of sight on her profile. Surprisingly, Lambert eased into the seat on her left and whispered something to her before moving into the gallery of seats fenced off behind the floor of the committee room. Sitting over her. Like a godfather. The older man—her father?—leaned down and planted a kiss on her head.
She twitched and swallowed hard.
What was that about?
As her father sat next to Lambert, the Old Man’s gaze tracked the courtroom, probably searching out the team. Canyon winked at Nightshade’s sponsor, then glanced back to her—and froze when his gaze collided with those caramel eyes. Something wormed through his gut, unable to break the electrified connection. The ambivalence and cool facade seemed out of place on her sultry face. As if it hid a dark secret.
“I will defend her.”
At the words not his own, warmth shook Canyon. What was thisfeeling? Where had it come from? He’d only renewed his life to Christ a year ago, but even he had heard stories of God using people to help others. Maybe … maybe God could use him somehow.
Yeah, right. A mess like you?
Still … He gave her a slow, acknowledging nod. A popping cracked through the hum of conversation in the room as a senator called the hearing to order. Unwilling to break the connection, Canyon held her gaze. But a shoulder surfed into the way, severing the link. His brother squinted at him as he sat next to her at the witness table.
Senator Miller spoke, opening the hearing, then proceeded through formalities. From the corner of his eye, Canyon noticed the way the girl remained ramrod straight and unaffected by the words of the next twenty minutes.
Blah, blah, blah.
Get on with it, lady
. The seats weren’t exactly padded to perfection.
“Our first witness will be Lieutenant Danielle Roark.”
The rank pulled Canyon forward. Lieutenant? He hadn’t pegged her as military.
“Lieutenant Roark, would you please state your profession?”
She eased toward the mic and cleared her throat. “I’m a demolitions expert with the Corps of Engineers.”
“Would you please relate to us the events of seven May of last year?”
Hands clasped on the table, Roark drew in a breath that hissed through the speakers, tightening Canyon’s gut with anticipation. “My team was sent into a backwater village to blow a bridge believed to be the primary route used by local rebels to transport drugs and kidnap the citizens, selling them as sex slaves.” Her soft voice pitched on the last two words. She took a sip of the water sitting on the table, and water sloshed over the side because of her trembling hand.
Range quickly wiped the spot as she continued.
“We’d almost finished the rigging, when they descended on us, en masse. Of the thirteen on my team, five were killed as we engaged the VFA—”
“Excuse me,” a gruff, wiry-haired senator cut in. “Please define VFA.”
Roark wet her lips and nodded. “It stands for
El Valor de Fuerzas Armadas de Bolivarian
. ‘The Courage of Bolivarian Army.’ It’s the army mustered by Humberto Bruzon, which has recently been legitimatized by the country’s president.”
The man grunted.
“Our team fought hard against the VFA.”
And Canyon bet she gave a solid fight. Which begged the question about why she seemed so broken now.
“What happened then?” Miller queried, jotting notes on a yellow pad.
“We were losing too many too fast, but we were willing to fight to the death. However, an order came from Command to stand down. The rebels rounded us up. Survivors were stuffed on a truck and transported to a facility a few klicks from the coast.”
“Who gave the order to stand down, Lieutenant?”
“Sergeant Dean, ma’am.”
“Go on. Where were you taken?”
“I—I …” Brushing dainty fingers through her hair, Roark lifted her head and composure. Chin out, she continued. “Being the only female, I was separated from the rest of the team. I didn’t know at the time, but the others were
She twitched and swallowed hard.
What was that about?
As her father sat next to Lambert, the Old Man’s gaze tracked the courtroom, probably searching out the team. Canyon winked at Nightshade’s sponsor, then glanced back to her—and froze when his gaze collided with those caramel eyes. Something wormed through his gut, unable to break the electrified connection. The ambivalence and cool facade seemed out of place on her sultry face. As if it hid a dark secret.
“I will defend her.”
At the words not his own, warmth shook Canyon. What was thisfeeling? Where had it come from? He’d only renewed his life to Christ a year ago, but even he had heard stories of God using people to help others. Maybe … maybe God could use him somehow.
Yeah, right. A mess like you?
Still … He gave her a slow, acknowledging nod. A popping cracked through the hum of conversation in the room as a senator called the hearing to order. Unwilling to break the connection, Canyon held her gaze. But a shoulder surfed into the way, severing the link. His brother squinted at him as he sat next to her at the witness table.
Senator Miller spoke, opening the hearing, then proceeded through formalities. From the corner of his eye, Canyon noticed the way the girl remained ramrod straight and unaffected by the words of the next twenty minutes.
Blah, blah, blah.
Get on with it, lady
. The seats weren’t exactly padded to perfection.
“Our first witness will be Lieutenant Danielle Roark.”
The rank pulled Canyon forward. Lieutenant? He hadn’t pegged her as military.
“Lieutenant Roark, would you please state your profession?”
She eased toward the mic and cleared her throat. “I’m a demolitions expert with the Corps of Engineers.”
“Would you please relate to us the events of seven May of last year?”
Hands clasped on the table, Roark drew in a breath that hissed through the speakers, tightening Canyon’s gut with anticipation. “My team was sent into a backwater village to blow a bridge believed to be the primary route used by local rebels to transport drugs and kidnap the citizens, selling them as sex slaves.” Her soft voice pitched on the last two words. She took a sip of the water sitting on the table, and water sloshed over the side because of her trembling hand.
Range quickly wiped the spot as she continued.
“We’d almost finished the rigging, when they descended on us, en masse. Of the thirteen on my team, five were killed as we engaged the VFA—”
“Excuse me,” a gruff, wiry-haired senator cut in. “Please define VFA.”
Roark wet her lips and nodded. “It stands for
El Valor de Fuerzas Armadas de Bolivarian
. ‘The Courage of Bolivarian Army.’ It’s the army mustered by Humberto Bruzon, which has recently been legitimatized by the country’s president.”
The man grunted.
“Our team fought hard against the VFA.”
And Canyon bet she gave a solid fight. Which begged the question about why she seemed so broken now.
“What happened then?” Miller queried, jotting notes on a yellow pad.
“We were losing too many too fast, but we were willing to fight to the death. However, an order came from Command to stand down. The rebels rounded us up. Survivors were stuffed on a truck and transported to a facility a few klicks from the coast.”
“Who gave the order to stand down, Lieutenant?”
“Sergeant Dean, ma’am.”
“Go on. Where were you taken?”
“I—I …” Brushing dainty fingers through her hair, Roark lifted her head and composure. Chin out, she continued. “Being the only female, I was separated from the rest of the team. I didn’t know at the time, but the others were
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