by Dana Mentink
Ryder and Marlton burst from the trees and raced up to them. Bucks was on the ground, gripping his bleeding shoulder as Hawk slobbered his pleasure all over Madison, his reward for finding his quarry. Ryder secured Bucks’s gun.
“Medics en route.” He looked from James to Madison. “Okay?”
James nodded.
Madison was standing stone still as if she was carved from marble, oblivious to the dog dancing around her feet.
He holstered his weapon and walked to her. “Madison,” he said softly. “We’ll get you to a hospital.”
She shook her head. “No. I’m not going to a hospital.” Her brown eyes were clear, calm, in spite of what she’d been through. She held her chin up. “We got him, didn’t we?”
“Yes, Mads, we sure did.”
A tear leaked down her cheek, and she swiped at it with her tattered sleeve. “Lee Earnshaw...will he be released now?”
“We will reopen his case, and he’ll get a fair hearing. I’ll see to it.” He held out his hand, and she took it. He walked her away, where she could no longer see Bucks on the ground or the officers milling around.
They moved into a distant pocket of trees. The sunlight filtered softly down on them. It was quiet and fragrant with pine.
“Madison,” he said. He stopped, voice breaking, overcome with gratitude that she was alive, unharmed, delivered from a killer who would no longer terrorize her or the town.
“Madison,” he started again. Then he gave up and kissed her.
He felt her arms circle up around his neck, fingers twining in his hair, as she kissed him back. Relief spiraled together with a pure, golden happiness. It seemed as if he’d been waiting all his life to find her, to kiss her, to love her.
“I love you,” he whispered. “I love you so much. I’m so sorry, for everything, for doubting you, for doubting myself. I know now isn’t the right time to tell you, but for a few moments there I thought...”
She put a trembling hand to his cheek, fingers soft as satin.
He cleared his throat. “I thought I might not see you again. I didn’t want to wait one more second to tell you the truth.”
She looked at him with eyes full of wonder, lips parted, and she stepped away a pace. For a moment, she didn’t answer. “It seems like I’ve spent my whole life looking for the truth, James. It always comes with a price tag.”
“What’s that?”
“Giving up independence, making yourself vulnerable. That’s hard.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “It is.”
“I’ve never trusted anyone, not really, since I found out about my father.”
His heart clenched into a painful fist. She was going to push him away, and he deserved it. She’d nearly been killed, partially because he hadn’t trusted her. He deserved to have Madison Coles ripped out of his life forever. He looked at his boots, searching for the control he’d need to let her walk away.
“Until now,” she finished.
His head shot up. “What did you say?”
Her hair caught the sunlight, copper fire. “I’m a stubborn student,” she said. “Guess it took being nearly killed a few times, but I’m ready for a new path now, James. God’s convinced me, and so have you.” She went to him then, those magnificent eyes filled with love, and hugged him close. “Thank you for saving my life. I love you, James.”
Thank you for rescuing my heart, he wanted to say, but he couldn’t. His voice was silenced by a fierce joy, awed by her incredible courage, and the honor she’d bestowed on him by offering her heart. He’d spend the rest of his life making sure she was not hurt again. Adoring, protecting, partnering with Madison Coles. All he could do was cling to her, hold close the woman who’d brought him back to life again, restored his trust in himself.
“My brother and your sister are going to be surprised.”
“Oh, I’m not so sure about that,” she said with a chuckle.
“And someday,” he said, tightening his arms around her, “I want to show you the Harrison ranch. I’m going to buy it back.”
She traced a finger along his cheek. “I know you will. I can’t wait.”
He was leaning in for another kiss when Hawk trotted up and bonked Madison in the leg with his boney head.
James laughed. “Are you going to be able to handle loving a stubborn, slobbery dog, too?”
She laughed, a pure, silvery sound. “Of course. Little Red Riding Hood has to have a wolf around.”
Hawk shook his massive ears and flopped over on his side, tired out from his mission.
“I love you, Madison,” James whispered, pulling her to him.
She kissed him again, and Hawk added his yowl of assent.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from MYSTERY CHILD by Shirlee McCoy
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Dear Reader,
Deserts, dogs and danger! It was great fun to write this book and participate in my first ever continuity series. Writing a novel is usually a very solitary experience, but it was a fabulous adventure to join with five other incredible authors to pen this series. Not only that, but I developed a new appreciation for bloodhounds and those who work with them. These amazing dogs are described as “noses with dogs attached” and they are incredible trackers and trailers. That is their God-given talent, and they have saved countless lives and retrieved the lost for centuries. Isn’t that an awesome calling? To save lives and retrieve the lost? God really knew what He was doing when he made the bloodhound.
