Code of Silence (11 page)

TWELVE

L
uke flinched at the sound of the gunshot. Gabriella's wide eyes seemed more terrified of whatever lurked behind him. He followed the path of her gaze.

Above the foothills, the sky turned into a massive front of swirling red and gray hues. It reached as high as he could see, as if there were no end to it. His grip on Gabriella tightened as he lifted her up and set her down on the ground beside him, behind a tree where Rodrigo couldn't see them.

Except the trees all bent with the force of the sustained winds. Leaves and twigs rained down. His heart jumped to his throat. The last thing he wanted to do was to run and test the wound in his leg further, but it looked as if they had no choice. “It's a dust storm. We need to get to that barn...now.”

Her eyes widened, and she trembled, clinging to him. They needed to get to shelter before the winds brought the choking sand and blinding dust any closer.

Luke should've recognized the signs. When fires raged in the west, an impending storm traveled their way and the early morning air stayed below fifty degrees, it made the conditions ripe for what they called a “haboob.”

While dust storms weren't uncommon in the area, Luke had always been inside when one was about to hit, especially one of this magnitude. Seeing something that resembled a tsunami of dirt about to wash over the land filled him with a combination of awe and terror. Right now, terror won by leaps and bounds.

Gabriella pulled on his wrist. “I don't think we'll beat it if we stay to the trail.”

“What if we cut across the alfalfa like you mentioned earlier?”

“But...but you saw him.” Her shaky finger pointed to the trees. “He might see us. Might shoot at us again. And this time, he might meet his mark.”

The massive dark coils of dirt and clouds moved closer, over the top ridge of the mountains. “Assuming he has half a brain, he'll be more worried about finding shelter himself.” Luke imagined what the stinging bits of dust and sand would feel like against his skin with the intense force of the winds. “I think it's a risk we need to take.”

She nodded and moved to an oak tree just beyond the trail of stones. “It's going to be a challenge to keep my bearings. Have you ever run through alfalfa? There are natural rows, but we need to cut diagonally through the corner so the plants are going to hit us more. Stay close. If the dust hits us, grab my hand and we'll hit the ground.”

“Let's hope it doesn't come to that.”

Gabriella crouched down and took off. Luke hunkered down and pushed off his toes. He almost cried out at the sudden sting of his leg. He narrowed his eyes and focused on Gabriella's thick hair swishing side to side as she ran through the sticky plants.

The alfalfa hit against his legs. The plants whipped his broken skin. He pressed his hand over his wound, gritting his teeth together to forget the pain. The smell of the air filled with leaf oils, hay and dust. The wind shifted slightly and the alfalfa moved as a unit to block their way.

Gabriella slowed. He heard her voice cry out but through the wind couldn't tell what she was saying. Maybe running through the plants hurt her knees? She fell to the ground.

Luke almost tripped and fell on her, but he strained his back, turning to the right, and landed on his side, next to her. A thick branch soared through the air two feet over their heads. He gasped and his lungs seized with coughing. So she'd dropped because of the branch.

Gabriella kept her head down. “I don't know if we can keep going,” she yelled.

Luke pulled his shirt over his nose and mouth and peeked behind him. While the air was dusty, the giant mass had turned into a brown wall and had yet to hit the land.

He pulled Gabriella close. “It's coming.”

Her head turned as her hand moved her flying hair out of the way. He watched her mauve lips move before he registered what she said: “We have to keep going.”

She blinked slowly, watching him until he nodded, then jumped up and set off running through the wind. Luke followed her lead and understood her despair. The wind had to have reached upward of seventy miles an hour. It seemed he was running against an invisible force holding him back. His throat hurt from trying to take a breath. They had to get shelter.

Gabriella's right arm shot out. She pointed to a grouping of bent trees. Through the hazy sky he could make it out—the barn! Her pace slowed but judging by the way she pumped her arms, he realized running against the wind and the plants proved too much for her. Luke dared a look over his shoulder. The swirling had crossed the foothills. It would only be a matter of seconds now.

