by Karen Ball
www.waterbookmultnomah.com
Don’t Miss the Dramatic Conclusion to
the Family Honor Series—What Lies Within
Coming Fall 2007
“Most holy God, we beseech Thee, walk among us today in power and protection …”
Warriors.
That’s what Kyla was listening to, as sure as if they’d come decked out in shields and swords. But these people didn’t fight with weapons of steel and wood. They used words.
Powerful, heartfelt words.
“… that all may know this, Thy house, stands by Thy almighty will.”
Prayers to a God far more powerful to them than the obstacles standing in their way. Prayers for His presence. His overshadowing.
His blessing.
“Work within us, gracious Father, that we might serve Thee with our talents and skills.”
The task was as large as ever. Kyla still didn’t know how they were going to rebuild the burned-out church into a youth center in a matter of weeks. Contrary to Hilda’s assertion, they weren’t the Extreme Makeover: Home Edition crew. Nor did they have the show’s budget.
Which made it all the more odd that Kyla wasn’t worried. Because the prayers—and the prayers—had made her realize this wasn’t her task.
It was God’s.
“Lead us in going beyond our own strength so that we might rely on Thee.”
Good thing, too. Because it was certain they wouldn’t get much help from the neighbors. The church folks were all here, of course, and her crew, hard hats in hand, ready to get started at the “amen.” But despite church members putting up flyers about the dedication, even going to visit the homes of those they knew, only a handful from the neighborhood showed up. It would seem Rafael was right.
The Blood Brotherhood had everyone scared.
An elbow nudged her side, and Kyla turned to the man standing beside her, Grant Wilson, her first-line supervisor. “We’ve got an audience.”
“Let us see not only this task, but all involved, with Thy eyes of love and compassion.”
She followed his gaze to a young black man standing on the fringes, watching, listening. She took in his attire—and ground her teeth.
Fine.
The Blood Brotherhood … 22s … whatever they called themselves didn’t want the neighbors around, and yet they had the gall to be here? If she wasn’t afraid it would disrupt the ceremony, she’d march over there and tell that thug exactly what she thought of him. She’d have to settle for a glare.
“And should any of us walk in ways contrary to Thy will, pull us back, holy God, but do so with love and compassion …”
While she wouldn’t want that old adage “if looks could kill” to come true, she wouldn’t mind if they managed to wound this hood and his buddies a bit.
“… for we are all Thy children, dearly loved by Thee and called to Thy service. All this we ask in Thy Son’s most precious name …”
The target of her attention looked up. His gaze collided with hers, and even from this distance she could see him start. Good! Take tha— “Oomph!”
She glowered at Grant, who’d just jabbed her a good one in the side. “What?”
He jerked a nod toward the elders and hissed at her. “Amen.”
“Amen?”
“They said it twice now, boss. They’re waiting for you to take the shovel.”
Sure enough, Malachi and the elders were standing there, watching her.
“Oh! I’m sorry. I …” She clamped her mouth shut. No way she would admit she wasn’t listening. Cheeks on fire, she hurried to take the shovel from Willard and dig it into the ground. But as she lifted the pile of dirt, she didn’t look at Hilda, who was taking pictures of the event. Instead, she glanced past the little woman to the cause of her humiliation.
And almost dropped the dirt.
“Smile, Miss Justice.”
Even as the camera snicked, she knew what crossed her face was more grimace than grin. But that was the best she could do.
Because the gang member was no longer alone. There, right in front of God and everyone, stood Rafael Murphy. Next to the enemy. And from the looks of the two of them, the conversation wasn’t only civil.
It was downright friendly.
“So, you gonna stick around all day?” Rafe kept his stance relaxed as he angled a glance at the tall young man beside him.
“Don’t know. Just figured I’d watch until I got bored.”
That wasn’t likely to happen anytime soon. Even Rafe was all but mesmerized as he watched Kyla and her crew go to work. He’d never seen such precision and energy before—at least, not outside of the Marines. “They’re pretty impressive.”
“They?” Elisha slanted him a bland look. “Or her.”
Sometimes that kid saw entirely too much. “I was surprised to see you at the dedication ceremony.”
Elisha shrugged. “I wasn’t really at it.”
“Okay … I was surprised to see you around it.”
Another shrug. “I decided I should. Just in case.”
Made sense. If the Brotherhood showed up, Rafe and the others would need Elisha. Big-time. Which, unless Rafe missed his guess—which didn’t happen often—was why Elisha was still here.
Just because the Brotherhood didn’t show up at the ceremony didn’t mean they weren’t coming.
Rafael had been standing there, talking with that kid all day! Watching as the men finished up for the day and got in their cars, heading home. That was it. Kyla was so angry she could spit nails.
“So you want me to pick ’em up tonight?”
She spun. “What?”
Grant eyed her. “The nails. The 316s. I told you we were gonna run short if we didn’t pick some up.”
“Oh. Right.” She swallowed back her embarrassment. Why did she let Rafael get to her this way? Grant must think she’d gone totally nuts. “I thought you left already.”
