Looking for Justice: Christian Contemporary Romance with Suspense (Dangerous Series Book 4)

by Linda K. Rodante

  She swallowed and told her heart to slow. She’d guessed wrong about his room. “Okay, yes. And then I should be going. It sounds like the rain has stopped.”

  He had started to turn back toward his room but stopped and faced her again. “No. You won’t be going anywhere until morning.”

  Alexis straightened her shoulders. “I’ll go when I feel ready.”

  He waited a hair’s breath. “Actually, you won’t. You can leave, but you won’t get far in either direction. The roads are still flooded.”

  Her heart wasn’t listening to her command. Neither were her legs. She’d told them to move away from him, but they didn’t budge.

  “I’m telling you the truth, you know. The flooding won’t have receded.”

  He was right. She knew he was right. Get hold of yourself!

  “Okay.” It squeaked out.

  Silence settled between them.

  He stepped away from her. “You might be stuck here, but you’re safe. Trust me.”

  “I…”

  “The bathroom’s down the hall, third door on the left. You can sleep on the couch or in one of the bedrooms. They both have locks.” He turned and walked into the dark.

  A few minutes later she settled onto the couch, bunched up the pillow, and flipped the blanket over her. The glow from the fire enticed her.

  Trust him? Yeah, right. She’d only trusted two men in her life. Her father’s strong, tall image hovered close, the grief still acute.

  She forced a deep breath and opened her eyes. The embers glowed and cooled and flared. The flames leapt upwards.

  And the second man was halfway around the world flying a little rickety plane into some snake-infested jungle. She shoved the hair back from her face. And if he ever came home again, he’d hear from her good and hard.

  Chapter 4

  The dream came that night. It hadn’t for months, but like the physical pain that had filled his day, the dream filled his night.

  The sound of the bullets occurred first, followed by the noise of flesh being torn, of screams and yells and cursing. Then the explosion. He saw the hit, his best friend thrown back from the blast, and blood everywhere. He ran forward to get him, and then he was flying backward through the air – away from Clint, away from the others on his team. The ground slammed him, and for minutes, he couldn’t think or see.

  He sat up in bed, sweating, the pounding of his heart as if he’d been there again. He waited for the pounding to slow, trying to push the dream and the thoughts aside, but without success.

  He remembered someone grabbing him under the arms and dragging him away. He’d fought them and shouted for Clint but to no avail. Vaguely, he remembered a field medic bandaging his leg and his screams of pain as they raced him to the helicopter. Sometime during the flight, he’d passed out.

  The next few days, he fought anger and bitterness and unbelief. And pain. Medication brought relief and rest, but he didn’t like it. He needed a conversation with God, the God whom he had served his whole life – as far back as he could remember, accepting his Savior at the age of six. He’d never deviated. He wouldn’t now, but he wanted that conversation. He’d earned it, and he wanted to be in his right mind when it came.

  ***

  Alexis squinted toward the kitchen doorway. Soft light spilled from it. Something scraped across the counter, and then a chair scratched the floor. Paper rattled. She listened a few more minutes but silence reigned. Across the room, the fire had grown cold and dark. He had been right about the wood. Only he hadn’t stoked the fire during the night.

  She pulled her purse from under her pillow, pushed her hand inside and found her phone. Five thirty. In the morning.

  He was up already? She started to huddle back under the blanket but knew that since he was awake, she wouldn’t sleep either. Besides, she needed to get out of here. Groaning, she climbed to her feet and stumbled down the hall.

  A few minutes later, she rested her shoulder against the open doorway and stared at him. He sat at the table, his hand cupping a tall coffee cup, a Bible open in front of him. The laptop next to it shone its light onto the book. He hadn’t turned on the overhead light. A concession to her? The kitchen’s light would have sprayed its brilliance into the living area.

  He looked up and met her gaze. “Morning.”

  “It’s still dark.”

  He raised a brow, and one side of his mouth lifted. “It is, but I think morning still applies.”

  “You’re a morning person.”

