by Ronie Kendig
Fire flashed in her eyes.
Taufic laughed. “Come. Rosenblum is our only prisoner left.” He lumbered toward a steel door. A grating noise echoed through the steel-reinforced room as the door swung open. With it, a gust of wind. Rancid and thick, a foul odor assaulted him.
The telltale stench of torture.
Fury coursed through Azzan as he stumbled back and shielded his face.
Raiyah cried out and spun back to face him, horror gouged into her features. Tears welled up and glossed her eyes. “I can’t do this. He’s dead.”
“No.” Azzan knelt beside the frail body. This is why he had chosen his profession. It was humane, at least more so than plucking out a man’s fingernails and gouging out eyes. Cutting off ears.
His stomach roiled as he nudged the shoulder. Bad as his torture had been, at least so far, this man had been spared the worst of such atrocities.
“No!” the old man shouted, waving his arms. “No more.”
They didn’t have time for belligerency. Azzan caught the old man’s shoulders and tugged him upright. “Listen to me. This is your chance to escape. But you must get up and walk.”
Wizened but wearied eyes fixed on Azzan. A crooked smile. “Escape?”
“Only if you can walk.”
Then a frown. “No, they will kill me, shoot me in the back.”
Azzan hauled the old man to his feet. “Not if I can help it.” Tucking an arm under the old man gave him support, but he could tell there wasn’t much strength left in the aged legs.
“How … how will we get him out of here?” Raiyah’s soft voice pulled at Azzan.
“Put him in a trash bin, for all I care.” Taufic narrowed his eyes at him. “Is there a problem?”
“You expect me to put this man in a garbage can,” he said with a growl. “And present him to my general like that?”
Taufic’s arrogance faltered.
“My father would be humiliated! He’d have you shot, Taufic.”
“Use the wheelchair. I don’t care. It wasn’t me who did this to him.”
No, but you didn’t stop it, did you?
How he wanted to snap the neck of the fat, overbearing man. Then string him up the flagpole and let his disgrace be displayed for women and children to see.
Raiyah shifted toward Azzan. “I’ll get the chair.”
When she returned, Azzan carefully lifted the old man from the floor, noting the bandaged hands, the innumerable cuts, pocks, and the horrendous way his—
The old man felt light … too light. Fear rushed into him. Would he make it? He had to. They needed the information he had. The information al-Jafari had tried to pluck from his body.
“You’ll need to bring the SUV,” Raiyah said as they headed toward a back entrance. “I’ll wait with him here.”
Hesitation trapped him. Could he trust her? If he retrieved the SUV, would he come back to find an ambush, or both of them gone?
She stepped closer and placed a hand on his arm. “My father killed my mother, sliced her unborn child—another daughter—from her womb. Right in front of me.” She looked directly into his eyes, but he felt her probing go deeper, much deeper. “I see my pain in your eyes. I’ll be here, waiting.”
Feeling as he had been sliced open, Azzan sprinted into the open. Anything to get away from her reading his soul. He darted to the Hummer, started it up, and raced back to the entrance. The door swung open.
And he stopped cold.
Taufic held Raiyah in a choke-hold, a gun pressed to her temple. The man sneered at Azzan. “Thought you could fool me, huh?”
He held his hands out in surrender. “I’m not sure—”
“Bashar al-Jafari is dead. Killed by an assassin.”
Raiyah released the hold on the man’s arm and jabbed her elbow into her captor’s manhood. Taufic grunted and jerked forward, his hand outstretched.
Azzan seized the weapon and simultaneously swung a hard right into the man’s face. “Get Rosenblum out of here.” He angled his body in and threw another punch, finding the courage to keep fighting as he heard Raiyah grunting and pushing the wheelchair out the door and into the sun.
Finally, with one last blow, he dropped the guy. Azzan whirled toward the door.
Ping! Tsing!
