What Lies Within (19 page)

She did so, ears honing in …

The blackness around her held only silence.

Kyla reached beneath her driver’s seat, pulling her flashlight free—the same solid black contraption her sister, Annot, had in her car. Their sheriff’s deputy brother, Avidan, bought one for each of them. “Lights the area up like it’s daylight, and the casing is steel. Good for both illumination and protection.” The mix of delight and reverence in Avidan’s tone as he told Kyla this still stymied her. It was, after all, just a flashlight.

Turning it on, she swept the beam around the area, eyes widening at how far the light traveled. Big brother was right. This thing was great.

King K flattened against the wood siding of the church, barely avoiding the bright beam of light the woman sent his way.

It was only there a second, and then it was gone—traveling along the side of the building. Good thing she didn’t see him. He wanted to show himself in his way. His time.

Crouching low, he moved on feet trained in stealth, following the woman’s rambling study of the building. What he saw was enough to convince him.

So, the man who called him earlier was right. Someone new was joining the battle. Trying to help the old men move in on the Brotherhood’s turf.

King shifted to get a better view of the tall, slim woman walking along the building, her flashlight beam going here and there like a firefly on crack. She was new. He’d figured the old men would try again, even bring in some kind of help, but they had to be crazy if they thought this woman could change anything.

They were finished. Plain and simple.

The fire didn’t stop them
.

He pursed his lips. No … but then, it didn’t do its work, now did it? How the firemen got there so fast, he’d never know. It was like these people had some kind of guardian angels watching over them—

Oh. Yeah.

King K shook his head at himself. Angels, demons … they were all just talk. So this was a church. So what? His
madre
may have believed in God, in all the supernatural hocus-pocus, but he knew better. There were no angels. No demons. No heaven or hell.

No God.

There was just here and now. Just the Brotherhood. That’s all he had. All any of them had. But it was enough. And nothing—not these old men, not their make-believe God—was going to take one inch of their turf away from them.

They say the center will help the neighborhood. They say. Well, King knew how much he could trust what they said. What anyone outside the Blood Brotherhood said. And he knew what their precious teen center would do. It would pull new members away from the Brotherhood. Convince them there was something else.

Something better.

Let enough listen and believe that, and their crew would pay the price. You had to keep new blood coming in to replace those who fell. And you had to keep those who were in the Brotherhood from being drawn away.

Life in the 22s wasn’t easy. Or safe. King K knew that better than anyone. But it was what kept them alive. Take away their turf, their members, and the Brotherhood would die.

And that was going to happen one way and one way only.

Over his dead body.

The thought made King K smile. Plenty of people had tried to take him out. But he was still here. As for his enemies, well … no one would find them anytime soon. So him being dead? Not likely. Others?

His gaze drifted back to the woman. Others wouldn’t be so lucky.

Kyla swept the impressive beam of her flashlight along the building once more. Hmm … now this was different. It was all one building, but it looked to be three different structures in one. The burned-out three-story section making up—what? A home? The parsonage, maybe?—gave way to a long, single-story section. From the stained-glass windows, Kyla figured that had to be the sanctuary—

She froze. What was that? A scuffling sound behind her.

She spun, shining the light to the right. She’d heard something. She was sure of it. Furtive footsteps. Was someone following her?

But the flashlight revealed nothing.

Kyla hesitated, then drew the light back to the sanctuary. Her fears faded as she studied the structure.

How odd. The sanctuary gave way to what looked to be a two-story tower of sorts. Interest piqued, Kyla walked along the outside of the building, letting the light play along the walls, top to bottom, a list forming in her mind as she spotted problem after problem. Foundation, windows, glass, wood, roof, stairs … 
everything
needed work.

No. Strike that. It needed to be replaced.

