by Ronie Kendig
He took her cue and whipped around, ripping his weapon from the holster. A blur of black came at him. Adrenaline boomed through his veins as the attacker tackled him.
Colton went down hard but alert. Aware of the haphazard way the guy fought. The kid—and the young and almost beardless face bespoke his youthfulness—had to be running on pure fear and adrenaline. Which gave Colton’s second nature instincts the advantage. Twisting his legs around the guy’s, he flipped him. Straddled his body. Got a hard look at his face. Middle—no, not quite Middle Eastern. Something different.
With one hand against the kid’s throat, Colton aimed his weapon at him. “Hands! Show me your hands!” he roared. His mind registered the beads of sweat. The tunic-style shirt that tugged to the side, revealing Arabic script tattooed along the man’s collarbone.
Over his shoulder, he ordered Piper to call the cops. As she rushed into the kitchen, he turned back to his prisoner.
Behind him, the floor creaked.
He glanced—and something flew into his face. Knocked him backward. Stars sprinkled through his vision. The back of his head hit something solid. Fire licked through his head, feeling like a thousand tiny needles darting down his spine.
Head cleared a bit, he came up—straight into the barrel of a weapon. Tango One towered over him, kicked at Colton’s hand and dislodged the MEU pistol from his grip. But as he did, Colton sideswiped the guy’s legs. Knocked him flat on his back.
With a hard right, he knocked him out cold. Maybe he’d stay down this time. As Colton struggled to his knees, squinting through the pain, he sighted Tango Two scrambling toward the kitchen—toward Piper.
Colton rolled once, twice, snatched up his weapon and rolled onto his belly. He lined up Tango Two behind the sights. He eased the trigger back. The guy crumpled, his body straddling the threshold to the kitchen.
Piper screamed and jerked around.
The first tango bolted out the door. Dawg, the guy must have a steel skull.
No. Couldn’t let him get away. He pulled around and fired, but the man made it through the door. Colton shoved to his feet and stumbled after him. Out into the dimly lit night. The dull yellow glow of the streetlamp made specter and ghoul out of every shadow. By the time his vision adjusted, the street lay empty. Quiet.
He attempted the three steps and nearly landed on his face. His knee grazed the cement. He dragged himself upright. Propped against the wrought-iron fence, he holstered his weapon and tugged his phone from his pocket. Dialed.
“Go ahead.”
“I got a mess you’re going to want to clean up.” He gave the address, then scanned the street one more time before pocketing the phone.
“Colton!” Piper’s voice stabbed his conscience and drew him back to the steps. He started to climb, but the effort made his head swim. He slumped onto the concrete and pressed a palm to his temple.
“Oh Yeshua, thank you!” She hustled down to him. “Are you okay? Colton, are you okay?”
“I’m … fine.” He pressed his palm harder against her loud words and the throbbing pain in his head.
She lifted his hand and winced. “Ouch.”
“Yeah,” he said with a wince. “That’s one way of putting it.”
“The cops are on the way.”
“Good. I made a call myself.” He traced the bloodied spot on his knuckles where he’d made contact with the first attacker, then considered her. “You okay?”
“Yes, for the most part.”
“Who were those guys? Did they tell you what they wanted?”
Her eyes took on a distant hue. “I … I …” She narrowed her eyes, gaze aimed at the street. Then, as if remembering he was there, she blinked and looked at him. “I don’t know.”
While it comforted him that he’d intervened and stopped her from getting hurt, something bugged the tar out of him. Piper wasn’t rattling on about what happened, she wasn’t hysterical—not that a person had to be—but she didn’t seem scared. At all. Matter of fact, she seemed distracted.
He’d done enough time working to extract information from the unwilling that he felt his gears change. “Do you know something? About those men or the reason they came at you?”
Her gaze came to his quickly, riddled with surprise—or was it fear?—and just as quickly she looked down. “No.” Piper glanced at him with a smile that definitely didn’t reach her eyes. Barely made it past her upper lip. “I wasn’t sure what they wanted or were doing, but then you came.”
He wasn’t going to break eye contact. “Just in time.” She was hiding something, and if he had to back her into a corner, he would. “You don’t seem scared.”
A siren wailed as a squad car burst around the corner.
Without answering, Piper stood and motioned to the police.
Yep, she was hiding something.
He knew she was hiding something. His crystal blues told her. What good would she do in the political arena, defending her homeland, when she could not even convince one man that the men in her home were strangers?
The arriving ambulance and police cruiser saved Piper from having to lie yet again. She hated herself for being stupid enough to think she could get involved with a man and that it’d work out. She had too many secrets for that to be plausible. She’d studied public relations, and yet she’d been unable to negotiate a path to peace in this situation. Did it matter?
Piper crossed her arms and hugged herself against the cool wind that stirred up and took over the night. Time seemed to vanish with each blink of her eye. Questions, interviews, photographs … It felt like too much. Too much to hide. Too many secrets.
She watched Colton, who sat with an EMT working on the bloody spot on his temple. She’d never forget the sound of her wood sculpture when it thudded against Colton’s head. Or watching him fly backward and hit the pine table. How had he known how to fight like that? The skills, the maneuvers, spoke of advanced training. Like Mossad. Was Colton some type of elite soldier? Hadn’t he said he got out of the military?
