by Ronie Kendig
Let me explain it with my fist, jerk. Was the guy toting Jell-O in that thick skull? It didn’t take a genius to figure out how she’d gotten the jacket. And honestly, Canyon wasn’t sure he wanted to hear her tell the tale. It looked painful enough for her as it was.
“Lieutenant?”
Fire danced through her eyes.
Canyon tensed. She’d borne up under the questions like a champ. Clearly, the pukes had made ground meat of her. He pressed his balled hand against his mouth as she seemed to steel herself. Come on. You can do it. Shove Billings and his arrogance back to the Stone Age!
“Bruzon held me captive in his quarters. When he had meetings, he’d have me locked up in the underground prison. Then, I was dragged back up to the light of day where he’d—” The fire fizzled out under choked-back tears. She shook her head.
“Lieutenant?” Billings growled.
Range whispered to her.
Canyon wanted to bail. Wanted to storm out, unable to listen to the story of a woman being violated repeatedly. But if he left, he’d draw attention. Couldn’t do that. Lambert would have his hide.
Jarring metal scraped against metal. “I can’t do this.” Lieutenant Roark shoved her way past the guards, past the doors, out of the courtroom. Her father and Lambert went after her.
On his feet as soon as the break was announced, Canyon wove though the crowds. Rushing out a side door, he punched it open, relieved at the outlet for his anger. He jogged down the stairs to the main level. As he hit the door, again feeling the release, he sighted Roark and her family standing in a huddle.
Lambert looked up as Roark’s father tried to cajole her into finishing the testimony.
Agitation wormed through Canyon as he held Lambert’s gaze, a silent signal drawing the general from the small crowd.
“Why are we here?” Canyon asked.
“I guess you could say it’s personal.” Lambert sighed. “What do you think?”
Pain radiated through his jaw and into his neck as Canyon ground his teeth. He pushed his gaze to her, where she stood defiant and hard faced. Whatever purpose Lambert had in asking the Nightshade team to attend, whatever services they would need to render, it would never be enough to remove the pain from her life.
But at least she’d have some justice.
“Whatever you want to do, I’m in.”
Near Mindanao, Philippines 13:54:15
Nice and easy. Take it slow,” Bayani instructed Tem-Tem. “Look at the tree, then to the sights on your weapon.” When the warrior complied, Bayani said, “Fire.”
The shot echoed across the village, thumping against my chest as I watched him train the men, both old and young, of my village. Hope lingered in my breast that my people would survive. Messages from Hootup and Markoi told of brutal attacks from the other tribes and villages.
Gleeful shouts erupted from where Tem-Tem stood with Bayani, receiving a pat on the back. In all, twelve of our young men had been chosen for training with the big guns and twice that for hand combat.
Were the changes necessary? I was not so sure. Yes, I longed for my people to live, to thrive, to be as our people had been before them. But … fighting … with training from outside—was it truly good?
My daughter sauntered toward me with a bowl of food and handed it to me. “Mama.”
When Chesa did not greet me as was our custom, I glanced up at her. The warriors had distracted her. Well, not our warriors. But the outsiders. One outsider—Bayani. Strong, handsome Bayani with hair the color of wheat. She had been but eighteen years old when the outsiders had come, promising to help our people. It was Bayani who saved her from warriors who held evil in their hearts.
Laughter shot out from the warriors. Even I could not help but stare again. You see, Bayani and Tem-Tem wrestled, the others watching as the two played as boys often do. They were a good match. Where Bayani was keen and patient, Tem-Tem was quick and fierce.
From somewhere in the trees, a long, mournful scream severed the day. I looked around, aware as Chesa raced into the hut to her sisters. Even as I rose to my feet, I saw Bayani and the outsiders grab their weapons and run fast as the leopard to the trees. Our warriors went with them.
Rat-tat-tat! Bang! Screams. All together in a big pot of noise that scared the little ones and made the not-so-little hide their fear behind brave masks.
As the wife of the chief, I gathered the other women, and we all prayed that the men would return safely. Impishly, I even prayed to the Christian God. Any god who would listen and bring back my Awa.