“Gab—” he tried to shout, but it did no good. She couldn't hear over the noise. Splattering of moisture slapped his face. Rain or escaped droplets from the many creeks, ponds and the lake?

Luke had never been more thankful for his three brothers. They'd trained him for wrestling and tackling, despite his lack of enthusiasm for the sports.

He dipped down. His arm wrapped around Gabriella's frame. She stiffened as he cupped his right hand underneath her knees and swept her up into his arms. As he cradled her against his chest, she turned in to his shirt. She trusted him, and he refused to prove her wrong.

Luke sprinted like never before. His legs pleaded for relief as the alfalfa beat against him and the wind shoved him backward.

A rumble in the distance pushed him faster. Crackling trees and the sound of dirt pelting the ground in the distance drove fear into his spine. Gabriella's arms reached around his neck, clinging to him.

Faster, he needed to go faster. He lengthened his stride as the trees grew closer. Tumbleweed rushed across the field. He hurdled over it and ducked underneath the flailing branches in front of them.

His feet touched dirt. They were out of the alfalfa. He turned his face as the wind picked up the loose soil, as well.

Gabriella's legs pressed against his arms. She dropped down. They must be close. The sound of rain, like a parade of drumrolls hitting a snare, crescendoed. It hit them from the side, and he tripped and fell over to the ground. Except it wasn't rain. The sand and dust plastered him.

He curled in a ball, wanting to scream out, but Gabriella consumed his thoughts. One painful move at a time, though he couldn't see, he reached where she should be with his fingers. The top of his hands felt beaten by tiny nails as the tips of his fingers reached wood and...what felt like another hand. He grasped it and forced them both to standing. He pulled his shirt over his head and peeked out of his sand-encrusted eyes. Gabriella had found the handle of the door and struggled against the wind to pull on it.

Luke wrapped himself around her back, hoping to shield her as he grabbed the handle and threw his body back. The door opened just enough for Gabriella to slip through. He kicked his wingtips against the door, and though the door slammed against the back of his leg, he managed to slide into the barn.

The darkness forced his other senses into overdrive. The smell of sulfur, mixed with the overwhelming odor of hay and dust and rotting leaves, triggered the gag reflux.

Gabriella's coughs barely reached his ears. His head pounded. The air quality must have done a number on his sinuses. The top of his scalp tingled, and the sensation traveled down his face and body, as if his skin just realized the beating it'd taken.

Gabriella groaned. “It stings. And I'm afraid to open my eyes.”

The wind raged. The barn's walls creaked and groaned. He lifted the inside layer of his shirt and wiped off his eyes, then his lips. A layer of dust wouldn't budge, though, as if it'd been spray-washed onto his skin. “Don't forget to brush off your eyebrows and shake out your hair before you open your eyes,” he suggested.

One of the walls had a set of windows at chest level. He crossed over, thinking he'd wipe off the dust from the windows with his sleeve, but what good would that do? A good six feet above, near the apex of the roof, another square window provided minimal light. The floor was not dirt as he had imagined it would be, but shiny wooden laminate. While the walls weren't finished, he could imagine the charm of the rustic beams.

“Luke, did Rodrigo see which way we went? Did he follow?”

His gaze remained on the window, waiting for the thick brown air to settle so he could see. “I have no idea.”

“Then we can't afford to wait the storm out.”

* * *

Gabriella shivered. She wanted to jump out of her own skin to get rid of the stinging, scratching feeling of dirt and sand. The wind shook the panes Luke tried to peer out of.

Another round of dirt sprayed against the side. A flash of bright light through the red sky lit up the room. Cement, almost like a sidewalk, lined the outer edges of the barn's main area, but in the center, wood flooring gleamed as if it'd been recently oiled. Thunder boomed, and she jumped.

Luke crossed the room. “This doesn't look like a normal barn.”

“No, you're right. I told you we lived here for a little while.” She squinted as she looked toward the rafters. Across the expanse, wooden stairs led to a long banister that spanned the length of the building.