The frown deepened. “Told you I was gonna check in before I left.”
Okay. Nuts and stupid.
He held up a hand, forestalling any explanation. “You and those old folks best be gettin’ outta here.”
Kyla glanced back at the church elders. Big Jim and Chuck had left, but Willard, Wayne, and Shamus awaited her. Along with, of course, the ever-present Hilda. “We’re just going to do a quick walk-through of the site, see what we got done today. Then we’ll leave.”
“Yeah, well—” Grant’s features creased as he studied the skyline—“you don’t wanna be out here after dark.” He hesitated. “Want me to wait?”
She waved him off. “No. Go home.”
He nodded. “Whatever you say.” He started to turn, but she couldn’t let him go. Not yet.
“Grant. I’m sorry I was so … distracted earlier.”
He faced her, lips pursed. “Yeah—” he looked across the street to where Rafael stood—“I noticed. Been noticing. All day.”
“I—” Well, really, what could she say? The man was spot on.
“Boss, no worries. We been together too long for me to think anything but the best of you.” He unhooked his tool belt and draped it over one shoulder. “Besides, I figure it’s about time. None o’ my business, but to my way of thinkin’, you been alone too long.”
His firm gaze stopped the protest perched on her lips. “You know as well as I do that your dad wouldn’ta wanted you to be alone.”
With that, he made his way to his car, leaving Kyla to do the only thing she could think of in the face of such a comment.
Glare at Rafael Murphy.
“She’s watching you.”
Elisha’s words jerked Rafe’s attention toward the church. He was right. Kyla was watching him. For a moment pleasure flooded him—only to slam into a dam of reality when he saw the storm creasing her features.
She might be looking at him, but she wasn’t happy.
Not by a long shot.
“Guess you’d better go see what’s up with your lady.”
> Rafe allowed himself a small smile. His lady. Would that it were true. “Guess I’d bett—” His words stilled when Elisha grabbed his arm. Rafe looked at his friend, found the tension in the boy’s fingers mirrored in the dark eyes beneath the ball cap.
Only one thing could get Elisha that upset that fast.
He spun, his gaze racing back to Kyla, his worst fears confirmed by Elisha’s dark tone.
“They’re here.”
They were surrounded.
Ten … no, twelve Blood Brotherhoods circled Kyla and the elders. A terrifying barrier cutting them off from the shelter of the church.
She scanned the faces staring at her, felt her heart pounding in her chest.
What are you afraid of? These are kids. No more than early twenties, Rafael said.
Maybe so, but there was nothing youthful about them.
And everything menacing.
Black, Hispanic, White, Asian—chests out, chins up, arms crossed. All of them, from what she could see of their eyes in the growing dusk, ice cold.
For a heartbeat, no one spoke. Kyla’s hand inched toward her pocket, to her cell phone, but firm fingers closed over her arm.
Willard.
He gave one shake of his head and met her gaze with his own. Wait. The warning was as clear as if he’d spoken. Just … wait.
“Why you dissin’ King K like this?”
Kyla didn’t have time to figure out who spoke. Words spat from every direction.
“He said no center, foo.”
“Dat means no center.”
“You dumm, too? ’Cause you know you deaf.”
“What this crew think they doin’? Think they can do this in a week if they pray?”
“Building’d fall down if a pigeon pooped on it.”
“Nah. That’s what’s holdin’ it together.”
The mockery crescendoed; the comments grew more violent. Vitiating. Hilda gasped behind her. Kyla turned and saw Shamus’s and Wayne’s white faces. The anger burning in their aged eyes. Anger and something more …
Despair.
The ugliness rose on a swell of dark anger, washing over Kyla until she could bear it no more. She had to do something.
Be still.
It whispered through her—low, calm, but a command all the same.
Listen to them, Lord! They are mocking us. Mocking You!
Be still …
She wanted to scream. To hit something. Didn’t God understand? People like this … they didn’t care. Didn’t respect you unless you made them.
Be—
No! Fury set her feet in motion. Willard grabbed her arm again, but she pulled away from him. “Those punks aren’t in control here.”
Willard’s eyes pierced her. “Neither are you.”
“No—” the words seeped through gritted teeth—“but I work for the One who is.” She held his gaze, and his hand fell away.
“If He’s calling you to this, then I won’t stand in your way.”
If He’s calling me …
Kyla jutted her chin and stepped forward, sensing more than seeing the elders fall in behind her. A line of warriors. “Be not afraid.” That’s what God said, right? Fine.
She’d show these thugs she wasn’t afraid. “Where you two tinkleberries think you goin’?”
Rafe wasn’t surprised when three 22s blocked their way. He’d expected it sooner. King K always had lookouts. Big ones.
Rafe fell into his ready stance. Loose. Hands clasped together in front of him, atop his cane, like he was having a nice little talk with his grandmother. Deceptively relaxed. “Tinkerbells.”
The kid looked at him like he was nuts. “What?”
