by Ronie Kendig
Like a jigsaw puzzle, the pieces floated before his mind. Her leaving town … another attempt to protect him?
Colton shook his head. Nah, he was reaching too far with that one. With a gentle rap on the open door, he entered and crossed to the bathroom door. “Piper?” The water shut off. “Piper, I’m leaving the clothes here.”
“Okay,” came her very dull reply.
For some reason, the broken timbre of her voice rooted his feet to the floor. He placed a hand on the door. Lord … Why couldn’t things be different, simple, between them? Colton hung his head and closed his eyes.
He shut down the emotions, his longing for simple things, his longing for Piper. He was a Marine. Nothing was simple or easy. If it was, someone was cheating.
Loud knocking snapped him out of the depression clouding his heart and mind. Sounded like the side entrance. Colton cast one more glance at the door, at the shadows moving on the other side of the barrier, then left.
When he rounded the corner, voices skidded through the house. Max. Colton met his friend halfway across the living room and pulled him into a half-hug, half-back slap.
“Thanks for coming.”
“No problem. Midas is about five minutes behind me.”
Colton frowned. Why would he know that?
“Dude got lost, called for directions.” Max hoisted up a dripping, muddy pack. “Found this in the road not far from your drive.”
“Piper’s.” Colton took it and tossed it to the side.
In the dark eyes of his friend, Colton read the myriad of questions. Rather than open that nightmare in front of his parents, he motioned to the kitchen. “Coffee?”
“Caffeine this late?” Max shrugged out of his leather jacket. “Must be serious.”
Colton retrieved two mugs from the upper cabinet and filled them with the black brew, then passed one to Max, who sipped it straight. “No creamer?”
Max grunted. “What’s the point?”
Colton grinned and added creamer to his.
“So, what’s eating you?”
“She tried to escape—ran into the storm. Injured herself.”
“Wow, never thought I’d see the day where the cowboy would need help keeping a woman in his sights.”
The taunting cut sideways through Colton. “Ya know,” he said, staring into his mug and tempering his frustration. He looked up. “I’m not really in the mood for jokes tonight.”
Max’s dark eyes held his. Then a nod.
Unbelievable how irritable this whole thing had made him. Normally, he’d roll with the punches, turn the other cheek, but this mounted one insult and burden on the other.
“So you called Midas?”
Colton bobbed his head. “She hurt her leg. I’d like to make sure it’s not broken.”
Left eye twitching, Max set aside his drink. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Relief rushed through Colton. This is why he’d wanted Max here, why he was willing to tell him almost everything. “While she was out there in the rain, I started thinking about the attack at her place.” With a heaving sigh, Colton ran a hand through his hair. “They didn’t steal anything. They didn’t kill her. They didn’t rape her—and they had time to do all of those things.”
“So, what were they after?”
“Exactly. I asked her if she knew who they were, and she said she didn’t know their names. But she was hiding something.” He shook his head, hating the fact he had to hash this out at all—he wanted to bury it. Why did all the threads feel as slippery as a snake out of water? “Then, when the sheriff brings her back tonight, he says a neighbor lady a couple of miles away reported someone in her barn.” Colton checked on his parents.
On the sofa with firelight flickering over their faces and his father’s arm draped around his mother’s shoulders, they sat quietly, no doubt listening to his conversation.
“What does it all mean?”
“I don’t know.” He didn’t want to voice his thoughts. Didn’t want to breathe life into them and unleash what he feared hovered on the horizon.
“That’s not the Cowboy I know.” With a gentle, back-handed slap, Max thumped his chest. “You’ve got killer instincts—literally. What’re you thinking?”
“My theory—she knows the trouble chasing her, but not directly. Know what I mean? I think she wanted to protect me and my family—that’s why she tried to leave tonight.”
“That or stupidity,” Max mumbled, then grinned. “Sorry. Exploring options. So … in that brilliant Marine recon mind of yours, how does it all add up?”
Colton ground his teeth together and tasted the bitterness of his next words. “They’re coming for her.”
“Then it’s time to lock and load.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes, sir. One hundred percent. I verified it before I came to you.”
“Thank you, Robert.” Olin stuffed his arms through his suit jacket as he stormed out of his office and past his secretary’s desk armed with the file his attaché had delivered. “Bonnie, call Charles Falde and tell him I’m on my way to see him.”
“Yes, sir.”
The closing elevator swallowed her words.
Unbelievable. No wonder Piper Blum didn’t exist. But … but what did this mean? How deep, how entrenched—why?
The questions were endless, and trying to hash them out en route would only frustrate him more. Yet a hope ignited in him. Perhaps Digitalis wasn’t in the boat of trouble he’d begun to suspect. What if he had a national treasure at his house?
The thought buckled Olin’s knees. “Oh merciful God!” Pushed him forward. The doors opened, and it took every ounce of strength for him to walk down the hall … to the car …. By the time he reached Falde’s Virginia farm, he had a dozen theories, each more unlikely than the previous.
Charles met him on the porch with a broad smile and a steaming mug. The scent of coffee drifted through the piney setting. “Must be a mighty big problem to bring you to my doorstep. I’ve been inviting you out here for years.”
