Page 6 of Deadly Force
Caleb rubs a hand down his face. "Didn't have time. I had maybe two minutes to get you out the window and hand you off to Verity and Adena."
I sit up straighter. "If you're still holding a grudge because I crippled you?—"
"You didn't cripple me. You… momentarily displaced my focus."
I snort. "Is that the technical term for being kicked in the… you know what’s?"
His eyes darken. "Glad you're amused. But if I'd fired my weapon accidentally, I could've killed you."
That shuts me up. The smile slips from my face.
He exhales, and when he speaks, his voice is rougher. "Are you even aware of the danger you place yourself in?"
“You're wasting your time. It was probably some bored kids."
"We'll find out. I'll get the security footage in the morning. Until then, I'm taking the spare bed."
I study the breadth of his shoulders, the strong line of his jaw, the way his dark hair curls just enough to soften all that muscle. And try not to think about how that body is supposed to fit on the child-sized bed in my guest room.
To distract myself, I switch the subject. "I need a shower and sleep. Talk in the morning?"
He pushes back from the table, his voice low. "Works for me." He pauses, then adds the words that knock the floor out from under me. "But until I’m sure there’s no threat... I’m not leaving your side."
TWO
Caleb
While Brooke showers, I re-check the rest of the tiny house, making sure windows and doors are locked, then rig a trip wire from fishing line across the back window and wedge a folding chair under the front doorknob.
It’s not until I step into Brooke’s spare room that the full weight of staying in her home hits me.
Like everything else in the house, the bedroom is distinctly feminine. Even more so than Brooke’s own style. With pale purple walls, white furniture, and a scattering of snow globes and knick-knacks, it looks like a little girl’s room.
With a head shake, I unzip my bag and haul out the basic equipment I packed. It should be enough to set up an in-house security system and keep an eye on the neighborhood.
Yawning, I sit on the edge of the single bed and unlace my boots. My chest aches, a dull throb, and I’m regretting not sleeping on the plane.
I throw the covers back and stand frozen as I assess the linens. Strawberries dot the white sheets, and a cutesy girl with a strawberry plant on her head is plastered all over the pillows. "Seriously?" I mutter.
With a sigh, I flick the light off, undress in the dark, and slide under the covers.
A cloying waft of perfume fills my nostrils, almost choking me in its intensity. In the dark, I stare up at the dark, timbered ceiling. "Is this a test, Lord?"
I shouldn’t be here in this dainty little house. Brooke sure doesn’t want me here, and I’m still confounded why Silas thought I was the right man for this assignment.
Switching the lamp back on, I reach for my Hightower-issue Bible. The cover’s worn smooth, corners dog-eared, seams splitting. I flip past the front page, ink smudged from too many nights like this.
Blessed be the Lord, my rock, who trains my hands for war, and my fingers for battle.Psalm 144:1. Block letters. Top of the page. First thing I ever wrote in this Bible. Still true.
A few lines down, another verse—underlined twice, the pen pressed hard.
Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends.
John 15:13. There’s a name next to it. Crossed out now.
I turn the page.Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good. The righteous are bold as a lion.Romans 12. Proverbs 28. Scrawled in all caps—one of those nights I’d rather not revisit.
Near the bottom, nearly faded away:Act justly. Love mercy. Walk humbly.