  His smile broadened. “And you’re not.”

  “Why is it that morning people are so smug?”

  “Are we?”

  Alexis frowned. How could he look so wide awake and put together? His cinnamon-brown hair caught the glow of his laptop looking as if it were still damp from a shower. The strong jaw was shaved, and the corners of his eyes crinkled at her. “You want coffee?” he asked.

  She eased over to a chair, slid it out, and rested her elbows on the table, sliding her head into her hands. “I guess I need something.”

  “I guess you do.” He stood and walked over to the counter. “You want milk and sugar? There’s no fancy stuff here.”

  Great. “I suppose you take yours black.”

  “Good guess. Or is that the lawyer’s powers of deduction?”

  She straightened. “Are you usually sarcastic in the morning?”

  He cleared his throat, set a coffee cup in front of her and went back to the counter. A moment later, he walked over with a gallon of milk and a sugar bowl. He set the milk and sugar on the table and handed her a spoon.

  “Not usually. Sorry.”

  “I just bring it out in you. Is that it?” She poured as much milk into the cup as possible. He hadn’t left much room. She added two sugars. “Obviously, I need to do something to make up for knocking you down on Monday.”

  He frowned at her cup then met her look. “No. Let me start over.”

  Start over? Was he serious? “Okay.”

  The side of his mouth twitched again. “Morning.”

  If the tendency to amusement was any indication, daybreak was his best time. She tried a smile of her own. “Morning.”

  He nodded, walked to the doorway, and flipped the light switch.

  She squinted into the unexpected brightness. “Oh, my goodness.”

  “You want breakfast?”

  “It’s 5:30.” Her stomach clenched. Besides, she didn’t want him cooking for her. “No, I… How’s the storm?”

  He opened the refrigerator and took out eggs, cheese and a can of biscuits. “I’m going to make something for myself. You can eat or not. The storm’s still with us.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Check the laptop. We have another line of squalls almost on top of us. Was quiet when I got up, but if you listen, you can hear rumbling from the west.”

  Her coffee cup hit the table. She couldn’t be stuck here. She needed to get home, needed to spend the weekend going over next week’s curriculum. “What about getting home? I have a lot to do.”

  He cracked eggs into a bowl, grabbed the milk and poured some into it then used a fork to beat them together. “Where is your place?”

  She gave him the name of the condo and the street name.

  “Hmmm.” The eggs went into a pan. He rapped the canned biscuits on the counter, pulled it open, and began placing them on a tray. “Streets will be flooded in town, too. But it’s from here to there that will be the biggest problem. If you hadn’t conked out cold last night, we could have discussed it.”

  Heat rose in her face. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I didn’t realize how exhausted I was.” When he only nodded, she forced the next words from her throat. “Thank you for letting me stay.”

  “Nothing else you could do.”

  “I had no idea I’d be stranded all night. And today…” The unease she’d nurtured through the night fluttered inside. “I can’t stay.”

  The metal tray slid into th
e oven. He stirred the eggs and turned. His brow creased. A jagged streak of lightning showed through the windows, against the dark sky. Thunder cracked. Alexis jerked and grabbed the sides of the table. She couldn’t stay here.

  “I can’t stay, Brock. I’m sorry. It’s not going to work.” The cabin walls seemed to draw closer.

  “Alexis.” His hands caught her arms. “You can’t go anywhere in this storm. We came here for a reason. Everything will be fine.”

  “No, I…”

  He leaned forward. “Calm down. You’re too uptight.”

  She pulled against his hold. “I told you it might not work. You knew that.”

  He leaned in to kiss her, but she twisted her face away. When his hands tightened, she pulled against them.

  Anger flashed in his eyes. “Come on. Stop the baby stuff.”

  “No.” She yanked free of his grasp.

  Lightning struck somewhere outside the cabin. “You’re stuck here, my girl. Whether you like it or not.”

  They’d brought her car because she wanted to feel in control, and now she knew why. Grabbing her purse, she started for the door.

