Two of Hearts Read online

  He adored the woman sitting beside me with the fire of a million suns and had faith that she would know what to do and how to do it. I could only wish for a love as grand as theirs someday.

  “Blue Cloud,” I said, finding my voice as I addressed our holy man. I again bowed my head in a show of respect. A flame of admiration seemed to light up in his gaze. He had been waiting for me to speak, to take the reins. “You know my mother, Johanna Nakos.”

  He tipped his head in our direction. He was a compassionate and generous man, wise but also fair. He had to have recognized the immense challenge we were facing.

  “My mother, Johanna Nakos, is an honorary member of the reservation through marriage,” I said. There was a perceptible shift in the room’s energy. I looked into our spiritual leader’s eyes, and they softened around the edges. “She has been for years and deserves our honor and respect.”

  Blue Cloud met my mother’s eyes, which looked misty from my heartfelt acknowledgment. He offered her a low bow. When he was upright again, he angled his chin to the other members at the table, urging them to follow suit. Each of them bowed their heads in our direction, some with their mouths tightened into a thin line.

  Once finished, he closed his eyes and said a quick and nearly inaudible prayer. “You may begin.” He was only there as a show of support and would have no part in our discussion unless called upon to intervene.

  As soon as Blue Cloud sat down, Flint Thornfall cleared his throat and all eyes were directed at him. There was a gleam of arrogance in his gaze that he now fixed on us. He was dressed in worn jeans and a plain button-down shirt, a direct contrast to Ridge, who was always formally dressed in immaculate suits and ties.

  There was no question that Ridge enjoyed the finer things in life. When we dated, he always chose the best restaurants, prime seats at events, and looked every bit the part of a successful businessman. He wasn’t involved in gaming, but in a nonprofit organization that he headed up himself that offered assistance to struggling Indians, such as an indigenous work-study program and alcoholism services. It was called the Circle of Hope, the idea being that our Indian customs and traditions were used to help advance progress. It was really commendable of him.

  Rumor was that Ridge and his dad hadn’t seen eye to eye since Ridge’s mom died from cirrhosis of the liver. In private, Ridge had shared that he felt his dad could’ve done more to help her, and it was one of the reasons he had begun the service program.

  My father thought Ridge was admirable but was concerned about the huge riff between father and son. He wondered if this was the reason Flint Thornfall had seemed to lose his way. He thought he’d become competitive and, possibly, a bitter man.

  “Mrs. Nakos, you must understand our concerns,” Flint said, attempting to school his voice, but I saw through it immediately. “You’re not of Indian descent.”

  No shit, Sherlock.

  My mother cleared her throat. “All I can say is that my husband knew that about me. But he still left me his casino, so he must have trusted it in my hands.”

  Troy Black from the Seneca Casino spoke up. “Our people are rightfully concerned. You know that a portion of the casino profits are used for educational, health, and commercial improvements on the reservation.”

  “Many of our employees use those services. Our family made sure they were available,” my mother said. “What is your point?”

  My mother knew what was coming but still she flinched when he responded, “It’s not your cause.”

  When my mother spoke again, I could hear the tremor in her voice. “So you think all of these years I’ve been biding my time, just waiting to get my hands on this casino so I could do whatever I please with it? To spend its profits on anything I want? I know your struggle, your history. I would never do that.”

  I looked around at the faces in the room, and some could not meet my eyes, as if they were ashamed. But whether they felt shame for Flint or shame for how our people were treating my mother, I couldn’t decipher.

  “In case you’ve forgotten,” my mother continued, “I have children who will profit from our business, our lives. From those same services, if they ever need them.”

  All at once, anger spread through my chest, hot as lava. But I tamped it down. This was a business meeting after all and I needed to keep my cool. “My father was a brilliant business owner,” I said, and Troy’s head snapped up. “He knew what he was doing. He was leaving a legacy for his children.”

  “In your case it’s only one child,” Flint Thornfall said. He was taking a stab at Kai, and it hit below the belt.

  “My brother is still involved in the casino,” I bit out. “Maybe not in the way you would personally want to be. But everybody has different aspirations. He’s honing his talent, following his dream. Isn’t that what you’ve taught your children to do?”

  I was taking my own jab at him about Ridge, but he kept his expression neutral, even though I saw a brief flicker of pain in his eyes. He was not as tough as he pretended to be. Ridge, on the other hand, was strong in a quiet way. But that man sitting outside the building waiting for me still would’ve blown him out of the water.

  “Fact of the matter is, this is a new situation for us,” Troy spoke up again. “There are no directions in our plans about how to handle a casino owner without Indian birthright.”

  “But it is stipulated in sovereign law that those on the reservation must be Indian and an enrolled member of the tribe. Otherwise, you need permission to rent off the land,” Flint Thornfall said in a thinly veiled threat. The bastard.

  “So let’s cut to the chase, shall we?” my mother said. “I still live in the home I built with my Native American husband on tribal land. He was an enrolled member of the tribe, as are his children. I’ll remain in that neighborhood unless I’m asked to leave the land. I consider it my home,” she said in a firm voice. “What is your plan of action?”

