In the Enemy's Sights

“You’re a good one to talk. Your father used to say you could give lessons to a mule.”

Once Quinn made up his mind to something, there was no moving him. Maybe that quality in common had helped forge their friendship.

Quinn shrugged. “Face it, buddy. You need something to occupy your time while you’re stuck on medical leave, or your loving family will drive you crazy fussing over you.”

True enough, but Quinn’s job offer still sounded like charity.

“And I need someone I can trust around here.” Quinn paused, his usual smile dimming. “You know that we seem to have become a target in the past few months, don’t you?”

He nodded. “I’ve heard something about it. My mother keeps trying to protect me from hearing anything bad, but she couldn’t prevent my knowing about the fires. Or about Uncle Max getting shot.”

Maxwell Vance had been in a coma since the shooting, a continuing grief to the family. Some people said he’d made too many enemies during his brief term as mayor by taking a hard line on drugs.

“That’s been a tough situation. You know we’re all praying for him.”

“Yes. Thanks.” His throat tightened at the thought.

Quinn’s face darkened. “As for the fire, the investigators seem to think Neil O’Brien was responsible. You wouldn’t know him, probably. He was an assistant fire chief.”

“Was?”

“The department suspended him while the investigation’s going on. There’s even a rumor he may have been involved in drugs.”

“You’d think they’d have him under arrest, then.”

Quinn shrugged. “Suspicion isn’t evidence. On the surface, there’s no connection between that and your uncle’s shooting and the vandalism we’ve been having, but I’m not taking any chances.”

“I don’t know much about security, either.”

In fact, he didn’t know much about any job, other than flying. Bitterness washed over him. If God were really in control, why were all these bad things happening to them?

“Maybe not, but you’re smart and you’re tough. And I can trust you.” Quinn nudged his shoulder. “Anyway, you owe me. Think of all those times I got slammed to the turf protecting the quarterback so you could throw a touchdown pass.”

“If that’s how you remember it, maybe you hit the turf a few too many times.” He grinned, suddenly feeling a little more like himself again. At least Quinn didn’t treat him like an invalid. “All right, sign me up. I’ll do it.”

Quinn grabbed his hand and shook it, obviously pleased with his decision. Maybe now wasn’t the moment to add the reservation in his mind.

I’ll do it…for the time being. But when this injury heals, when I can see well enough to fly again, I’ll be out of here in a hurry.

He had to say when, not if. He couldn’t handle any other possibility.

Quinn clapped him on the shoulder. “Come inside, and I’ll go over the operation with you. We’ll tell Julianna to spread the word, so everyone knows why you’re poking around.”

Julianna. A faint unease entered his mind. Julianna had been dismayed at the prospect of Quinn offering the job. How was she going to react now that he’d accepted it?

Two days had passed, and Julianna still wasn’t used to seeing Ken every day. She frowned at her computer screen. It was tough to concentrate when he could walk in the door at any moment.

At least Ken seemed to spend most of his time out in the yard or at the site of the company’s biggest project, the new physical therapy wing of Vance Hospital. The ongoing cases of vandalism there had everyone on edge.

So he wasn’t here, and even if he were, she’d cope. She wouldn’t let herself think about what had happened between them once upon a time.

She stared at the figures on the screen, but they seemed to blur. Instead she saw a high school corridor, lined with lockers. Ken leaned against one, his red letter jacket standing out against the gray metal. She’d known that locker well—she’d certainly spent enough time lurking in the hallway to catch a glimpse of Ken.

She must have been crazy that day. It was the only explanation that made any sense. He’d noticed her, smiled at her, and she’d blurted out her love without a thought for the consequences.

Her face burned even now at the thought of his appalled expression. She’d whirled at the sound of laughter to find several of his buddies behind her. They’d heard. They’d laughed. And it had been all over school in a day.

To give Ken credit, he’d tried to be kind to her after that, but she couldn’t accept kindness from him. Since her grandparents wouldn’t let her quit school, she’d had to tough it out. She put on the poker face she excelled at, courtesy of the Zuni Pueblo side of her family, and pretended not to hear the whispers and snickers.

Somehow she’d gotten through the rest of that year. Eventually people had found other things to talk about, the excitement of graduation wiping everything else from their minds.

She’d survived. She’d made a success of her life. She wouldn’t let a high school mistake affect her job.

They’d both changed. She’d said something like that to Ken, and it was true. The lithe, smiling boy had turned into a strong, broad-shouldered man. The responsibility of command had put lines in his face, emphasizing his maturity, but his golden-brown eyes still seemed to look toward the skies.

Somehow she thought the lines of tension around his lips were recent, the product of the trials of the past few months. The crash had left a few visible scars on him, and probably many more that weren’t so visible.

Her heart seemed to wince at the thought. Be with him, Lord. He’s struggling now—I know it.

She could pray for him, but that was all she could do. Kenneth Vance was out of her league. He had been in high school, and he still was. She tapped the keys, determined to concentrate on the report and banish Ken from her thoughts.

Unfortunately for her concentration, the door banged open. Somehow she knew without turning around that it was Ken. Well, they were colleagues now. She could act like a friend.

“How’s it going?” He came to perch on the edge of her desk, looking as if all he had to do all day was sit there and watch her. In jeans and a sweatshirt, he had a casual charm. She could imagine how devastating he’d be in his Air Force uniform.

“Fine.” She perched her hands on the keys and tried to look busy. “Are things quiet down at the site?”

“Minor vandalism.” He frowned, lines forming between his straight eyebrows. “The cops think it’s just resentment from people who were relocated when the hospital took over that block.”

“That’s natural enough, I guess. No matter how rundown the houses were, they were home to someone.”

He rubbed the left side of his forehead, the side where the puckered scar was dangerously close to his eye. She shuddered a little inside. Holly, Ken’s sister, had told her that Ken’s vision was affected by the accident—that was why he couldn’t fly. Any closer and he’d have lost the eye entirely.

“What?” He was frowning at her now, and she knew she’d stared at him too long.

“Nothing. I was just thinking that you looked as if you have a headache. Maybe you should take a break.”

He stood abruptly, his posture straight. Military. He looked at her as if he’d never met her.

“I’m fine. I don’t need anyone fussing over me.” He wheeled and stalked out.

That went well. She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes.

Ken didn’t want to be her friend. He didn’t need anyone else to care about him.

What did she expect? He had hordes of friends and family just waiting to help him. But did they see what she saw? Did they see the scars the accident had left on his soul?

Maybe she recognized it in him because she’d been there, too. She knew what it was like to feel like a failure. To feel that God had deserted you.