Digitalis (24 page)

Amid the popping and crackling from the fire and the roar of the elements outside, she heard a quiet voice.
“In his heart a man plans his course, but the Lord determines his steps. “

Piper stilled as the words from Proverbs drifted into her mind and settled into her heart. Her father had often repeated that to her when she’d rushed ahead with her plans, failing to inquire of the Lord and seek His will. Piper seized the solitude to remedy her mistake. Head lowered, she closed her eyes and stilled her mind.

Yeshua wanted her to understand something.

And in the next heartbeat it came to her—Yeshua had her right where He wanted her. With Colton. Here. With him, not running from him.

“No,” she said, straightening and lowering her feet. Frantic at the thought of what could happen if she stayed with him, she shook her head. “He’ll get hurt. They’ll kill him.” But even as she said it, peace settled within her like a hot cup of herbal tea. Soothing … warm … relaxing. She was supposed to be here. Belonged here. There was a purpose.

Shouts jolted her attention.

Thud! Crack!

On her feet, Piper limped through the kitchen. More shouts—angry and heated. It sounded like Colton and Max. Were they fighting? She hobbled quicker. What if something was wrong—what if …?

Oh please, no. Please no
. She used the wall to support her as she hurried.

Thud! Crash!

By the time she reached the laundry room, Max stumbled into the hall. Holding a fist to his mouth, he came toward her. Grinned.

“What—” When she saw the blood on his lip, she gasped. “Did he hit you?”

“I warmed him up.” He winked. “I think he’s ready for you now.”

Automatically, a hand went to her stomach.

“Don’t worry. He won’t hit you. It took a lot to get him this mad,” Max said as he pointed to his mouth. Then chuckled. “It was worth it.”

“Worth it?” She gaped. How could he intentionally provoke his friend and say it was worth it?

“Yeah—Cowboy doesn’t let go much. And he’s built up too much steam. Trust me,” Max said as he zipped his jacket and paused with the back door ajar. “It’s a good thing. I think he knows—” He looked down the hall then nodded. “Yeah, now he knows what he’s fighting for.”

“And it took a fight?”

Max grinned. “Don’t worry. He doesn’t get worked up like that most times. I just knew the words to say to hit the right nerve.”

“I’m not worried about him hitting me. I’m wondering why his friend felt it necessary to provoke him into a fight.”

The humor vanished from Max’s face as he stepped in and let the door close behind him. “You gotta understand. I’m a squid; he’s a Marine. We’re trained to do what we have to do and stow it all in a steel vault that we deep-six.” He raked a hand through his dark hair. “Sometimes, we’re so boxed up … we don’t even know it.” Then, that easy smile returned. “Colton knows now.” He nodded down the hall. “Go on. I think you two need to talk.”

Max disappeared into the rain and wind, the door clattering behind him.

Swallowing her swirling potion of fear and panic, Piper glanced down the hall. Dare she? Dare she go down there when Colton was so angry he’d punched his friend? What exactly did Colton do that he could summon men to his home? Men who clearly had military training? Everything in her told her to go back to the living room, sit by the fire like a good girl. He’d told her to stay there.

But her love for him pulled her down the hall.

Light spilled from his room, and she stopped at the line between darkness and light. So symbolic of her life. If she crossed this line … would things change?

I need a change. I
want
a change
.

Piper rounded the corner and halted.

Seated on the bed, Colton sat hunched with his hands cradling his head. In a white tank, his muscles flexed and retracted as if … It was then she noticed his hands clenched into fists. Flexing. Unflexing. He rocked.

Even as she took the first step over the threshold, Piper felt her chin quivering.

A board creaked.

Colton jerked to his feet. Braved a glance to the side—but not at her. His gaze hit her feet. “I told you to wait in the living room.” His breathing was heavy and deep.

She crossed the room to stand in front of him. With an uneven breath, she brushed the wet strands from her face—and saw the red stain on his knuckles from hitting Max.

