She was still sitting next to her brother when the man in her troubled thoughts came into the room.
She glanced up at him. She’d never seen him look so serious before. Had something happened?
“Did you find the sarin?” she asked when the silence between them stretched out, filled with unanswered questions.
He came over to where she sat. “We did. Thanks to Liam, the gas is going to a secure location away from danger.”
“Are Temple’s men talking yet?” She held his gaze.
He shook his head. “I don’t know. I left as soon as we found the sarin.” She tried to understand the meaning behind those words.
“How’s he doing?” Alex asked and looked at Liam.
She leaned forward and touched her brother’s hand. “He’s going to be fine. He was awake earlier. He was asking about Deacon. It’s touch and go.” She answered Alex’s unasked question.
Alex nodded, his gaze still on Liam. “I can’t believe this is finally over.” He stopped for a second and then looked down at her. “Rachel, I’m done.”
She didn’t understand what he meant. Done with her? The Agency? “I don’t understand...”
He knelt next to her. “I’m done with the CIA. I told Jase before I came here. I want out. I want...you.”
She got to her feet and moved away, unsure of what she was doing. Rachel had to be certain she’d heard him correctly. Losing him again would destroy her.
“Please don’t say that unless you mean it.” Her voice came out as little more than a whisper.
He came to her, taking hold of her arms. “I mean it, Rachel. I’ve never been more serious in my life. I want out. I’ve seen enough death and terror to last me a lifetime. I’m done. I want to move back home to Midnight Mountain...and I want a second chance with you. I want to love you for the rest of my life.”
She’d waited years to hear him say those words. He finally wanted the same thing as she did. She went into his arms and held him close for a moment and then she kissed him and was so grateful that what happened between them in the past hadn’t defined their future. They had a second chance.
“It’s about time you two got it together.” They turned at the sound of Liam’s voice. He was awake and grinning at them. “I was afraid you’d blow it again.”
Rachel laughed at her brother’s typical Liam saying and smiled up at Alex. “We did get it together, thanks to you. You gave us a second chance, Liam.” She kissed Alex again. She would be forever grateful that even though they’d gone through one of the darkest moments of their lives up on the mountain, they’d found each other again.
EPILOGUE
“Babe, I’m home.” Alex closed the front door against the chilly Wyoming morning and called out to his wife. It was still dark out, yet he knew she was awake.
Almost a year had now passed since he and Rachel had married. They’d settled back into her place and Alex had found his calling as a cattle rancher. This was a childhood dream both he and Liam shared.
“In here.” She peeked her head out of the kitchen. Dressed in a robe, her hair tousled from sleep and seven months pregnant, she still took his breath away.
He was so excited about becoming a father. He went to the kitchen and drew her back against him, his hands splaying across her midsection. Their child. He was so happy. There was a time when he couldn’t imagine ever being this happy.
“How’s the little one today?” he asked and kissed her neck.
She covered his hands with hers. “Active. I think she’s ready to come out.” He and Rachel teased each other about whether they were having a girl or a boy. She insisted a girl, while he felt obligated to say a boy. Truthfully, he didn’t care. He was just so happy to be having a child with her.
That time over a year ago had faded into a memory now. The pain and fear they’d both experienced were all but gone. Liam was safe. Deacon had recovered from his injuries, and thanks to Michelle, they had the buyer for the sarin gas in custody and Temple and his men had gone away for a very long time.
Thanks to God, he and Rachel had made good on the second chance God gave them.
“How’s the ranch coming along?” she asked as she put the eggs on to cook.
He loved watching her. She was so beautiful. At times, he still couldn’t believe she was his bride.
Since Liam’s last mission, he, too, had left the CIA. He and Alex had decided to use the property Brian left Rachel to buy some cattle to run there, as well as keep up the horse ranch.
So far, it had been a learning experience for both him and Liam, but Alex loved it and he found himself looking forward to each new day...with her.
