Digitalis (22 page)

With a breath, Colton felt one more tension knot release. “Thanks.”

“Hey, it’s what we do.”

Phone tucked away, he found his mom. “Hey, I need something for Piper to put on for now. She lost her bag in the storm.”

“Of course, of course. I know just the thing.”

Colton followed her into the master bedroom as she mumbled something about a sparkly sweater. “No, no sparkles.” He cringed to think of Piper wearing one of his mom’s sequined sweaters. Just didn’t work for him.

“Oh, okay. Well, what about these pants? Jeri left them hanging in the laundry room when they were here last.”

Colton accepted the velour pants. His Aunt Jeri was taller than his mom, but not quite as tall as Piper. “That dog’ll hunt.”

“You sure you don’t want this sweater?”

One glance at the frou-frou sweater pushed Colton from the room. “No. Thanks, Mom.” He trudged back to his room and tugged a Marine Corps sweatshirt from the top of his closet.

“Is everything all right?” His mom hovered in the living room as he passed her, heading back to the guest room.

“Not yet.”

“Want me to talk to her?”

“No, please. Let me handle this.”

His dad appeared behind her. “I feel responsible for all this.”

Colton held his tongue. A good portion of his frustration had been aimed at his parents for leaving Piper here alone. “Even I know if a person wants something bad enough, nobody can stop them.”

“Look,” his dad said as he shifted around his wife and met Colton’s gaze. “You gotta know I wouldn’t have gone if it wasn’t important. We weren’t just out joyriding or shopping.”

Colton nodded.

“The doctor had an opening, and we had to take it.”

“Doctor?” Colton hated the sickening feeling sliding into his stomach. “What doctor?”

Indecision seemed to strangle his father, especially when Mom wrapped her arm around Dad and gave Colton a silent look that warned him off. Finally, his dad looked at him. “We can talk about it later, after things settle.”

His mom came to him. “Please … just try to see things from Piper’s perspective.”

His will hardened. “There are things you don’t know—things
I
don’t know.” He touched her shoulder. “Just … trust me on this.”

She gave him a wan smile. “I do, son. It’s just so odd. I see so much of myself in Piper, and I know in my heart of hearts she doesn’t mean any harm.”

“Maybe.” He glanced over at his dad, who knelt before the fireplace, trying to get a fire going. “But she’s doing an A-plus job of it so far.”

“Colton—”

“Mom,” he said, tugging again on the reins of his frustration but knowing he wouldn’t tolerate any interference this time. “I know you want to help, and you like Piper ‘nd all, but I mean it. Let me handle this.”

She lowered her hands, and her countenance went with it. “Of course.” Like a little puppy with her tail between her legs, she crossed the room to his father. Again—there was the look that made him feel like he was about to unload his lunch.

Colton’s guilt tripled. His mother had nothing but good intentions and hated to see anyone hurting. But that was just the problem. Times of soft answers and gentle words were gone.

As he rounded the corner that led to the guest room, a thought hit Colton and stopped him dead in his tracks. What if … what if Piper was just like his mom? Could her racing into the angry storm be an attempt to protect him and his family rather than self-protection?

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?”

B
e 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 perimeter. 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.