Page 48 of Valor (Long Hot Summer: Christian Romantic Suspense #2)

LANI

The apartment I’ve lived in for the last seven years feels completely strange to me now. I was so happy here before. It was home.

Now, it’s haunted by the fight.

I stand in the kitchen, and flashes of that night come back to me.

My heart beating hard against my chest as adrenaline kicked in.

The echo of glass breaking.

Gibson is behind me, Bradyn beside him, and I know they’re both watching me closely so they can catch me if I fall apart.

I’m determined to hold it together though. Gibson’s words echo through my mind on repeat. According to him, I shouldn’t have been able to break free. Even if I don’t understand anything else, I believe that God saved me. I know He did.

Why? Who knows. But I’m going to continue fighting for the truth even if it kills me. The first step in me pushing forward was returning here, to a space violated by a stranger too cowardly to even tell me why.

“Are you okay, Lani?” Bradyn asks, every bit my big brother.

I turn toward him and nod. “I’m getting there.”

“If it gets too hard?—”

“I can do this,” I tell him, then take the first step inside. Glass crunches beneath my boots, but I continue forward, my gaze landing on the broken coffee table, my blood still staining the carpet below.

Even though my back hasn’t bothered me all day, the spots where I was impaled on shards of it begin to sting, my brain drawing me back into that moment. I can all but see myself hit the table.

Hear the shattering of the glass as it broke and punctured my skin.

Get it together, Lani. You can do this.

“If you can’t tell us everything that’s missing, it’s okay. Just do your best,” Gibson replies.

“I have a pretty good memory,” I tell him. “And I don’t keep things I don’t need. So I should be able to give you an accurate list.”

“Lani—”

“Just let me do it, okay?” I ask, reaching back for the notepad in his hand.

His gaze is hardened by the internal struggle I imagine he’s dealing with. A fight between the cop who needs to know and the protector ready to rip me away from this place so I never have to face it again.

Finally, he hands it to me.

“I’ll be right back. Please, just let me do this, okay?”

Both men nod in understanding, and as I turn to head down the hall, I don’t hear them following me.

My entire place has been destroyed, clothes strewn all over the bed and floor. Some of them were me, I remember. I’d left my possible outfits lying out before my date with Gibson.

Tears burn in the corners of my eyes. This was not supposed to happen. I was supposed to come back here and lie in bed all night, grinning like an idiot because it was the best night of my life.

The best night that transformed all too quickly into my biggest nightmare.

Get it together, Lani. Taking a deep breath, I start to look through the clothes on the bed. For the most part, they’re all the ones I left. Whoever took me emptied out my closet and drawers, though, and it’s those clothes that are all over the floor.

Most of them, anyway. Quite a few of my church dresses are missing, as well as some jeans, three shirts, and all of my jewelry. There wasn’t even anything expensive in the box, costume jewelry I’ve had since I was young, and a few of my favorite earrings gifted to me over the years.

The diary I’ve had since I was a teenager is no longer in its place in my nightstand, and the book I’d been reading is also missing. After writing all of it down on Gibson’s notepad, I leave my bedroom and head into my bathroom.

Toothbrush. Hairbrush. Bag of hair-ties. Shampoo and conditioner. Body wash. All missing.

Even the towel I’d been using is gone.

I head back into the living room and check the kitchen countertop where I’d left my Bible. And when I see the teal leather cover sitting right where I left it, I want to weep with joy. Bradyn and Gibson remain in the entryway where I left them, neither of them saying a word as I lift the Bible and hold it in my arms.

Thank You, God. Thank You for rescuing me and for keeping this here for me. Please, Father, help me understand. Help me see the truth so we can keep this from happening to anyone else. In the name of Your Son, Jesus Christ, I pray. Amen.

When I open my eyes, the weight feels just a bit lighter.

Within ten minutes, I’ve finished going through the rest of the apartment. Aside from the personal belongings in my bedroom and bathroom, everything else was untouched.

“Thank you,” Gibson replies as I hand him the list. “I know this was hard.”

“It was necessary. And thank you for being here. Both of you,” I add, looking at my oldest brother.

“Anytime. You ready to get home?”

Home. This used to be my home. But after being here today, I know that I never want to return. Not unless it’s to get my things. “Yes. We can go.” I turn to Gibson. “Are you coming over for dinner?” My mom had invited him, along with Pastor Ford and his wife.

“I think I need to start working on this. Build a profile so we can catch this guy,” he says. “But I’ll check in with you later, all right?”

I try to bury the disappointment beneath a smile. “Sounds good.”

Bradyn holds the door open for me, so Bible still in hand, I step out into the breezeway of my building. Gibson doesn’t follow. By the time we’ve gotten down to Bradyn’s truck, my best friend still hasn’t emerged from my apartment.

* * *

It’s so hard to smile and pretend as though my world isn’t in broken shards by my feet.

Pastor Ford and my dad are talking about an upcoming men’s retreat, while my mom and his wife, Grace, are discussing plans for a bake sale next week so they can send the youth on a mission trip. I know they’re just trying to be normal for my sake, and I appreciate it, but my head is somewhere else.

