The Stronghold. Lisa Carter

“Not happening, Sister. We’ve got places to go.” He clapped a meaty hand across Alex’s shoulder blades. “Thanks to my man, the night is young.”

      The exit door squeaked open and the two blondes Alex had courted for Friday night dates waved.

      Pilar went rigid. Her eyes alternated between cold fury and a strange vulnerability.

      He and Pilar had been best buddies, too, all summer. But now?

      Summer was over.

      “Ladies,” Byron gestured to the freshmen girls. “Ready to go?”

      Alex’s so-called date clamped a possessive arm around his waist. His arm went reluctantly around hers in response. The strawberry blonde nuzzled his neck with her cheek. And she gave a throaty laugh that had intoxicated Alex in algebra.

      Pilar glared. If looks could’ve killed, he’d have been spit-roasted, Apache-style.

      “Go home, Sister.” Byron dug the keys to Abuela’s ranch Jeep out of his pocket. “Shall we, ladies?”

      The blondes giggled. Pilar rolled her eyes. Alex broke out into a cold sweat.

      Byron and his date ambled away. Alex’s date surged forward, putting his feet into motion. Chewing his lower lip, he glanced over his shoulder.

      Pilar remained where they left her.

      Motionless. Abandoned.

      And on her face, a desolation that plucked Alex’s heart.

      Chapter 7

      7

      The landline rang as Pilar crossed the threshold into her home. Tossing the folder onto the coffee table, she caught the call on the last ring before it routed to voice mail.

      “Hello?”

      She placed one hand over her ear to drown out the blaring noise of the television. Manny sprawled on the couch, his long legs extended. His big, socked feet propped on the coffee table.

      “Byron? I can barely—” She scowled at Manny who kept his face turned toward the television screen. “Hang on. Let me get to the kitchen where I can hear . . .” She nudged Manny’s legs.

      Manny didn’t budge.

      She stepped over his legs and, with a not-so-gentle back-kick, shoved Manny’s legs off the table. Unbalanced, Manny rolled off the couch and landed with a thud onto the carpet.

      “Hey!”

      She positioned her hand over the receiver. “Hey yourself, Manny. Get off your butt and turn the television down. Byron’s calling from overseas.”

      Manny muttered something under his breath, but he got up and switched the television off.

      “You need to tell him, Pilar,” Byron urged.

      She turned her attention to her brother over seven thousand miles away on a peacekeeping mission.

      Pilar swiveled toward the living room. “Go to bed, Manny.”

      “Dad’s got nothing to say to me?” Manny’s dark eyes glittered. “Good. ’Cause I got nothing to say to him, either.” He stomped down the hall to his room.

      She heaved a breath. “I guess you heard that.”

      Byron gave a mirthless laugh. “Sister, half of Arizona heard that.”

      “I’m doing the best I can, Byron.”

      “That’s why you need to tell him.”

      She shook her head as if Byron could see her. “That’s why now isn’t a good time to tell him. He’s already hurting and confused.”

      Byron snorted. “He’s a teenager. When’s he not going to be hurting and confused? When he hits middle age? You’re not doing him any favors by shielding him from the truth. Fee and I have set the date. Time to move on, Pilar.”

      She leaned against the refrigerator. Its low hum mimicked the thrumming in her head. “Easy for you to say now you’ve found religion and the love of your life.”

      “You’re wrong on both counts, Sister. It’s not a religion. It’s a relationship. What Abuela tried to teach us. As usual, she’s right about everything. But don’t tell her I said that. And this relationship with my Creator is the love of my life. The always and only constant love. Fee’s the icing on the cake.”

      Pilar stiffened. “Some love after what you and I both endured at the hands of a monster.”

      “I’ve made my own mistakes since.” Byron’s voice softened. “It’s a cop-out to blame the failures of my life on him. I made my own bad choices after that. Including what happened with Alex.”

      She scrubbed her forehead as the headache mounted. “I don’t want to talk about that.”

      “You never want to talk about that. And, God help me, I let you suffer in silence. Instead of confronting what happened and lancing the wound.”

      She laughed at the irony. “Trust me, lancing the wound doesn’t help. Not much anyway.”

      “Healing for me came when I forgave our stepfather and Alex, Sister. When I finally found the courage to tell what happened to the platoon chaplain. I experienced a peace and a lightness I’d never known before.”

      “It’s the forgiveness part where you lose me, Byron.”

      “How’s the bitterness and revenge working for you, Sister?”

      Pilar’s lips twisted. “Keeps me on my feet and swinging, Brother.”

      He let out an exasperated breath. “It keeps you chained in a prison of your own making, Pilar. A stronghold forged in the fires of hate. I learned the hard way that secrets only feed the stronghold. One day you’ll decide you want to be free, but by then, I fear it’ll be too late. The bars will be too strong to bend, and you’ll be captive forever.”

      “Stop . . .” She shouted at the receiver. “Just stop.”

      Byron sucked in a breath. “Pilar . . . Please . . . I’m sorry. I promised I’d never speak of that and I won’t. But Manny needs to know. His entire future is at stake.”

      “He got expelled today, Byron. For fighting.”

      Byron sighed. “The To-Clanny gene doesn’t fall far from the tree, does it?”

      “I told you about this new gang on the rez last time you called. I’m afraid they’re recruiting our Manny.” Her voice quavered. “I’m scared. I’m not sure how to save him.”

      “There’s only One who can save him, Pilar.”

      She growled. “Don’t start with that again, Byron. You and I know there’s no rescue there. Just a bunch of hymn-singing, pew-pounding, red on the outside, white on the inside apples.”

      “Then you better start packing his bags and send him east to Bragg and Fee. ’Cause that’s the only way you’re going to get him away from the gang.”

      Her breath hitched.

      “Once they pressure him into going through with whatever wicked initiation scheme they’ve got planned for him, Pilar, there’ll be no going back.”

      She gulped past the boulder lodged in her throat. “I know, Byron.”

      “You either get him the help he needs there, or send him here. If the darkness gets a foothold, our boy as we know and love him will be swallowed whole.”

      She ground her fist against her eye.

      Apaches don’t cry. Apaches don’t cry.

      “I know, Byron,” she whispered.

      “Please, Pilar. I’m begging you. Do what’s right for the boy. Before it’s too late.”

      “I’ve