As the torches flickered, the men returned. Bayani and the outsiders were tired but unharmed. Twelve of our men died in the fight. Awa tells it was not the Higanti as we feared but a group who demanded our people embrace their god or die.
It angered me greatly—until I saw Chesa and Bayani standing just out of the torchlight. Alone. She held his hands. Understand, that this was not done in our village. Awa saw as well. And he ordered that Bayani must take Chesa or they must both be killed.
CHAPTER 4
Metcalfe Residence, Virginia
Mid-March
We shouldn’t be here.” Dani hesitated on the sidewalk, her gaze traipsing over the green shamrock lights strung along the front porch. Who decorates for St. Patrick’s Day?
Her father nearly tripped as he moved around her. “Nonsense.” He guided Dani and Abigail, her stepmother, up the winding path to the Metcalfes’ ranch-style home. “They invited us, and we’re glad to be here.”
At his not-so-subtle prompting, Dani swallowed hard as they reached the porch. The light came on seconds before the door swung open.
Dressed in a shirt and tie, Range smiled and welcomed them. “Glad you could make it.” Shadows flitted over his face as he stepped back to allow them entrance. “Please, come in. The family’s in the den. Mom will be down soon. And as you can see, Paddy’s Day is important to her.”
Hesitantly, Dani moved into the home, her eyes straining to adjust to the dimmed environment. The tiny foyer boasted a large rug that added a coziness to the home. Pictures of children, weddings, babies, and family groups consumed the wall, quickly establishing the focus of the home—family. A light glowed brightly at the far end, bringing with its illumination laughter and merriment.
“Let me get your coats.” His cologne tingled her nostrils as Range received their coats, hurried them to a closet, then returned.
Abigail stepped forward. “Have the caterers arrived?”
“Well, yes, ma’am. They set up tents in the backyard and are still working, but we have our own fare Mom insists on.”
“Of course,” her father said.
Range turned to Dani, his gaze instantly softening as he held a hand toward the living room. “Come on. I’ll introduce you to everyone.”
Stomach aflutter with nerves, Dani followed him past the stairs and another hall, where he pointed and mumbled something about the bathroom.
They stepped into a tiled area and the change gave her pause. Although the home had probably been built in the seventies, it’d been updated. The entire area gleamed with brand-new appliances, tiled floors, dark cabinets, granite, and luxurious seating. Jutting off to the left, a massive fireplace cradled the den with two sofas, recliners, and a large round ottoman that boasted two giggling children. Several adults sat around, laughing.
“Hey, everyone, listen up.” Range’s hand came toward Dani.
She forced herself not to flinch or pull away as he touched her shoulder.
“This is Danielle Roark, her father, Senator Roark, and his wife, Mrs. Roark.”
A tall, lithe blond shifted, then came toward her. “I’m Willow.” She offered her hand to each of them, then paused next to Dani. “We’re all named after elements of nature, so just guess if you can’t remember.”
“Yeah,” a guy called from the sofa. “There are too many of them anyway.”
Willow rolled her eyes. “That’s Mark, Brooke’s husband.” She angled herself c
loser and pointed toward the stone fireplace where an older teen slumped on the edge of the sofa. “That’s the littlest Metcalfe. You can just call him Runt.”
“Whoa. Huh-uh.” The guy shoved to his feet, and his large build and broad chest belied the “runt” moniker. Longish, sandy-blond hair accented his brilliant smile. Girls probably swooned at his feet. “Leif Metcalfe.” He pumped her father’s hand as the other members of his family joined the introductions. “Nice to meet you, Senator.” Something about him seemed familiar. He nodded at her in an almost bashful manner. “Miss Roark.”
A crowd formed. The air thickened. Too many people. Too much attention. Although Dani forced a smile into her face, she mentally plotted the quickest exit.
“Would you like something to drink?” Range asked, his touch gentle against her back. “We have St. Patrick’s Punch, Eight-Inch Leprechauns, and of course sodas. Or I’m sure there’s other things out there.” He arched his brows and glanced through the windows to the chaos.