Bradyn is monitoring the security cameras that cover the ranch’s residences, so he’s not here.

Tucker, Dylan, and Riley all left for a job this morning and won’t be back until tomorrow afternoon. And Elliot is sitting outside of my apartment building, hoping to catch someone trying to sneak back in.

So it’s just me, my parents, the Pastor and his wife. And while I normally would love this company, all I can think about is going up to the guest room so I can finally be alone. Not that it’s what I want, but the person I need most right now isn’t here.

Something I’m trying not to be angry about.

“Hey, Mom?”

“Yeah, sweetie?”

“Is there enough food to take a plate over to Gibson?”

She smiles warmly. “Of course. I’ll get one ready.”

“Great, thanks.” I rush up the steps and pull on a sweatshirt, grab my purse, and shoes, then head back down. By the time I reach the kitchen, she’s putting a glass storage container into an insulated bag.

“All ready to go.”

“Thanks, Mom.” I turn to the Pastor and Grace. “Thank you both so much for coming and for your prayers. I’m sorry that I’m so out of it. It’s been a rough week.”

“Honey, don’t apologize.” Grace reaches out and takes my hand. “We’re just glad you’re okay.”

“Me too. Thank you for being here.”

“Anytime.” Grace pulls me in for a hug.

“Let us know if you need anything, okay? I’m here if you need to talk.” Pastor Ford offers me a hug too, then steps back.

“I appreciate it. Both of you.” And because I know no member of my family will let me leave the house alone, I turn toward my dad. “Do you mind driving me over to the station?” I ask him.

“Not at all. We’ll talk more tomorrow,” he tells Pastor Ford, then slips into his jacket.

“Absolutely. Have a good night, Tommy.”

“You, too, Gabriel.”

A few minutes later, I’m sitting in the front seat of my dad’s truck as we make our way back toward town. Silence stretches between us, with only the humming of the air conditioner and soft music in the background.

“Dinner was a bit much, wasn’t it,” my dad finally says.

Because I’ve never been a good liar, especially to him, I nod. “I’m sorry. I’m just not feeling overly social.”

“You don’t need to apologize, honey.” He reaches over and takes my hand, squeezing it gently before he releases it. “Did I ever tell you about the night I found you?” he asks.

“You want to talk about that?”

He chuckles. “It’s a hard story to tell, but I think it’s important.”

“Okay.” He’s never gone into much detail. Just that I was found wandering the road. I was hungry and crying. Neither he nor my mom ever like to talk about it though because as they say, and I’ve always believed, it’s in the past. As far as they’re concerned, I’m a Hunt and always have been.

“You were so small,” he recalls. “I remember seeing you walking and wondering just how something so small was walking with so much purpose. I’d pulled over the truck and called to you.” He sniffles. “I’ll never forget the look on your face when you turned around. Your eyes were rimmed with red, and when you saw me, you didn’t even hesitate to run toward me, both little arms outstretched.” He turns down Main Street. “You hit me with such force it knocked me off my feet, and for a moment I just sat there, stunned. This little angel was hugging me, offering me all of her trust.” He shakes his head. “I remember pulling back to look at you. You were dirty, your skin cold, your poor little feet were torn up from walking, but you just looked so strong.”

“I was two,” I say. “How could I have looked strong?”

He glances over at me. “Your eyes. You have the soul of a fighter, Lani Hunt, and I have never—not once—ever doubted that you were sent to us by God above. The Father gave us a daughter that day. And while I wish you had never suffered as you did, I can’t help but thank Him for bringing you to us.”

Tears burn in my eyes. “Dad.”

“It’s true.” He pulls into the sheriff’s station and parks beside Gibson’s truck. Then he turns to me and takes my hands in his. “I need you to remember that now and in the coming days. You may be a little scuffed, just as you were back then. But you were not broken then, and you’re not broken now. You, my beautiful daughter, are a fighter, and there’s nothing you can’t overcome.”

Tears slip freely down his wrinkled cheeks, and when he pulls me in for a hug, I feel just as I imagine I did back then.

Relieved because I’d found the safety I’d been deprived of.

“Thank you, Daddy.”

“I love you so much, Lani. For the rest of my days, my heart beats for you, your mother, and your brothers.” He pulls back. “Now, go give your sheriff some food. I’ll head back, and you can call me when you’re ready to come home.”

The fact that he knows I don’t just want to dump and run means the world to me. “Thank you, Dad.”

“Anytime, darling girl.”

I smile at him as I retrieve the to-go bag of food and climb out of the truck. He stays where he is and waits until I’m in the precinct. As soon as I step inside the door and wave at him, he waves back and leaves.

The place is nearly empty, with just the receptionist and two officers working in the main room. Across from the entrance is the sheriff’s office. And through the glass window overlooking the rest of the office, I can see Gibson staring at a glass board with a bunch of pictures and writing taped to it.

Here we go.

I move all the way into the office and the receptionist, Jenny, looks up and waves at me over the top of a fresh vase of wildflowers. Flowers.

“Hey, are you okay?” she asks.

“Huh?”

“You look a little pale.”

