What Lies Within (33 page)

“Bad day?”

She lowered her hands with a start, eyes wide. “Oh! Rafael. I didn’t hear you come in.”

His gaze rested on the phone. “You were occupied.”

Pink bloomed on her smooth cheeks and she leaned back in her chair. “I
was pretty awful to them. They didn’t even deserve it. I just …” She rubbed at the back of her neck with one hand. “Yes. It’s been a bad day.”

“Seems you’ve had quite a few of those this week.”

Something in her features seemed to harden. “There’s just a lot to do. And I’m doing the best I can to take care of it all.”

“You. By yourself.”

This time there was no mistaking the anger in those beautiful eyes. “Now, don’t you start.”

Before he could ask what she meant, Kyla stood and brushed past him, shoving the office door open and going into the old sanctuary. Rafe caught the door with his cane, pushed it open, and followed her.

“Look at this place! It’s still a mess, and I’ve got just over two weeks to get everything done.”

“You do.”

She spun to face him. “Yes! I do. God called me to this. I have to see it through. Even though it’s going to cost me everything.”

“You really think God wants that? For you to lose all you’ve worked so hard to build?”

Something flickered in the depths of her eyes—something more akin to fear than anger—and then it was gone. “I have no idea what God wants!” She waved her hands. “All I know is I’m supposed to do this job.”

“Are you sure that’s what God called you to? Finishing a job? What if it’s more than that?”

Her gaze narrowed. “What do you mean?”

He lifted his cane, sweeping it in an arc, indicating the room around them. “What if God’s call has nothing to do with this project? What if it’s more about you. Your heart. Your ability”—he pinned her with a hard look—“or lack thereof, to trust.”

“Trust? How can you say I don’t trust?”

“Do you think it’s trusting to try and do everything yourself?”

Kyla squared her shoulders. The woman was ready for a fight. “I think God has other things occupying his attention. Sure, building a youth center, especially in a neighborhood like this, is important. But what is that compared to children starving? To people dying from AIDS?”

“God cares, Kyla. Big problems or small ones, He cares.”

“Well then, where is He?” The fact that she’d raised her voice didn’t bother him half as much as the desperation he heard in her tone. “I don’t see Him stepping in to stop the 22s.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

“Don’t you
get
it, Rafael? This has to be done! And I’m the one who has to do it.”

“Why?”

She froze, mouth hanging open.
“Why?”

“You heard me.” He wasn’t backing down. “Why?”

“Can
you
do this job?”

He ignored the sarcasm in her tone, making his reply calm and level. “No.”

“Can any of the elders? Fredrik? Willard?”

“No.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, chin lifting. “Then please, tell me, who will do it if I don’t?”

He took in her posture, the emotions on her expressive features that betrayed her, though he was sure she didn’t realize it. She probably thought she was as controlled as always. “Must be tough.”

Kyla tensed. “What?”

Rafe gentled his tone, but didn’t hold back the bald truth. “Thinking you have to take everyone’s problems on your shoulders and handle them. Alone.”

She gave an angry huff, lowering her arms. “Yes, well, that’s how it is. How it’s always been.”

“Not always.”

Kyla hesitated, her eyes searching his face. A slight pucker tugged at her brows, and for a heady moment he thought she knew. Thought she remembered. Realized who he was.

But then she turned away. “Always.”

So much contained in that one word. Hopelessness. Despair. The echo of a little girl lost in the dark. He longed to go to her, to comfort her. But he couldn’t. For her sake as well as his own. “Kyla, do you really think God has called you to bring this about yourself? What about all the others? The neighbors? Businessmen in the town? How do you know He hasn’t called any of them to be involved?”

She kept walking back toward the office, tossing her sarcasm over her shoulder. “Of course! Why didn’t I think of that. Oh—because they’re nowhere to be found!”

He followed her back into the office. “Have you called any of them?”

She sat down and grabbed the phone. “I really don’t have time to deal with this, Rafael.”

He laid his hand over hers, where it clutched the receiver like a lifeline in a storm-tossed ocean. “No. What you don’t have is the time to
not
deal with it.” Before she could let fly with the anger he knew was building, he went on. “Think about it, Kyla. You know the construction community. Are there any other construction companies in town that might possibly be willing to help?”

She stared at their hands for a moment, then finally looked up at him.

“Maybe.”

The hint of concession, grudging though it may be, energized him. “Then call them.” He stopped her refusal with a raised hand. “Just one call. To someone you really think might help. Lay it all out—everything that’s at stake—and see what happens.” He pulled his hand away from hers. “Make that call, Kyla, and if they refuse, I’ll back off.”

Interest sparked at that. “You’ll back off?”

“All the way.”

She lifted the receiver. “You’re on.”

Rafe stepped back. Curiosity nudged at him when she hit a speed-dial button. She had a competitor on speed-dial?

“Mason, hi. It’s Kyla”—her gaze drifted to Rafe—“Kyla Justice, of Justice Construction? Right, I’m fine. Thanks for asking. Listen, I have a question for you.”

Rafe left the office, then pulled up one of the old metal folding chairs and sat down, massaging his leg. Better to give her some privacy than hover like some kind of vulture.

At the sound, a few minutes later, of the door opening behind him, he turned. The frown on her face wasn’t encouraging, but he asked anyway. “So?”

She didn’t answer. Just stood there, seemingly lost in thought.

“Kyla.”

Still no response.

He pushed out of the chair and started for the office.

“Where are you going?”

“To hit redial on the phone and ask the guy myself what he said.”

