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Torn Loyalties Page 17
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“It didn’t. Sorry.” He cupped her face, his voice softened, thickened, burgeoning with intense emotion. “That heart meant ‘forgive me,’ for not being able to tell you the truth. Love came before then.”
Her emotions rose and fell like a wild wave. Disappointment, then elation. “When you gave me the pink stone?”
“Earlier.”
Madison took in a deep breath. He was a good man. Honorable, and he’d been there for her and with her every step of the way. She looked at the medal in her hand, dragged her fingertip over the scratched heart he’d etched into it, then lifted her gaze to his. “I gave this to you once after telling you what it symbolized to me. I’d like to give it to you again now, but the meaning of it has changed.”
“Trust me, Madison.”
She nodded and held out the medal. “I’m giving you this because I can’t give you my heart.” His face fell. She cupped his hands on her face. “That came out wrong.”
“Thank God.”
“I do. For everything, but most of all for you.” She licked at her lower lip, her mouth dust-dry. “I can’t give you something I don’t have to give anymore.”
“Are you still thinking you’re incapable of loving anyone?”
“No.” She pressed her thumbs to his lips. “You already have my heart. I love you, Grant.”
Dawning washed over his face, and his joy was remarkable. It showed in every line, in the twinkle sparkling in his eyes. He tucked the medal in his pocket, then kissed the woman who so feared losing him, and with her heart wide open for the first time since being taken POW, Madison kissed him back.
With hard work and by the grace of God, she had healed.
Madison McKay was no longer lost.
She had made peace with her past, herself and with Grant, and safe in his arms, she knew never again would they be divided by torn loyalties.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt of Betrayal on the Border by Jill Elizabeth Nelson!
Dear Reader,
Being caught between a rock and a hard place is never easy, and yet most of us at some time end up there. We walk in faith, try hard to keep our priorities straight and do the right thing for the right reason. But at times that doesn’t protect us from challenges; it plants us in the middle of them. We do our best, but the thing that guides and sustains us, our faith, is the very thing that forces us to choose sides. And we choose knowing that we’ll disappoint others, perhaps hurt those we most want not to hurt.
Such is the case for Grant Deaver and Madison McKay in Torn Loyalties. Madison gave her oath, and was abandoned. She endured and reclaimed her life, but wore the scars of betrayal and shielded herself from then on from further wounds. Then Grant Deaver comes into her life, and he chips at that shield. But Grant is a conflicted man, torn between duty and his heart. He can be loyal to one or the other, but not to both.
Madison and Grant discover that trust is a fragile thing. Once broken, it can seem impossible to repair. But if they have the courage to stay in faith, and forgive and trust anyway, they can discover a blessing that carries them through their darkest hour, and when it’s done, discover their hearts have opened and healed.
That’s Madison and Grant’s story. It captured the wonder of courage and leaps of faith in me, and I hope it will in you, too.
May you and your special someone have a Valentine’s Day that captures your heart!
Blessings,
Vicki Hinze
Questions for Discussion
Madison McKay was abandoned and betrayed. It left scars that make it difficult for her to trust. Have you experienced a sense of betrayal? How did you cope with the aftermath of it?
Grant Deaver made an oath to serve and protect his country. But his duties put him between the proverbial rock and hard place. Where he can keep his oath, or betray a trust that is very important to him. He’s a victim of torn loyalties and wants to do the right thing. Have you been in that position—caught between the rock and hard place? What did you do? How did it work out? If it happened again now, with the benefit of your experience, what, if anything, would you do differently?
Appearances can be deceptive. What we see often isn’t the way things really are, or who someone really is inside. Have you ever thought something about another that seemed true but wasn’t? Thought someone was one type of person but they turned out to be a very different type of person? How did your relationship with that person change?
Some manipulate or deceive us because they must. Others manipulate and deceive us deliberately. Both manipulations and deceptions hurt. But which is easier to understand and forgive?
One of the lessons discovered in Torn Loyalties is that when trust is broken, it can seem impossible to repair, and yet a way does exist. Have you ever suffered a broken trust, then found a way to recover from it? Did that recovery result in trusting that person again?
Madison suffered betrayal and abandonment and the resulting pain had her shielding herself from further pain by sealing herself off emotionally and not letting others get close. She wholly trusted only one person. Having gone through betrayal and abandonment, can a person of faith forgive and forget unscarred? Or do the scars change that person in a way that enables them to take emotional risks in spite of them?
Grant walks an emotional tightrope, torn between duty and loyalty. His integrity and personal honor is on the line. He strives to stay right with God and do what he must do, which makes him appear to be someone he’s not and forces him to do things he would prefer not to do. In that situation, how would you see yourself? How would you feel others perceive you? How do you cope with the challenges that creates?
