Silent Shadows

by Natalie Walters

  “Would you think I was crazy if I said I was thinking of turning my grandparents’ ranch into a Home for Heroes?”

  Colton’s question stunned her. She stopped walking and stared at him, the glow of the lamppost revealing an anxiousness in his eyes.

  “It’s crazy, right? I mean, with . . .” He lifted his right arm.

  “No,” Pecca said. “It’s not a crazy idea. Is the ranch big enough?”

  “The land is, for sure. We’d have to add some rooms, and I don’t think I could offer what Home for Heroes does in the medical sense, but . . .” He stared ahead in the direction of the Mansion. “Gunny’s going home to an empty house. His wife is gone, and his kids don’t live nearby. What’s he going to do when he leaves?”

  Pecca heard the underlying question in Colton’s tone—what was he going to do when he left? She closed the distance between them and reached her hand around his waist. “I think that would be amazing, Colton. And I believe you could do it.” She pressed a kiss to his lips, softly, and pulled back. “You are amazing.”

  That put a sheepish smile on his lips, but it only lasted a second before he kissed her back. Long and deep and toe curling. Her hands slid behind his neck and she couldn’t help feeling that this was where she belonged. With him.

  Colton drew back, breathless. “You’re pretty amazing yourself.”

  Putting her fingers to her lips, she could still feel the warmth of his kiss. “We should hurry up and get to our date.”

  They began walking again, this time a little more quickly, and it made her laugh. Colton too.

  “Tell me more about your idea.”

  “I want to give veterans and soldiers a place they can hang out. Maybe a camp or something.”

  “With goats?”

  Colton lifted her fingers to his lips. “You and your goats.”

  “You have to have goats. They’re so much fun.”

  “Shh.” Colton’s grip on her hand tightened and she stopped walking. He released it, his body tensing.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Colton narrowed his eyes. “That lamppost is out.”

  She followed his gaze to a lamppost down the pathway. Sure enough, it was dark. “It’s probably burned out.”

  “I don’t remember it being out when we walked here.”

  “It wasn’t dark yet,” Pecca said, hating the fear nestling inside of her. “Colton, it’s fin—”

  The branches next to them rustled as a dark figure emerged from the shadows.

  “Pecca, watch out!”

  The figure rammed into her side, sending her flying. She cried out as the asphalt bit into her skin, her head cracking against the ground.

  “Pecca!”

  She rolled to her side, dazed and in pain. What is happening? A loud thud jerked her attention to Colton.

  He was on the ground, wrestling with the legs of the person standing over him. He kicked Colton in the ribs, causing him to yell in pain. Pecca turned onto her stomach and pushed herself up onto her hands and knees. She felt dizzy, but the sound of flesh hitting flesh, followed by Colton’s painful grunts, forced her up.

  Pecca launched herself at the person dressed in black, but they were ready and sidestepped. She caught a glimpse of his face and saw the man’s wicked smile seconds before he brought his arms up and around her head. She flailed, her fingers grasping at his arms tightening against her neck, suffocating her.

  Rage pulsed within her. She elbowed the man and then made her body go limp so that he was supporting her entire weight. He wasn’t expecting it and lost balance, giving her room to twist in his grip and strike a blow to the parts that would have him singing soprano. He let out a growl as his knees buckled, and Pecca stumbled back.

  “Pecca!” Colton clutched his side, crawling toward her on his knees. “Go. Run.”

  Blood poured from his nose, and she started for him. She wasn’t going to leave him. “Colton, are you okay? Can you get up?”

  Colton looked up, his eyes wide with fear. “Run!”

  TWENTY-FOUR

  PECCA’S CRIES were more torturous than the shooting pains radiating through Colton’s ribs. His warning had come too late. The man grabbed Pecca’s hair and yanked her backward. Colton gritted his teeth and shoved himself off the ground, charging their attacker, but skidded to a stop when he saw the flash of metal. The nose of a gun was pressed into Pecca’s head, causing her to whimper and squeeze her eyes shut.

  Nothing beat a bullet.

  “What do you want?” Colton tried to raise his hands, but his right arm jerked awkwardly to the side. “I’ve got money.”

