Free The Soldier's Mission by Lenora Worth

couldn’t stop thinking about that night when you called. I wanted you to know that I can help you, too. That’s why God called me to this career, I think. I always wanted to help other Christians, but I’m too chicken to go out into the missionary field or to do the type of things you do. My calling is in counseling and therapy. And I just knew God wanted me to find you. Especially after…”
    â€œAfter what?” Did she have her own torment? He didn’t have the right to ask her about anything. But between the abusive boyfriend and that kid’s suicide, she probably had her own guilt weighing her down.
    â€œNever mind,” she said. “I came here all self-righteous and determined, wanting to make a difference in your life.” She pulled her hand away. “But look at how that turned out. Running for our lives, getting shot at and shooting people.” Her words became choppy with emotion. “Your grandfather—”
    â€œHey, Wíago is tough. He’s been through worse. And my brother Buddy is right there with him, guarding him and watching over him. If it makes you feel better, Buddy knows how to pray. He has a pipeline right to God’s ear.”
    She wiped at her eyes. “We all need to pray, for your grandfather, for whoever is doing this to us, for everything.”
    â€œWhy don’t you pray and I’ll plan?”
    She pushed her food away. “I’d feel better if we prayed together.”
    â€œHere, now?”
    She bobbed her head, her eyes full of that glorious hope again.
    â€œI… I’m not good at public displays of praying, Laura. I do my best bargaining with God when I’m faced with a bottle at three o’clock in the morning.”
    Her eyes widened then and he saw her go from sweet to steely. “Don’t you see, Paco? That bottle of liquor represents all your torment and your shame and guilt. All the more reason to learn how to pray without ceasing, no matter the time of day.”
    â€œGot it.” He looked around, uncomfortable with this whole conversation and stunned by her sharp-edged logic. It wasn’t like they didn’t have pressing matters to take care of—such as staying alive. But hey, he’d tried everything else. Pray might be their best option right now.
    She must have sensed his near-compliance. “Here, take my hand and just close your eyes. Nobody is looking. And so what if they are?”
    Paco grunted, but he took her tiny hand, his scarred fingers accepting the lace-delicate touch of her skin.
    â€œDear Father,” she began, her voice going from strained to sure, “we don’t know what’s going on with us or why we are under siege. We do know that someone wants to do us harm. We ask that You intercede in this warfare, that You show us the right way and guide us through each step we take. And Lord, please help to change our pursuers—whatever their motives. Bless and keep Luke and Wíago and Buddy close, Lord. Protect them and guide them. Amen.”
    Paco kept her hand when she tried to let go. “Father, don’t forget Laura.”
    When he opened his eyes, she has such a sweet, serene smile on her face Paco knew he was in serious trouble. His heart, so long guarded and lifeless, waspumping new blood through his veins with such intensity, he had to catch his breath.
    To waylay that, he said, “Satisfied? We need to get moving.”
    She didn’t answer, and if her smile seemed to fade at his callus treatment, he ignored it. He had to keep his emotions at bay so he could keep her alive.
    That was his most urgent prayer right now.
    Â 
    Two hours later, they’d hiked out of the tourist-laden foot of the South Rim and were on some dusty back road into the desert. Laura was tired but secure in the knowledge that if anyone could get her across a desert, it would be Paco Martinez. He’d loaded up on gear after taking a quick shopping