I hope you have enjoyed this installment in the series. I welcome comments from my readers. You can reach me via my website at www.danamentink.com or, if you prefer regular mail, my address is PO Box 3168, San Ramon, CA 94583.
God bless!
Dana Mentink
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Mystery Child
by Shirlee McCoy
ONE
They were coming.
She could hear them as clearly as she could hear her pulse pounding frantically in her ears. Feet crunching on dry leaves, clothing brushing against pine boughs, the sounds of pursuit ringing through the dark forest.
A twig snapped, and Quinn Robertson shrank deeper into the tree throw, her arms tight around her five-year-old niece. Jubilee didn’t speak, didn’t whimper or cry o
r beg for her mother. She hadn’t made a sound since they’d left Maine twelve hours ago.
Please, God, don’t let her make one now.
The prayer bubbled up, borne of desperation and just the tiniest bit of hope that it would be heard.
Please...
A light bounced over the thick tangle of roots that jutted up from the hole Quinn cowered in and swept toward the ridge she’d just run down. Tumbled down. She’d been terrified, and she hadn’t been careful. She was still terrified.
Had her brother, August, gotten her message?
Did he know how close she was to his house?
Did he realize she should already have arrived?
If she’d snagged her purse before she’d taken off, she could have texted to let him know she was in trouble, but she’d left it in the Jeep, her cell phone inside of it. There hadn’t been time to grab anything but Jubilee. By the time her niece was out of her booster seat, the car that had been following them, the car Quinn had pulled off the road to avoid, had made a U-turn and was heading back in their direction.
She’d run into the forest that lined the rutted country road. She’d had no other choice. Tabitha had entrusted Jubilee into her care. She’d begged Quinn to bring the little girl to her father in DC. Her real father. Not the man Tabitha was married to—the man who’d left bruises on Jubilee’s cheek, bruises on Tabitha’s throat. The one Quinn had known nothing about. She hadn’t known her sister was married. She’d had no idea Tabitha had a child. Five years had passed since she’d seen her sister face-to-face, and suddenly she was at Quinn’s door begging for help, her eye black, finger-sized bruises trailing down the column of her throat.
Quinn hadn’t hesitated. She’d agreed to do what Tabitha was asking. She probably would have agreed even if her sister had told her how much danger she might find herself in.
A lot of danger. More than she should be facing alone.
Quinn shuddered, holding her breath as someone raced past her hiding space. Jubilee lifted her head from Quinn’s shoulder, her long braids snagging on roots that jutted into the tree hole.
Please, don’t cry, Quinn wanted to say, but a light slid over their hiding spot, illuminating the darkness for a heartbeat of time.
Quinn eased deeper into the hole, the loamy scent of earth mixing with decaying leaves and rotting wood. Branches jabbed into her ribs and back, scraping skin off her shoulder as she pressed into the root system of the fallen tree.
A voice called out. Someone answered, footsteps pounding on the ground nearby. The hunters weren’t giving up. They were determined to find their prey.
Did they realize how close they were?
Could they hear the frantic pounding of Quinn’s heart? The quiet panting of Jubilee’s breath?
How long would it take for them to discover the fallen tree? The hole Quinn and Jubilee were cowering in? Long enough for August to find the Jeep? If he was out looking, if he’d gotten her message, if he realized she and Jubilee were in trouble, he could be there in minutes, but that was way too many “ifs” for Quinn’s peace of mind.
Leaves crackled, branches broke and Quinn could hear the loud gasping breaths of someone just feet away. She tensed, her arms tight around Jubilee. She had to protect her. She’d promised Tabitha that she would. Of course, at the time, she hadn’t realized she was putting herself at risk. Knowing the truth wouldn’t have changed anything. Quinn still would have agreed to Tabitha’s plan. Only she would have been much better prepared.
Instead, she’d blindly believed a sister she hadn’t seen in years and headed out with no weapon, no plan for protecting herself or Jubilee.
It will be easier to disappear if we’re separated. Take her to DC. Her biological father is there. Don’t call the police or contact anyone before you get there. My husband has money, and he knows people who would be happy to help him get me back. If Jarrod has to use Jubilee to do it, he will. The best thing for her, and for me, is for you to get her to DC. The kid deserves better than what she’s been getting. I guess maybe I do, too.
The kid...
Such a strange thing to call your own child. It should have been a clue that something wasn’t right, that maybe Tabitha wasn’t being completely honest.
Too late to worry about that now.
Quinn had to find a way out of the mess she was in. She scooted backward, the soft rustle of leaves making her freeze.
“Over here!” a man yelled, and Quinn bit back a scream.
She expected the roots that hid them from view to be pulled away, for a monster in the guise of a person to suddenly appear.
