by Debby Giusti
Safe Haven for the Holidays
The thrilling Amish Protectors conclusion
Leaving the nursing home where she works, Rosie Glick’s accosted by a man demanding incriminating evidence her murdered boyfriend stole—until Ezra Stoltz scares him off. Now with a killer dead set on silencing the Amish single mother, Ezra must hide Rosie and her baby to keep them safe. But can he expose a sinister conspiracy in time to save the woman he secretly loves?
“You did not see the man again?”
“I pray I do not see him again,” Rosie stated.
“I will inquire about him in town,” Ezra said.
“It is not your worry, Ezra. I am sure he left the area last night when we saw him drive past.”
“As focused as he seemed to be to do you harm, Rosie, I do not think he will disappear so easily. Perhaps there is something you are not telling me. Are there secrets you must hide?”
“You need not burden yourself with my mistakes, Ezra. You have your own past with which to struggle.”
Rosie thought of the rumors she’d heard about Ezra. For a period of time, he’d forsaken the Amish way and gotten caught up in the allure of the Englisch.
Something they shared in common.
Still, she did not want to discuss her own past with a man she hardly knew. Ezra had mentioned her secrets, yet undoubtedly, he had secrets of his own.
Debby Giusti is an award-winning Christian author who met and married her military husband at Fort Knox, Kentucky. Together they traveled the world, raised three wonderful children and have now settled in Atlanta, Georgia, where Debby spins tales of mystery and suspense that touch the heart and soul. Visit Debby online at debbygiusti.com, blog with her at seekerville.Blogspot.com and craftieladiesofromance.Blogspot.com, and email her at [email protected].
Books by Debby Giusti
Love Inspired Suspense
Amish Protectors
Amish Refuge
Undercover Amish
Amish Rescue
Amish Christmas Secrets
Military Investigations
The Agent’s Secret Past
Stranded
Person of Interest
Plain Danger
Plain Truth
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Amish Christmas Secrets
Debby Giusti
Who hath delivered us from the power of darkness, and hath translated us into the kingdom of his dear Son:
In whom we have redemption through his blood, even the forgiveness of sins.
—Colossians 1:13–14
This book is dedicated to my wonderful readers.
Thank you for your support and encouragement.
You are the reason I write!
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
DEAR READER
EXCERPT FROM IN TOO DEEP BY SHARON DUNN
ONE
“Ach,” Rosie Glick moaned as the December wind whipped the kapp from her head and sent it tumbling through the air. She stopped pedaling her bike, then propped it on the kickstand and ran to where the starched headgear had landed, only inches away from the steep drop-off that edged the North Georgia mountain road. She retrieved the kapp and brushed the dust from the stiff fabric, then glanced at the churning water, raging at the bottom of the ravine some twenty feet below. Her stomach roiled at the sharp downward slope and the bevy of boulders positioned along the sides of the incline.
Another gust of wind sent her scrambling back to her bike, all too aware of the growing darkness and encroaching storm. Rosie repositioned the kapp on her head and secured it with hairpins before she climbed on her bike, determined to get home before the sky opened and the rain commenced.
The nervous unease within her that had started in town continued to grow. She thought again of the man in the white sedan, talking on his cell phone. Pedaling past his parked car, she had noticed how much he resembled a person she had seen once and never wanted to see again.
Surely her eyes were playing tricks on her.
Thoughts of that horrific night rolled through her mind. The door to Will MacIntosh’s trailer had pushed open, and the man with the gun had forced Will outside. Rosie had escaped, but she had not run fast enough.
Chilled by the memory, she glanced over her shoulder, relieved to find the road empty of vehicles. The last thing she wanted was to be followed. She felt sure the man in town had not seen her, yet she needed to be careful.
Datt would probably question her late arrival. He had never been a man of compassion, and since she had returned home seven months ago, he seemed increasingly short-tempered.
Even her sweet Mamm struggled with his behavior.
Regrettably, her father would never forgive Rosie for the mistake she had made. Baby Joseph was not the problem. Her own stubborn independence had gotten her in trouble, along with her desire to experience life to the fullest, even if it meant running away with an Englischer.
But Will MacIntosh had been murdered, and she had been trafficked and held captive for eight months. She had spent the last month of her confinement in a dank and dark root cellar where she had given birth to Joseph. The memory of their rescue and reunion with her parents had been bittersweet. If only her father had rejoiced at their homecoming.
Hearing the sound of a car engine, barely audible over the gusting wind, Rosie glanced over her shoulder. A white sedan raced down the hill.
She gasped and pedaled faster.
White automobiles were common among the Englisch, she told herself, hoping to calm her rapid pulse and thumping heart. Her legs burned from the exertion. The roar of the engine filled her ears.
