If he stayed inside for another minute, he'd probably
explode. Grateful for the phone call that had distracted
his friend, Kenneth Vance stepped from the office into the
yard of Montgomery Construction Company. Behind the long,
low office building loomed the old red barn that had been
the original site of the company. Now, eight-foot-high
chain-link fencing surrounded a whole complex of
buildings.
Beyond the fence, Ken could see a steady flow of traffic
on the industrial park road. Colorado Springs seemed to
have grown in the years since this place, in the shadow of
Pikes Peak, had been home to him.
When he moved beyond the shade of the overhang, the
Colorado sunshine, fierce even in April at this altitude,
hit him like a blow. He groped for the dark glasses he'd
been forced to wear since the incident.
Incident. That was the term the Air Force used. The
official verdict had been that his jet was brought down
over South America by insurgents armed with a shoulder-
fired missile. Somehow incident didn't seem a strong
enough word for something that ruined a man's life.
He pushed the thoughts away forcefully and wandered
farther into the yard. Quinn Montgomery, his longtime
friend and owner of Montgomery Construction, had made
progress in repairing the destruction done by an arson
fire at the yard last month, but a jumble of broken
concrete and charred timbers still marred the scene.
Ken stiffened, trying to will away the incessant blurring
of his vision that was an annoying leftover from his
injuries. Someone was moving around in the debris. No one
should be there.
He strode quickly toward the spot. With all the
misfortunes that had dogged the Montgomery and Vance
families lately, he wasn't taking anything for granted.
"Hey! What are you doing here?" It was the command tone
that was ingrained after eight years as an Air Force
officer.
Maybe not much longer, a small voice in the back of his
mind reminded him.
A slight figure emerged from a fractured piece of concrete
pipe. A teenage boy, he thought for an instant, maybe from
one of the street gangs Quinn said had begun to appear on
the usually placid streets of Colorado Springs in recent
months.
Then the figure straightened, and he realized it was no
boy. Slim, small, but certainly no boy. The woman had
glossy, straight black hair in thick braids. High
cheekbones increased the faintly exotic quality of her
looks, and dark eyes met his with a startled
wariness. "What did you say?" Her voice was soft, a little
husky. Something about it rang a bell, but he couldn't
place her.
"I asked what you're doing here."
He took a step toward her and then froze. A dog came out
of the pipe behind her — a big German shepherd that
lowered its head and growled at him, pressing close to the
woman's side.
"Easy, Angel." Her hand caressed the animal's head.
"He's a friend."
Something about the way she said the word increased that
sense of recognition. He frowned, annoyed that he couldn't
remember. "Do we know each other?"
Her glance touched his face and flickered away. "We did. A
long time ago. You're Ken Vance." She smiled
faintly. "Everyone in The Springs has heard you're back."
True enough, he supposed. When you belonged to the Vance
family and your uncle was the mayor, everyone knew too
much about you. They probably even knew why he was here,
out of uniform, instead of doing what he was born to do.
"You must have changed more than I have." He tried to
manage a smile. "I know I know you, but —" Recognition
came then. "You're Julianna Red Feather, aren't you?"
"Yes." She met his gaze squarely, without a hint of
embarrassment.
"It's been a long time." He probably felt embarrassed
enough for both of them, even though he hadn't thought of
that awkward incident in years. Still, meeting her again
was easier since she'd obviously gotten over that foolish
crush she'd once had on him. "You've changed."
She shrugged, a smile lightening her grave
expression. "I've grown up. We all have. And, by the way,
I do have permission from Quinn to be here."
"Right." Of course she did. He'd been needlessly officious.
Julianna had changed. He remembered a girl so shy she'd
nearly vanished into the woodwork in high school — one
he'd thought had been ashamed of her Native American
ancestry. Now she confronted him with confidence, head
held high. Her thick braids with their woven ties and the
turquoise emblem she wore at her throat seemed to announce
pride in her heritage.
"So, you two remember each other, do you?"
He hadn't heard Quinn approach, but there he was, grinning
at them. Quinn bent to ruffle Angel's ears, obviously
friends with the dog.
"We've figured it out," he said easily, wondering what the
relationship was between Quinn and Julianna. He'd been
away for years, except for flying visits when he was on
leave. Anything could have happened, and he wouldn't
necessarily have heard unless his mother had thought to
mention it in one of their frequent phone conversations.
"Julianna's the newest member of Montgomery Construction
Company," Quinn said, answering the question in his
mind. "She's running the office for us now."
He lifted an eyebrow. "You expect your office manager to
clean up the scrap yard?"