Olin peered up at the man. On the top step, he paused. “What do you know about Yitshak Rosenblum?”
His face suddenly pale and gaunt, Charles dumped the coffee and the smile. “How do you know that name?”
DAY FOUR
Saudi Arabia, 02:01:03 hours
Be sure to send a lazy man for the angel of death.” A throaty chuckle emanated through the thundering chaos as Rosenblum pushed himself upright, dusting the litter of glass from his lap. “I believe higher powers are sending the fat, lazy men our way.” Another chuckle.
The old saying grated on Azzan’s nerves. He’d heard it too many times. He glanced in the mirror to the road behind them. Far in the distance, a black spot appeared on the horizon. Two. Three. Plumes of dust rose from the ground. Al-Jafari’s men.
“Those cars aren’t fat and lazy. I might have gotten you out of there just to be killed on the road like a dung beetle.” He glanced at Raiyah—and froze. Jerked back and took in her appearance. “Where are you injured?”
Blood poured down the side of her face. She looked at him. Blinked. “I’m … okay. Just … the glass.” She nodded to the window that had cracked.
Azzan tightened his grip on the steering wheel. Bit back the curse on the tip of his tongue as one more peek in the mirror told him he didn’t have the hour it’d take to make it to the border. Had to get off the road. Take cover. He exited the highway and navigated a small but thriving city, tangled with many vehicles and people.
He pulled up along a building and eyed the foot traffic.
“What are you looking for?” Raiyah whispered.
“Trouble.” He unbuckled and removed his jacket, wincing at the sting on his arm. When he saw the blood stain, he pinched his lips together. He’d have to grab another shirt, something dark to hide the blood. “Stay down and stay here. I’m going to find something else to drive.”
On foot, he stalked through a market and walked the perim
eter. He bought a black T-shirt and moved on. As he did, a feeling skated down his back. One of being watched. Trailed. Trusting his instincts, he ducked into a shop, cringing at the ox bell that announced his presence. Head tucked, he raised a hand in greeting to the man behind the counter and quickly strode to the back. He’d no sooner put his hand on the doorknob than he heard the bells.
“Stop!”
Azzan sprinted into the alley. He rounded a corner. Kept running, staying in the shadows as he ripped off his shirt and changed into the T-shirt. By staying on the move, he managed to come full circle … almost back to the Hummer. He slipped into the market. Snagged a ball cap. Tucked it on.
His foot hit the street.
Boom!
The concussion of an explosion knocked him backward. Onto his backside. As he pulled himself off the ground, he glanced around, searching for the source of the detonation.
His heart sunk into his stomach.
The Hummer—what was left of it—lay in flames.
CHAPTER 13
Dad?” Colton swung around the door to the stables, scanned the stalls, and double-checked the tack room. “Dad?” he called again, stepping farther into the heady, stuffy building. Max had reported seeing his father come out to the barn, which made no sense at this hour.
Leaning against the last stall, his dad made no move or response.
Colton glanced around, confused. Finally, he closed the distance between then. “Pop? What’s going on? What’re you doing out here in this weather? Let’s go sit on the porch.”
“They might overhear.”
“Who?”
“The womenfolk. Those friends of yours.”
“I … I don’t understand. What don’t you want them to hear?”
After several minutes of the deathly silence, Colton tried to wait it out, but there were way too many things pulling on his energy and focus. “I need to get back in …. Things are crazy right now.”
“Uh huh.” His father stared at the bed of hay where Firefox had given birth a month or so back.
Colton jerked his gaze to the side. He balled his fist and clamped his other hand over it, rubbing his knuckles. Something was seriously wrong. He’d never seen his father like this. “Pop? What’s this about?”
“Piper’s a good woman.”
Grinding his teeth, Colton tried to respond respectfully. “She fled—from me. She says she loves me one minute and then darts out as soon as my back is turned.”
“Always a reason a woman does things. Have you asked her?”
He’d asked. And she’d promised to tell, then broke that promise.
Refused. And it ate at him. “This isn’t the time, Pop. Can we go back inside?”
His father drew up his chin. “I’d hoped to see you married ….”
What the …? Was his father off his rocker? “Pop, we’ve got time—”
“No, son.” His father’s voice cracked. “I don’t.”
He snickered. “Pop, come on—”
“Found cancer.”
A cannon ball through the chest wouldn’t have had the impact those words did. Colton stared at his father, waiting for a laugh, a sideways punch with an “I’m kidding.”
Silence.
“Pop, you’re serious?” his voice pitched.
“Doc gave me weeks to live, Colton.” Pursing his lips, his father slowly turned to him. “Weeks.” The eyes he’d inherited slowly became a plane of liquid blue. “Don’ wanna die slow and ugly like. Ya know?” He bit back the sob and looked around. “Don’ want your mama seeing me like that, nursing me while I lose my faculties.”
Slumped against the fence, Colton held his head, tried to breathe, tried to process the fatal diagnosis. It helped him understand Dad leaving Piper alone at the house, his weight loss ….
Colton’s world was collapsing from the inside out. First Piper, now his father.