Piper caught his hand and ran her fingers over the injury. When she looked at him, it broke her heart to see such a wounded, tormented expression marring the strength of the man. Couple that with the way he avoided looking at her, and Piper struggled not to cry.

“He told me what happened, that he provoked you.”

Slowly … unwillingly, his gaze rose to hers. Red streaked his eyes. “Doesn’t matter. I lost control.” His voice cracked.

“Maybe that was a good thing.” She couldn’t believe she said that, but maybe that was Max’s point. Colton kept everything tight and tidy.

He pulled his hand free. “Hurting those I love and care about is never acceptable,” he said through tight lips.

He was right. That was part of what she loved so much about him—his absolute dedication to those he loved. Even now as the truth of his words bounded through her chest, they reminded her of the promise she’d made. She had to tell him. No more dodging the truth. She inched closer, nervous—would he let her close? More than anything, she wanted to be in his arms again.

Warily, he watched her.

“I broke my promise to you.” Tight and raw, her throat constricted.
Yeshua, protect Baba
. “The person I’m protecting is my fa—”

A scream severed her confession.

A
nightmare unfolded like a slow motion movie sequence. Colton’s heart stuttered when his mother’s scream reverberated through his being. Was it real? Was this really happening? Or was it another of his flashbacks, another moment to humiliate him?

Caramel eyes widened, soaked in fright.

Adrenaline surged. Colton grabbed Piper’s hand. “C’mon!” Sprinting down the hall, he harnessed his mind against the million different directions it’d plunged.
It’s real … it’s real
. A large knot kinked his stomach as he dodged the kitchen chairs and bolted into the living room.

“Colton,” came another half-shriek from his mother.

“Where are you?” he shouted as he pushed himself harder, faster. Past McKenna’s room. She didn’t have to answer because his trained mind latched onto her broken sobs—in their master bedroom.

With one foot in the door—he stopped cold. Two frozen seconds, suspended in the ghoulish nightmare, gave him just enough time to see the vital points. His father, down. In a pool of blood. His mother, cradling his father, gawked at the window.

Colton jerked backward. “Mom, get down!” he shouted as he swung a hand back and secured Piper against the wall. “Get McKenna, but stay down.” Once she acknowledged the order, he scrabbled into the master bedroom.

His mother, flattened on the blood-drenched Persian rug, peered through black-marred eyes. Mascara smeared down her face. “Ben! Ben, please stay with me.”

Colton hooked his arms under his father’s shoulders, pushed up on his haunches, but stayed as low as he could. With a grunt, he dragged his father into the hall.

Crack!

Thud!

Colton cringed at the familiar sound and the plume of gypsum board that puffed out. “Stay down,” he shouted when he saw his mother pushing up. “They’re still shooting!”

In the hall, he laid his father down gently and moved to assess the injury. What felt like a punch in the gut was the blue tinge sucking the life-color from his father’s skin. “Pop?”

“He was about to climb in bed, then just—” A sob choked off the words. “He’s not breathing.” She lifted her hand to her face and stopped short of touching her mouth when they both noticed the blood that covered her hand.

As he clamped a hand over the chest wound, Colton heard a noise to his left. Piper scurried around the door with a sleepy McKenna wrapped around her. She cupped Mickey’s head to her chest, apparently pinning his daughter so she couldn’t see his father.

The thought snapped his attention back to saving his life. “Pop.” He nodded to the hall closet behind her. “Stay low,” he said to his mother, “but get me a towel, anything, to staunch the flow.”

She’d always liked to be doing something, and he saw the focus return to her glazed-over eyes. A second later, she thrust a towel at him. He pressed it against the wound. Footsteps pounded against the hardwoods.

Without thinking, Colton shoved to his feet, assumed the stance, and drew his MEU.45 as he took aim at the shadows creeping through the den. Whoever had come through the back door better have a really good reason. Because he had a heckuva reason to end their progress.