Jubilee’s arm snaked around Quinn’s neck, her fingers tangling in Quinn’s hair. The five-year-old was terrified, her body shaking, but she didn’t make a sound.
Good girl, Quinn wanted to say, but leaves crunched and twigs snapped, and she knew their pursuers were closing in. Two men? Three? She hadn’t gotten a good look. She’d been too busy sprinting through the trees.
Please, God, don’t let them find us.
Please.
The prayer whispered through her mind, a knee-jerk reaction to hard-core terror. She’d prayed like that before. The day after Cory’s brain cancer diagnosis, the weeks during his radiation and chemo treatments and at the end, when there’d been no hope, when Cory had been nothing but a shell of the man she’d married, she’d begged and pleaded and petitioned God.
Maybe He’d heard.
Maybe He hadn’t.
He hadn’t answered. Not in any way that had mattered.
Light splashed across the fallen oak, highlighting the giant tangle of roots that she and Jubilee had crawled beneath. She forced herself to stay still as the light found its way to the other side of the oak. The night went dark again, the woods silent and still. Leaves fell through the cracks in the root system, dirt raining down on Quinn’s head as someone moved past. Probably so close he could have reached in and grabbed Jubilee from Quinn’s arms.
She was stiff with fear, numb with it. She wanted to run and find another place to hide, but she didn’t know where the guy with the light had gone. There were no more shouts, no more pounding footsteps. Just the darkness, the silence and Jubilee’s arm around her neck.
In the distance, a car engine broke the silence, the sound growing closer with every passing second.
August?
If he’d gotten her message, he’d be out looking for her. She knew that. Just like she knew him. August was quick to plan and to act. He never hesitated. Not when it came to the people he loved.
That’s why she’d called him when she’d first realized she might be being followed. It’s why she’d listened when he’d told her to drive to his rural Maryland property. He’d promised to contact Jubilee’s father, have the guy meet them at August’s place.
It makes more sense than you driving to DC alone, Quinn, he’d said. If Tabitha is lying, you could be in a boatload of trouble for taking that kid out of Maine. The sooner you get her in her father’s hands, the better.
Not something she hadn’t thought about, but thinking about it hadn’t been enough to make her break the promise she’d made.
In for a penny. In for a pound.
That’s what Grandma Ruth had always said. No sense beginning something and not finishing it. At least not in her mind, and not in Quinn’s.
The car rumbled closer, the forest remaining silent. Not an animal moved, not a leaf rustled. The stillness terrified Quinn, the thought of someone lurking just out of sight made her pulse race. Jubilee shifted, the fabric of her dress swishing, the noise overly loud in the silence.
“Shhhh,” Quinn wanted to warn, but she didn’t dare make a sound. The car engine died, a door slammed and a long low whistle broke the silence. Somewhere in the distance, a man called out, his voice edged with panic. Feet pounded
on dry leaves, branches snapped. Someone was running, and he wasn’t being quiet about it.
Was he calling off the hunt for Quinn and Jubilee?
Please, God...
Just that. She had nothing else, no profound prayer to offer, no bottomless well of hope. She’d used up every bit of faith she had when Cory was sick. Now, she planned for the worst, worked toward the best. She’d spent the past few years rebuilding her life, repaying medical bills that had piled up so high she hadn’t been sure she’d ever see the end of them. She’d worked full-time as a kindergarten teacher, part-time as a janitor. Sixty, seventy, eighty-hour workweeks, going home to the tiny efficiency apartment over Martha Graham’s bakery. She’d lived off ramen noodles and peanut-butter sandwiches. Two months ago, she’d finally paid the last medical bill. Now she was building her savings, looking down the road to a time when she could purchase a little house a few blocks away from Echo Lake.
If she survived tonight.
If a dozen things that could go wrong didn’t.
Another car door slammed, the sound reverberating through the forest. Tires squealed and an engine roared. Then, the world went silent again.
Quinn waited until her legs were numb, her arms stiff, before she moved. She waited until a night owl called from a nearby branch and a small animal scurried through the tree’s exposed roots. Finally, she eased out into the cool night air, Jubilee still clinging to her neck.
Moonlight filtered through the thick tree canopy, dappling the leaves with gold. She glanced up the ridge she’d barreled down. Her Jeep wasn’t far from the top, parked in the small clearing she’d veered into when she’d realized the black SUV she’d spotted on the interstate had followed her onto the narrow road that led to August’s house. She could walk back to the Jeep, but she didn’t trust that the men who’d been following her were gone. Sure, she’d heard a vehicle drive away, but she’d also heard one arrive. Maybe it had been August, or maybe it had been someone else. Someone who wanted to get his hands on Jubilee?