As the list grew, two things became abundantly clear. First, the job would be as huge as the structure itself. And second, this could
not
be a task God was calling her to. Oh, sure, she had most of what it would take to do what Fredrik had asked: finances, access to materials, workmen who were the absolute best, and the know-how. And if she had enough time, she could certainly pull it off. But the sense she had from Fredrik’s call was that their time line was short at best, minuscule at worst. And if that was the case, then getting it done would take something Kyla couldn’t provide.

It would take a miracle.

It was a miracle she hadn’t spotted him that time.

How he’d missed the dip in the ground was beyond him. He knew better than to step out without checking the area in front of him first. But his foot hit the hole, and he’d stumbled. Good thing she’d swung the light at head level. He’d managed to crouch just in time.

She’d stopped walking, so he stayed that way as he watched her. One hand rested on the side of the building; the other eased behind him until he felt cold metal.

Fingers closing on the switchblade tucked in the back of his pants, he smiled.

Kyla had seen enough.

Regret dogged her steps as she headed for her car. She’d come in the
morning, as she’d promised, and meet with Fredrik. But as much as she didn’t want to disappoint him, she’d have to be honest. She’d have to tell him the job wasn’t possible.

Is anything too hard for me?

Kyla’s hand hovered midreach, just above the door handle. Shivers skittered across her skin. Where had
that
verse come from? She wasn’t even sure if it was a Scripture verse. It sounded like one, but she couldn’t place it.

She shook her head. She must be more tired than she realized. Time to go home and get some sleep. Her fingers closed on the door handle.

I am the L
ORD
,
the God of all the peoples of the world. Is anything too hard for me?

The words rang within her, as though someone had struck a large gong right next to her, sending reverberations coursing through her whole body. She grabbed the door handle, pulled the door open, and dropped onto the seat.

Leaning her head back against the headrest, she stared through the dark night at the building across the street. Another frown pinched her brow.

It would take so much work. Extra men, working nearly around the clock. Just getting the permits could take up all the time they had—

Is anything too hard?

Kyla gritted her teeth. No. Of course not. Nothing was too hard for God. If He wanted the youth center built, then it would happen. No matter what.

She released a sigh into the darkness, then leaned forward to slide the key into the ignition and put the car in gear.

Yes, God would accomplish His purposes for this church of Fredrik’s. But what she still didn’t know, she thought as she reached for the headlights—was if she was supposed to get involved—

“Oh!”
Shock ripped at her nerves as she slammed on the brakes. Heart pounding, she sat there, staring out the windshield.

A dark form stood in the beam of her headlights. Right in front of her car.

“What on earth?”

Shrouded as much in the night’s dark as in oversized clothes and a hooded sweatshirt, the form just stood there. Kyla’s fingers tensed on the steering wheel. Should she honk? Open the window and ask if he … she …

She studied the stance, the build. Definitely a
he
.

So should she open her window and ask if he was okay? Maybe he needed help—That thought died as quickly as it formed, for the figure raised his head. Just enough for Kyla’s headlights to illumine a pair of dark eyes.

Dark … cold …

Menacing.

Kyla’s throat went dry, and her hand reached almost without thought to ensure the doors were locked. But somehow she had the sense that locks wouldn’t stop this person. Not by a long shot.

A sense that doubled when her headlights glinted on something the form held up.

A knife.

Kyla’s hand dove into her purse, seeking her cell phone, but she’d no sooner pulled it free than the form was gone. Melted into the night like a crocodile sinking into the murky depths, leaving not even a ripple on the water’s surface to prove it had ever been there.

Fear spurring her on, Kyla hit the gas, sending her car shooting forward. She didn’t slow until she was back in a well-lit, familiar area. The comforting glow of streetlights eased her grip on the steering wheel, though she couldn’t help glancing in her rearview mirror to ensure she wasn’t being followed.

Who was that back there? What did he want with her?

Kyla had no answers. She could only be grateful that she’d been able to get out of there before anything happened.

That and hope, with all her heart, that she never encountered that man again.

M
orning dawned far too early.

