Page 4 of Shielding Maya

The crease between her brows told him it wasn't good news. "He's in and out."

Jasiah swallowed a hard knot in his throat and kissed his mother's forehead. He wrapped her in a hug and she whispered in his ear. "What's happening out there? I heard something like a gunshot."

He squeezed her once, then pulled back. "It was a gunshot. A townie wandered up here and brought trouble."

"Oh no. What will happen..."

He bent his knees and looked into his mother’s worried eyes. "Hey. It's all good. The special operatives in town are on it. I was with one of them when the man was killed. She saw it all and knows no one up here is responsible. She's taking care of it."

His mom swallowed. Her eyes searched his. "Are you involved with her?"

His brows furrowed then lifted. "No. I didn't mean I was with her, with her. I meant she came into the woods just as I was making my way toward the shots. We were watching from a distance together as the man was shot the second time."

Her lips straightened into a thin line. "I'm sorry."

He moved around her and strode toward the bed at the back of the small cabin. His father's frail body lay on top with a sheet covering him. His breathing was shallow, his coloring a sickly gray. The gaunt features told of a man so close to death he had a foot in the grave already.

His dad hadn't been the same since he'd shot and killed the former president up here, Craig Howard. Craig was both his mother's brother and their entire community's menace. He ruled with an iron fist and there was no room for your own opinion. And he'd never talk peace with those who lived in town. Jasiah's father, Gerard Weston, saved a woman in town, who Craig was going to shoot. He was a hero. But the guilt he'd suffered since then, had taken its toll. He'd killed his own brother-in-law, his beloved wife's brother, and though just and right, it killed him inside.

Soon after that, he'd gotten sick, and even the doctors in town had said his illness was one that couldn’t be healed, but his life could be prolonged and medication would make him more comfortable. Gerard had said no.

Jasiah perched his left butt cheek on the side of the bed and picked his father's cold, boney hand up into his. "Dad. How are you?"

Gerard's eyes fluttered open. His lips spread open slightly, but he said nothing.

"Dad. Are you sure I can't get a doctor up here?"

His head moved side to side, then though his voice was weak, he said, "No. This is best. I've said my prayers."

"Dad, I'd love for you to stay with us."

Gerard looked into his eyes. Though Jasiah had the dark coloring of his mother, the pitch-black hair and brown eyes, his father's blue eyes always comforted him. Strong and firm instruction on all things of life. Hunting. Skinning a deer, rabbit, or squirrel came second nature to Jasiah because of his father's teachings.

"It's your time now, Jasiah. You need to lead our people. You need to keep the peace agreement and help our folks thrive. It's your time now."

Jasiah swallowed the hot rock in his throat and inhaled deeply. "I'll do it better with you here."

Gerard moved his head side to side and closed his eyes.

His mom laid her hand on his shoulder. "Even that little bit tired him out," she said softly.

Jasiah squeezed his father's hand then stood. He kissed his mom's temple and whispered, "I'll be back later."

He moved through the small cabin, his eyes landing on all the things his father had made in it. Cups carved of wood. Bowls carved too. Rope his father had woven from lambs’ wool they'd collected from a farmer in town. Leather aprons for his mom made from the deer hides they'd tanned, hung on wooden hooks his father had made. This entire place was made from the love and skill his father had. It broke his heart that's all they'd have of him in a few short days. If he made it that long.

Sure, he'd have memories, but it wouldn't be the same. And, he'd truly be the man of the community up here, the heir apparent as they'd always done before him. The eldest son of the current president would then become president. Though in many ways it would be easy now, and not nearly as much responsibility because of the peace agreement. He wanted the Weston name to erase the Howard name in the history of this community, and he'd work his ass off making sure it did.

4

Maya stepped from her warm shower and pulled the fluffy fragrant towel from the hook to her right. She wrapped her wet hair in the towel, then pulled the second towel from the hook and began drying her body.

What a shitty way to spend today. Seeing a man killed. She still saw how his eyes rounded when he looked at the man holding the gun. He knew him, that was a fact. They knew each other. The shooter was callous in his actions. He'd hunted the senator through the woods, slowly as if he knew he'd catch up to him. That eerie calm that psychopaths had relishing the task at hand. He enjoyed his hunt. He took his time, mentally torturing the senator as he hunted. He also asked about a recording. She’d need to speak with Tate about that.

Slipping on her panties, and then her bra, socks, jeans, and a long-sleeved black t-shirt over her head, she pulled the towel from her hair and grabbed her blow dryer from the right drawer in her bathroom vanity. She flipped her head upside down, turned the blow dryer on and enjoyed the warmth coming from the end of it as she swirled it in circles, drying her hair.

Once her hair was dried, she tossed the blow dryer into the drawer, dragged a brush through her long hair, then pulled it up to the back of her head and wrapped a hair band around it, creating her signature ponytail.

With a heavy sigh, she opened the bathroom door and froze.

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