“Okay, okay.”

Rafe turned to face her, and he could tell she had no desire to say whatever it was she had to say. “You were right.” He tried to restrain the grin. Really he did.

“He agreed to help. Said it was an important cause, and he’d be happy to contribute materials and workmen. Even funds, if we needed.” She swatted his arm. “Stop looking so smug!”

Rafe held up his hand. “Sorry. I was trying not to gloat.”

“Yes, well, you were doing a lousy job. Besides, Mason is my … a friend of mine. So of course he’ll help. But even with what he’ll bring to the project, it’s not going to be enough.”

“Miss Justice.”

Kyla and Rafe both turned. It was the church elders. Walking toward them with what seemed to be very definite purpose. Kyla went to meet them.

“Hello, Don. Von. Gentlemen. What can I do for you?”

“The question is”—Steve slid his hands into his pockets—“what can we do for you?”

Rafe cocked his head. This should be interesting.

“Do for me?” Kyla looked from one man to the other. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“Well, ma’am,” Von’s easy drawl held a hint of humor, “it’s like this. We’ve been talking, and we’ve all agreed. You won’t have to deal with any more problems”—he looked at the walls, which still bore signs of the graffiti—“like this.”

“I won’t?”

Don joined the conversation. “No, Miss Justice. You won’t. Because we’re going to stand watch. 24/7. We’re going to patrol the area and, if need be, protect it.” He nodded toward her. “And you.”

Kyla stared at the man as though he’d suddenly turned green and sprouted an eye in the middle of his forehead. “Protect me.”

“That’s right.” This from Wayne. “You may not know it, Miss Justice,
but we were all in the service at one time or another. Proud to do so, you know. To stand for this country and freedom.”

Rafe’s grin grew. He liked these men more and more every day.

“So we’re going to put our training to use.”

Rafe looked beyond the elders and saw Sheamus just coming to join them.

Von nodded at his friend, then leaned toward Kyla. “Just call us the Silver Squad.”

Kyla tossed a plea over her shoulder, but Rafe just smiled. She might not think these men could handle the kind of trouble that most likely was headed their way, but he knew otherwise. Age might slow the reflexes, but it brought something to the table that was far more important.

Experience. And an understanding of human nature.

Besides, he’d felt the grips these men still had whenever they shook his hand. These guys might be a bit beyond their prime, but Rafe would hate to go head to head with them. In a fair fight, they’d be odds-on to come out on top.

Of course, the Blood Brotherhood wasn’t exactly well known for fighting fair.

Rafe moved to stand beside Kyla. “Well, gents, sounds pretty good. But I think there’s actually something else you can do that might be of even more help than patrolling.”

The elders gathered around Rafe and Kyla, and Don nodded. “You just tell us what you need.”

Rafe looked from them to Kyla, who struggled between relief and confusion. He smiled. She wasn’t going to like this, but …

“Miss Justice was just getting ready to put together a list of folks to call, to ask if they can help us out.”

“Folks?”

“That’s right, Wayne. Professionals she knows in the construction field.”

“Now that’s a good idea.”

The others echoed Von’s approval.

“So, when Kyla gets that list put together, which she’ll do right away”—he tossed her a “won’t you?” look, and she had the grace to nod—“if you gents will take to the phones, that will be a great help.”

“We can do that.” The wheels in Steve’s mind were turning already. “You’ve all got your cell phones, right?”

Wayne huffed. “You
said
to bring them so we could call 911 if we needed to.”

“Okay, then, let’s go get the meeting room set up as a call center.”

The men moved away, their excitement palpable in their animated discussions and straight backs. When they were out of earshot, Rafe leaned his head toward Kyla.

“
This
is what you can do that no one else can.”

“What?” She didn’t look at him, and Rafe had the sense that was because she was struggling with her emotions.

“You know the right people to call. You know what’s needed and who can supply it. And”—he took hold of her shoulders, turning her to face him—“you can let a group of men who have spent their lives serving God know that you need them. Because you do. Get your list together, Kyla”—he smiled—“and let the Silver Squad have at it.”

She held his gaze, but only for a moment. Then she looked down. “You really think this will work?”

“I really do.”

With a slow nod, she stepped back from him and headed back toward the office. “I’ll have the list in a half hour at the most.”

She wasn’t happy letting go of this. Shoot, this woman wasn’t happy letting go of any little bit of control in her work. But that was okay. Because Rafe was as certain as he’d ever been that she was doing the right thing. No matter how much she didn’t want to.

FORTY   

H
e didn’t want to think about what he’d just done.

Mason’s fingers tapped an uneasy cadence on his desk. He’d been confused at first, what with the way Kyla identified herself. Like a stranger. But he’d heard the plea in her tone, and that held off the questions he wanted to ask.

Then she told him why she called.

Excuses raced through his mind. Everything inside urged him to say he couldn’t do anything. That he didn’t have men available. That there was no money for such things. That—and this was the one that finally did him in—it wasn’t ethical to get involved in her project.

Ethical.

The word stuck in his throat.

It wasn’t until he spoke that he realized he was going to help her. But the minute he said he would, he knew he meant it. Not because it was Kyla.

But because it was the right thing to do.

It was about time he reminded himself what that was like. Doing the right thing.

He looked at the phone for a moment, thinking. But there was no denying what he had to do next.

Lifting the receiver, he punched in the number. The answer was swift.

“Ballat here.”

“Mr. Ballat.”

“Ah, Mr. Wright. I hope you’re calling me to confirm all is as I requested.”