The car’s headlights illuminated the roadway, catching her in their glare. She inched as close to the edge of the road as possible and glanced back. Her heart stopped. The car was headed straight for her. She raised her hand to wave off the driver, but he continued on course.
The front wheel of her bike slipped off the pavement and onto the rocky berm. She lost balance and crashed to the ground. Pain ricocheted through her shoulders as she skidded across the hard-packed earth.
The car stopped. A door slammed. Before she could catch her breath and climb to her feet, the man she had seen in town was leaning over her. Dark brown hair with a long brushstroke of white near his left temple. Narrow eyes and a thin mouth. The same man who had come to Will’s door sixteen months ago.
He grabbed her arm.
“Where is it?” he demanded. “Where’s the information Will stole from me?”
She tried to pu
ll free from his hold.
He slapped her face and twisted her arm. “Tell me.”
She grimaced with pain.
“You were Will’s girlfriend and his accomplice.”
“What?”
“Don’t act dumb. All this time, we didn’t realize what he had taken until the last few days. When I saw you in town, it all became clear. He gave it to you for safekeeping, only we need it back.”
Rosie tried to pull free. “I do not have anything you want.”
“Don’t act like a stupid Amish girl,” he snarled. “You fooled us once, but you can’t fool us again.”
Tears burned her eyes.
“Will needed to be taught a lesson. Maybe you do, too.” He reached for her throat.
“No!”
She clawed at his hands, which he had wrapped around her neck. Her lungs burned like fire. She tried to breathe.
Suddenly, as if hearing someone approach, he eased his hold and cocked his head. His eyes widened as he stood upright and stared for a long moment at the crest of the hill.
Gasping for air, she scooted to the edge of the incline. If only she could escape. But how?
Turning his gaze back to her, he grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet. “You’re coming with me.”
The thought of being held captive again was too much to bear. She kicked his leg and gouged her fingers in his eyes.
“Aagh!” He dropped his head into his hands.
She turned to flee. He grabbed her shoulder. She jerked free, then tripped and fell to the ground.
“I need that information.” He kicked her once, twice. Air whooshed from her lungs.
She rolled over and saw him raise his work boot again. Cringing, she anticipated the blow, until with one last thrust of his mud-covered boot, he pushed her over the edge of the cliff.
Her head hit a boulder. Prickly thistles and scrub brush scraped her hands and legs. Rocks battered her as she slipped and slid to the bottom on the steep ravine. “Gott, help me,” she moaned until she no longer saw or heard anything.
* * *
Ezra Stoltz jiggled the reins and encouraged his mare over the crest of the hill. A car sat parked on the downward slope of the road. A tall man with a thick build stood in the glare of the car’s headlights. He glanced Ezra’s way, then quickly picked up a bike and hurled it over the edge of the roadway. Hurrying back to his car, he climbed behind the wheel, gunned the engine and headed north along the narrow country road.
With a flick of the reins, Ezra urged Bessie forward, the clip-clop of her hooves on the pavement in sync with his rapidly beating heart. Ezra had seen Rosie Glick pass the hardware store on her bike. With the fast-approaching storm, he had wanted to ensure she got home safely and had followed in his buggy. Seeing the man made him all the more concerned for her safety.
Nearing the spot where the car had parked, he pulled Bessie to a stop and jumped to the ground. Peering over the edge of the drop-off, he spied the bike, about ten yards below, and quickly descended to where it was lying.
He glanced at the steep downward slope and the boulders that pocked the hillside. Something near the rushing water caught his eye. He moved closer.
Blue fabric and a white kapp.
Rosie!
He scurried down the hill and kneeled beside her. His heart wrenched as he saw the blood that seeped from her forehead. Her arms were scraped, the hem of her dress torn. He touched her cheek.
“Can you hear me? It’s Ezra Stoltz. Open your eyes, Rosie.”
Ezra’s heart stopped when she failed to respond. Please, Gott, do not let another person die.
* * *
Rose blinked her eyes open and gasped, seeing with blurred vision a man’s face close to her own. “No,” she cried.
His hand touched her shoulder. “You took a bad fall.”
She shook her head, trying to identify the voice.
“I will take you home in my buggy.”
Buggy? She blinked, noting his blond hair and blue eyes, which stared questioningly down at her.
“We went to school together. Remember me? Ezra Stoltz?”
Ezra? Not the man in the white car. She breathed out a sigh of relief and raised up on one arm.
The Ezra Stoltz she remembered had been tall and thin and nothing like the broad-shouldered man hovering over her.
He helped her sit up. “Are you dizzy? Does anything hurt?”