  It was too dark to make out much of the man’s features, but the white of his teeth gleamed beneath an ugly sneer that said he wasn’t here for money. SSB. Was he Javier’s cousin? Colton took a step closer, searching for the identifying tattoos, but the man pulled backward. Pecca wasn’t prepared for the abrupt movement and stumbled. The man’s attention shifted to her, and that was all the distraction Colton needed.

  Colton rushed the man just like he would a tackling dummy on the field. His quick sprint turned the attacker’s focus back to him, but Colton’s arms were already wrapping around the man’s waist. Squeezing, Colton raised him in the air before twisting and dropping him to the ground with a heavy thud. The man’s head snapped back, his skull connecting with the asphalt in a sickening crack that made Colton’s teeth hurt.

  The gun skittered across the path, landing halfway beneath a shrub. Breathing hard, Colton started for it, but the muscles in his body were fatigued and his steps faltered. Please, don’t fail me now. He urged his body forward, trying to ignore the familiar pang spreading through his arm.

  “Colton, watch out!”

  Colton caught sight of the flash of fabric just before impact. The man’s shoulder caught Colton in the ribs and sent him pitching sideways to the ground. His hip and elbow took the brunt of the impact, the pain screaming through him. He scrambled toward the gun, grabbed it with his left hand, and spun around.

  Ahead of Colton’s shaky aim, the man ran. His finger trembled near the trigger, but the exertion and adrenaline coursing through Colton’s body messed with his line of sight. Too dangerous. He rolled to his side and pushed himself to his feet. The world around him swayed for a second.

  “Are . . . you . . . okay?” He spoke through ragged breaths.

  Pecca was still on the ground. She looked herself over and then nodded up at him. “Yes, I’m fine. Who—”

  “Call . . . the police.”

  “No, Colton, let him go.”

  He scanned the area quickly before his eyes turned on Pecca. Her hair was disheveled, but physically she looked fine. If someone else was out there, they would’ve helped with the attack by now. He had to go after the guy.

  “The man just tried to kill you. If he’s a part of SSB, I can’t let him go.”

  Colton turned and started sprinting in the direction the man took off. She will be alright. Pecca will be alright. He didn’t want to leave her, but something was telling him their attacker had answers Colton wanted. And if that was true—it spun his entire theory upside down.

  Rounding a bend in the trail, Colton, his senses alert, slowed to a jog. With concentrated effort, he forced himself to take steady breaths through his nose and out his mouth as he listened. Feeling the weight of the gun in his nondominant hand felt weird, but he tightened his grip.

  Who was this guy? Javier was dead. If they were after Pecca to get to him, they shouldn’t be interested in her anymore. He thought back to the woman inside the prison. Why had she gone to talk to Javier, and why had he been killed a week later?

  The sound of a twig snapping gave him his direction. Colton rushed through the bushes on his left, the branches scratching at his skin. The live oaks surrounding him created a canopy overhead that blocked out the moonlight, effectively turning the space into a black hole.

  Squinting, Colton scanned the area around him as shadows began to form. A noise to
his right caught his attention in time for him to see the figure jump through the bushes in the direction of the elementary school.

  Not tonight, buddy.

  Colton growled and started running after him. The playground he and Pecca had passed was just ahead. Families might still be leaving the festival—he needed to stop this guy before he reached the school. Anger spurred Colton’s feet to keep moving despite the burning in his lungs, but his body was giving up. He could feel the weakness spreading into his legs. Frustration welled up within him.

  There. The path narrowed, and the man was only ten yards in front of him now. Colton surged ahead, his muscles begging him to stop. Sirens echoed in the distance, and the man looked over his shoulder as he picked up his pace. With his attention on Colton, he didn’t see the curb until it was too late.

  Colton watched the man somersault forward, crashing into the grass. Taking advantage of the man’s position, Colton lifted the gun, his aim unsteady. “Don’t move.”

  But he did. So swiftly, Colton wasn’t prepared. The man twisted around, swinging his leg to the side in a maneuver that caught Colton in the side of the knee. Trying to catch himself, Colton released the gun right before he hit the ground and smashed into something sharp that stole his breath.

