What Lies Within (30 page)

Yeah. Right
.

“I love Mason.”

Which is why you can’t wait to get married, right? Why you were going to let another man kiss you?

Kyla clenched her teeth. Enough was enough. “I love Mason and I’m going to marry him!”

“Well, I’m happy to hear it.”

She spun with a gasp. “Mason!” Her gaze flew past him, to the sanctuary. Relief filled her when she saw it was empty.

Mason’s furrowed brow told her the reception she’d just given him was far from pleasing. She forced enthusiasm to her words. “I’m so happy to see you.”

One neat brow lifted. “Indeed?” His eyes searched the office. “Who were you talking to?”

“Hmm?” She followed his gaze. “Talking to?”

“Just now, when you announced your undying love for me.”

Ah. Yes. “No one.” Okay, from the way his eyes were narrowing, that wasn’t enough. “I just”—she looked around the room … no help there—“I just like saying it.” Yes. Good. She’d go with that. She met his gaze and put on her most brilliant smile. “Out loud. I love you, I love you, I love you.” She took his hand, hanging limp at his side. “See? Sounds wonderful, doesn’t it?”

He stared down at her, and she felt shame heating her cheeks. One lean finger traced the line of her jaw, and then he gathered her to him, arms folding about her and holding her close. “I love you too.”

Kyla closed her eyes against the sudden sorrow that assaulted her. Because she could tell from his voice that Mason meant it. Meant every word.

She pushed back from him, looking up into those blue eyes. “I don’t deserve you.”

An indulgent smile lifted his lips. “Perhaps not, but you’ve got me.”

Tell him. Tell him you’re not sure. Tell him you’re confused. Tell him that he’s not the man who occupies your thoughts, your heart—

“No!”

Mason started, then his arms fell away. He stepped back, studying her. “No?”

“I …” She rubbed her suddenly burning eyes. “I don’t know.” Could she feel any more miserable? “Mason, I—”

Gentle hands took hold of her fingers, pulling them away from her eyes. “Dear, you’re exhausted. You’ve been working too hard. Why haven’t you enlisted more people from the church to help you?” He studied her face, an odd light in his eyes. “Surely there are some men with the church who aren’t octogenarians?”

The truth perched there, right on the edge of her lips, ready to set them both free. “I … no.”

“No?”

Kyla, tell him
.

“No.” She lifted her head. “They’re not all in their eighties.” He stiffened. “They’re not?”

“No. Some of them …”
Just say it!
“… some of them are in their seventies.” Defeat shuddered through her. She couldn’t do it. Just couldn’t bring herself to let go of what they had.

And what is that? Safety? Complacency? A so-called love that will never hurt you because you aren’t passionate about it?

Passion. She’d had her fill of passion! What had it ever brought her but pain and the gut-wrenching knowledge that she was a fool? Passion. She wanted to spit the word out. Instead, she reached for her purse.

“How would you like to buy an exhausted woman dinner?”

Mason’s gaze rested on her face for a few moments longer, then he bowed. “Of course, darling. It would be my pleasure.”

Let others live and die for passion. Kyla didn’t need it, nor did she want it. What she wanted was peace. Security. Stability. And a man who would give her all of that.

Which clearly was not Rafael Murphy.

THIRTY-FIVE   

S
erendipity, I swear, it’s a good thing you’re so cute.”

Kyla glared at her cat from where she knelt on the carpet, cleaning up yet another mess the little scamp had made. The calico mewed, circling Kyla, alternately butting its head against her and rubbing its side along her.

“Shoo.” Kyla waved a hand at the cat. “You’re in my way.”

With a final head butt, the young cat jumped up on the couch, grace personified, then folded herself into a sphinx position to watch her mistress, amber eyes blinking.

Kyla shook her head, and dipped the cloth into water, then dabbed at the carpet again, grateful there were cleaning products that worked as well as they did. Who knew cats made such disgusting messes?

Funny thing was, Kyla didn’t really mind. Well, not now. She’d minded a great deal the first few times this happened, especially when she discovered one of these little treasures with her bare foot in the middle of the night. But as the weeks went on, she found herself less and less upset.

Amazing what love could do to one.

She pushed to her feet, gathered up the cleaning products and went to
put them away in the cupboard below the sink. Serendipity bounced off the couch, dancing around Kyla’s feet as she walked.