The steps raced toward them.

“Cowboy.” Max’s terse voice served as an announcement.

Colton shoved his weapon back in the holster and knelt beside his father. Midas literally slid across the floor on his knees and skidded to a stop next to the still form.

“What happened?” he asked, breathless.

“Someone hit him.”

“We were coming to report—movement sighted in the southwestern quadrant.”

“A little late.”

Midas looked at Max. “We need a rig—he has to get to a trauma center. Call it in. Now!” He tilted his father’s chin up, checking the airway. “His breathing’s agonal. Get the shirt off! I need to see the wound.”

“Got it,” Max said, whipping out a phone.

On his knees, Colton ripped the shirt off, his brain cells plummeting into a combat scenario even though the carpet beneath them was fibers not grass.
Don’t give up, Dad. I need you …
. But even Colton knew by the blue-gray hue eating away the lively shades in his father’s face that this wasn’t good.

Shaking his head, Midas’s expression grew grim. “Pulse is thready.” He probed the wound. Colton knew it had to hurt, yet his father did not respond. Blood smeared over the chest as Midas began compressions.

Time seemed to come to an agonizing halt. Minutes felt like years.

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon!” Midas grunted.

His friend’s frantic pleas scraped Colton’s nerves raw. He’d been here—dozens of times in combat. Far too many times he’d inflicted the wounds that severed life cords. But here? In his own home? With his own father slipping past the edge of life?

Crawling over to her husband’s side again, his mother reached for him with a trembling hand. Smoothed small hands over his father’s cheek. “Benjamin, please … please don’t leave me.” Tears slipped down her face and landed on his father’s cheek. “Ben, please … Oh God, please don’t take him.”

Colton drew his mother into his arms and let her unleash her grief in his chest. He closed his eyes, battling to erect a fortress around his heart. Desperate to wall off this pain and … What? What exactly could he do?

Find whoever did this.

He’d already put together the pieces of this tragedy. Whoever had come to his land, his home, and taken that crack shot at his father … Piper hadn’t fired the weapon, but she was the cause.

His heart skipped a beat at the thought. He didn’t want to go there, didn’t want to place the blame at her feet, but if his father died, there was no other choice.

“Mom,” he said as he nudged his shoulder, pushing her back. “Take McKenna to the shelter.”

Fiery darts shot out of his mother’s normally peaceful blue eyes. “I am not leaving him,” she growled as she motioned to his father.

“Mom—”

“No. I’m not.” She tugged free and hovered beside her husband—his father—the dying patriarch of the Neeley family. So much lost.

“Emergency services are on the way,” Max said as he stood over them. “And the team.”

The words drifted past Colton’s mind like a mist, barely noticeable and chilling. Midas paused and checked for a pulse. He stared at the ragged rise and fall of his father’s chest. Again … again …

Then … nothing.

He swallowed. Hard.
No
.

Colton lowered himself to the floor and leaned toward his dad. “Pop?” He touched his bare shoulder as Midas quickly resumed compressions. “Pop.” He’d seen death firsthand many, many times. Close-up and personal through his scope. But not … not like this. Not his own father.

Midas’s compressions slowed.

A sob wracked his mom’s body.

“I’m sorry …. I tried ….” Midas eased back.

In the fringe of his awareness, Colton heard the ghastly silence that should have, at the least, carried his father’s breathing. He pulled his gaze to the floor. To the blood. So much blood. His father’s frozen-in-death expression bore the same shock riddling Colton. And just like that frozen expression, his heart went cold and hard.

Colton bent toward his father and wrapped an arm around his head and pressed his forehead to his father’s. He couldn’t help but think that his father’s skin wouldn’t stay warm long. Eyes closed, he struggled to hold back the stinging tears that rose. “I’ll find them, Pop. I’ll find them and make sure they pay.”

He didn’t know what to feel or think or do. Where did he start first?
God …?