He dropped to a crouch and tucked himself to the side, away from the line of sight of whoever was shooting at him. When he tried to peer around the corner toward the desk, a searing trail of cordite whizzed past. He jerked back, eyed the SUV, then launched himself out the door.
Fire lit through his arm. He winced, knowing he’d been hit, and dove into the SUV.
Raiyah huddled in the backseat with Rosenblum. Azzan punched the gas and roared out of the compound. Bullets pinged the hull.
Crack! Glass shattered.
Raiyah screamed.
CHAPTER 11
Ominous thoughts scampered into Piper’s mind as a loud boom thundered through the stormy sky. With Mr. and Mrs. Neeley—or Margaret and Ben, as they’d insisted—staying in town because of the storm, Piper grew restless. She couldn’t leave McKenna alone. They’d done this on purpose, to keep her here. Colton had probably suggested it. Nerves had her checking the doors, the windows, and Colton’s precious daughter, over and over. She’d never forgive herself if, because of her, they got hurt.
She peered through the rain-splattered window in her bedroom. Large trees swayed under the control of strong winds. Pulling a light jacket around her shoulders, she plodded through the house in her bare feet to McKenna’s room.
Gently, she eased the pink and brown quilt up over the small shoulders. Piper lingered there, softly brushing aside the little one’s blond strands.
McKenna’s eyes snapped open. “Is Daddy here?”
“No, it’s just the storm—the thunder rumbling overhead.”
“I heard his truck.” With a yawn, McKenna let her eyes drift closed. Then was wide awake once again. “Will you wake me if he comes? Nana always does.”
“Sure.” Piper waited with the little girl until she rested in the warm comfort of a good sleep and ached for the reassurance McKenna had that her daddy was coming home.
Piper glanced toward the door. Would he? Would Colton return? Over the last four days since he’d left, she’d begged God to see him safely home. Yet she remembered her promise to tell him everything, and that made her dread him walking through the door. She’d kept everything secure in the vault of her heart.
Locks keep out only the honest.
Remembering the way her father had repeatedly said that through the years brought an unwilling smile to her face. What would he say about her love for Colton? Although he wasn’t Orthodox anymore, he did adhere to strict moral rules. He wouldn’t like that Colton had fathered a child out of wedlock. Surely he’d see that Colton had changed. That she was in love with the rugged cowboy.
Though Piper scrambled to rationalize revealing her darkest secret, one thought plagued her: What if she told Colton everything, and her father died because of it?
A noise drew her into the living area. On the threshold, she let her gaze rake over the room. Light smeared over the large, open den, fading more with each inch as it reached toward her. What had she heard? The windows creaked under the force of the wind. She skated a glance around but saw nothing out of the ordinary.
After another perusal, she shrugged. Must’ve been the wind.
Needing to busy herself against the storms outside and within her own life, she went into the kitchen. And grunted. She’d already done the dishes. Swept and mopped the floor. Couldn’t vacuum without waking McKenna.
Laundry! Mrs.—Margaret—had been doing laundry before they left. In the mudroom, she pulled the load from the dryer and deposited them on the counter behind her. Once she switched the wet clothes from one machine to the other, she started folding.
Piper slowed when she came to one of Colton’s olive T-shirts. Stretching the sleeves out side to side, she marveled at the enormous size. Th
e shoulder stitching started almost at her elbows. She giggled.
Creak!
Cold darted through her stomach. She snapped her gaze toward the darkened hall.
Groan. Creak.
Someone was coming up the side steps!
Pressing herself against the wall, she chided herself for leaving McKenna—and coming in here. She was trapped. One way in and out. The alarm was set, so whoever came in had roughly ten minutes before the authorities came. At least, that’s what Mr. Neeley had promised just before he activated the alarm and left.
A peal of thunder rattled the hardwoods beneath her feet, sending the tremor up through Piper’s legs and straight into her chest. She gulped back the adrenaline. Stuck in here, she had no way to protect McKenna. She needed something—and quick—to defend herself.
