Shattered Justice (46 page)

Shelby returned the hug.

“What are you doing? You’ll wrinkle the dress!”

The two women jumped apart and turned guilty gazes to Kyla, who stood there watching them. It took a second for Annie to realize the sternness in her sister’s eyes was teasing. “Oh, you!” She swatted at Kyla, who laughed and came to join the hug, careful not to squash the two bouquets she held.

Kyla stepped back. “Everything’s set. The place is packed. Dan’s standing up there looking all excited and nervous. Jayce is at his side, looking particularly dashing in a tux.”

“The flower girl is ready.” Annie patted Kodi’s head and met Kyla’s bland stare. Annie knew it took all of her sister’s self-control not to protest again. And from the wink Shelby sent her, her sister-to-be knew it too.

Kyla handed one of the bouquets to Annie, then lifted the large, beautiful bridal bouquet and extended it to Shelby. “So, what do you say, Miss Shelby? You ready to join this crazy family?”

The warmth of Shelby’s smile enveloped Annie and Kyla. “Just try to stop me.”

“Most holy God, we beseech Thee, walk among us today in power and protection …”

Warriors.

That’s what Kyla was listening to, as sure as if they’d come decked out in shields and swords. But these people didn’t fight with weapons of steel and wood. They used words.

Powerful, heartfelt words.

“…  that all may know this, Thy house, stands by Thy almighty will.”

Prayers to a God far more powerful to them than the obstacles standing in their way. Prayers for His presence. His overshadowing.

His blessing.

“Work within us, gracious Father, that we might serve Thee with our talents and skills.”

The task was as large as ever. Kyla still didn’t know how they were going to rebuild the burned-out church into a youth center in a matter of weeks. Contrary to Hilda’s assertion, they weren’t the
Extreme Makeover: Home Edition
crew. Nor did they have the show’s budget.

Which made it all the more odd that Kyla wasn’t worried. Because the prayers—and the prayers—had made her realize this wasn’t
her
task.

It was God’s.

“Lead us in going beyond our own strength so that we might rely on Thee.”

Good thing, too. Because it was certain they wouldn’t get much help from the neighbors. The church folks were all here, of course, and her crew, hard hats in hand, ready to get
started at the “amen.” But despite church members putting up flyers about the dedication, even going to visit the homes of those they knew, only a handful from the neighborhood showed up. It would seem Rafael was right.

The Blood Brotherhood had everyone scared.

An elbow nudged her side, and Kyla turned to the man standing beside her, Grant Wilson, her first-line supervisor. “We’ve got an audience.”

“Let us see not only this task, but all involved, with Thy eyes of love and compassion.”

She followed his gaze to a young black man standing on the fringes, watching, listening. She took in his attire—and ground her teeth.

Fine.

The Blood Brotherhood … 22s … what
ever
they called themselves didn’t want the neighbors around, and yet they had the gall to be here? If she wasn’t afraid it would disrupt the ceremony, she’d march over there and tell that thug exactly what she thought of him. She’d have to settle for a glare.

“And should any of us walk in ways contrary to Thy will, pull us back, holy God, but do so with love and compassion …”

While she wouldn’t want that old adage “if looks could kill” to come true, she wouldn’t mind if they managed to wound this hood and his buddies a bit.

“…  for we are all Thy children, dearly loved by Thee and called to Thy service. All this we ask in Thy Son’s most precious name …”

The target of her attention looked up. His gaze collided with hers, and even from this distance she could see him start.
Good! Take tha—
“Oomph!”

She glowered at Grant, who’d just jabbed her a good one in the side. “What?”

He jerked a nod toward the elders and hissed at her. “A
men.”

“Amen?”

“They said it twice now, boss. They’re waiting for you to take the shovel.”

Sure enough, Malachi and the elders were standing there, watching her.

“Oh! I’m sorry. I …” She clamped her mouth shut. No way she would admit she wasn’t listening. Cheeks on fire, she hurried to take the shovel from Willard and dig it into the ground. But as she lifted the pile of dirt, she didn’t look at Hilda, who was taking pictures of the event. Instead, she glanced past the little woman to the cause of her humiliation.

And almost dropped the dirt.

“Smile, Miss Justice.”

Even as the camera snicked, she knew what crossed her face was more grimace than grin. But that was the best she could do.

Because the gang member was no longer alone. There, right in front of God and everyone, stood Rafael Murphy. Next to the enemy. And from the looks of the two of them, the conversation wasn’t only civil.

It was downright friendly.

“So, you gonna stick around all day?” Rafe kept his stance relaxed as he angled a glance at the tall young man beside him.

“Don’t know. Just figured I’d watch until I got bored.”

That wasn’t likely to happen anytime soon. Even Rafe was all but mesmerized as he watched Kyla and her crew go to work. He’d never seen such precision and energy before—at least, not outside of the Marines. “They’re pretty impressive.”

“They?” Elisha slanted him a bland look. “Or her.”

