He didn’t blame her, but he’d have liked a chance to tell her his situation now—not that it would make a difference to her. Their meeting the other night showed that she’d clearly moved on.
Looking in the mirror, Sam ran a hand through his hair and then rubbed his front teeth with the pad of his finger—just in case he got to talk with Jolene.
He exited his motel room, and hit the remote for the Border Patrol truck in the parking lot. He climbed inside and made the return trip to the future site of the Yaqui casino.
About thirty minutes later, he slowed down as a line of traffic clogged the highway. Two highway patrol officers were waving people over to the side of the road to park.
Sam rolled down his window and stuck his arm out, flagging down an officer.
A big guy with mirrored sunglasses approached the truck. “You can go around and park at the site. Visitors are parking along the highway and shuttles will take them in to the ground-breaking.”
“That’s smart. No way all these cars are going to trundle down that road. So, I can pull right in?”
“If you can squeeze through the protestors.” The man smirked. “It’s a spectacle.”
“There are protestors?”
“On the highway. We won’t let them go down the access road.”
“The Yaqui?” Sam’s heartbeat rattled his rib cage.
“Some of them. The ones who don’t want the casino. But they’ve been overruled.” The cop rolled his shoulders. “Don’t know what they’re complaining about. That casino means big money for the tribe and every Yaqui with a card.”
“There are more important things than money to some.” Sam wheeled around the officer and crawled along the other side of the highway. The infrastructure around here was going to have to change to accommodate the casino. This two-lane highway wouldn’t cut it.
As he approached the access road, the decibel level rose and he rolled down his window. Members of the Yaqui tribe were out in force, garbed in native dress, carrying signs, yelling and beating drums. The drums reverberated in Sam’s ears, and he held his breath as he peered out the window at the protestors. Would Jolene be one of them?
Sometimes these protests could get unruly and violent, and he didn’t want Jolene in the middle of it—not that she would appreciate or even want his protectiveness. He couldn’t help it. He couldn’t help a lot of things when it came to Jolene Nighthawk. When he didn’t see her face among the crowd, he expelled a long breath. Maybe Granny Viv had prevailed upon Jolene to skip the protests today.
He coasted through the divide the highway patrol had forged through the group of protestors. Then he tucked in behind one of the vans ferrying people to the site.
The shuttle turned into a large cleared-out circular area, and Sam followed suit. Colorful flags, that weren’t here the other night, drooped in the still air, looking sad instead of festive but that didn’t deter the mood of the dignitaries.
A stage had been set up, and Wade Nighthawk, Jolene’s cousin, occupied the center of it. He wore his black hair in a sleek ponytail, his only other nod to his Native American heritage, a loose-fitting white shirt embroidered with the animal symbols of the Yaqui, which replaced his usual tailored shirts and suit jacket.
The mayor and other major players clustered on one end of the stage. Sam spotted Nash Dillon talking to a well-dressed older woman. Sam stuck his hand out the window of the truck and pointed at Nash, who nodded back at him. Although Nash was a Border Patrol agent, Nash’s family’s business had a stake in the casino development, and the dark-haired woman with dramatic gray streaks in her hair was probably involved in the money side of the project.
Clay Archer, the agent in charge of the Paradiso Border Patrol station, gave Sam a thumbs-up from the stage. Better him than me up there.
Sam parked and exited his vehicle. He strode up to the stage and clasped hands with Clay.
“Do you have to give a speech or something?”
Clay rolled his eyes. “Just a few words about the Yaqui on the other side of the border and the accommodations we’ll make for them to come over and work in the casino.”
Nash joined them. “I’d give anything to get off this stage, but my parents insisted I be here and meet the representative for our business group backing the project.”
As the woman Nash had been speaking to approached, Sam raised his eyebrow and gave a quick shake of his head.
Nash turned to the woman smoothly. “Karen, I’d like to introduce you to a couple of my fellow Border Patrol agents, Clay Archer and Sam Cross. Sam’s out of San Diego. This is Karen Fisher. She’s representing the investors.”
The attractive woman’s smooth face didn’t match her graying hair—neither did her strong grip. “Nice to meet you. Thanks for all you do to keep us safe.”
Clay, ever the gentleman, said, “Just doing our jobs, ma’am.”
Karen drilled Nash with her dark eyes. “What are you doing here from...?”
“San Diego.”
“That’s right. I suppose you have even more problems with drugs coming across the border there, don’t you?”
“We do.”
“Sam, welcome back.” Wade leaned past the others, extending his hand, his white teeth blinding against his brown skin.
The guy had the smile of a politician. Sam pumped his hand. “Good to see you, Wade. Congratulations.”
“Thank you. This is going to mean a lot for Paradiso, as well as the tribe. But then—” Wade cocked his head and his ponytail slid over his shoulder “—you don’t live here anymore, so it won’t mean much to you. Granny told me you were in town, though. Business?”
“Uh-huh.” Sam shifted his gaze to the right and left of the stage.
“Doesn’t mean you can’t combine a little pleasure with the business.” Wade winked. “Jolene’s by the equipment to the right.”
Before Sam could deny he was searching