Kyla laughed, and leaned down to scoop her multicolored rascal up into her arms. This action was rewarded by a mighty purr—and another gentle head butt to her chin.

“You’re crazy, you know that?”

Serendipity didn’t argue.

Kyla grabbed her now-cool coffee from the counter, where she’d set it when she discovered the cat’s little gift, and padded back to the couch. She settled on the cushions, legs curled beneath her, cat cuddled in her lap. Lifting the remote in her free hand—the other was occupied with scratching those velvety ears—she aimed it at the CD player and hit the power button.

Rachmaninoff filled the room with power and passion. Kyla closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the cushions.

At last. After all these months. The work was nearing completion. Her worries were no more.

She could finally relax.

“Relax, Sarge. You need us there, we’ll be there.”

The confidence in Thales’s voice tugged Rafe’s lips into a smile. “How many of the guys are stateside?”

“Well, lessee. Last I heard, not too long ago, ol’ Monroe and Jesse was trainin’ at ARS in Coronado.”

Amphibious Reconnaissance School. Rafe remembered it well. Of course, before a Marine reached ARS, he had to qualify. First there was the standard PFT. If the series of a three-mile run, sit-ups, and pull-ups didn’t do him in, the Marine moved on to the pool. Decked in cammies and boots, the candidates went into the water for aerobics and underwater push-ups.

Then came the brick.

Rafe remembered how weary he was by that time. But weary didn’t matter when you knew you were meant for Force Recon. So he led the others in diving after a ten-pound brick. He had his up and to the far end of the pool first. Oo-rah!

“Sabada’s still running that martial arts school of his.”

Rafe nodded. Sabada had left the service at the end of his last tour, six months after Rafe’s injuries. That had surprised Rafe since Sabada had been in the Corps longer than anyone else in the unit.

“You sure you want to do this?” he’d asked his friend when he called Rafe to tell him what he planned.

“I’m sure. Time to focus on life, Asadi. Not death.”

Rafe knew Thales was a Marine through and through. But he understood. Rafe had seen too much. Things he’d never forget, no matter how much he wanted to. Sabada? Rafe couldn’t even imagine all he’d seen. And done. “What about Rashidi?”

“I’m not exactly sure, sir. I’m thinkin’ he’s still in-country.”

“Thales, you outrank me now. What’s with the sir?”

“Shoot, Asadi, you’ll always be sir to me. And the other guys too.”

Rafe knew his friend was right. Though most of the others from their unit had passed him up in rank these last few years, they still saw him as their unit leader. Always would. Just as he still saw them as the best of the best.

Always would.

“You want us out there now, Sarge?”

Did he? Rafe shook his head. “No, not yet. I just need you to be ready if I call.”

“You got it. I’ll call the team. Those who can will be ready.”

“Thanks, Thales.”

“Naw, Sarge, thank you.” Rafe could hear the grin in the big guy’s words. “Sounds to me like these yahoos deserve some serious pain, and I ain’t put a good whompin’ on anyone in too long. Comes right down to it, you doin’ me a favor.”

Rafe rang off, Thales’s deep chuckle echoing in his mind. A good man. All good men. As solid and tough as it got. And when they got to town, one thing was certain.

The 22s would be very, very sorry they’d messed with Kyla Justice.

THIRTY-SIX   

I
s someone messing around in the church?”

Fredrik paused, hand on the handle of his car door. He met Don’s gaze in the darkened interior of his car. “Messing around? Why?”

Don’s gaze was fixed past Fredrik, out the car window. “Maybe Miss Justice is still there, then?”

Fredrik turned, peering through the night at the church building. “She should be inside this late? I don’t think so.” He and Don had just arrived for their late-night walk around the church. They’d hoped that coming down every night would let any unsavory sorts know there was no opportunity for … for …

He frowned.

The church windows were dark, as they should be this time of night. Except for what appeared to be streams of light dancing around in the sanctuary.

“Flashlights.”

Apprehension seized Fredrik’s heart. Of course. It had to be. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his cell phone.

“You calling the police?”

“I’m calling the police.”

Don nodded. “Good.” His gaze traveled back toward the church. “Tell them to hurry.”

He was always at church after dark.

But then, darkness was home as far as King K was concerned. It covered and sheltered. Even kept him alive a couple of times when rival gangs came after him.