Kyla woke before the alarm, thanks to a playful and hungry Serendipity. She opened her eyes with a groan and reached out to capture the pouncing kitten, holding her, closing her eyes, trying to recapture the dream she’d just lost.

Vague images flitted through her mind. It had started out more like a nightmare. She’d drifted off to sleep scant hours ago, falling into dark and ominous dreams peopled with hazy forms flashing knives in the moonlight. But just as the forms reached her, as she cried out her terror, he was there.

A new form. Tall, broad-shouldered. And protective.

Kyla smiled at the memory. Willed the images back into her mind. Saw again as he circled her with arms of steel, standing between her and her attackers. Though repeated blows fell on him, he didn’t flinch. He kept his arms about her, and his rich voice told her over and over again that she was safe.

Funny thing was, she believed him. Though she knew it was one protector
against many attackers, she knew he was right. She was safe with him. He’d never let anyone hurt her. And as soon as she realized it, the dark, menacing forms dissipated like fog pierced by the sun’s warm—

A fierce yowl brought Kyla’s eyes wide open. Serendipity squirmed, making her displeasure at being constrained known.

“Come on, kitty. Give me a break, will you?” She stroked the cat’s ears, whispering soothing words. As Serendipity stilled, Kyla closed her eyes again.

The images were faint, but still there. She could see herself looking up at her rescuer. “Jesus …?”

A slow, sonorous chuckle wrapped around her, as warm and welcome as hot chocolate on a snowy night. She couldn’t see his features, not clearly. But she sensed his pleasure.

“No. Just one of His warriors.”

She wanted to see his face, to know who he was. Her hands reached, fingertips brushing his cheeks, his nose, his mouth. Feeling the warmth of his smile.

Her hands stilled. “I … I know you.”

She tried, both her dream self and her real self, to see his features. Identify him. But just as it was about to come clear, Serendipity dug in. Kyla sat bolt upright with a yelp. Serendipity tumbled backward on the bed, righting herself with a hiss, pouncing on Kyla’s pillow.

She grabbed the pillow and flipped off the cat. “One more minute. Just one more and I would have known who he was!”

Serendipity’s only response was to swat a paw at her. Kyla glanced at the clock. Almost time to meet Fredrik.

So she’d needed to be up anyway.

Pushing aside her blankets—and her disappointment—she slipped from bed and padded to the bathroom.

Delighted that her mistress was up and about, Serendipity danced and tumbled, batting a stuffed mouse here, a furry rabbit’s foot there. Kyla’s irritation faded and she laughed at the cat’s antics.

With each passing day the kitten grew stronger and more at home. Their first night together Kyla had fixed a nice, neat bed comprised of an extra pillow and some towels. She’d lifted the kitten into the makeshift nest, scratching her behind the bedraggled ears.

“Okay, little one. This is your bed. You be a good girl and go to sleep.”

She smiled as the kitten snuggled into the pillow. Who said owning pets was hard? She crawled into her own bed, shut off the light, then, with a deep sigh, beckoned a night of deep, restful sleep.

The noise started within seconds.

Tiny mewling wails. Quiet at first, then growing in volume and discontent.

Kyla tried ignoring the little puffball.

Right. It was like ignoring fingernails screeching down a blackboard.

Plan B: Coo soft reassurances. No go.

Plan C: A pillow over her head.

Plan D: Fingers in the ears.

Nothing held off the cries.

Finally, Kyla did the only thing her sleep deprived brain could conjure. She yelled. “
Go to slee—
!”

Something hit the edge of her comforter, tugging on it. Kyla scrambled to a sitting position, knees against her chest, and hit the base of the touch-lamp beside her bed.

There, scrambling up the comforter like a miniature Marine on maneuvers was the kitten. Kyla watched as she progressed, little legs trembling with the effort, but refused to let herself be impressed. She pointed toward the pillow. “
That
is your bed.”