Her whole body ached. She touched the tender spot on her forehead.
He leaned closer. “It is a bad cut. You hit one of the rocks as you fell.”
“Did you see what happened?” she asked.
“I saw a man on the side of the road. He tossed your bike down the ravine before he drove away.”
She glanced up the hill. “Where is my bike?”
“I will put it in the buggy, but first, we must tend to your needs.”
Grateful for his help, she tried to find something positive on which to focus. “I am scraped and bruised but not broken.”
“This is something for which we can be thankful.” He smiled, easing a bit of the fear that had tangled along her spine.
Helping her to her feet, he asked, “Are you able to climb the hill?”
“I—I think so.”
“Lean on me,” he suggested.
She had no choice but to accept his help. The incline was steep, and her legs felt like the congealed gelatin she made for her molded salads.
“Oh.” Her knee nearly buckled under her.
“I will carry you.”
Before she could decline his offer, Ezra lifted her effortlessly into his strong arms.
“I am too heavy,” she said, embarrassed by his closeness.
He chuckled. “You are too light. Your mamm must not feed you enough. Hold on, and we will climb this hill together.”
She wrapped her arm around his thick neck and dropped her cheek against his shoulder. Inhaling the masculine scent of him, she questioned her own good sense for allowing a man she barely knew to carry her in his arms.
As Ezra had mentioned, they had been in school together, but he was three years her senior, and she had seen him only a few times after he had completed the eighth level.
Once they reached the roadway, Ezra lifted her into the buggy. “Wait here a moment. Then Bessie and I will take you home.”
Working quickly, he retrieved the bicycle and placed it in the rear of his buggy. “I can fix your bike,” he assured her as he climbed into the seat next to her.
Grateful for his help, she relaxed ever so slightly. He lifted the reins into his hands and encouraged Bessie forward.
Ezra studied the road and then flicked his gaze to her as if to ensure she was all right. “Your mother will be happy when you are home, yah?”
Rosie rubbed her arms and lowered her gaze, thinking of her father’s verbal attack and pointed questions.
“Thank you for your help, Ezra.”
He nodded, perhaps as embarrassed as she was after carrying her in his arms. She brushed the dirt from her skirt and thought of the root cellar where she had been held captive.
She would not go back there. No matter what happened.
The clip-clop of Bessie’s hooves soothed her frayed nerves, and she settled back in the seat, trying to think of what she could tell her parents when they saw the gash on her forehead and her scraped arms and soiled skirt.
Her own clumsiness and being too close to the road’s edge would be truthful. She would not mention the man in the white car. Her mother worried about her well-being. The thought of being run off the road would be too much for Mamm to bear.
Lightning cut across the sky, startling Rosie. Rain pinged against the top of the buggy. The temperature dropped even more, and she shivered in the cold.
Through the steady downp
our, she saw the headlights of an approaching vehicle in the distance.
Her heart thumped a warning.
“Do you see the lights?” she asked.
“Yah. You think it could be the man who threw your bike into the ravine?”
“Am I foolish to think he would return?”
“Not if you know the reason he wishes to do you harm.”
Unwilling to share her past with Ezra, she sighed. “I—I am not certain.”
He stared at her for a long moment.
“I was involved with the wrong person,” she finally admitted. “It is too much to tell now, but that might be the reason.”
Ezra flicked the reins and encouraged Bessie to increase her pace, which only troubled Rosie more. Instead of turning around in hopes of eluding the vehicle, Ezra was driving the buggy straight toward the approaching danger.
Fear gripped her anew. “Ezra, stop the buggy so I can run into the woods and hide.”
He ignored her request and hurried the mare even more.
Lightning illuminated the sky and a crash of thunder sounded nearby. Bessie’s ears raised. She snorted, no doubt skittish because of the storm.
“Please, Ezra.” Rosie nudged his arm. “Stop the buggy.”
The car was fast approaching. She could hear the roar of the engine just around the bend and could envision being caught in the oncoming glare of headlights.
She swallowed down the fear that clogged her throat and grabbed Ezra’s hand, trying to make him realize the seriousness of her plight.
He pushed aside her hand.
Her heart crashed. Accepting a ride from Ezra had been a bad decision. The boy she remembered from school was cocky, but always considerate of others.
She raised her voice. “Stop the buggy now, and let me out.”
The glare of headlights preceded the car around the bend. She gasped, fearing the man from town would accost her again. Tears stung her eyes at the hopelessness of her situation.
Seemingly at the last possible moment, Ezra tugged the reins right. The mare turned onto a narrow dirt lane that angled off the main road. A canopy of tree branches brushed against the buggy’s roof.