“Giovanni Dragos.”
“Is he related to me?”
Jake popped into the room. “A distant cousin.”
“When I was trying to find my birth father, I researched the Dragos clan. They’re mostly conmen and thieves.”
“You never found Aldo Dragos?” Jake seemed surprised.
“Nope, I stopped looking when the Dragos assassins kept showing up. I still have no idea why they wanted us dead.”
“Do you think Aldo sent them after you?”
I shrugged. “Father interrogated some of the hired assassins. He discovered there was a million-credit bounty on my head, but none of the hired guns knew why.”
“Maybe I can help with that. Central Command has a lot of data on the Dragos clan.”
“You would do that for me?”
“Without hesitation. We need to know why they want you dead. If we can find Aldo, you can ask him in person.” Jake sat on the bench and held up some long bronze chains. “Sit down and I’ll braid your hair.”
“I can braid my own hair.”
“Do you know how to do warrior braids?”
“I’m not Coletti,” I retorted.
“But you are a warrior,” Jake coaxed.
With a sigh, I sat. The fact I was a cop and a shaman scared most men off, but Jake wasn’t most men.
“You have beautiful hair. It’s like black silk.” There was a sensual note in Jake’s voice as he stroked it.
I blinked in surprise. I liked him touching me. Which was bad. Really bad. “Ah, thanks.”
“How did you end up with Elder Tsosie?” Jake plaited bronze chains into warrior braids on the right side of my face.
“We were fleeing a team of assassins. The van blew a tire. Mama lost control and we crashed.” A memory of mama’s blood-covered face flashed across my mind. I missed her so much.
“Elder Tsosie rescued you?”
I nodded. “He promised my dying mother he would raise me as his own and he did.”
“How old were you?”
“Five.” A tear leaked down my cheek.
Jake tugged on my hair. “You want a French braid or a Dutch braid?”
“You actually know the difference?”
“I braided Kaylee’s hair from the time she was knee-high to a tadpole,” Jake said in a good ole’ boy voice.
“French braid, please. Your sister is mated to Zarek’s son, Talree?”
“That she is.” Jake efficiently plaited my hair. “Growing up with Kaylee made me an expert at dealing with troublesome females.”
“You think I’m a troublesome female?” I turned to face him.
“I do.” Jake gaze focused on my mouth.
“A wise man would think twice before trying to kiss me.”
“I’m not a wise man.”
I gave him a narrowed-eyed glare. “Like living dangerously, do you?”
“Warlords thrive on danger.” Jake lowered his head until his lips barely touched mine. “One kiss from me, buttercup, and your panties will be wet.”
I rolled my eyes. “It’ll never happen. I’m immune to your charm.” Part of me knew challenging a warlord wasn’t smart, but the cocky bastard needed to be taught a lesson.
Jake’s mouth closed over mine. It was the kiss of a scoundrel filled with wicked intent and seduction. He ignited a raw hunger in me I couldn’t control. To my horror, I was suddenly kissing him back and our tongues were tangling in an erotic dance. I felt a rush of dampness between my legs.
Jake abruptly lifted his head. “We’re being summoned, and your panties are wet, buttercup.”
“I’ll admit you’re a good kisser, but it’s never happening again,” I said as I tried to calm my shattered nerves.
A big grin on his face, Jake taunted, “Keep telling yourself that.”
I pulled back my fist to punch him.
He grabbed my hand. “Are you a sore loser?”
“You’re such a jackass.” There was a flash of blackness as Jake teleported us. Presto! We were in a small dining room.
Zarek and General Jones were already seated at a table for four.
Keeping a tight grip on my right hand, Jake led me over to the table, pulled a chair back and seated me. A warlord with manners. Who knew?
“Wine?” Zarek asked.
“No, thank you. Navajo shamans don’t drink,” I said automatically, then winced. I had lived as a Navajo for so long, their customs had become mine.
Zarek cocked an amused eyebrow. “Iced tea?”
“Tea’s good.” To my surprise the waiter was an elf.
“He’s a Farin, not an elf,” Jake advised mentally.
“He has pointy ears and long white hair. That makes him an elf,” I shot back as the elf set my glass of iced tea on the table. “Thank you.”
“It is my pleasure and you may call me Halfdan.”
I smiled at him. “Thank you, Halfdan.”
“Halfdan is also a warrior and bodyguard,” Jake added.
“Zarek needs a bodyguard?”
“No, but it keeps Detja, his mate, happy.”
“Smart man,” I said. Halfdan placed a plate with cheese enchiladas, rice, and beans in front of me. “Wow. Mexican food.”
“It’s your favorite,” Jake stated as Halfdan served him a huge, hunk of bleeding meat and what looked like fried worms.
I took a bite of the enchiladas and moaned. “My compliments to the chef.”
“It came out of a food replicator,” Jake responded.
“Huh?” I poked at my beans. Fake food?
Jake snorted. “Does it taste like fake food?”
“Quit eavesdropping on my thoughts,” I snapped.
“Nah, it’s too entertaining.”
Zarek interjected, “I want you to teach Jake how to become a shaman.”
“I don’t know if I can.” One look at the implacable resolve in Zarek’s eyes and quickly added, “But I’ll try.”
“You will do more than try,” Zarek replied.
“Yes, sir.” I stuffed a piece of enchilada in my mouth. As long as my father was on this ship, I’d do whatever Zarek wanted and he knew it.
General Jones busily cut his meat into small pieces. “What do you know of your birth father?”
“Not much. I was four when we were forced to flee Italy. I have vague memories of him giving me piggyback rides and taking me to the circus. He was gone a lot for his job.”
“What kind of job?” Zarek asked.
“Mama never said.”
General Jones’s warrior’s bracelet chimed. One glance at the screen and he tapped an icon. “You have another murder Officer Yellowhorse?”
My appetite vanished.
“Yes, General. Two tourists and their
