Digitalis

by Ronie Kendig

  Did he know her? Why would he glare at her like that? Just as the dread trickled into her veins, Colton drew her closer. “I’m sorry, Piper. I didn’t mean to stir up bad memories.” At his truck he stopped next to the passenger door and stood in front of her. “Seems we both have some things we don’t really like talking about.”

  She dipped her head and wiped at the remaining tears.

  Gently, Colton nudged her chin up. “Hey,” he said, his voice soft.

  She met the blaze in his blue eyes.

  “I’m not like that anymore.”

  Like what—oh, right. Her mind snapped back to the present, away from the haunting feeling that skittered up her spine as they stood in the cool night.

  Colton leaned toward her, his gaze intense. “It’s important to me that you believe that. Okay?”

  “How …?” Yeshua forgive her, but she had to ask. “How can I know that?”

  “Might sound a bit silly, or perhaps a bit cliché, but I gave my life to God after Meredith’s death.” He slid both hands around hers. “I’ve made every change I could think of—moved out here, gave up dating and drinking, went back to church, dedicated myself to being the best father I could be to Mickey, and the best son who would honor my parents—to separate myself from the shameful man I was back then.”

  “God changes the heart, not man.” Her father had said that so often she’d wanted to scream at him.

  Colton hesitated, his gaze assessing. “You’re absolutely right.” He inched closer. “I still make my share of mistakes, but … I just … I won’t let it …” He fisted a hand. “Agh! Woman, why is it so hard to talk to you?”

  “Because you like me?” Sometimes, her tongue really should be cut out of her big mouth!

  “Oh, I think it’s gone beyond that.” His unrelenting gaze seemed to absorb her every reaction. “Piper, don’t pass judgment on me, okay? Give me a chance to prove myself.”

  “Your actions toward Meredith frighten me.” With more boldness than she’d experienced since leaving her homeland, she placed a hand on his chest. Beneath her fingers came the steady thump of his heart. She kept her gaze down, knowing she would lose her focus if she looked into those eyes. “But I feel that I know you—the man you are, the man who is unafraid to do the right thing, no matter how much it hurts. Your heart speaks to me. Somehow, I know … I know you’re not like that anymore.”

  His hand rested over hers. “I hope I can prove it to you for a long time to come.”

  The promise that lingered in his words yanked her gaze to his. What was he saying? His hand slid under her hair at the base of her neck. With an almost unnoticeable tug, he pulled her closer, his gaze dropping to her mouth.

  Her heart sped.

  Colton pulled off. “Now, see?” With a silly grin and hooded eyes, he tried to recover. “I said let me prove myself, and I almost failed.”

  “I—I—” Her voice cracked, and she cleared her throat. “I wouldn’t have called that a failure. Maybe … a promise.”

  His smile went lopsided. “Sealed with a kiss.”

  Her father would beat her, but she nodded.

  He laughed in a way that made her feel silly. “As much as I want to kiss you, and as much as I know I’d thoroughly enjoy it, I’m going to do this right. I promise you—I’m going to prove I’m not like that anymore.” He stepped back and opened the truck door. “Let’s get you home before I get myself in trouble.”

  High on anticipation and the thought of Piper, Colton strode into the Tank, the nickname the team had given the warehouse where they met, trained, and debriefed. His boots thudded through the cavernous space as he approached the black Chrysler 300 perched in the loading bay.

  A door opened. General Lambert emerged. “This is very unusual, Digitalis.”

  “I reckon so, sir.” He shook the man’s hand, admiration and respect thick. “Thank you for taking the time to meet with me.”

  “My time is short, as I’m sure you can understand.”

  “Of course. Let me get right to it: I’d like you to clear someone for me.”

  “A recruit?”

  “No, sir.”

  “A woman, then?”

  “Yes, sir.” Why did he feel like a thirteen-year-old kid talking to his dad? “I’d like to introduce her to the team—once you’ve cleared her, of course.”

  The lines in Lambert’s face crinkled. “Already being done, son.”

  Colton’s amusement fled. “Sir?”

