He shot up and pulled the knife from beneath his pillow. His mother had tried to take it from him, but he’d snuck it up here when she wasn’t watching.
Then he ran—quick, silent steps out of his room and down the large hall. He’d just reached the top of the stairs when he saw a man beside his mother by the front door. Not his father. This guy was broader. And his eyes were clear rather than glazed over like his dad’s.
Was he one of the assholes who wanted money?
He sprinted down the stairs, brandishing the knife. “Who are you?”
“Colt!” his mother gasped. “Honey, give me the knife.”
“No! I want to know who he is.” As a kid, he didn’t have the height or the breadth to be much of a threat, but what he lacked in size, he made up for in anger.
The guy wasn’t fazed. He stepped forward and crouched. “Hi, Colt. I’m Ben.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Your mother called me. I’m going to stay with you for a little while. Make sure your dad and anyone else who wants to hurt you doesn’t come back.”
Colt’s frown deepened. “You’re here to protect my mom?”
“I’m here to protect both of you.” There was kindness in his eyes but also a hardness. He reminded Colt of some guys who’d visited his school once. They’d worn uniforms and talked about their jobs in the Army.
“Do you know how to protect us?” Colt asked quietly.
“I was a Marine. Do you know what that is?”
Colt shook his head.
“It’s someone who’s trained to keep people safe. We’re trained to be strong and brave.”
Strong and brave…two things that, even at eight, Colt knew he wanted to be. He tried to be.
Ben held out his hand. “Give me the knife, son. You don’t need that anymore.”
For a second, Colt didn’t move. He studied the stranger in front of him. He didn’t want to trust a new person. But they needed help.
“I believe you.” Just three words, then Colt handed over the knife.
Arms wrapped around Colt’s middle, pulling him out of his memory and tensing his muscles. Then her familiar scent hit him. “Indie.”
“Of course. Are you okay?”
Shit. He hadn’t heard her coming. What if she’d been someone else? He needed to be more damn alert. “Yeah. I was just in my head.”
“Want to talk about it?”
He covered her hands on his stomach with his own. “I was thinking about Ben. About the night I met him.”
“Will you tell me?”
“He told me he was a Marine, and that he was trained to be strong and brave. He was everything I wanted to be.”
“You were only eight.”
“Yeah.”
She stepped in front of him, studying him. “And you did it. You became a Marine.”
“Yeah. But now he’s in the hospital because—”
