Page 127 of Unseen Danger

Perceptive as always. “No.” Branson ran his tongue over his lips. It had seemed like a good idea to warn his dad. Tell him his job—the income that supported the cancer treatment—may be coming to an end.

With the intel on Peter from the Phoenix K-9 team, they could be about to close in on the culprit behind everything that had been happening. They didn’t have any evidence they could arrest him for yet. But hopefully Phoenix or the police would uncover something soon.

The threat to D-Chop would end then. But would the threat to Branson’s job be over? Not likely. D-Chop was slow to become angry with anyone. But once a person got on his bad side…there usually wasn’t any recovering from that.

“What is it, son?” Another cough followed his dad’s question, each scraping sound twisting Branson’s gut.

He couldn’t tell him the treatments were about to end. This was a battle for his life. Branson couldn’t fail to protect him from this disease. There had to be another way.

The investor his friend Cooper had talked to about Branson had to come through. Then he could be his own boss and provide for his family in a security specialty that didn’t pull him away from his faith so much. That didn’t require him to keep quiet and turn a blind eye to people who lived such sordid lives.

“Are you sure that will be what you’re looking for?” Andrew’s words echoed in Branson’s memory. Strange that his mentor had brought up Branson’s childhood dream of becoming a pastor. He’d only wanted to be like his dad as most boys did.

“I would’ve made a terrible pastor.” The statement spun off from his spiraling thoughts.

Silence met the words he instantly regretted. His dad had always been disappointed Branson hadn’t followed in his footsteps.

“What makes you say that?”

Because he was letting his faith slide. Wasn’t in the Word as much as he should be.

“Have you asked God what He wants you to do?” Andrew’s question sounded in Branson’s head as loudly as if he were on the other end of the line instead of his dad. “I just couldn’t do what you do.”

“God calls each of us to the work He created us for. If you had pursued becoming a pastor, you would’ve been the minister God wanted you to be. Different than I am, I’m sure. But still striving to serve God to the best of your abilities.”

Unlike what he was doing now. His dad probably didn’t mean that implication, but the words stung anyway.

Branson was protecting people, though. That was something God wanted His people to do. Preserve human life. Take care of others. Branson was serving Him and others in that way.

The rationale sounded desperate even in his own mind. Kind of like the attempt he’d made to excuse the fact he’d fallen for a woman who wasn’t a Christian.

He hadn’t even been able to face Nevaeh tonight when she’d arrived for patrol. He’d told Travis to greet her and Jazz instead while he hid in his room like a coward.

But how could he face her, talk to her, when he didn’t know where to go from here? He loved her, but he shouldn’t. He couldn’t act on it. Not when she didn’t share his faith. He may not be doing great staying close to God, but he wasn’t about to disobey God’s mandate to not attach himself to a non-believer.

The urge to talk to his dad about Nevaeh pressed against Branson’s lips. But how disappointed would his dad be if he knew Branson had let himself fall in love with a non-Christian?

“How are the treatments going?” He pushed out the safer question instead. “I mean really. You sound sicker.”

“Well…It does seem like the treatment is worse than the disease some days.” A sound like his dad was trying to repress a cough broke across the line. “I’m so grateful you’re able to pay for it, though. I want to beat this.”

“And you’re going to.” Branson tightened his jaw. “I’ll make sure you can keep going with the treatment as long as you need it.” Somehow. Even if D-Chop did fire him and the investor fell through.

“I worry this is putting too much of a burden on you.”

Had his dad detected Branson’s stress? Branson tried to force a smile he hoped would lighten his tone. “It’s not a burden at all. I want to get you through this.”

“It’s not up to you, son. Even with this treatment, there are no guarantees I’ll pull through.”

“You will.” Branson couldn’t consider any other outcome.

“That’s in God’s hands.”

Branson blew out a breath, trying to loosen the worry clogging his chest. “I guess I’m used to facing attacks I can see. Enemies I can take down.”

“Our God is mighty to save, Branson. He is my stronghold, my ever-present help in trouble. I’m not worried.”

But hadn’t God given Branson his well-paying career exactly for this purpose? To save his dad’s life? He couldn’t fail his family. “I should let you get some rest.”

---