A Cavanaugh Christmas Read Free Page B

he asked mildly, since the woman before him looked no more Native American than he did.
    Actually, he probably could pass for Native American more easily since he had the dark, almost blue-black hair that was so prevalent among the people of the tribes sprinkled throughout the United States.
    “Why?” Kait countered. Her eyes met his in a steady, unwavering gaze. “Do I need one?”
    “Not in my book,” LaGuardia piped up before Tom could answer. One look at the older man and Tom could see that his partner was badly smitten with this commanding, unsmiling woman.
    “You don’t need anything,” Tom informed her mildly. “It’s just that you don’t look like a Native American, so I thought maybe that was your married name.”
    He glanced down at her left hand. She wore only a watch. A man’s watch by the look of it, since it seemed too large for her. A gift? Something to remember someone by? In either case, that was the only form of adornment the redhead had on either hand. Beyond that, there were no rings, official or otherwise. No bracelets and no piercings of any sort.
    He got the distinct impression that she was hiding something, something that went beyond her unusual surname. He couldn’t help thinking this was a woman of secrets.
    He grew more intrigued by the moment.

    Chapter 2
    T he handsome detective’s reaction wasn’t anything new. Kait was used to people looking at her with a puzzled expression the first time they learned her last name.
    She could almost read their thoughts: but you don’t look like a Native American.
    There was a reason for that. More specifically, there was a reason why she didn’t look like a Navajo, which in her case was the tribe the name had originated from. She didn’t look like a Navajo because she wasn’t one.
    As close as Kait could figure, she was part Irish, part Welsh and part mutt most likely. The mother she couldn’t remember and the grandmother she wished she didn’t hadn’t exactly had the time or the inclination to talk to her, much less ruminate about her roots and her heritage.
    Her mother had been forced to give her up when Kait was only a few days old—something she assumed the woman who gave birth to her did gladly since Kait’s very existence was a reminder of the man her mother had been convicted of killing in a jealous rage.
    Her mother had given her to her own mother. Her grandmother, Ada, had kept her around not out of any sort of love, but because she turned out to be useful. Ada quickly discovered, much to her happiness, that people were more apt to be lenient and forgiving of a woman caught stealing if the theft had been committed in an attempt to feed her granddaughter.
    At least that was what her grandmother told anyone who would listen whenever she was caught.
    That sort of thing went on for a couple of years—until Kait grew out of her “cute baby” stage. When that happened, her grandmother had tried to earn a profit in a more cut-and-dried sort of way—by selling her outright.
    Or trying to.
    Convinced that a childless couple would pay top dollar for a “little one of their own,” her grandmother had approached one such unsavory candidate, asking for “a rock-bottom price.”
    The man turned out to possess a remnant of a conscience, and he called the police to tip them off about what Ada was trying to do. The police in turn set up a sting, sending in two officers to pose as a couple desperate to start a family at all costs. The sting went down and her grandmother was sent to prison. Ironically, the same one where her mother was serving time and where she herself had started life.
    The name of the police officer who had been part of the sting was Ronald Two Feathers. It was his name that she proudly bore and had for a number of years now.
    But Kaitlyn saw no reason to explain any of that, or to tell the two detectives sitting at their desks—even the kneecap-melting, good-looking one—how the name eventually became hers legally. Nor