At one point in the story, Grant fears losing a woman he cares for deeply and yet he is forced to do something he knows will hurt her. Have you experienced a situation where you had no choice but to hurt someone you loved? How did it impact your relationship? Did the relationship survive?
In a crisis, too often we seek God’s help as a last resort. In Torn Loyalties, after betrayal, Madison and Grant pray together, attend church together and get to know each other in reverse, so to speak. The result is a deeper bond and new levels of trust. In discovering each other, in a sense, they discover themselves. Have you found that to be the case in your life?
During the darkest times, Madison and Grant can’t see a way forward that ends with them being together. Both fear a future for them is impossible, but they continue to believe and hope anyway, and God steps in and makes a way. Have you been in a hopeless situation or relationship where there was no way for things to work out and yet they did? What wisdom did you gain from that experience?
On the whole issue of torn loyalties, what gems of wisdom have you gained that you can pass on to others?
We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Love Inspired Suspense story.
You enjoy a dash of danger. Love Inspired Suspense stories feature strong heroes and heroines whose faith is central in solving mysteries and saving lives.
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ONE
If that off-white chunk of clay was craftsman’s putty, Maddie Jameson would eat her tool belt. What was C-4 explosive compound doing on the kitchen table in this unit at Morningside Apartments? A chill rippled her insides.
Not everyone would recognize the remnants from the construction of a pipe bomb. To the untrained eye, the dab of C-4 could be mistaken for putty and
the bits of wire and lengths of sawed-off pipe merely scraps from a handy-man project. But then, not many apartment-maintenance workers were ex–army rangers with Maddie’s skill set—or a history that meant she must keep her head down and her eyes peeled.
Those who hunted her were relentless and ruthless, and she was damaged prey. She needed to see them coming before they got to her.
Not that she ever knew exactly what hired assassin would be after her. She could bump into one on the street and not know it until he tried to take her out. Everyone was a suspect. If only she could figure out why she was marked for death. Had she seen something the night of the attack a year ago on the Rio Grande? If so, her head injury had erased it from her memory.
Was she the target of the bomb these Morningside tenants had been making? If the three attempts on her life within the past year were any clue, she’d be an idiot to think otherwise. Where was the bomb planted? Her caretaker’s apartment on the premises? Maddie’s mouth went dry. There could be collateral damage. Dozens of people—including children—lived in this building, and a bomb didn’t care who it destroyed.
Dear God, please don’t let innocent families be hurt because of me.
Fighting for a full breath, she looked down at the work order in her hand. No, she hadn’t made a mistake. The order listed this apartment and stated that the tenants had given permission for the maintenance person to enter in their absence in order to replace a torn window screen. But she’d checked the screens—they were whole. Why would the tenants give permission for her to enter the premises on a trumped-up excuse and then leave their bomb-making scraps lying around in plain view?
Unless this was a trap.
The air in Maddie’s lungs went arctic. Maybe the bomb was planted in this very unit. The timer could click down to zero at any second.
Her feet cried Run—seek safety somewhere...anywhere! But flight wouldn’t help the other people who could be blown to smithereens.
Sweat trickled down her scalp, despite the coolness blowing from the wall-mounted air conditioner. The scar above her right ear itched, but she ignored the sensation as she yanked her two-way radio from her belt and began to search the premises with her eyes. There wasn’t much space to cover in this studio apartment. A kitchenette. A living-room area with an easy chair and matching ottoman, a television the tenants had left blaring, and a couch that had been slept on, if the rumpled bedding was any indication. A hide-a-bed pulled out from the wall filled the rest of the space. That, too, hosted a nest of wadded bedding.
“Bill, do you have a copy?” Maddie spoke into the radio.
She took her thumb off the button and listened for a response. Silence answered. Great! The apartment manager had chosen this critical moment to be absent from his office.
Maddie gingerly cracked the oven door open and peered inside. No bomb. She checked the refrigerator. A half-gallon carton of milk, a partially eaten brick of cheese and an overripe peach, but no bomb. She opened the cupboards with one hand while using the other to keep calling for Bill every few seconds. Still no answer. Her throat tensed as if invisible fingers had tightened around her windpipe. A little voice in her head screamed she was running out of time.
The tenants in this unit had opted not to hook up a landline phone, and company regulations dictated that employees not carry cell phones. Bad policy in this instance. Maybe she should run to the office herself and phone for the bomb squad. But the bomb could go off in her absence and kill any of the neighbors above, below or on either side. If she found the apparatus, she could defuse it as well as—or better than—the police experts.
She went to the clothes closet and pulled back the sliding door. Phew! The scent of onions rolled out. One of the owners of the stack of luggage that filled most of the space must have a love affair with the vegetable she most despised. Maddie let out a heavy sigh. She’d have to search each bag, and she’d be surprised if she didn’t find a different name on every airline tag. Crooks who wanted to fly under the system’s radar sometimes generated pocket money by walking off with pieces from baggage carousels and pawning or selling the contents.
