"Or what? You'll arrest me?" His chuckle was a bitter sound. "On my own land?"
"Let's not make this harder than it has to be."
The room held its breath. Kai's fingers danced closer to the gun, then away, like the flicker of a snake's tongue tasting the air. The threat lay unspoken between them, but Rachel read it clear as day.
Ethan lingered behind her, a steady presence--watchful and waiting.
Rachel steadied her breath, the air heavy with the stench of cheap whiskey and old smoke. The bar's dim lights cast long shadows, and in their dance, she saw her own reflection flicker in Kai's eyes.
"Kai," she began, her voice even, "how did you know Anna Longshadow?"
The clink of glass against wood punctuated her question as Kai swirled his drink, a lazy predator toying with his prey.
"Anna?" he drawled, his gaze never leaving hers. "Why? Miss her company?"
A single bead of sweat wound its way down Rachel's spine.
"Was she more than just an acquaintance?" Rachel pressed.
Kai leaned in, his breath reeking of alcohol and malice. "You really wanna go there, Ranger?"
She could feel Ethan at her side, a silent sentinel. Her pulse thrummed, a drumbeat urging caution.
"Cut the crap, Kai," she said, her voice a blade.
Then, sudden as a rattlesnake strike, Kai spat—a glob of disdain hitting the shine on Ethan's shoes. He chuckled darkly.
"Race traitor," he hissed, the words venomous, seething with contempt. "That what they call you now?"