Turning a slow circle, she looked for a makeshift weapon. Hanging behind the door, a broom called to her. She lunged toward it and flipped off the light. As her hand closed around the wood handle, the front door opened.
Beeping pervaded the night, drowned for a second by the angry storm outside.
Just as fast, the door closed.
Piper held her breath and gripped the broomstick like a bat. She wasn’t going to let anyone hurt this family—or her! She inched closer, trying to peer around the corner.
A strange sound like swishing reached her ears as a series of beeps interrupted the constant stream of the screeching alarm.
They were deactivating it!
She took another step—a big one—into the hall.
Colton shook the rain off his coat and froze.
A figure stood in the door to the laundry room wielding … a broomstick? He flipped on the light. And almost laughed. “Piper? You planning to use that on me?”
“Colton.” Her breath and his name rushed from her lips. Just as quick, she dropped the stick and flew into his arms.
His own shock couldn’t suppress the incredible way it felt to have her rush to him. As if it’d been instinctive to seek his protection, to hold him.
“I was so scared,” she spoke into his chest.
Slowly, he let his arms close around her waist, reveling in her warm sweetness. He’d wanted this for months. Wanted her in his arms. Even though his internal sensors buzzed, he drowned them out and buried his face in her neck. She smelled wonderful. Sweet. Like honey. The way she trembled in his arms, her fingers gripping his shirt tightly beneath the jacket as she curled into him, made everything primal in him rise up.
“I was so scared. So scared when I heard someone coming.”
“Shh.”
“With the storm, I couldn’t tell who or what—and everything, I …”
His mind whirled with her emotion and the feel of her softness.
“I was scared you wouldn’t come back to me.”
His heart hitched. To me … Come back to me. Was she serious? Colton drew back and studied her face. “I’m here. It’s okay.” He smoothed the strands and tears from her face.
She blinked, surprise dancing over her sultry face. “You’re hurt.”
She’d said something more—he saw her lips moving. But that was just it. Those lips, calling to him. He tilted his head. Dusted her lips with his.
He felt her draw in a silent breath, but then she wrapped her arms around him.
Colton eased into the kiss, savoring the silkiness of her hair and skin. As he tugged her closer and she melted into his arms, he deepened the kiss. Though he told himself to step off, he couldn’t. He’d wanted this—her—for so long. She belonged with him. They belonged together.
A sob racked through Piper, breaking the kiss. She burrowed into him, shuddering through her tears. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She latched onto him and kissed the side of his neck. “Please … please, don’t hate me.”
Holding her, Colton swallowed hard. Dread dumped on him the way the sky had let loose its load and quickly cooled his passion. He shouldn’t have kissed her. Shouldn’t have gotten weak and stupid. Then again …
He loved her. He knew he did. There wasn’t any other way to explain the torment and affliction of the last five weeks. “Piper …”
She stepped back but held onto his waist. “Colton, please let me explain. Listen to me.”
Reticence grabbed him by the throat. He ground his teeth. “All right.” It was the least he could do. If she wanted to offer information, he was all ears. “Let me say hello to Mickey and my parents. Then we can talk.”
“Your parents aren’t here.”
Every muscle in him knotted. They’d left her here, alone? “Where are they?”
“Your dad had an appointment in town, they went to supper, and then the storm came. They said the road had wiped out, so they wanted to stay in town until morning.”
Colton gripped his duffel and slid it down the hall, aggravated with his dad. “Road’s fine.” He turned and headed to the kitchen. “Pop just doesn’t like to drive in rain or snow. He had a bad accident a few years back.”
“Oh.” Piper seemed to weigh what he’d said. “Do you want some coffee or tea for our talk?”
Dawg. She sounded like his mom. “Reckon that’d be fine.”
She quirked her lip. “Well, which do you want? Coffee or tea?”
“I don’t drink tea.”
Piper laughed. “I know.”
