Ham stood, hot cocoa in hand, talking with a couple security guys in suits who guarded a roped-off area. Wind raked his dark blond hair, lifted the collar of his leather jacket. He blew on his cocoa and nodded toward Orion when he spotted him.
One of the security guys walked over and let him in. Shook his hand. “Ham says you had a little scuffle on the subway.”
Orion shrugged. “No big deal. A couple thugs. We didn’t save the world or anything.”
The man laughed and Orion smiled as he walked over to Ham. Okay, it felt good to pull out the old warrior, dust him off. “You’re a hero.”
Not really. Not anymore.
The tour bus door opened, and a man walked down the stairs.
Orion had watched a few news clips of Isaac White but hadn’t expected the immediate charisma that radiated off the former SEAL. Graying hair, blue eyes, he took Orion’s outstretched hand with a two-handed grip. The man possessed the kind of smile that made Orion feel like he was in the presence of a movie star.
George Clooney, maybe.
“Senator,” Orion said, wishing he’d cleaned up a little better than his canvas jacket and a pair of jeans.
“Ham said you needed my assistance.” White angled Orion over to where Ham stood.
Orion’s mouth went weirdly dry. Fueled by anger for so long, it had suddenly abandoned him in the face of White’s seeming willingness to help.
Ham must have seen his stripped expression. “We’re looking for a teammate who went missing in the debacle in Afghanistan,” he said. “Operator Royal Benjamin. He was one of the two SEALS captured in the attack. And one of the two—”
“Who were rescued in your rogue op.” White looked at Ham. “I know.”
“Then you know that something isn’t right,” Orion said, finally finding his voice, a little more oomph to it than he probably needed. But the anger was returning. “The other SEAL, Logan Thorne, showed up on my doorstep last summer. He told me a story about the CIA trying to cover up what happened in Afghanistan—and, trying to kill him.”
White held up his hand, lowered his voice. “Not here, not now—”
Orion’s mouth closed, and the heat stirred in his chest. He should have known—
“Mistakes were made, for sure,” White said. “And the CIA knows it. But before you start throwing accusations around, let me do some digging.”
“C’mon, Senator—”
Ham shot Orion a shut-up look, but White talked over him.
“I’m not sure where your friend is, or if he’s even alive, but if you want me to find out, I’ll need some time.” He clamped a hand on Orion’s shoulder. “And patience.”
Orion wanted to believe him and his smile, but—
“Sir, we need you come with us right now.” One of the security agents stepped into the conversation. “There’s been a bomb found in the square.” He pushed White away from them, toward a waiting SUV. Ham jogged after him, Orion limping quickly behind them.
He caught up to the second agent. “What kind of bomb?”
The agent looked at him. “I don’t know. We found a backpack near the fountain. The bomb squad is on their way, and the police are evacuating the square. It could be the same kind of bomb that took out the San Antonio rodeo arena a couple weeks ago.”
San Antonio arena? Orion hadn’t a clue what he might be referring to.
That’s what he got for living off the grid.
Still, a fist had grabbed his gut, squeezed. “What kind of backpack?”
The man flashed his cell phone toward him.
Black, with a purple NYU stitched on the back pocket.
Orion slowed, stopped, watching as the agent climbed into the front seat.
Ham hung back and joined Orion.
“What?”
“That kid with the backpack.”
“Seriously?”
Orion finished his coffee and tossed the cup into a nearby trash can. “I’m going back to Alaska where I can stay out of trouble.”
* * *
Get The Way of the Brave!
A Note from Susie May
“Behold, I make all things new.” (Revelation 21:5)
Do we really believe it?
Do we believe that God is a God of the impossible? That he can take brokenness and make it whole? That he can forgive any sin, heal every hurt, restore what was lost?
It’s hard to sit back and wait upon God for that answer. Because in our hearts, we wonder…can he? Does he? Maybe he needs my help!
The minute I introduced York, with his shady, dark past, I wondered…how was God going to redeem this character. I mean, I know God can redeem anyone, but frankly how was he going to save a man who was too disgusted by his own actions to reach out for grace, forgiveness?
York didn’t want to be saved. Or rather, he didn’t even see it as possible.
So, I had to take his memory away. Show him who he could be, without the past. Show him what could happen if he went to the cross and let salvation wash him clean. When I wrote the scene of York’s salvation, I wept, knowing all he had been forgiven of, even if he didn’t know.
That’s why I had to put Ruby Jane in the audience—so she could weep for joy with me.
God can do the impossible, and believing it is the biggest challenge of all. Trusting Him for the best outcome. Believing Romans 8:28 with everything inside us. And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.
But there’s an even bigger truth here—not JUST that God can do the impossible, but he can do the impossible even when we don’t believe it. Even when our faith is nothing.
I looooove it when God says to Moses, and then Jehoshaphat, “Stand back and see what I will do.”
Just stand back and praise the Lord as he does the fighting for us. Even when—no, especially when—we don’t deserve it.
York needed to get out of his own way to be set free and God did exactly that by taking away his memory. Extraordinary means to get to the heart of the matter—that York was his son, and he wasn’t letting him be imprisoned by his sins any longer.
He’s not going to let you live in darkness, either. Even if he has to do something extraordinary to get you out of your own way.
As for RJ, she was a woman who felt she had to prove herself. But God says—you don’t have to prove anything to your real Father. Your heavenly Father. Don’t you see—I choose to save you.
When I conceived of the Montana Marshalls series, I used the hymn Be Thou My Vision as my thematic guide. I wanted, in the end, for the family to see that though they’d lost their earthly father, they still had their Heavenly Father, and most importantly, that was the legacy their father had left them. I wanted them to gain a new vision, one that they could never lose.
It’s the vision I hope you, my reader, has too. You’re loved. You’re worth fighting for, and God will go to extraordinary means to save you.
And, when all else is done, God is enough, everything, and always.
Heart of my own heart, whate'er befall
Still be my Vision, O Ruler of all!
My deepest gratitude goes to my team, those amazing people who have helped me bring the Montana Marshalls to life. My writing partner, Rachel Hauck, for her endless wisdom and creativity. Alyssa Geertsen, my key beta reader, Barbara Curtis, for her amazing editing. Really, she’s so fantastic. Rel Mollet, who keeps me on schedule, makes me sound good, and takes the time to help me bring the story deeper. Thank you to my talented cover designer, Jenny @ Seedlings Design Studio, and my fabulous layout artist, Tari Faris. Thank you also to my wonderful proofreaders (any mistakes are all mine!) Lisa Jordan, Lisa Gupton, Bobbi Whitlock and Laurie Stoltenberg. You guys are just such a huge gift to me!!