From the hallway came the sound of male voices. They drew nearer...nearer...and then stopped on the other side of the apartment entrance. Maddie froze. The tenants were returning? Then the bomb wasn’t here. Her shoulders slumped, but then her gut tensed. It was too late to slip away unseen. She could hide in the closet with the onion odor, but to what purpose? If the tenants were in for the evening, she’d be found eventually. There was no way to exit this third-floor unit except through the front door.
Well, then, that’s how she’d leave. If she could bluff her way out, fine. If not... Tingles traveled down her extremities. Her muscles gathered. Combat instincts reared their ugly heads. Instincts she wished to forget. Instincts she might need. Again.
Maddie clipped the radio onto her belt and shoved the closet door shut as a click sounded in the entrance lock. A pair of men stepped inside, closed the door and then halted at the sight of her. Above a tall, whipcord body, a dark face with reddened eyes glared at her, lips peeled back from white teeth. Behind him, a short, pale man with doughy cheeks gaped in an astonished O.
She forced a smile and held out her work order. “I was sent to repair your screen, but I can’t find any damage.”
Lanky Man’s face grew darker as a spark of recognition lit his ink-black eyes. She didn’t know him, but he knew her. How? His hand slid beneath the front of his suit jacket as Dough Man leaped toward the table.
With a feral growl, Maddie dropped the work-order slip and swept her leg toward Lanky Man—her immediate threat. Her heel hooked the back of his knee. Crack! A handgun discharged while her assailant toppled backward. The bullet pinged against metal—likely a piece of the sprinkler system.
Cursing, threat number two rushed toward her, length of pipe raised. She chopped the rigid edge of her left hand into the soft bend of his elbow. The pipe fell from the arm she had numbed, and her right-handed chop connected with his Adam’s apple. The man went down, gagging and clutching his throat.
She whirled toward threat number one, who was climbing to his feet and bringing his Beretta to bear. Her radio squawked as her leg swept up, higher this time, and the heel of her work boot struck the smaller bone near the gunman’s wrist. The bone broke with an audible snap, and the gun rocketed into the far wall. Roaring and cradling his disabled hand, Lanky Man charged her, shoulder in ramming position.
Maddie danced aside, but the calf of her leg met the ottoman. She lost the fight for balance and tumbled backward onto the soft body of the Dough Man. Air gushed from his chest, and the struggle to breathe through his damaged windpipe faded into limpness beneath her. Her radio squawked again with Bill’s voice calling for her.
Now he wanted to talk? Sorry, pal, I’m a little busy!
The toe of a hard shoe hammered Maddie’s side. Pain splintered through her, and a scream rent her throat even as she rolled away from the next kick. From a catlike crouch, she caught the foot intended for her face and sprang upward while twisting her assailant’s ankle into an unnatural position. Lanky Man howled as his other foot left the floor. Airborne, he flipped and dropped, face-first, onto the unforgiving floor. Stunned and groaning, he lay still.
Maddie scooped up the gun and held it on her attackers, then pulled her radio from her belt.
“Bill, do you have a copy?”
“Maddie, where are you?” Static. “I’ve been trying to raise you to let you know the wrong apartment number was entered on the work order. The damaged screen is in Apartment 312, not 315.”
“Copy that, Bill, but there’s been an incident in Apartment 315. Call the police and the paramedics. And tell them to send the bomb squad. We need to evac this building.”
Heartbeats of radio silence were punctuated by another moan from the floor. The lean one stirred.
“Are you serious?” Bill’s voice came over the air in a tight squeak.
“Do it now.” A grim smile lifted her lips. About time she had the opportunity to order the paper-pusher around.
Lanky Man eased to a sitting position, glaring at her above a bloodied nose. The pale one lay inert. His throat was swollen, but his chest moved up and down. She had refrained from striking with deadly force. There was a time when that wouldn’t have been the case.
A time when she didn’t live like a hunted creature, scurrying from burrow to burrow. Thanks to these two scum of the earth, it was time to run again. But first—
“Where’s the bomb?” She extended the gun toward her conscious assailant.
He curled a swollen lip.
“You can tell me, or you can tell the cops. Or maybe the FBI. Someone like you is probably on their list.”
The alarm began to blare in the hallway, summoning the residents to evacuate, but Lanky Man’s gaze darted toward the television set. Maddie followed his stare, and her jaw dropped. The camera zoomed in on the flaming wreckage of a midsize sedan sitting at the end of a row of vehicles in a large lot. Maddie strained her ears to hear the commentator above the scream of the alarm.