she was scheduled to present an overview of the proposed new natural gas recovery process to area guests, industry people, and state and local government representatives. Afterward, she’d give the community leaders who had sufficient clearance a tour of the facility.
Holly saw Martin Roanhorse, the tribal department head, at the front of the room speaking with the facility manager. She was glad that Martin approved of her work, but she hated the way he’d often give her assignments at the last minute. He’d never understood how much preparation her presentations actually took, especially when the audience included both PhD-level engineers and local media who preferred information in sound bites.
Spotting her, Martin hurried over, arriving just as she opened her folder. As usual, he was well dressed. Today, his bolo tie complemented his brown wool Western suit and his snakeskin boots were shined to perfection.
“Here’s an update on our guest list, Holly,” he said. “We’ve made some last-minute additions. We’ve expanded this event to include several people from the public sector. I’ve listed the occupation of each participant, as well as their stated reason for attending,” Martin said, ignoring her scowl. “The tour of the facility, of course, will remain restricted to those who’ve already been cleared.”
“I’ve asked you before not to spring these things on me at the last minute, Martin. Half of what I’ve already prepared will probably go right over their heads. I’m supposed to communicate, not confuse.”
“I know, and I’m sorry about that, but this request came from the tribal president. He’s been getting flak from some activists and wanted you to make sure everyone understood that there’s no danger to the aquifer.”
She took a deep breath and let it out again. “The new guests… Is that why I’m seeing extra security this morning?” Holly cocked her head toward the back of the room where two plant security guards were stationed just inside the exit.
“Yeah,” he said. “Don’t worry. Everyone was checked with the wands when they came through the security gates.”
“Who’s the tall Navajo man in the brown leather jacket with a pistol on his hip? A tribal cop? He looks ex-military.”
“You may have heard his name mentioned during tribal agency meetings. That’s Daniel Hawk,” he said, following her gaze. “Like you, he’s a private consultant. Hawk owns Level One Security and conducts our training exercises, not only here, but also at every critical tribal facility. Naturally he’s got the highest clearance level.”
Holly nodded, finally being able to place a face to the name. She’d heard Daniel Hawk described as a one-time bad boy who could attract women faster than free chocolate. Daniel had presence. That confidence and take-charge attitude, coupled with those wide shoulders and long legs, sure made him easy on the eyes.
She watched Daniel Hawk as he moved, his back straight, his steps measured and filled with purpose. He came to a stop and glanced around the room, his gaze missing nothing. Then, for a brief moment, his eyes met hers. That steady, penetrating look was a blend of curiosity and casual sensuality that made her body tingle all over.
Holly was used to being checked out by men wherever she was. Though she wasn’t drop-dead gorgeous, at five foot three she had generous curves in all the right places and men had a tendency to turn their heads to look when she stepped into a room. Yet it wasn’t admiration that was mirrored in the dark eyes that held hers—it was a subtle challenge.
Taking a deep breath, Holly forced herself to look away. He wasn’t checking her out in a man-woman sort of way. He was a professional, sizing her up as he would any stranger in his environment.
Hearing herself being introduced, her focus shifted instantly to the job at hand. Holly beamed a confident smile to everyone in the audience as she strode up to the podium. Prepared, she started her presentation without skipping a beat. Martin had already loaded her graphics into the projection system and the remote worked perfectly.
Even though nearly every seat in the room was occupied, she felt completely at ease. Her engaging voice kept everyone’s attention, even through the dry, technical segments of her presentation.
Everything went smoothly until she began to explain the specifics of the new extraction process—an improved technique for freeing up deposits of natural gas far below the surface. Out of the corner of her eye Holly saw a Navajo man wearing a denim jacket rise from his seat. He sidestepped past the seated guests and headed toward the center aisle.
Holly wondered if the man was having difficulty keeping up with the technical portion, but she was forced to block him from her mind and focus on her presentation.
As soon as he reached the aisle and turned toward the podium instead of the exit, Holly recognized him instantly. Clyde Keeswood was a community activist who’d opposed the tribe’s energy resource operations from day one. He’d shouted out his opposition in every press conference and lecture she’d held the past few months. Now what?
Almost as the thought formed, she saw Daniel Hawk on the move.
“This is the same PR bull we hear every day,” Keeswood shouted, walking toward her. “Why don’t you give us the whole story?” He came to a stop next to her empty chair and glared at her.
“I promise to answer your questions after I finish explaining the details of the extraction process,” Holly said, refusing to raise her voice. “I’ll keep it brief, Mr. Keeswood, then we’ll address whatever concerns you have. If you can take a seat….”
He remained standing. “Nothing will be brief, except our way of life after the wells run dry. Sure, the tribe and their big business partners will make gobs of money selling natural gas to— I don’t know, big developers, factories? But the water table will be contaminated with chemicals—that’s if the wells don’t go dry first. You think this is a desert now? Just wait.”
“No chemicals except water itself will be used to free up the gas formations. Let me show you how it works,” she said. She stepped to the left and pressed a remote. A projector on the far side of the room produced an image on the screen behind her on the wall.
The man spat out a curse and picked up her chair. As he raised it over his head, Daniel Hawk was suddenly there. In a split second he yanked the chair away from Keeswood.
The force threw the activist off balance. He fell backward and toppled onto the tile floor. Daniel set the chair aside, and straddled the troublemaker, ready to roll him over and cuff him.
Keeswood punched upward but Daniel blocked the jab, grabbed his hand, then twisted it around, forcing the man facedown on the floor. By then, two uniformed security guards arrived. They hauled Keeswood to his feet and quickly led him away.
Barely ten seconds had passed, but the room had grown completely silent. Holly glanced at Daniel, and he nodded, giving her a thumbs-up.
“Harmony has been restored. I think we can continue now,” she said, and the room exploded in applause. Holly glanced back, looking for Daniel, but all she saw was his back as he left the room.
Disappointed, she focused on what she had to do. Later, when she could get away, she’d catch up to him and thank him personally for what he’d done.
Chapter Two
Once her presentation came to a close, Holly smiled at her largely enthusiastic audience and thanked
