And Brody couldn’t live with killing another kid.
Not breaking Chuma’s gaze, he lowered himself to his knees and held up his hands. “I mean you no harm. But you can come with me, and wake up a free man. You have a choice, Chuma. Right now.”
He could practically taste his pulse.
I trust You, God.
And, strangely, all fear left him. Just the last remnant of something he’d been hanging on to—perhaps fear of himself, even. But as he stared at Chuma, he suddenly felt…free.
“Stand down, Luke,” he whispered.
He met Chuma’s dark, wide eyes. “Trust me,” he said.
Maybe the boy did understand English. Maybe it was Kafara, still pleading with him in Zimbalan, but suddenly something crumpled on Chuma’s face. He took a shuddering breath and lowered his gun.
Brody pushed the barrel away from his chest and nodded to Chuma. “Let’s go.”
Chuma released the weapon into Brody’s hands. Then Brody turned and, motioning them to stay down, waited for the all clear from Chet to hustle outside the camp.
He crouched with the boys in the bush. They looked at him, fear on their faces. “Don’t worry, boys. You’re safe. Welcome to freedom.”
“Stay put? Does Brody have any idea what he’s asking of me?” Ronie stared out into the jagged outline of the savanna, desperate for any sign of the team.
“Oh, I think so.” Mae sat in the door of the helicopter, her curly red hair tied back from her face, blending into the night in her black fatigues. “Be glad he let you come this far, especially with you still recuperating. In fact, you’re supposed to be in the chopper.”
“I know you’re ex-military and all that, but really, don’t try anything.”
Mae laughed. “Oh, I get it, believe me.” She took off her gloves, got down and came to stand beside Ronie. “Don’t worry. They’ll be here. The Stryker team is a get-it-done bunch of guys.”
Ronie ran her hands over her arms. “I hate this. How do you live with the waiting?”
“I just pray. A lot.”
Ronie understood the praying part. She had a new appreciation for communication with God since Brody had caught her in Amsterdam. And lying in a hospital bed, counting her blessings, she’d learned a side of “God liked her” that she hadn’t exactly thought possible.
But perhaps that was what real love felt like. Not deserved, but a gift. She suddenly realized she was humming.
“What is that you’re singing?” Mae asked.
“It’s a song I’m working on or, rather, honing. For a new album. Ronyika Sings the Blues.” Yes, that had a nice ring to it.
Mae raised an eyebrow. “What happened to Vonya?”
“I think Vonya has had her time.”
“I think you’ll have an entirely new set of fans.”
Hmm. Maybe. It seemed easier in the past three weeks to break free from Vonya a little more every day. After the dramatic finish to her tour in Amsterdam, and her disappearance, all sorts of internet rumors emerged. She especially loved the abducted-by-aliens stories.
Mae lifted her night-vision goggles to her eyes, scanning the terrain. “I think I see them.”
It could spook a girl right through to her bones the way the team bled right out of the darkness. Their black outlines sent a thrill through her, especially when she made out the forms of—wait, two teenagers?
But she stayed put. Because Brody had asked her to.
He showed his teeth as he cleared the brush. “I brought you someone,” he said, and then, emerging from the darkness, she saw a wide-eyed Kafara, thinner maybe, still so handsome, his eyes shiny.
She couldn’t move. “Kafara?”
“Miss Vonya? Is that you?” He wore an oversize jacket that nearly swallowed him, but when he grinned, there was the boy she’d fallen in love with.
“Yes, Kafara. It’s me. The real me.” She reached out and drew him close. “I’m so sorry it took so long.”
He clung to her, his body beginning to shake as his breath caught.
“Shh. You’re safe now. You’re safe.”
She pulled away, cradling his face in both hands. “Want to come home with me?”
His smile was slow, as the words seeped into him. Then, he nodded.
She looked past him to his friend, at the confused look on his face. “I recognize you,” she said quietly.
“This is Chuma,” Brody said. “He…needs a home, too.”
“He has one.” She took his hand and looked up at Brody. “I don’t suppose you can convince Bishop to get him a visa, too?”
Brody nodded, something dangerous in his expression. “Bishop still owes us a few favors.”
Mae had already affixed her helmet and was climbing into the cockpit. “Let’s go.”
Chet climbed in next to Mae. Luke and Artyom helped the boys in and strapped them into the seats.
Ronie touched Brody’s arm. “Are you ready for some real R & R now?”
He met her eyes, a slight grin on his face. “Can you promise me peace and quiet?”
She raised up on her toes, her voice low. “Oh, I sincerely doubt it.”
He laughed. The sound of it made her want to soar. Then, he reached down and swooped her into his powerful arms, pressing a quick kiss to her mouth.
He turned them toward the chopper. “I think peace and quiet are highly overrated anyway.”
“You’re right. I can’t seem to stay out of trouble. Maybe I should hire a bodyguard.”
He settled her inside the chopper, buckled her in and sat beside her as Mae maneuvered it into the air.
“Not necessary,” he said, close to her ear. “That job’s taken.”
Dear Reader,
My family claims that I sound different on the phone, or when I am speaking, than I do in “real” life. They’re partly right. When I’m doing a signing or a women’s event, I have a way about myself that might not be the same gal you’d see on the other side of the computer, hidden away in my office. We all live “double lives,” based on what we want people to see and the things we’re trying to prove to ourselves. I took that premise and applied it wildly to Ronnie, aka Vonya, and Brody, who also wants to be seen as capable and not broken. But we’re all a little broken, and we hide our failures and mistakes, thinking we need to make up for them to be forgiven and approved. But forgiveness isn’t an equation—it’s a gift. Only when we accept it can we take off our masks and become the people we are intended to be.
Susan May Warren
QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION
At the start of the story, Brody finds himself in a place he’d rather not be, doing something he’d rather not do. What is it and how does it turn out for good? Have you ever been in a place you’d rather not be…and had it turn out differently than you had expected?
Vonya lives a life much different from her parents—different from their values and lifestyle. Have you had a member of your family or a close friend who has chosen a much different life than your family culture? How has that affected your relationships? Does that person choose to put on a mask when they are with their family?
What is Veronica’s motivation for going on tour overseas (besides her career)? Are there any global causes that would make you behave/do something out of your comfort zone to help?
Brody at first believes the “mask” Vonya wears. When is the first time he sees her as someone different? Have you ever made a first impression about someone only to have it shattered later? When and how?
The tour visits a number of European locations. Have you ever been to Europe, or even to one of Vonya’s concert locales (Berlin, Prague and Amsterdam)? What was your favorite location and why?
Vonya has a recurring nightmare about what she fears. Have you ever had a recurring nightmare? Was it something you feared, or something from your past? (Or neither?)
What is Veronica’s deep secret that she just can’t forgive herself for? How does that keep her from being able to accept Brody’s love
? Do you think our past contributes to our ability to love—and to let others love us? How?
What is Brody’s deep secret? Have you ever had to do something you disagreed with, that haunted you afterward?
If you could be a rock star or a musician…what would you be like?
Chet suggests that God had assigned Brody to protect Veronica not only for her good but his, also. Why? Has God ever given you an assignment that seemed over your head, or even useless, to surprise you with a lesson? What lesson was it?
ISBN: 978-1-4268-8868-7
MISSION: OUT OF CONTROL
Copyright © 2011 by Susan May Warren
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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*Missions of Mercy
Mission: Out of Control Page 17