  “She’s been under observation and investigation since she went to your home a month ago.”

  Blood slowed through his veins, and he felt the pressure build in his chest. “Mind explaining how you knew she’s been to my house?”

  Lambert laughed and turned toward his car. “There are no secrets here, Digitalis.” Hand on the door, he glanced back. “And if there are, you can be sure that we will expose and exploit them.”

  Colton’s hands fisted.

  The general’s gaze bounced between Colton’s fisted hands and his eyes. “Good, that’s a good anger. Remember, you’re protecting your team, as well as your family.” With a curt nod, he said, “You’ll hear from me.”

  Sirens wailed. People screamed as they ran for cover, shouting for loved ones. The camera panned toward a woman, on her knees as she clutched a lifeless body to her chest. With her head thrown back, she clearly wailed, yet the sound was lost amid the warbling sirens.

  Blinking back tears, Piper held a hand over her mouth as she listened to the reporter continue:

  “This in the latest violence in the region. The rocket, fired from Palestine, decimated several buildings in Ashdod. Another rocket struck the outskirts of Beersheba, killing dozens.”

  Piper’s knees buckled. She scrambled to sit on her small sofa. Huddled against the wave of shock roiling through her, she stared at the screen. And in a split second, it transported her back to her homeland. To the rancid smell of human flesh burning. Air thickened by ash and smoke. Heart-piercing screams.

  “Baba,” she whispered, calling for her father. She threaded her fingers together and squeezed them, drawing upon courage she’d not had to use in many months. But the words staggered. “Yeshua, please …” Tears streamed down her face.

  She didn’t know where her father had taken shelter over the past year, but she knew that street, knew what buildings had once stood there proud and white. What if … what if he’d never left Beersheba? What if he’d been killed in that attack?

  Hope vanished as the camera angled in on a robed body near a demolished mud-and-brick home. “No,” she mumbled. “It can’t be.” But that sweater! She’d given it to him for his birthday last year.

  No. No, she would not believe he was dead. That all these months had been for naught. She smeared the tears from her face. Punched to her feet. There was only one way to find out. Piper grabbed her purse and keys before she darted out the door.

  The images of her beloved Beersheba in ruins chased her into the night-darkened street. She jumped in her car, sped through town to the university, and parked at the law library. Hurrying up the steps, she shoved aside the thought of her father lying dead in a burnt street and focused on getting through the front doors.

  Rushing between the towering sentry shelves, she indiscriminately grabbed a volume as she made her way to a terminal at the back. Quiet and dim lighting packed heebies on top of her jeebies, but she didn’t care about being frightened. She had to know if her father was alive.

  Piper slid into the hardwood chair and glanced around before she let the book fall open on the desk. With trembling fingers, she typed the fake login.

  A yellow caution sign with a red exclamation point blinked at her. In her frenetic pace, she’d mistyped the ID. She worked to steady her nerves as she pecked out the ID once more. This time the terminal granted access.

  Another few clicks brought her to a business site. She worked through the layered pages until she finally came to the maintenance department and selecte
d the janitor. With a press of the mouse button, the browser opened an e-mail program. Piper entered the coded message she’d conjured up en route to the library and hit SEND.

  Letting out a slow but long exhale, she pulled her eyes from the monitor and glanced at the textbook, forcing herself to look as casual as possible. Look like she was studying. But she’d never be able to study until she knew her father was still inhaling the cool, dry air of Israel.

  And then … the only glimmer of sunshine in her life—Colton—trickled into her thoughts. If she could reach her baba, she’d tell him about Colton. It would help her father concentrate on his mission, on getting back to her. Undoubtedly, he’d question her choice if he found out about Colton’s past, but he didn’t need to know. Only that she’d found a good man, that he’d take care of her … assuming it went that far.

  She scanned the words in the reference book, but nothing seeped past her anxiety. She’d broken protocol by contacting him. He’d have to deal with it. She had to know. A message dropped into the in-box. Her heart hitched.

  Then plummeted.

  The message read:

  I’m sorry. You must have the wrong dept.