  Flint’s harsh gaze zeroed in on my mother. “Right here and now we’re requesting that you sell your casino to one of the—”

  “I won’t sell,” my mother said.

  “If you won’t sell, then we’ll have to take a vote,” Flint said, his eyes narrowed.

  “And what kind of vote would this be?” my mother asked.

  “About your role in this Casino Association,” Flint said. “It would be difficult to conduct tribal business with an owner who is not on the registry as a true member.”

  And there it was; a division had been set between us. My mother had acted as a member of our tribe for decades alongside my father, but now that he was gone, it was as if all memory of that had been stripped away.

  My mother sighed, the fire in her eyes replaced with near defeat. “What if . . . what if it was just Dakota who attended these meetings as the representative for our casino?”

  “No, Mom. You’re not going to do that,” I said, placing my hand on her arm. “We’ve always done right by this community. Always.”

  The solution was tempting, but it just didn’t feel right. It simply wasn’t us.

  “It’s nothing personal,” Troy now said, and others in the group nodded.

  I looked over at Blue Cloud, whose fingers scrubbed across his chin, lost in deep thought. I wondered if they would ask his assistance in this matter. He was very wise. But he might have agreed with them after all.

  This matter had yet to go in front of the tribal council; but if Blue Cloud thought it pertinent enough, he would bend Chief Red Hawk’s ear. Many people who weren’t Indian lived on the reservation either by marriage or by permission. Still, no one had such a huge stake in the community as being a casino owner who paid dividends to the people living on the reservation.

  But to me, this was a nonissue. It was decreed by all casinos to give back to the community. My mother would not intercept any funds. No, this was about Flint Thornfall’s influence over this group. Plain and simple. He was being his usual greedy self; he wanted something and this was his avenue to getting it.


  There were hundreds of members of the reservation who’d married non-Indian people. Those spouses were included in our customs and traditions, just as my mother had been. Her relationships with the people on the rez had formed through cultivation and trust, so it was shocking to see it pulled out from under her so quickly. I had to wonder if all of this would’ve been a moot point had Flint Thornfall not wanted our casino so badly.

  I stood abruptly because I couldn’t take it anymore. I no longer wanted to be in the same room as these people. My people. And that thought made it difficult to breathe. “If you’re going to vote, then do it.”

  “Nothing’s been officially decided,” Flint said. “We’re asking you to reconsider. We invited you so that we could hear your intentions.”

  “We weren’t invited. We have a right to be here,” I said.

  “My husband would have been appalled by your insinuation,” my mother added.

  “He might’ve also struggled to decide what was fair,” Troy said, making me wonder if he was right. What would my father have done in this situation?

  But wasn’t it already obvious what he considered fair? He had left this casino in my mother’s name.

  “We won’t bend to fear or accusations,” I said. “We’re going to run our business as it’s always been run, with sound decisions and dignity.”

  My mother stood to move with me to the door. “I’ll admit I’m disheartened. But I intend to honor my husband’s legacy.”

  Flint just stared at me, his eyes blank. I saw a softness—a pleading—in Thunder Valley owner Vincent Baleford’s eyes that I hadn’t seen before. A look of uncertainty and maybe even empathy.

  So why the hell hadn’t he spoken up in this meeting? Why hadn’t somebody gone up against Flint Thornfall? I needed to leave before I did something drastic, like throw something at him.

  The elevator ride down was quiet as Mom and I communicated with our eyes instead of our words. What was there to say anyway? Mom had spilled her heart, and I had tried to remain levelheaded. We certainly didn’t feel welcome there—that much was true.

  As we made our way to Shane’s truck, he sat up straighter and looked around the parking lot, maybe wondering if the meeting had ended or if anybody had followed us out. He started the engine as we slid into our seats. Shane gazed at us inquisitively and then pulled onto the street.

  “What happened in there?” he finally asked.

  “They wanted to know if my mother would sell the casino to another owner. If she doesn’t, they’ll probably take a vote to kick us out of the Casino Association,” I said, sinking farther into the leather seat.

  “They’d make it formal and cite one reason or another that falls within their rules,” Mom interjected. “In the meantime, they’ll still urge us to sell, probably tell us if we do, that we could continue to be part of the casino in some way.”

  “Except it seems Flint is the only one who wants it,” I said. “And I shudder to think what the casino would become if he took it over.”

  Shane’s eyebrows slammed together in disbelief. “Then maybe it’s best if you’re not part of the damn association.”

  “I’ve considered that. Lain awake at night thinking about it,” my mother said, surprising me. “Without tribal approval, business might dry up.”

  “But patrons who know the casino would still come,” Shane said. “They wouldn’t know the politics going on outside the casino.”

  “If staff quits, that would hurt us,” she said. “We’d have to close in order to retrain employees, and rumors would spread that we’re struggling.”

  “And if they take this to the tribal council, which now looks like a good possibility . . .” I stared into Shane’s eyes as he found mine in the rearview mirror. “We could be finished.”