“Just tired,” I say, forcing a smile. “Are you doing okay?”

“Not too shabby. Marcus and I are taking a vacation next week. We’re headed to Jamaica.” She and her husband have been married for four years. They were members of the same 4-H group as my brothers and I were when we’d been growing up.

“That sounds awesome,” I tell her. “I could use a vacation myself.”

“I bet you could.” Her expression softens in sympathy.

And before she can offer me any of that, I force my smile to widen and wave. “I’ll see you around.”

“You too, Lani. He’s in his office. Though now that I say that, I realize you can see it.” She laughs and shakes her head. “I am glad you brought him food though. I was about to force-feed him a granola bar. He’s been at it nonstop since you—well—you know.”

I turn to face his office, noting the way he’s pacing back and forth as he stares down at a yellow notepad. He’s looked exhausted every time I’ve seen him. Is he even sleeping? “I’ll make sure he eats.”

“And I appreciate that. I’m out for the night, so he’ll have to unlock the doors to let you out.”

“Sounds good, thanks.”

“See you around, girl.” After gathering her purse and sweater, she heads out the front glass doors, locking them behind her.

The quiet of the empty sheriff’s office surrounds me. I don’t see any of the deputies, which means they’re either at home or out patrolling. For the first time all night, a bit of joy sneaks through the dark cloud surrounding me.

I’ve made it about halfway through the room before Gibson turns toward the glass and sees me. He stops in his tracks and stares back at me. A moment passes between us where no words are spoken, but more is said than either of us expected.

He crosses toward the door and pulls it open. “Hey, what are you doing here?”

“Food.” I grin and hold up the bag as I close the distance between us. “It’s not pineapple pizza, but it’ll do the trick.”

He smiles in return, and the knot in my stomach loosens. “I’ll take anything but pineapple pizza. Come on in.” I start toward him, but he stops me. “Actually, why don’t we go into the break room.”

“Why?” Looking past him, I note the pictures on the board.

A hospital bed.

An IV pole.

My tossed apartment.

“It might be hard to see,” he says.

“I want to see it.” I hand him the bag and push forward as he closes the door behind us. After crossing his office, I stop just in front of the board and make myself stare up at the images printed and taped against the glass backdrop.

Beneath each one is a label.

Room where victim was held.

Drugs were administered via IV line.

Apartment ransacked. Items missing include toothbrush, hairbrush…

Stalker? Impersonator?

“You don’t deserve anything you have.”

It’s those last words I focus on. You don’t deserve anything you have. I can hear them saying it now, their voice disguised and robotic.

I force the anxiety merely reading those words causes back down. I’m not there. I’m safe. “I remembered something else when I got here,” I tell him, unable to tear my gaze away from the board.

“What?”

“Flowers,” I tell him. “It was strange, but I thought I smelled flowers one of the times they came into the room.”

“Flowers?” he asks, making a note on the board with a marker he grabbed from his desk. “Like perfume?”

“I don’t know. It could have been just my imagination too. I was pretty out of it.”

“It’s something,” he says. “And we’ll figure out what it means.”

Taking a deep breath, I turn away from the board. “Do you have any leads yet?”

“Not yet. We’re working on it though. I’m cross-referencing every single person who works at that hospital and going through all of their financial records.”

“Financial records?” Then it clicks. “Oh, in case someone took a payment.”

He leans back against his desk and crosses his arms. “Exactly. Right now, we can’t trace the equipment to a person. It was all stolen right after inventory was done, which means they had two weeks to return it before it was noticed. Given that they didn’t make any direct attempts at taking your life—something isn’t quite fitting.”

“Bradyn has one of these boards in his office,” I say, turning back toward it. “Same with Elliot—all of them honestly.”

“It’s handy to lay out all the pieces.”

I turn and start pulling out his food. “I bet.”

“Lani.”

“Huh?” I set his food on top of his desk, then pull out the silverware my mom packed too.

Gibson crosses over and places his hands on my arms. “It’s okay to not be okay.”

“I’m okay.” It’s not a complete lie, but it’s also not entirely the truth. “I’m managing,” I add. “Tonight was hard. Everyone is walking on eggshells around me. Treating me gently, as though I’ll break.”

“I take it I’m included in that ‘everyone’?”

“You did just try to keep me from coming into your office.”

He runs a hand through his hair as he steps back from me. “You went through something traumatizing.”

“Yes, but I survived. And while I know I’m struggling, I’m still standing.”

“You are.”

“So stop trying to shield me from it, please.”

He nods. “Deal.”

“Good.” I take a deep breath. “Now, you better eat so I can tell my mom you loved it.”

He laughs and takes a seat behind his desk. “How did you know I haven’t eaten yet?”

“Because I know you better than I know myself most days.”

“Same.”

I smile, and the air between us shifts. The weight of what happened to me no longer saturates the space between us. Instead, it’s a burning attraction. A love that’s shifted from friendship into something more. And while we’re both still trying to understand what that means for us, I know that for me, it’s a forever kind of thing.

Gibson Lawson has been my forever since we were kids.

I only hope that my forever is a very long time and not cut short by whoever is behind the mask.