It was time to move on, move away from Colton or anyone else before they got hurt. She’d vanished once before. She could do it again. She simply had too many secrets to hide, her father to protect until he could prove what he’d unearthed.
A sleek black sedan and an SUV pulled to the curb. No sooner had the doors opened than Colton was on his feet, excusing himself from the care of the EMT and the questions of the officer. He strode toward an older, white-haired gentleman and a broad-shouldered African American man. He clapped the latter on the back and shook his hand.
Piper frowned. Who were they? A suit cut into her view, and she strained around it to see.
“Miss Blum?”
She jerked straight and met the steely gaze of a man in khaki pants and a sweatshirt with three gold letters over the left breast. FBI. A metallic taste filled her mouth.
“Miss Blum.” An officer appeared beside her. “This is Agent Morris with the FBI. He’d like to ask you some questions, pretty much the same ones I asked.”
“My answers haven’t changed,” Piper said as she stood, hoping the move made her appear stronger and more confident.
Agent Morris smiled. “Actually, don’t mind Lansing. He thinks I’m encroaching.”
Piper glanced between the two men and saw the rivalry, even in the dim light provided by her front porch and the streetlamp. And once again, she recounted the entire ordeal. She would’ve finished the tale faster, but her gaze kept wandering to Colton, who huddled with the other two men in deep concentration and discussion.
“Ma’am?”
“Yes?”
Agent Morris looked toward Colton and the others. “The assailants—have you ever seen them before? Did you know them?”
She shook her head. “No, I’ve never seen them before.” Just as the words slipped past her lips this time, she recalled the date with Colton. The man who’d bumped her shoulder. Was he …? No, he had eyes she’d never forget. Eyes that said he didn’t do a
nything lightly.
The high-pitched whine of a sport bike screamed into the night, severing her ability to even hear her own words. She looked toward the street where a black motorcycle screeched to a halt near Colton and the others. The rider removed a helmet and toed the kickstand. Colton gave the man the same welcome he’d afforded the others.
“Do you know who those men are?” Agent Morris asked, nodding to Colton and the other three.
Should it bother her that the local authorities did not know Colton or the men he stood with? “I know Colton but not the others.”
“And Colton is …?”
“The cowboy, the tall dark-haired one in the middle.”
“No,” he said with a soft chuckle, pulling her attention back to himself. “I meant, who is Colton Neeley to you?”
She peeked at the cowboy who had captured her heart, who’d shown more strength of character than perhaps her own father. How would tonight’s events change the budding relationship? Was he going to leave her, too, because things were too tense? “A friend.”
Agent Morris eyed her, then the officer, then her again.
“What?”
“A friend, who comes out at nearly ten o’clock at night—on a hunch?”
“He has strong instincts.” Piper shrugged. She really didn’t feel up to any of this. She wanted it to go away, wanted to disappear.
“Agent Morris, I believe?” A strong, firm voice intruded on the questioning.
Morris and Lansing turned away from her.
The older gentleman stood directly behind him, with Colton and his two friends. “I believe this call is for you.” The white-haired man handed Agent Morris a cell phone. As the agent took the phone, the older man smiled at Piper. “Good evening, Miss Blum. Quite a little circus we have here, wouldn’t you say?”
Piper darted Colton a nervous glance. And winced at what she saw lingering just below the small white bandage on his temple. Accusation. Questions. Anger. Her defenses snapped into place. So she was going to be alone in this. Again. So be it.
“Certainly doesn’t make for a quiet night.” She furrowed her brow. “I’m sorry, who are you?”
Agent Morris returned, stuffed the phone at the older man. “I don’t know how you pulled that off—”
Shorter, but larger by the size of his powerful presence, the older man glared down the FBI agent. “I believe your work is done here, Agent Morris. Thank you for your time.”
The African American man wrapped an arm around the FBI agent and led him away. Something inside Piper coiled up, ready to strike—to protect herself, no matter the cost. The way this man operated felt entirely too familiar. Though her body tensed and drew back, she steeled herself. She’d faced Mossad agents and survived. She could face this man.
But Colton …
The thought jarred her, but she recovered.
“Officer Lansing, might I have a word with you?” The older man talked as he walked, the two of them meandering toward the police cruiser.
He hadn’t answered her question. The situation made her feel as if a hundred roaches darted over her torso. Instinctively, she rubbed her arms and neck as she turned to Colton. “What’s going on?”
He glanced toward the house. “Cops found a gas leak, think the line was cut—intentionally.”
She widened her eyes. “They were going to blow up my house?”
“Fire department is on the way.” Colton rested his hands on his belt. “You’re going to need to stay elsewhere tonight. We’ve got clearance for you to leave the scene, as long as you’re available for questions later.”
“Okay …” Irritation skidded into her crawling skin and made her irritable. Colton wasn’t answering her questions either. Something was going on here, and clearly they didn’t intend to tell her what. Her stomach churned.
“Do you have parents or siblings we can call for you?” the man next to Colton asked. His dark eyes probed her.