  From the corner of his eye, Colton watched the man get to his feet. Where was the gun? He ran his hands along the grass and dirt searching for it.

  “Looking for this?”

  What was left of his breath whooshed out when Colton turned and saw the gun pointed at him. “Who are you?”

  CRACK!

  Colton flinched as the man’s body crumpled to the ground in front of him. What? Chest pounding, he swiveled his head in every direction for any sign of law enforcement. Flashing lights of a squad car colored the sky. His eyes went back to the body.

  Who fired the shot?

  “Colton.” A voice called through the cacophony of sirens echoing in his ears. It was Charlie. He was running over, weapon in his hand. “Colton, are you okay?”

  Clutching his side, Colton tried to get up, but his knees turned jelly-like and a wave of nausea crept over him. The edges of his vision began to grow dark as he rolled to his back. The next second, Charlie’s face appeared over his, but Colton couldn’t speak. The spasm in his arm radiated up into his shoulder. No. He tried to breathe, but the pain was unbearable. His body shook, and Charlie yelled for help.

  The muscles in Colton’s back contracted, thrusting his chin upward as his spine arched as though he was having a seizure. He ground his teeth, fighting back the urge to scream against the pain. Breathe. It was Pecca’s voice he heard in his head. Breathe, Colton.

  Pinching his eyes shut, he took a shallow breath. Then another. And another.

  A few minutes later, the muscles in Colton’s chest and back relaxed.

  “An ambulance is on the way,” Charlie said. “Hang tight.”

  “Did you . . . shoo . . .” Colton swallowed against the dryness. He opened his eyes and stared up at Charlie. “Shoot . . . him.”

  Charlie blinked. Colton watched his eyes flicker to the gun, then to the dead man and back to him.

  “It wasn’t me, Colton.” Realization dawned, and Charlie’s demeanor shifted from helping him to searching the area and barking orders into his radio about an active shooter in the area.

  Colton closed his eyes and took in a few more breaths, trying to focus on the therapy technique he’d been working on with Chaplain Kelly, but all he could see was Pecca’s face riddled with fear. His arm twitched, throbbed, ached.

  He’d failed her.

  He figured the dead man lying next to him held the answers about why the SSB was still after Pecca. Answers that would’ve helped keep Pecca safe, and all he had to do was . . . what? Rage prickled his skin, and Colton fought to breathe. It hurt. It hurt.

  “Where is he?” a frantic voice called out. “Is he okay?”

  The sound of her voice should’ve been reassuring, but it only fueled the fire of frustration burning inside him. He wasn’t okay. Never would be. He was lying on the ground—weak.

  “Colton, are you okay?” Pecca’s cold hands found his face. “Colton.”

  He opened his eyes. “Is it . . . him?”

  Pecca blinked, confusion lighting her eyes as she searched his face. “Who?”

  “We’ve checked the perimeter. No sign of the shooter.” Charlie walked over. “Savannah Metro is sending over a K9 unit.”

  “An ambulance is on its way,” Sheriff Huggins said. “Are you hurt, Colton?”

  “Is it him?” Colton pulled his left hand back to help himself off the ground, but Pecca stopped him.

  “Don’t move. Wait until the ambulance is—”

  “I’m fine.” The bitterness in his tone was received as three sets of eyes looked at him with concern. Colton didn’t care. He pushed himself up to a seated position, feeling his head rush with dizziness. He blinked away the stars at the back of his eyes and turned his focus to the body Deputy Wilson was guarding. “Is it Spider—Javier’s cousin?”

  Charlie’s lips pinched into a flat line. He pivoted and walked to Deputy Wilson, who lifted the blanket. Colton watched Charlie kneel to get a good look. A minute later he returned.

  “It’s not him.”

  Anxiety rippled through Colton’s body, causing his arm to jerk. He turned to Pecca. The memory of what happened flew through his brain in quick bursts. “Are you okay?”

  “Fine. A few scrapes and bruises, but I’m good.”

  “You need to look.” His eyes moved to the body. “You need to see if you recognize him.”