  “Alexis, stop!”

  As she reached the door, his hand closed on her arm and jerked her around.

  “Let go, Brock. I’m not staying.”

  “You think I’ve put in all this time with you for nothing?”

  All the warnings that she’d ignored during his sweet talking the week before leapt like flames inside her. “I’m leaving. Now.”

  His other hand clamped over her arm, and he dragged her against him. “You aren’t going anywhere, you hear me? You’re not going anywhere.”

  “You aren’t going anywhere,” Luke said.

  His voice shocked her back to the present and ratcheted up the fear inside. She stood and stepped away from him.

  A puzzled expression crossed his face before he turned back to the stove. “Between here and town are numerous low places. You’ll never get the Jag through. Believe me.”

  Alexis willed her mind to clear. She stared at the back of Luke’s head.

  He took a bag of shredded cheese and added some to the pan. “I checked the weather as soon as I got up and saw the reports of flooding.” His voice came over his shoulder. “If it stops raining by midmorning, you might make it out by late afternoon. If you can’t get the Jag out, I’ll take you home in my truck.”

  She eased toward the doorway. “I…I need my purse. My phone.”

  He turned from the stove, studying her. “Go ahead. Things are almost done here. You’ll feel better if you eat. You had nothing last night.”

  She rotated and walked into the living area and grabbed her purse. Thunder rolled again; lightning flashed. She glanced outside. The night had lightened. Daylight would bring relief.

  Although, it had brought no relief the other time.

  She’d crept out of the cabin when Brock fell asleep, after his self-preservation speech that what had happened was what she wanted, what she planned when she agreed to come for the weekend.

  The mountain road proved so dangerous that she had stopped not far from the cabin and waited for full daylight, knowing that daylight could not change what happened and that she’d never be the same.

  “Come eat.” Luke’s voice drifted from the kitchen. “My cooking’s not that bad. And I think I remember some flavored creamer, after all. My mother brought it when she was here last. Ruined her coffee the same way you do.”

  She stared at the doorway. She’d been stupid last time, but she hadn’t been since and wouldn’t start now.

  Luke stepped into view. He studied her a moment then held up a carton. “Hazelnut. The date’s okay. Join me?”

  Alexis swallowed, pulled a chocolate bar from her purse and waved it at him. “What you meant to say, obviously, was that your mother has good taste just like I do.” She took a deep breath and eased in his direction.

  He stepped back toward the stove just as the buzzer sounded.

  ***

  Luke set the egg and cheese biscuit in front of her alongside the hazelnut creamer. He didn’t know what had spooked her, but the look in her eyes a minute ago mirrored Maximus’ on a bad day. The stallion hated storms. In fact, he would have checked on the horse before breakfast if Alexis had slept longer.

  Lord, give this woman peace. I don’t know what she’s afraid of, but let her know I’m no threat to her.

  They ate in silence, the storm moving over them, lending its own voice to the meal. As they finished and Luke poured his second mug of coffee, it grew quiet outside.

  She hadn’t asked for more coffee, and he was thankful for that. He was having trouble watching her drink the first. After she’d taken a few sips, she’d put half the chocolate bar into her coffee and more milk. His stomach had revolted

  Alexis stood, walked to the sink and rinsed her dish. “Are storms always this violent here?” She looked down at the cabinets.

  “Leave it in the sink. I never use the dishwasher. Just have one dish, one pan most of the time.” He rose, too.

  Alexis moved back. He pretended not to notice that she gave him a wide arc. Her nervousness last night was understandable, but for a short time this morning, she appeared relaxed. What had scared her?

  “Over the last few years, we’ve had more of these destructive-type storms.” He put his own dish in the sink and picked up his head, listening. What had he heard?

  “I could do without—”

  He held up a hand. “Wait a minute, will you?”

  “What?”

  “Be quiet.” He moved to the back door and opened it, cocked his head and listened. The barking was clear now. Farley. He didn’t like the tone. “Stay here. I need to check the barn.”