There Dani spotted a large white tent, Chinese lanterns, gleaming stainless steel servers, white-coated wait staff … In other words, overkill. Her father and stepmother were notorious for lavish overkill and tonight, in their attempt to help Mrs. Metcalfe with the meal, they’d succeeded again.
“Oh.” Abigail perked up. “I did some research on Irish stuff and had them make the Blarney Stone cocktails, shamrock cocktail—”
“Hold up!” Leif chuckled. “Metcalfes don’t do liquor.”
“Shut up, Leif.” Willow glared at her little brother. “Sorry. Canyon’s not here to keep him in line, so his mouth is running away with him.”
“Hey, Canyon isn’t my keeper.”
A hoot sounded from the guy with the baby—Mark. “Hey, Brooke, make sure we remember to tell Canyon that when he gets here. What about Stone? Is he—?”
“Right here.” A broad-shouldered man, slightly gray at the temples, stepped into the living room with a woman and two children. He offered his hand to her father. “Senator, Stone Metcalfe, and this is my wife, Marie. Nice to meet you. I’ve followed your career closely.”
Dani’s stomach tumbled at the way Stone Metcalfe said that. As if a face-off was coming. But instead, he and her father launched into a discussion about the recent vote and the direction of the economy.
“Would you like something to drink?” The question whispered against her ear snaked up her neck and made Dani jump. “I’m sorry.” Range’s face reddened. “I didn’t mean to startle you. Can I get you anything?”
Grateful for the diversion from the people and introductions, she nodded. “Please. Some … uh … water. Do you have water?”
He grinned. “Right this way.” As they moved from the den to the kitchen, Range motioned to a stool at the granite counter. “Have a seat. I’ll get you taken care of.”
A floral perfume swept around them just seconds before Willow eased onto the stool next to her. “This is going to get overwhelming, I promise. Range, get me an Eight Inch, please.”
“Sure.” He lifted two mugs from the cupboard and began filling them.
“There are six of us,” Willow explained, “and even I get stressed when we’re all under the same roof.”
Whoa. Six. Dani essentially grew up an only child since Alexandra was so much older than her. “So, you don’t all live here?”
Willow’s strong cheekbones glowed under the warm lighting, highlighting her pale blue eyes. “Heavens no. Well, Range, Leif, and I do, but the whole family comes together for Sunday dinner and anything remotely close to a holiday. It’s a Metcalfe family thing. Oh, and wait till you meet Mom. Everything comes together when she’s around.”
“My father said she had surgery. Is she okay?” Dani asked, grateful for the natural, easy way Willow acted. And for not bringing up who Dani was or why she was here. She tugged the lightweight sweater over her shoulders and clutched the top of it closed.
Wrinkling her nose, Willow sighed. “Healing, but it’ll take a while. They completely reconstructed her back after a bad car accident. She’ll be in a brace for the next six months as her spine and back heal.”
“Bet she doesn’t wear it tonight.” Range set a glass of ice water in front of Dani, along with a mug. “Give this a try, it might chase that chill away.”
“No way would she let anyone see her in it.” Willow giggled. “If there’s one thing Metcalfes do right, it’s pride.”
“Pride and parties.”
“Well, tonight we have the help of caterers.”
Dani didn’t miss the way Range’s sister rolled her eyes. “I’m sorry about that. My stepmother has this twisted sense of helping—she thinks sending all this stuff, the caterers, is helping. Most of the time, it doesn’t. It just makes people feel … weird.”
Willow sipped her drink. “No worries. Brooke can keep her busy. And I see Stone has already captured your father’s attention.”
The sprigs of mint on her drink wafted up with a light menthol scent.
“Hey, boy scout,” Willow taunted her brother. “Why don’t you tell Mom everyone’s here.”
“But Canyon—”
“Hates parties. He’ll be late.” She grinned. “Mom will put you out on the range if you leave her back there too long.”
“Ha, ha. Fine.” He glanced at Dani. “I’ll be right back.”
A gust of wind blew in from the back door. “Sir, we are ready.” A man in a white serving coat, black slacks, and bow tie waited with his white-gloved hands folded.
“Shall we?” Her father motioned to the tents. “Fine food, great people, and a perfect evening!”