“Tinkerbells, genius, not tinkerberries. Get your insults straight.”
His adversary’s lips parted to show one gold tooth. “You talk tuff for a gimp.” His gaze dropped to Rafe’s cane.
“I have one good one.” He tapped his strong leg. “That’s all I need for someone like you.”
The smile turned decidedly nasty. “Oh, you a smart boy. I bust grapes on smart boys.”
“Well—” Rafe shrugged—“you can try.” He tensed, watched the kid’s eyes, waited …
There.
A flicker in the kid’s eyes just before he moved. Rafe deflected the fist aimed at his face, then used the momentum to flip the crud off his feet, onto his back. One strike with the cane to the back of the kid’s head as he fell.
He was out before he landed, hard, on the concrete.
Rafe looked down at the still form. It was over. Ten, fifteen seconds tops.
He was slowing down.
He turned to the others standing there, eyes wide. But they weren’t looking at Rafe. They were staring at the boy beside him.
“Elisha.”
The taller of the two remaining gang members put his arm in front of his buddy, and the two of them stepped aside.
Rafe and Elisha ran. But even as they did so, Rafe heard a sound that turned his blood cold.
Kyla’s voice. Yelling for King K.
God, why did You let me fall for a crazy woman?
“King K!” Trepidation tripped along Kyla’s nerves as she called out the gang leader. Whispers of alarm shot through her.
Not smart, Kyla. Not smart at all.
Yeah well, so what? She wasn’t putting up with this foolishness a moment longer.
“King K! If you have something to say to us, step up. Say it.” She let a sneer twist her lips. “Or are you just going to let your lackeys speak for you like some kind of coward?”
She didn’t see who hit her.
The blow drove her to her hands and knees, and for a moment she thought sure she was going out. But the stars that had burst to life in her head circled, then faded. She caught the sound of someone yelling. A voice she recognized—
Wayne hit the ground beside her, blood streaming from his nose.
Lord, no … don’t let them be hurt because of me! Dimly she realized someone’s hands were on her shoulders, her head. Stroking her back.
“Willard, no more.” Hilda’s voice. Choked with tears.
“Tell them it’s over.” Kyla started at the voice right next to her ear. Shamus. Kneeling beside her. “Tell them they’ve won.”
Though her jaw felt as though it were going to fall off her face, Kyla clenched it. “No!” She pushed their hands away. Drew a breath.
Stood.
Prayed they couldn’t see how she trembled.
Another kid, hands fisted at his sides, started toward her, but before he came two steps, he yelped and flew backward. The thug beside him followed suit—and then two forms strode through the line. Kyla knew one of them right away.
“Rafe!”
Rafe.
Not Rafael. But Rafe.
And the way she said it sent his pulse into overdrive. It took all his self-control not to gather her in his arms, to cradle her against him. But now wasn’t the time.
Not if they wanted to get out of this in one piece.
He took up a stance on Kyla’s right. Elisha moved to her left. The message was clear: You want her, you go through us.
“Sorry I didn’t get here sooner,” he ground out of a suddenly dry throat. “We met with a little resistance.”
Her wondering gaze swept from Rafe to Elisha. “I thought …”
Elisha didn’t look at her, but then, he didn’t need to. “I’m not in the Brotherhood.”
Kyla wavered, and alarm stung Rafe. Keep her on her feet, Lord. Don’t let her fall. If she goes down, they’ll move in. His leg was already aching, just from the little dance he’d done a few minutes ago. He’d be able to take out one or two, maybe three. But ultimately …
Forget it. Don’t think about ultimately.
Just think about survival.
Kyla fought the wave of dizziness. She was not going to fall. She needn’t have worried. The boy to her left shifted closer, just enough to support her with the side of his arm.
He
and Rafe stood there, arms crossed, feet planted. Two men of muscle and sinew. Strength personified.
An angry rumble sounded from the line circling them, and Kyla tensed. Waiting. Here they come. God, help.
“Step off.”
The low words worked a miracle. Within seconds the aggressors vanished into the night.
Kyla blinked. “What …?” She turned to Rafe. “What happened?”
“King K.”
This from the boy to her left. She shifted to get a better look at him. “How can you tell?”
His lips compressed. “I know his voice.” He nodded to the nonexistent line. “And so do they.”
An arm came around Kyla’s waist. Rafael. She should protest, but was shaking too hard to speak. In fact, she was shaking too hard to stand.
Rafael caught her as she fell, sweeping her into his arms as though she were a feather. He nestled her against his chest, his arms a protective barrier around her.
“One of those animals hit her!”
He nodded to Hilda. “I know. I saw.”
The raw rage saturating his hoarse reply sent shivers across her nerves. His arms tightened around her, their strength and warmth seeping into her cold body.
“Let’s get you inside.”
Tenderness. Protectiveness. Concern. It all resided in those few words, and as Rafael carried her up the stairs and into the church, Kyla had to fight the powerful urge to press her face to his shoulder …
And weep.