"Julianna didn't tell you?" Now it was Quinn's turn to
raise his brows. "She and Angel are also members of a FEMA
Urban Search and Rescue team. She thinks this mess I
haven't cleared up yet will be an ideal site for training
exercises for her team."
"No, she didn't mention it." He smiled at Julianna,
relieved that they'd moved past a rocky beginning.
"You've turned into a talented lady."
She shook her head slightly, something guarded in her dark
eyes.
"We're proud to have her here." Quinn patted her shoulder,
not seeming to notice. "She and Angel have gone to rescue
sites all over the place. They're heroes."
"I'm impressed." He didn't know how the dog felt about it,
but Julianna was obviously embarrassed. Or was the feeling
something deeper than embarrassment? He wasn't sure.
Quinn gave him a challenging look. "You know, buddy, you
could do worse than join the team here at Montgomery
Construction while you're home on leave. I could use you,
and you'd like it here. Wouldn't he, Julianna?"
The proposal startled him, but before he could respond,
something else startled him even more — the look in
Julianna's face at the comment. Dismay filled her dark
eyes before she masked her expression.
"I'm sure he would." She turned, clicking her fingers to
the dog. "You'll excuse me, won't you? I need to get back
to work."
Woman and dog moved quickly away. He watched Julianna's
slim, straight back for a moment before turning a frowning
glance on Quinn.
"I'm not looking for charity." His voice grated on the
word. "Thanks, anyway."
"Good thing," Quinn replied evenly. "Since I'm not
offering it."
"Nice try, Q, but I don't know a thing about the
construction business and you know it." He didn't know
about anything but flying. And if he couldn't do that —
"Did my mother put you up to this? Or Holly?"
It would be just like his twin sister to interfere. She
was so eager to distract him from his troubles that she
was driving him nuts.
"Nobody put me up to anything," Quinn said. "You always
were too stubborn for your own good."
"You're a good one to talk. Your father used to say you
could give lessons to a mule."
Once Quinn made up his mind to something, there was no
moving him. Maybe that quality in common had helped forge
their friendship.
Quinn shrugged. "Face it, buddy. You need something to
occupy your time while you're stuck on medical leave, or
your loving family will drive you crazy fussing over you."
True enough, but Quinn's job offer still sounded like
charity.
"And I need someone I can trust around here." Quinn
paused, his usual smile dimming. "You know that we seem to
have become a target in the past few months, don't you?"
He nodded. "I've heard something about it. My mother keeps
trying to protect me from hearing anything bad, but she
couldn't prevent my knowing about the fires. Or about
Uncle Max getting shot."
Maxwell Vance had been in a coma since the shooting, a
continuing grief to the family. Some people said he'd made
too many enemies during his brief term as mayor by taking
a hard line on drugs.
"That's been a tough situation. You know we're all praying
for him."
"Yes. Thanks." His throat tightened at the thought.
Quinn's face darkened. "As for the fire, the investigators
seem to think Neil O'Brien was responsible. You wouldn't
know him, probably. He was an assistant fire chief."
"Was?"
"The department suspended him while the investigation's
going on. There's even a rumor he may have been involved
in drugs."
"You'd think they'd have him under arrest, then." Quinn
shrugged. "Suspicion isn't evidence. On the surface,
there's no connection between that and your uncle's
shooting and the vandalism we've been having, but I'm not
taking any chances."
"I don't know much about security, either."
In fact, he didn't know much about any job, other than
flying. Bitterness washed over him. If God were really in
control, why were all these bad things happening to them?
"Maybe not, but you're smart and you're tough. And I can
trust you." Quinn nudged his shoulder. "Anyway, you owe
me. Think of all those times I got slammed to the turf
protecting the quarterback so you could throw a touchdown
pass."
"If that's how you remember it, maybe you hit the turf a
few too many times." He grinned, suddenly feeling a little
more like himself again. At least Quinn didn't treat him
like an invalid. "All right, sign me up. I'll do it."
Quinn grabbed his hand and shook it, obviously pleased
with his decision. Maybe now wasn't the moment to add the
reservation in his mind.
I'll do it...for the time being. But when this injury
heals, when I can see well enough to fly again, I'll be
out of here in a hurry.
He had to say when, not if. He couldn't handle any other
possibility.
Quinn clapped him on the shoulder. "Come inside, and I'll
go over the operation with you. We'll tell Julianna to
spread the word, so everyone knows why you're poking
around."
Julianna.A faint unease entered his mind. Julianna had
been dismayed at the prospect of Quinn offering the job.
How was she going to react now that he'd accepted it?