Sometimes that kid saw entirely too much. “I was surprised
to see you at the dedication ceremony.”

Elisha shrugged. “I wasn’t really at it.”

“Okay … I was surprised to see you around it.”

Another shrug. “I decided I should. Just in case.”

Made sense. If the Brotherhood showed up, Rafe and the others would need Elisha. Big-time. Which, unless Rafe missed his guess—which didn’t happen often—was why Elisha was still here.

Just because the Brotherhood didn’t show up at the ceremony didn’t mean they weren’t coming.

Rafael had been standing there, talking with that kid all day! Watching as the men finished up for the day and got in their cars, heading home. That was it. Kyla was so angry she could spit nails.

“So you want me to pick ’em up tonight?”

She spun. “What?”

Grant eyed her. “The nails. The 316s. I told you we were gonna run short if we didn’t pick some up.”

“Oh. Right.” She swallowed back her embarrassment. Why did she let Rafael get to her this way? Grant must think she’d gone totally nuts. “I thought you left already.”

The frown deepened. “Told you I was gonna check in before I left.”

Okay. Nuts
and
stupid.

He held up a hand, forestalling any explanation. “You and those old folks best be gettin’ outta here.”

Kyla glanced back at the church elders. Big Jim and Chuck had left, but Willard, Wayne, and Shamus awaited her. Along with, of course, the ever-present Hilda. “We’re just going to do a quick walk-through of the site, see what we got done today. Then we’ll leave.”

“Yeah, well—” Grant’s features creased as he studied the skyline—“you don’t wanna be out here after dark.” He hesitated. “Want me to wait?”

She waved him off. “No. Go home.”

He nodded. “Whatever you say.” He started to turn, but she couldn’t let him go. Not yet.

“Grant. I’m sorry I was so … distracted earlier.”

He faced her, lips pursed. “Yeah—” he looked across the street to where Rafael stood—“I noticed. Been noticing. All day.”

“I—” Well, really, what could she say? The man was spot on.

“Boss, no worries. We been together too long for me to think anything but the best of you.” He unhooked his tool belt and draped it over one shoulder. “Besides, I figure it’s about time. None o’ my business, but to my way of thinkin’, you been alone too long.”

His firm gaze stopped the protest perched on her lips. “You know as well as I do that your dad wouldn’ta wanted you to be alone.”

With that, he made his way to his car, leaving Kyla to do the only thing she could think of in the face of such a comment.

Glare at Rafael Murphy.

“She’s watching you.”

Elisha’s words jerked Rafe’s attention toward the church. He was right. Kyla
was
watching him. For a moment pleasure flooded him—only to slam into a dam of reality when he saw the storm creasing her features.

She might be looking at him, but she wasn’t happy.

Not by a long shot.

“Guess you’d better go see what’s up with your lady.”

Rafe allowed himself a small smile. His lady. Would that it were true. “Guess I’d bett—” His words stilled when Elisha grabbed his arm. Rafe looked at his friend, found the tension in the boy’s fingers mirrored in the dark eyes beneath the ball cap.

Only one thing could get Elisha that upset that fast.

He spun, his gaze racing back to Kyla, his worst fears confirmed by Elisha’s dark tone.

“They’re here.”

They were surrounded.

Ten … no, twelve Blood Brotherhoods circled Kyla and the elders. A terrifying barrier cutting them off from the shelter of the church.

She scanned the faces staring at her, felt her heart pounding in her chest.

What are you afraid of? These are kids. No more than early twenties, Rafael said
.

Maybe so, but there was nothing youthful about them.

And everything menacing.

Black, Hispanic, White, Asian—chests out, chins up, arms crossed. All of them, from what she could see of their eyes in the growing dusk, ice cold.

For a heartbeat, no one spoke. Kyla’s hand inched toward her pocket, to her cell phone, but firm fingers closed over her arm.

Willard.

He gave one shake of his head and met her gaze with his own.
Wait
. The warning was as clear as if he’d spoken.
Just … wait
.

“Why you dissin’ King K like this?”

Kyla didn’t have time to figure out who spoke. Words spat from every direction.

“He said no center, foo.”

“Dat means no center.”

“You dumm, too? ’Cause you
know
you deaf.”

“What this crew think they doin’? Think they can do this in a week if they
pray
?”

“Building’d fall down if a pigeon pooped on it.”

“Nah. That’s what’s holdin’ it together.”

The mockery crescendoed; the comments grew more violent. Vitiating. Hilda gasped behind her. Kyla turned and saw Shamus’s and Wayne’s white faces. The anger burning in their aged eyes. Anger and something more …

Despair.

The ugliness rose on a swell of dark anger, washing over Kyla until she could bear it no more. She had to
do
something.

Be still
.

It whispered through her—low, calm, but a command all the same.

Listen to them, Lord! They are mocking us. Mocking You!

Be still …

She wanted to scream. To hit something. Didn’t God understand? People like this … they didn’t care. Didn’t respect you unless you
made
them.