Page 54 of Unseen Danger

She broke into a run, charging the truck as Al started barking.

It peeled away from the curb, tires squealing.

She strained to catch the plate number.

No good. It was covered in mud.

Sixteen

What was he doing?

Branson paused in the middle of his shave, switching off the electric razor as he stared at his reflection in the mirror above the bathroom sink.

“You’ll have to answer that one yourself.”

What had he been thinking? That had to be the dumbest answer any Christian had ever given when someone was practically begging them to share the answers.

Answers he had. Hope he had.

Be prepared to make a defense to anyone who asks you for a reason for the hope that is in you.

He’d known exactly what he should’ve said. Exactly what would help D-Chop with his guilt and the dark hopelessness of his life.

But Branson had practically run the other way. His views—the truth, the Gospel—weren’t welcome in the world where he worked and lived. He knew that. Others before him had tried to speak and been cancelled or fired.

He couldn’t afford that. Not right now.

He turned the razor back on and finished shaving the skin above the light stubble that lined his jaw.

Setting the razor on the sink, he turned away from the mirror.

A squeak made his feet freeze. Just in time.

His gaze dropped to see Princess scoot out of the way.

“Sorry, little girl. Are you okay?” He bent to pet the cat that his hand nearly covered from head to tail. He fought the urge to scoop her up. She never liked that when she was trying to eat.

She arched her back in a gentle stretch under his hand as a purr reached his ears. Appeased, she went back to the kibble in her dish.

The smile that curved his lips as he watched her quickly dropped away.

The shame that had gripped him last night still pinched his chest. And rightfully so. What had happened to the boldness that had been enflamed into a fire within his twelve-year-old’s heart the moment he saw the shooter aim the gun at his dad, the second he saw Andrew take him down?

Of course, if there’d been a physical threat, Branson would’ve acted instantly. He wouldn’t have held back.

But this was different. Revealing his Christian faith at the wrong time to the wrong person, to any celebrity or person in this culture he worked in, would be the end.

He couldn’t risk that. Not now, when his dad’s life depended on his income.

Surely the Lord knew that. He’d provided Branson with this job in the first place, with the funds at just the right time when his dad needed them.

And Branson was so grateful for that. As long as he kept working hard and didn’t let anything or anyone endanger his client, Branson’s job would be secure, and his dad would have a future.

Branson grabbed the T-shirt he’d left on his bed and pulled it over his head.

Was the irate father from last night behind everything that had happened lately? The knife in the poster, the attack on James at the gate? And the fire?

Branson had considered the possibility at length last night. Even talked to the police about the gate guard being attacked in case they wanted to investigate a connection.