Dani sipped her drink, wishing her father would take a backseat. Let this family run their own home and party. But no, he had to be the center of attention, the one with the power.
“So, you are a demolitions expert?” Willow asked as she directed Dani out onto the back porch, then down a pebble path to the massive tents.
Dani nodded, nerves churning.
Willow smiled. “I’m in the Peace Corps.” The beautiful blond eased into a chair toward the back of the tent. “I joined right after I graduated from college, all idealistic and everything. Thought I could reform the world.”
Dani tugged back a seat next to her and settled in with her warm mug. “I joined the Corps of Engineers because I thought it’d make my father mad.”
Willow laughed. “Did it?”
“Mad didn’t come close.” Dani smiled, remembering how her father all but threatened to disinherit her. “I think my sister saved me.” Indeed Alexandra convinced their father to overlook her rebellious streak.
Amazed at the easy conversation between her and Willow, Dani told herself it was okay to relax—at least a little. She honestly felt okay here, didn’t feel the need to erect barriers or hide behind rehearsed answers and platitudes.
A while later, Range’s lanky form escorted a graceful woman garbed in a burgundy pantsuit. “Senator Roark, I’d like to introduce my mother, Moira Mulroney Metcalfe.”
Her father stood and bowed. “Mrs. Metcalfe, it’s an honor to meet you.”
“Thank you, but the honor is mine. We are so glad you could join us.” She waved him down. The woman was elegant and absolutely beautiful—Willow’s mirror image. And Range had been right—she stood straight and tall, sans the back brace. Proud. Just like they’d predicted. The Metcalfes definitely did pride well. Instantly, Dani loved Mrs. Metcalfe.
Her father waited as Mrs. Metcalfe took her seat across from him, then pointed to a chair and spoke to Range. “Son, have a seat. Tonight, we honor your bravery in saving my daughter.”
Heat slapped into Dani’s cheeks.
“Oh, you’re the lady Uncle Range rescued?” A blue-eyed angel of a girl peered up at Dani from across the table, mashed potatoes poised on her fork.
Silence dropped on the gathering like a wet blanket.
The attention it elicited unsettled Dani more than the question itself. She let a smile slip into her lips
and opened her mouth to answer.
“Kaleigh!” Brooke admonished from down the table.
“No, it’s okay,” Dani said, remembering how many times Alexandra or her father had reprimanded her as a child for simple, innocent curiosities. She smiled at the little girl. “Yes, he saved me that day.”
“I didn’t save her.” Range’s terse voice broke in. “I lifted her to the Coast Guard chopper. The Middletons pulled her from the ocean. That’s who deserves the honor.”
Appreciating his humility, Dani offered him a small smile. And tensed at the sudden light in his eyes.
“Nonsense, son.” Her father leapt into the conversation. “What you did—saving Danielle—means a lot to me.”
Movement behind Range snagged Dani’s attention. A shadow shifted, then solidified as a man ducked through the opening. Her heart hitched. The man from the courtroom! The one whose mesmerizing eyes had infused her with strength she didn’t have during the trial.
“Canyon, ‘bout time you showed up,” Mark shouted. “You should’ve heard Leif earlier.”
“Traitor!” Leif thumped his brother-in-law on the back of the head.
Again, her father introduced himself and Abigail before Canyon started around the table.
Laughter warmed the party, but Dani couldn’t shake the heat flaring up her neck as she watched the man they called Canyon. Sharp in a blue shirt and black slacks, he gave his brother-in-law a cockeyed grin and gripped his shoulder in a friendly greeting. “What’s with the tent? You remodeling again, Mom?” He inched down the row of seats, touching his mother’s shoulder as he bent toward her and planted a kiss on her face.
“That’s right; you’d better greet your mother.” Moira Metcalfe patted her son’s cheek. “Find a seat. Enjoy the evening.”
The warmth in this family seared her heart. If her mother had lived, would this be what she had instead of a stepmother only a few years older than herself, celebrations replete with all-too-expensive gifts, loneliness to tuck her in at night?
Willow set a biscuit on an empty plate. “Canyon, have a sit. I already started your plate.”