  Breath backed into her throat, she stared at the screen. No … no, no, no. What did he mean wrong department? She’d used the same link as always. Only as her mouth dried out did she realize her jaw hung agape. She clamped it shut and straightened.

  He must understand. What if her father needed to warn her? What if—? She gasped. What if the attack was intentional, and someone found him? He’d try to warn her, right?

  She hacked out another message, knowing this one must be more urgent, more direct:

  Imperative contact is made. Potential endgame may have been

  effected. Must establish veracity of recent reports regarding Raven.

  She hit SEND again and hoped she hadn’t made a mistake to be so open about her purpose for the protocol breach. But it was a risk she had to take.

  Her lower lip trembled as she thought of her father … worried over him. Elbows on the table, she buried her face in her hands. What if he needed her? The walls holding her together were crumbling like Jericho. Is he dead? Was she all that was left of her family? Her back slumped, dragging her shoulders down as a sob wracked her.

  Bang!

  The loud noise jolted Piper from her misery. She snapped her gaze to the right, then left. Was a book dropped on a table? A door slamming? Listening, she silently chided herself for losing control and focus. If anyone saw her, they’d grow suspicious. She was supposed to be studying. Piper dragged the reference book close again and rested her arm over it, her gaze stabbing the dark corners in the library. It’d been too dangerous to do these cyber-rendezvous attempts on her personal laptop—too easily traced. But she hated coming here, sitting in the dank, depressing building.

  As she dragged her gaze back to the monitor, she sucked in a breath. Another reply:

  Get out. You’ve been found.

  CHAPTER 7

  He finally found the girl he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Eight months of recon told him what he’d felt in two seconds—she was the one. But if—no, when she found out about the flashbacks, she’d be gone. Colton stabbed the bale of hay with a particularly hard thrust and flung it toward Maverick’s stall.

  Don’t even get him started on that feeling at the back of his brain warning him something wasn’t right. Nothing worse than that with zip to substantiate it. He rammed the tongs of the pitchfork into another bale. He tossed it toward Foxy’s enlarged stall, and it hit the iron rail. Her new foal, Hershey, started at the noise and darted around the pen.

  “This wouldn’t be about Piper would it?” His father ambled to the tack rack and drew down another pitchfork.

  Colton eyed his father. Eyed the way his shirt seemed to hang off his tall, once-muscular frame. Eyed the way he thought he’d help. “Pop, I can handle this.”

  “I know,” came the familiar drawl. “But there aren’t many times we can do this together anymore.”

  Who was his old man fooling? He wasn’t here to work. Cradling the fork’s handle in the crook of his elbow, Colton removed his hat and wiped the sweat. “Not in a talkin’ mood today, Pop.”

  “Then quit your jabberin’, son.” His father worked the bound hay near Maverick’s stall and spread it over the ground.

  Nope, that wasn’t going to work. Not this time.

  Colton delivered the last two bales to the other stalls. Then he grabbed the shovel and went to mucking Foxy and Hershey’s stall. Satisfied with the job, he grabbed the brush and smoothed it over the honeyed coat of Maverick. The horse swished his tail at Colton. “I know, boy.”

  As he wiped down the flank, he couldn’t help but think how much the stallion’s coat looked like Piper’s golden-blond hair. Well, not quite golden, more of a straw color. Nah, that wasn’t right either. Maybe coffeelike, with a little creamer. But soft the way Mickey’s baby skin had been.

  “Son!”

  He jerked around—and Maverick whisked his tail right into Colton’s face. Flinching, he soothed the horse as he met his father’s eyes. “What?”

  “Where’s your mind? I asked you a question.”

  Colton waited. Wouldn’t admit he’d been distracted.

  “You bringing her to the barbecue?”

  Knew it. “Haven’t decided.”

  “Why not?”

  “Told you,” he said as he went back to grooming Maverick, “I’m not in a talkin’ mood.”

  “She’s not Meredith.”