Merciful God, Almighty …
His throat swelled with the roaring emotion and burned. He sucked back the tidal wave of sorrow. “Dad …”
“Wished I could die in my sleep, ya know? Get it over with. No bittersweet times. No lingering, no depression.” He shook his head. With fierce determination, he turned to Colton. “Promise me you won’t let her go or push her away.”
Confusion raked across Colton’s raw heart. “Sir?”
“Piper. She belongs with you. I can see it in your eyes, in hers. Love don’t need weeks and slow processes to know it’s there. You either do or you don’t, Colton.” He pointed a shaking finger, tears rushing down his weathered face. “You love that girl, and I don’t give a donkey’s behind what you think you’re protecting. She’s the one.”
“Pop—”
“No. I know it, son. I do.”
Shoulders heavy with the realization of what his father was saying,
Colton had to tell him. It didn’t matter anymore, not if his father was dying. “My boss found out some stuff about her.”
“Like what?” Defiance leeched into his father’s words.
“We aren’t sure.”
“So!” His father grinned, chin raised in triumph. “You don’t know.” His eyes all but glittered. “But I do. I’m telling you she’s the one.”
“How?” Colton rubbed a hand along his jeans, aching to believe what his father was saying. “How do you know?”
“McKenna.”
Colton drew his spine straight. “What’s Mickey got to do with this?”
His father grinned. “She said Piper was going to give her a baby brother and sister.”
With a snort-laugh, Colton relaxed. “She’s always wanted a brother and sister. But that doesn’t mean—”
His father dragged a crumpled picture from his pocket and shoved it at Colton. “She drew this picture three months ago.”
A weird feeling slithered through Colton’s stomach as he stared at the paper. Five stick figures, crudely representing a man and woman and three children—and a dog. “Three? She drew this three months ago?” He gaped. “She hadn’t even met Piper yet.”
“Exactly.” Exultant, his dad grinned as he pointed to the characters. “But she has you, her, and a woman with long, golden hair. Just like Piper.”
“That could be anybody.” Except for the fact he’d never brought anybody home. Colton roughed a hand over his face. “Pop, look, I don’t like the turn this has taken, but—”
“For once in your life, stop expecting something to sabotage your happiness. She’s not Meredith, and she’s completely in love with you. Everyone can see it but you.”
“No,” he said with a half chuckle. “I can see it.”
His father jerked toward him, his eyes wide. “Then, what’re you waiting—”
“Let me handle this. My way. Carefully.” Dawg, he didn’t like this one bit. “My career demands I exercise caution. Lives could depend on it.”
Jaw jutted, his father stared out of the barn. “I can understand that.” He nodded. Once. Twice. His throat processed a hard swallow.
“I stopped by Thomas’s on the way home this afternoon. Named you as executor.” A small chortle. “Did you know, the last time I updated my will, you were five?”
The burning at the back of Colton’s throat returned. Too reminiscent of the night he’d held Emelie’s broken body in his arms as she bled out. Colton dropped his gaze, shouldering the thought out of the way.
“You’ll take care of your mama when I’m gone. Make sure she’s happy.”
Rubbing his knuckles, Colton nodded. His eyes burned now, too.
“Don’t put her in one of them homes.”
“No, sir.” He straightened and let out a thick breath. “She’d never let me.”
“She’ll need something to keep her busy, which is why …” His pop cleared his throat. “Why I wanted you to look after Piper and the thing between y’all. Don’t let details get in the way of what your heart’s telling ya, son.”
“Details could mean the difference between life and death.”
“Without a heart, what does it matter?”
A damp chill swirled around her throat and head as Piper limped from the bathroom. With a hand against the jamb, she listened to the tangle of masculine voices coming from somewhere near the family room. She hobbled down the hall and peeked around the corner.
Colton leaned against the back of the sofa, talking in quiet, terse tones to two men. With a start, Piper recognized the shorter of the two men—the one with black hair and midnight eyes. He’d been at her apartment. What was his name? Mark. Mack. Max! Arms folded over his chest, everything about the guy screamed he was ready for a fight. And by the looks of those biceps, he took care of whoever he went up against.
The third man wore a pair of black slacks and a royal blue silk shirt that hung loose just past his waist. He oozed calmness, but a quiet focus radiated from his eyes. “I’ll get changed and walk the perimeter, check things out, then report back.” Flickering shadows from a fire danced over his sandy blond crop.
Hands on the spine of the sofa, Colton nodded. “Thanks, guys. I appreciate your help.”
She gulped when her gaze collided with Max’s. She felt like a moving target, knowing full well she’d been caught and couldn’t evade his sights.
Colton pushed to his feet as he looked at her. “You shouldn’t be walking.”
Limping, she stepped into the open. “It’s not as bad as before.”
He pointed to the oversized chair and ottoman. “Have a seat,” he said as he nodded toward the blond man. “Check it out, Midas.”
Tensing as thick cushions enveloped her, Piper carefully set her foot on the ottoman and regarded the slick guy as he crouched by her leg.
“Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing.” With that, he cradled her heel in the palm of his left hand. With his right, he slowly rotated her foot.
When he went to the left, Piper flinched at the stab of pain that darted up her leg.