Amusement swirled through his chest. She was teasing him. Reminded him of when she’d taunted him about the towels. His traitorous mind slunk back to the kiss he’d just stolen. Her willingness … her sweetness …
Aw man, maybe he should go get his parents.
“McKenna wanted to see you when you came home.”
Colton nodded and strode to the back of the house. What was he going to do about that talk she wanted to have? This wasn’t exactly what he wanted to come home to—the kiss, yes. The talk, no. Then again, he wanted absolute honestly. But he was head over heels for the beauty. What if in his weakened mental state, he bought completely whatever it was she wanted to share?
Truth be told, he was scared. Scared to find out what she had to say. What could explain her running, two attackers at her apartment … her missing identity. More dread churned in his gut as he entered Mickey’s room.
She lay sprawled on her back. Blond hair akimbo, she clutched the pink poodle Piper had given her. Colton knelt and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
Her blue eyes shot open. Tiny arms locked around his neck. “Daddy! I missed you!”
With the little monkey wrapped around him, he pushed up and sat on the edge of the mattress. “I missed you, too. But I wasn’t gone so long this time.”
Mickey shook her head and yawned. “I told Piper I heard your truck.”
“You’re so smart.” He brushed the blond bangs from her face. “Now, go on back to sleep and get some shut-eye. Maybe we can go to the mall and ride the carousel tomorrow.”
She worked her way under the quilt, then looked up at him with those big blue eyes. “Can Piper come?”
“We’ll see.” He planted a kiss on her cheek. “Night, darlin’.”
“Night, Daddy.”
After a slight detour to double-check windows, doors, and rooms, Colton took his time returning to the kitchen. Lord God, I feel like I’m facing the executioner on this relationship. When he finally made it, he stopped, taking in the kitchen—more accurately, Piper standing at the sink, washing something. Her hair stretched down her back. Couldn’t help but remember the feel of those soft strands. How they smelled of honey and spices. He pushed his gaze to the table.
A mug of coffee and a bowl with apple pie à la mode waited for him. “Trying to sweeten me up?”
Piper spun from the sink. Flipped off the water and dried her hands. “I … your mom had it made, ready for whenever you came home.”
As he slid into the chair, he smiled. “Always does.” When he lifted the fork, only then did he realize she didn’t have anything to eat. “You eating?”
“Honestly, I’m to
o nervous to eat.”
Fork halfway to his mouth with that delectable first bite, Colton paused. “Honesty might be painful, but it’s always the right thing to do.” He took the bite.
She sat across from him, wariness edging out the light and sparkle he’d seen right after they kissed. “I’m not convinced it’s right, but I can’t stand the thought of what you think of me.”
“And what is that?”
“I see it in your eyes, in the way you treat me—well, before … before you came home tonight.”
He stifled the grin that tried to leak into his face as hers went crimson. “Well, I’m about done with this pie, and you haven’t even started.”
She cradled the mug of tea between both hands. “I … what I’m about to tell you could put someone I love in horrible danger.”
Colton set down his fork and shoved the plate aside. “Go on.”
“I …” Caramel eyes came to his, uncertain and afraid. He held his peace.
She shrugged. “I’m not really sure where to start.” “How about with those two men.”
“I …” Images of her father flashed through her mind. Images of what the men who’d come after her were notorious for doing to their captives.
Panic thrust its greedy fist up her stomach and clutched her throat. She couldn’t do this. Telling him anything meant telling him everything.
But she loved Colton. Promised she’d tell him the whole sordid story.
As if her heart were experiencing a great earthquake, she felt it rent in two by the seismic pressures of her conflicting loyalties.
Colton folded his arms on the table and leaned in. Didn’t he realize how commanding his presence was? How much she wanted to tell him whatever he wanted to hear, just so they could move past this? But lying and deceiving would only destroy what little trust he placed in her by agreeing to talk.
She darted him a nervous glance. “I’m trying to figure out what to say.”
“Those men at your apartment, did you know them?”
“No, not directly.”
A half-grunt pushed him back. “What do you know, indirectly?”