  Chapter Ten

  SHANE

  On the back deck of my parents’ home I studied the police report that had been confidentially forwarded to my laptop. Though the reservation has its own local sheriff’s department, Mr. Nakos’s crime had taken place in a location outside of their jurisdiction.

  Every Friday night, he had used the same route home, traveling to the same bakery in a poorer part of town to pick up fresh baked bread along with his wife’s favorite Dutch doughnut, an oliebol. It was a tradition for the couple, and they had always used it as a staple at their family get-togethers.

  Mr. Nakos might’ve had security installed in his home, but he lived his life out in the open. So he might not have accepted other safety measures to and from the casino if they’d been suggested. Much like Dakota, he probably never felt like he needed them.

  According to the account, security cameras were lacking in the parking lot, so when Mr. Nakos was confronted near his car, robbed of his wallet and knifed, he didn’t stand a chance. But he was a large man and could’ve easily tried to defend himself. I couldn’t help wondering if he knew the suspect and that was why he had been allowed to get close. Or maybe it had been a surprise attack.

  Regardless, there were no reliable eyewitnesses and God knows how many petty criminal suspects there were around town.

  The patio door slid open and my mother handed me a fresh cup of coffee. “You hungry? I’ve got breakfast started.”

  Just the reference to my mother’s home cooking made my stomach rumble. I was used to fending for myself and had gotten good at it. Even enjoyed cooking and keeping my refrigerator stocked when I was actually home. “Sounds great, Mom.”

  “How long are you planning on staying, dear?” she asked, placing her hand on my arm and giving a light squeeze. “Not that I’m trying to kick you out. You know I love having you here.”

  I scrubbed my fingers over my face. How did I explain that I was in limbo? Struggling with what I wanted to do. That coming home had given me a goal to focus on and had also made me feel part of something again. Like I was needed here. “Not sure yet.”

  Not only was Mr. Nakos’s death heavy on my mind, but the Casino Association’s response to Dakota and her mother had been eye-opening, to say the least. I had always admired this community, these proud and humble people, respected their views on the laws of nature and the preservation of their freedom over their rightful land.

  But this felt personal. No way I could walk away now. There were pieces missing, and I felt compelled to stay put and find them.

  “What’s happening with your job, sweetie?” she said, leaning on the arm of my chair. “You haven’t said much. And I didn’t want to pry.”

  I almost laughed. Mom was great at prying. She had to get good at it because of my father, who was a hard man to read. She was in sales, and he was a detective on the squad, close to retirement. Though he’d probably be forced to retire, because he loved his work that much. Even though his job kept him away from home for long hours, always had.

  My father had trouble voicing his emotions my entire life. I had always wondered if it had anything to do with his own father being shot in the line of duty when he was just a kid. Maybe he had joined the force to prove something and had never let any of those emotions out. This kind of job can certainly do that to you. But I didn’t want to become my father—not when it came to expressing what I wanted. Who I wanted.

  Except, I had practically done the same thing to the only woman that ever mattered. I had thrown in my cards, relegated her to a dark corner of my heart, and gotten on with my life. I wasn’t about to make that mistake twice.

  Stretching my legs across the railing, I sighed. “I’m not sure I know what to do about my job.”

  Had Dakota and I managed to stay together, I would have definitely asked for a local assignment to keep us closer to the casino. I missed being in this town, around people I cared about. But would I still love it if I hadn’t gone off to see the world?

  Did Dakota know that I was itching to leave and see what was out there? She and her family had always traveled, usually to her mother’s hometown in the Netherlands. But my parents were small-town folks, and tho
ugh my mom had her share of business trips, I had always wondered what other parts of the world looked like. Maybe I needed these last few years to figure some things out about myself.

  Nonetheless, constantly being on the move had never felt right, and I had never made myself a home. Even though I made decent money, I had never fully furnished my apartment or dated anyone long enough to consider making a life with them. No one had measured up to Dakota anyway. And besides, my career came with its own price tag. I was gone a lot, had to leave at a moment’s notice, and worked late hours. Not many women my age really understood or wanted that.

  I’d dated girls over the years but it was hard to really commit, given my schedule.

  But maybe I just didn’t want to commit. Maybe I’d always wondered about one girl. I was afraid she’d already moved on and I’d be forced to witness the life she’d made with somebody else. I hid my longing in my work and I’d suspected she did the same. We were similar in that regard, always able to bury ourselves in our studies or our jobs. In a way, it was one of the things I loved most about her: her drive to succeed. It was sexy as hell, but was probably also our biggest downfall.

  “Your job?” my mom asked, bringing me back to the conversation we were having on the patio.

  “I just don’t love it anymore,” I said, settling back in my seat. “Maybe I never did. I kind of . . . took a leave of absence.”

  I didn’t tell her I felt the full brunt of the job in my last case. How I had gotten fed up and basically gave up the fight.

  Mom sat down across from me to give me her full attention. “Seemed like you enjoyed it starting out. You were excited, proud. What changed?”

  “I don’t know if I can pinpoint it exactly,” I said. “I see a lot of messed-up stuff, strung-out people. I guess I started feeling jaded and maybe more than a little unfulfilled.”