“I don't remember, but Mom said she and I shared a bed up there. They took down the curtain just a few years ago that apparently separated her bed and my great-aunt's.”

“Seems odd that they'd put beds up there.”

Gabriella tilted her head. “That's what I said!” She shook her head. “They acted like I was the crazy one.”

“If they were worried about being found, your mom might've wanted that vantage point for a leg up. Assuming there's another exit up there that's easier to find than the one in the safe room.”

An uneasy laugh bubbled up. She wanted to forget the near miss of almost suffocating. “There's a fire escape. And I'm pretty sure she had her gun ready and waiting.”

“I can't believe she lived here with you as a baby. I mean, I love camping as much as the next guy, but I can't imagine taking care of a baby without a kitchen.”

“You're right. We at least had a bathroom.” She gasped. “Luke. A bathroom.” She crossed the room. Her eyes stung from the tiny sand particles still stuck underneath her lids.

“Aren't you forgetting Rodrigo shut off the water?”

“He shut off the water to the house. He couldn't have shut off the water to the barn unless he came out here. We have a private well, remember?”

“Don't get my hopes up, Gabriella.”

She flicked on the light in the bathroom. A dim glow erupted from the single lightbulb in the middle of the ceiling. The twist of the handle on the sink produced a chugging, popping noise followed by brown water. She tensed, then mercifully, the color lightened and clear water poured out of the faucet. Her fingers dove into the stream, washing away the grime.

Luke slid past her and closed the door. “In case Rodrigo is nearby. We don't want him to see the light.” The same choked sound resulted from the bathtub as Luke waited to take advantage of the water at the same time.

One lone hand towel hung from the side wall. Gabriella didn't even want to think how long it'd been since it had been washed or switched. But the smeared mirror revealed it would only take one wrong move before the caked-on dirt would get in her eyes. She dipped her head over the sink and splashed the icy water over her features and began scrubbing, squeezing her eyes tight as she felt the layer slipping off. Then she cupped the water in her hand and blinked into the small pool of water until the stinging vanished. She repeated the process with her other eye.

How she wished she had time for a shower and the ability to forget about Rodrigo and the men who had her great-aunt's life in their hands.

She reached for the towel blindly and opened it to the underside before patting her face dry.

“Can you pass that over when you're done?”

Gabriella held it out to him as she firmly pressed her lips closed. She prevented voicing her thoughts on just how many germs likely flourished on that towel. He straightened, and she no longer cared. His clean face brought comfort.

The thunder shook the mirror on the wall, followed by the pounding of rain. His gaze met hers in the mirror, and a sudden vulnerability overwhelmed her.

“It feels hopeless,” she whispered. How did she ever think she could win against the mafia?

“Hey, don't say that.” His voice lowered, and he placed a hand on her shoulder.

Her chin dropped. “I should've listened to you and gone straight to the police. I just didn't want to risk it. They said if they found out, they'd kill her on the spot.” Her eyes burned and her vision blurred. She'd failed. “But you were right, Luke. She would've at least had a chance instead of none—” her throat closed “—at all.”

Luke's hands framed her face as his thumb brushed the tear off her cheek. She lifted her eyes. How was it that he could make her feel safe and terrified all at the same time? She inhaled in hopes her ribs would expand enough that he wouldn't hear her heart beating against them.

“If it were my own mom, I'm not sure I would've been able to risk it either. And time isn't up, Gabriella.”

The way he said her name soothed her in a way nothing else but hot cocoa and a hug from her mom did. Her mind cleared. If she gave up now, she'd never forgive herself. “Keep fighting until time runs out, right?”

“Nothing is impossible with God.”

She took a shaky breath. She loved that verse, although at times she found it confusing. It didn't proclaim a promise that everything would work out the way she wanted, but the very words were infused with hope. God was more powerful than the mafia, than the situation—and she didn't want to admit it aloud because it scared her too much—but she knew in her heart that He was even more powerful than death.

Gabriella pulled back her shoulders. “I really needed to hear that.”