  Pecca bit her lip, her eyes flashing to the body and back. “I can’t.”

  “It’ll be quick,” Charlie said, holding out his hand to her.

  She reached for Colton’s hand and squeezed it before rising to her feet to follow Charlie.

  “The ambulance is here,” Sheriff Huggins said. “Why don’t you tell me what happened while they check you out.”

  “I’m fine, sir.”

  Sheriff Huggins gave him a fatherly look that said there’d be no arguing. He reached out, and Colton grabbed his hand and allowed the sheriff to help him up slowly. Between answering the medics’ questions, Colton gave Sheriff Huggins the details of the night leading up to the moment someone had sniped their attacker.

  A few minutes later, Pecca walked over looking paler. She met his eyes and shook her head. She hadn’t recognized him. The analytical side of his brain felt like it was short-circuiting. None of this made sense. If the SSB was after her—why? Javier was dead now, so they’d have no reason to go through her to get to him. And if it wasn’t the SSB . . . then who? And why?

  Pecca’s cold hand wrapped around his, and the fear from the last two years was back, churning Colton’s gut. He had no control. Just more anger. More frustration. More bitterness.

  Colton withdrew his hand and stared at Charlie. “Until you figure out who’s behind these attacks, you need to put security on Pecca and Maceo. At her house. At the school. At the Mansion.”

  “We don’t have the manpower—”

  “Figure it out.” His sharp tone made Pecca flinch and Charlie’s shoulders stiffened. “That’s your job.”

  “Colton”—Pecca reached for Colton’s hand again—“we’re okay. I’m okay.”

  “It’s not okay!”

  Pecca stepped back, hurt carving lines into her face that seared his heart, but he couldn’t go on letting her believe he could do anything for her or Maceo—least of all keep them safe.

  “This was a mistake. I don’t know what I was thinking.” He glared down at his arm, the movements increasing. “Tonight was too close.” When he looked up again, both Charlie and Sheriff Huggins had a questioning look in their eyes. “I can’t be trusted with keeping her or Maceo safe.”

  “Charlie, Sheriff Huggins.” Pecca’s voice was soft. “Would you please give us a minute?” When both men stepped away, Pecca came closer. “What’s goin
g on?”

  “Exactly what I said. You need protection.” His pulse pounded so heavy in his chest, Colton could hear it in his ears. He avoided looking at her, afraid his feelings for her would betray his resolve. “I can’t offer that to you. Or anything else. It was a mistake.”

  Pecca took another step forward. “What was a mistake?”

  Colton didn’t answer.

  “Look at me, Colton.” Her voice shook, and he couldn’t help looking up. Her eyes glistened with a mixture of hurt and anger. “What happened tonight is not your fault. You did everything you could to protect me, and I’m fine. I’m safe. You can’t blame yourself—”

  “But I do,” he snapped.

  Pecca took another tentative step forward. She was so close he could breathe in her floral fragrance. The same one that only hours ago had made him want to believe that what she’d said about God might be true—that he had a plan that brought Colton here just for her. His heart plunged into his stomach. If that were true, then he wasn’t failing only Pecca—he was failing God.

  “It was ego, Pecca. That’s all. I agreed to help Charlie because I needed to feel like myself again.” He exhaled, his shoulders sinking. “The Army let me go for a reason. Those soldiers’ lives were in my hands. Tonight your life was in my—” He shook his head. “I can’t protect you any more than I can feed myself with a fork. All this did was reinforce that I’m the last person who should be promising you anything. Least of all a future.”

  “So, that’s it?” She wrapped her arms around herself. “You’re just going to give up because it’s hard? Because you think protecting me is the only role you play in my life?”

  “It’s an important role,” he said. “If I can’t protect you, what good am I?”

  “What good are you?” Her face was a mixture of disbelief and confusion. “You have a movement disorder, Colton. It’s not the end of the line for you. You think the only reason I want to be with you is because you can protect me?”

  “It was my job, Pecca. Protect. If I can’t do that for the people I . . .” He swallowed the word and looked away. “I’m leaving in two weeks anyway. It’s better if we just admit it was a mistake—”