  That yanked Colton around and earned him another smack from the stallion. Aggravated with both his father and the horse, he left the stall and moved farther down the barn. He eased into Foxy’s stall and grinned as Hershey hesitantly came over to inspect him.

  His mind flicked back to the night Hershey was born, to the way Piper had thrown herself into his arms. She said her grandfather had raised goats. He’d never known anyone to do that intentionally—raise goats? Was she serious? She was the quirkiest woman he’d ever met. Beautiful, too. But there was something …

  “Might wanna move,” his father’s voice—which was all too close—broke into his thoughts.

  He glanced back to his father, who now stood leaning on the gate to Firefox’s stall. “Come again?”

  “Imagine your leg’s about to get a bit warm.”

  Colton looked down just in time to see Hershey take aim to relieve himself.

  “Boy, your mind’s doing a lot of talkin’ for ya. Eventually, that’s going to leak out—either through more flashbacks or through your mouth.” His father tilted his brown Cattle Baron from his brow, revealing the clear blue eyes Colton had inherited. “Now, I’d prefer mouth to flashback, but it’s your call.”

  Armed with a soft lead, he returned to Hershey. With quiet talk to the foal, he eased the harness over his head. When Colton stalked toward the gate, his father didn’t move. He grinned at the man he was becoming more like every day. “You gonna let me out, or you planning to hog-tie me so I’ll listen to your lecture?”

  “Champion rodeo cowboy in my day.” His pop lifted the lead from the tack and entered the stall, where he harnessed Firefox.

  Colton ran a hand along Hershey, whose eyes seemed to widen and flit from Colton to his father. “Yes, sir. You don’t let me forget.”

  “But you’ve been the most pig-headed and the hardest to wrestle.”

  Colton chuckled as his father brought Firefox alongside.

  “What’s eating your brain cells?”

  “Like you don’t know.”

  His father nodded. “Thought so.”

  “I—I’m crazy about her ….”

  “That’s news to only one person—you.” His father laughed, but then grew serious again. “I feel a mighty big but coming on. Let’s have it.”

  Colton removed his hat and used his shoulder to swipe away the sweat. “I dread the day she sees me go through a flashback. Or finds out about Eme
lie. I know it’ll happen, and …” He swallowed hard. “I can’t stand the thought of her thinking less of me.” He fisted a hand. “Who wants a messed-up cowboy?”

  “Can’t believe you’re still trying to lay claim to what happened to Em. Being hard on yourself, aren’t you?”

  “Not hard enough.” Maybe if he had kept his head together, a lot of heartache could’ve been avoided.

  “I might not be the brightest bulb in the pack when it comes to women, but I’m fairly certain Piper likes the man she’s getting to know.”

  “I’m a brand of trouble nobody wants.” Colton stretched an arm around Hershey’s chest and the other arm around his bum. “She deserves better. You and Mom didn’t deserve even this.” He glanced at his father over Firefox. “You ready?”

  “Yeah—and what this are you talking about?”

  “Babysitting me! Sticking around because nobody knows when I’ll try to kill someone again because I’m plumb out of my mind.”

  “Son—”

  “No, don’t, Pop. Not now. Please.” He sloughed a hand over his face. “I’m not going to pretend anymore. Don’t nobody need or want that trouble. I hate this about me—”

  “Colton—”

  “Hate it.” Long-suppressed feelings surged to the surface of his carefully held frustration. “Why? Why won’t God heal me? How could He let me take Em over there just to kill her?”

  “Well—”

  “I pray all the time, beg Him to heal those memories, to help me forget—”

  “Colton!” His father’s near shout siphoned the strength from his tirade. “Son, quit stewing over what you can’t change.”

  The comment knocked him silent. Mad, but silent.

  Finally, he said, “Let’s just … get this done.” Using Firefox’s lead, Colton held Hershey in a firm hug hold and led him to the open paddock. His father led Foxy a few paces ahead as incentive to get Hershey to follow. Some people didn’t start them this young, but Colton felt it was wise to get him used to being handled by humans. At the paddock, his dad released Foxy, who trotted around. Colton eased the foal free and closed the gate.