  “You…what?”

  Not answering, he slipped out the door, strode across the deck and down the walk to the barn. He dodged the puddles. Farley’s barking rose in determined alarm. When he got to the doors, he heard the horses, too. He lifted the beam and swung the doors wide.

  At the far end of the barn, the two mares stomped and stretched their heads over the bottom doors of their stalls. They looked agitated, but he swung his gaze to the closed stall on his left. Farley’s barking almost drowned Maximus’ snorting and pawing.

  The dog was supposed to keep the stallion calm during storms. Why was he making such a ruckus?

  Luke unlatched the top door and swung it wide. Maximus threw his head up, stamped and made a high-pitched whinny. As he eyed the horse, Farley jumped at the open half-door and tried to crawl over.

  “Down, boy, down. Be quiet.” He patted the dog’s head and studied Max. “What’s up? You want out?” He lifted the bar from the bottom door, and the dog squeezed through, barking again. Luke slipped inside. The horse swung his head and stomped with short nervous movements. “What’s the problem? The storm upset—”

  The hole behind the horse was three feet from the floor and would measure just bigger than a horse’s hoof. Luke’s head whipped back to Max. Hay covered the back hooves but bright, red blood painted the straw around his left leg.

  “Max.” He inched forward, put a palm on the stallion’s flank and eased his hand down the back leg. The horse shifted away from him. “Hold on, boy. Let me look.” He slipped his hand down the leg again. Blood coated the thick fur.

  The horse snorted, and Luke grabbed the leg, lifting it. He jumped aside as Max kicked out, hitting the side of the barn again. Luke moved to his head.

  “Calm down, boy. You’re okay. Calm down.”

  “Anything I can do?”

  Luke looked over the half gate. Alexis stood at the barn door, rubbing Farley’s ears. He frowned. Usually Farley was a nipper and protective, but she’d made it to the barn without the dog setting up an alarm. And this was just what he needed – both a guest and a horse that required attention.

  “Thanks, but I need a vet.” One of the mares neighed, and he shot a glance that way. “And I need to get the mares out. They’re agitat
ed enough. I don’t want another injury.”

  Her expression changed, and she walked to the stall door. “The stallion’s injured?”

  “Yes. He kicked a hole in the outside wall. Injured his leg. Lot of blood, but I can’t see what’s what.” He let himself out the door. “Don’t get too close. He’s jumpy.”

  She backed up a foot. A foot. He didn’t have time to watch out for her.

  “You’d better wait in the house. I’ve—”

  “I know horses.” She cut him off. “I had one of my own, and I worked at a stable – cleaning, feeding, washing, all the usual stuff. I can get the mares out for you while you call the vet. Where do you want them?”

  He hesitated, eyeing her. She was tall, looked strong, like she worked out, and if she knew horses…“You’re sure?”

  “Just show me where you want them.”

  He eyed her again, undecided. Her previous nervousness had disappeared. She seemed calm and in control.

  “I can handle them. Trust me.” She said it with a half-smile, accenting the last two words.

  He missed the meaning she was trying to convey, but he could use the help. “Okay.”

  He pointed at the gate a short distance from the barn. His one-second view of Max’s leg had given him no idea how bad the injury was. He needed to make that call and get back. He caved to the need.

  “I’ll open the gate for you on the way back to the house. I left my phone there.”

  “The lead rope?”

  “Hanging next to the stalls. Look, take the black one out first. That’s Mandy. Make sure you close the gate after you put her in the field. Come back for Sandy. She’s blind. She doesn’t go into the field without Mandy.”

  Alexis’ focus switched from the horses to him. “She’s blind?”

  “Yeah. I went to buy a horse, got stuck with two. They wouldn’t separate them.” He saw a glint of amusement in her eyes and frowned. “Mandy’s a great horse when I have someone else who wants to ride. Sandy’s not bad either as long as there’s a trail and Mandy leads.”

  The woman’s brows rose. She angled away from him heading toward the mares. “And you’re a pushover.”