Love Inspired Suspense April 2021--Box Set 2 of 2 Laura Scott (speed reading book .txt) 📖

wild boar and bear. Pumas also prowled the swamp, along with snakes of all kinds. Any could easily kill a person.

At last, they made it to the car.

“It’s not going anywhere,” Liam announced unnecessarily.

“Then we’re in for a hike.”

During the long trek to find cell coverage, Paige examined what had almost happened between herself and Liam. Granted, emotions were running high. They’d nearly been killed by their pursuers, and he could have died in the quagmire of quicksand.

The almost-kiss was the result of an adrenaline surge, relief that they were still alive. That was all. Nothing more, she assured herself and did her best to ignore the whisper of anticipation that still shivered through her. Then why was she having such a hard time convincing herself of it?

The recent rain had turned the ground slick. When her foot slid, Liam steadied her with a hand to her elbow.

“Careful.”

She also needed to be careful when it came to her feelings for her client. She could take a wrong step and slide down a slippery path from which there was no coming back.

Think about something else. “Tell me about your time in Afghanistan,” she said. “You said you’d seen too much to ever believe in the Lord’s goodness again.”

He was silent so long that she feared he wasn’t going to answer. When he spoke, his voice was so low that she had to strain to hear it.

“The Stand was one of those places where war had sucked the life out of the land and the people. For the most part, the people were good and hardworking, trying to make a living in a harsh land and impossible circumstances. Some of them even helped the US military, and we came to depend upon them.

“A young boy, about fifteen, ran errands for us. He knew the ins and outs of Jalalabad and fed us information whenever he could. I warned him not to take risks, but he wanted to help us rid the land of the terrorists. He told me once that that was the best way he knew to help his family and his people.

“He managed to infiltrate a terrorist group and gave us valuable intel. But he was discovered as a spy. What they did to him...” Liam shook his head. “He died a horrible death because he was trying to help us. I might as well have put a bullet in him myself.”

“I’m so sorry, but you must know that that wasn’t your fault.”

“You don’t know all of it.”

“Tell me the rest.”

“I ordered men into battles I knew we couldn’t win. And because of that, good men died. Men who had wives and children and sweethearts and parents at home. Men who just wanted to serve their country. Men who deserved better.

“Does your Lord love a man who did that and who walked away without a scratch when his men were left bleeding and broken and worse? Does He love a man who is so messed up that he flinches when he hears carts at the supermarket bang together? Or who can’t take his son to a Fourth of July party because the explosions make him think he’s still at war?” His voice gained strength and volume with every question. “Does your Lord love that man? If He does, why does He let war happen in the first place? If He is all powerful and good, why doesn’t He stop it?”

The words were so strangled that she could barely make out the last ones. Her heart ached for him, for a soul so damaged and ravaged by the ugliness of war. She longed to reach for him, to hold him against her and promise that the Lord could help heal the scars in his heart, but she kept her arms at her sides and her words locked inside, knowing that Liam wasn’t ready to hear them.

“I’m sorry.” The inadequacy of her words mocked what he had just shared, but they were all she had.

“I don’t want your pity.”

“And you’re not getting it,” she returned. “Sorrow isn’t the same as pity. A man as smart as you should know that.”

He flushed. “Now I’m the one who’s sorry.”

Paige understood grief. More than most, probably. Her brother and then her fiancé had both died far too early, but telling Liam that he wasn’t alone wasn’t the way to comfort him.

Grief couldn’t be willed away. Neither could it be ordered to cease. Grief lived on because people needed that connection to those who had been lost. Liam had cared for the young boy who had sacrificed his life for his people. He’d also cared for the men in his command.

He probably wouldn’t put his feelings in those words.

She regarded Liam with his dirty hair, mud-encrusted clothes and tortured eyes. When they found the killer—and they would—would he forgive himself for the death of the boy and those of his men? And as she helped him, would she be able to forgive herself for not being able to save Ethan?

In putting an end to the killings, would either of them find the peace they sought? Or were they both chasing the impossible?

She wanted to ask him everything, and so she asked him nothing.

NINE

When a beat-up truck stopped and the driver offered them a ride, Liam and Paige accepted eagerly.

“Thanks,” Liam told the driver, a farmer with a hat as beat-up as his truck and a craggy face that spoke of long hours in the Georgia sun.

“No problem. I figure if you don’t mind riding with springs poking you in the backside, I don’t mind a little dirt.” He eyed them curiously. “Something tells me there’s a story there behind all that dried mud. If you don’t mind my saying so, you both stink of the swamp.”

“You’re right, there’s a story,” Liam said, “but you don’t have time to hear it. Where is it convenient to drop us?”

The driver named an address close to S&J headquarters.

“Great,” Paige said. “And thank you.”

He let them out and