That question was far too specific. He was fishing for answers. “They don’t live close.”
“What about friends?” he asked.
“No.”
“You don’t have friends?” his tone went incredulous.
“They’re married. I’m not intruding on their lives!” It was true. Mostly.
“Piper,” Colton said softly as he leaned back against the half wall she’d propped herself against. “You seem defensive.”
“Honestly, I’m a bit frightened by the display of power. I’ve seen things like this before, and they didn’t end well.”
“No need to worry.” Colton motioned to the man who stood before them. “This is my friend Max Jacobs.” He nodded to the street where the African American now stood conversing with the older man. “The big guy is Griffin Riddell, and that’s General Lambert with him. I work with these men. You can trust them as much, if not more, than me.”
Max’s eyes bored into her.
A general and Colton worked with him? But Colton had said he got out.
Piper swallowed. “I’m sorry. I just … I don’t know; maybe it’s all getting to me.”
“Shock.”
At the softening she heard in his voice, she looked up at Colton. Oh how she longed to have him take her into his arms, tell her things would be okay. To tell him everything. To break this barrier she’d lived behind for the last couple of years. She wanted that freedom, yearned for it.
“Pardon us, coming through,” someone said amid a clanking noise.
Max stepped to her left as the coroner and his aid carried a gurney with a bagged body down the steps, then rolled it down to the vehicle.
Piper rubbed her temple. Oh Yeshua …
Warmth wrapped around her shoulders—Colton. He pulled her into his arms. She curled her fingers around his shirt and held on tight. How had they found her? Would she ever be safe? One step closer, and they’d have gotten her father, too! What if they succeeded next time?
“Hey,” Colton said softly. “Don’t cry. It’ll be okay.”
Only at his encouragement did she realize she was soaking his T-shirt with her tears. Embarrassed, she clung tighter. She felt so out of touch with her life, her plan, herself. All this time she had studied to be an ambassador, to speak on behalf of her country regarding peace. To stop the senseless violence like what killed her brother. To stop the pain.
“You’re sure?”
Griffin Riddell gave a curt nod, his lips thinned. “Intel just came in.”
Olin let out a long sigh. “We need to let him know.”
With a large, but gentle hand, Riddell stopped him. “Be careful. I think his heart’s involved. More stress could push him into having flashbacks again. It’s been nearly six months since the last one.”
“I know, but we can’t keep this from him. He must be made aware.”
“I agree.” Riddell grunted. “Just … pad the news.”
Olin smoothed his jacket. “I’m not sure news like this can be padded.” He strolled back toward the apartment and called Colton over, then waited for Colton to join him. The team depended on the cowboy, relied heavily on his mature guidance and looked up to him. Riddell was right—this had to be handled carefully. Olin prayed silently for wisdom as Colton left the girl and walked toward him. He knew what it’d taken for Colton to come to him and launch the investigation on Piper Blum.
Protective mechanisms triggered in Olin—Colton was like a son to him. All of them were. He wasn’t going to let anything happen to them.
“She doesn’t have any family around here.” Colton leaned against the car. “Far as we can get out of her, no friends either. She’s right defensive, too.” He shook his head and frowned. “Odd.”
“I’m afraid that I have some disconcerting news.” So much for padding.
Colton stilled, his expression shifting from surprise to guardedness, to downright depression. “All right.” He folded his arms over his chest as if bracing for the news. “Go ahead.”
“She has terminated her lease, e
ffective Sunday.”
Colton’s gaze shifted to the woman standing in her fenced front yard. “People move.”
“There’s more. All utilities—gas, electric, landline and cell phones are turned off.”
“That’d explain why she didn’t answer when I called back.”
Despite the raw ache clearly scrawled over Colton’s face, Olin knew he had to tell him everything. The news wasn’t good, not in a situation like this. “About three hours ago, we intercepted traffic from her bank that indicates she is closing the account and withdrawing the funds.”
The cowboy watched her. His brow furrowed. Left eye twitched.
“She’s running.”
“My thoughts, too.”
“Like she knew these guys were coming after her …” Colton rubbed his jaw.
“In situations like this, it’s normal to give a directive to avoid contact with the subject at all costs.” Lambert glanced toward the house where the other two Nightshade team members kept the girl distracted.
Colton snapped a glare at him. “She’s not a threat.”
“Can you guarantee that? What if she does know these men?”
“She said she didn’t.” He worked the muscle in his jaw hard.
“You’ve developed feelings for her—”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“Quite the contrary, Digitalis.” When the cowboy started to object, Olin held up a hand. “It does matter, and it may work to our advantage, at least until we have some solid answers.”
“How so?”
“I suggest you put that guest room at your sprawling ranch house to use.”
Colton frowned. Then his eyes widened. “It ain’t proper to have her stay with me at the house. ‘Sides, what if trouble follows us out to the ranch?”
“I’ve had your name removed from all records related to this
incident. That should not be a problem. Think of it, Digitalis. You take her out there; you can keep a watchful eye on her. Buy us time to get the investigation done and find the answers we’re looking for.” “Like what?”
“Like why Piper Blum doesn’t exist.”