Rachel caught him watching her and immediately ran a hand through her hair. “I must look like a mess.”
He shook his head and planted a kiss on her lips. She had no idea how lovely she was to him. “You’ve never looked prettier.” He gathered her close. “I love you, Rachel. I love you so much. I still can’t believe I’m blessed enough to have this life with you.”
Tears filled her eyes. She cried a lot lately. Hormones. “I’m the blessed one. I thought I’d lost you for good. I’m so glad God brought us together again.”
“Me, too,” he whispered, and then kissed her gently and held her close. He’d forever be grateful to God for bringing them back into each other’s lives. He thought he’d lost this part of his life for good. But God with His infinite perfect timing had chosen the right moment for them, and he’d spend the rest of his life trying to be worthy of this wonderful life he had.
* * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from Hidden Amish Secrets by Debby Giusti.
WE HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS BOOK FROM
Courage. Danger. Faith.
Find strength and determination in stories of faith and love in the face of danger.
6 NEW BOOKS AVAILABLE EVERY MONTH!
Hidden Amish Secrets
by Debby Giusti
ONE
Thunder rumbling overhead was as troubling as the guilt that still weighed heavily on Julianne Graber’s heart even after five years. Losing her father and brother in one horrific night had been hard to accept. Having it ruled a murder-suicide made their passing even more tragic. The bishop’s callous comment about Gott’s will had been the final blow. She had vowed never to return to her Amish home, yet here she was driving back to Mountain Loft, Georgia, on a stormy night that matched her mood.
The rain intensified, and wisps of fog impeded visibility. She lowered the headlights on her small Honda, activated the windshield wipers and checked the GPS on her smartphone. Her estimated time of arrival was close to midnight. She groaned and chastised herself, yet again, for leaving Dahlonega so late in the day.
Her upset increased as she glanced at the notice from the county authorities that was lying on the passenger seat. After reading the letter too many times, she could recite the words by heart.
Due to a rise in vagrancy and vandalism, buildings left unoccupied for more than five years will be considered abandoned unless efforts are made to either occupy or sell the property.
She wouldn’t let conniving county bureaucrats lay claim to the farm, two-story house and outbuildings she had inherited from her father. Even if she didn’t want to live there herself.
Over the last five years, she had learned to manage her grief and was better able to handle the memories of the hateful crime that had claimed her father’s and brother’s lives. Aunt Mary, her father’s sister, had been her lifeline back to reality for the first two years. Eventually, needing to test her wings like a small bird leaving the nest, Julie had abandoned her Amish faith, moved to a quaint college town in the North Georgia mountains and worked in a gift shop on the square in Dahlonega for the past three years. If not for the letter, she would be in her apartment getting ready for bed instead of navigating the twisting mount
ain road.
A curve appeared ahead. Easing down on the brake pedal, she hugged the shoulder as an approaching delivery truck in the opposite lane swerved around the bend. Frustrated by the aggressive driver, she laid on the horn, hoping to remind the trucker that speeding on the treacherous mountain road was anything but wise.
A rockslide had stopped traffic earlier and delayed her for more than two hours. She didn’t want her arrival to be pushed back even later. Not that anyone expected her. The only welcome would come from an empty farmhouse and a row of graves on the hillside. Her father and brother were buried there, along with her mother, who had died a year earlier.
The road wound higher up the mountain and eventually leveled into a plateau. A sign appeared on the left-hand side of the road:
Welcome to Mountain Loft, Established in 1840 by miners seeking their fortune in the Georgia Gold Rush.
She checked her speed and drove through the sleepy town, grateful the stoplights remained green and her progress was unencumbered.
In the daytime, she would see the Amish farm community that laid claim to the area west of town. This late at night, the farmers and their families were asleep in their beds, and their homes were bathed in darkness.
She passed her once-upon-a-time best friend’s house. Rachel Hochstetler had driven Julianne home from the teen gathering at the lake the night her father and brother had died. With the memory of William Lavy’s kiss still on her lips, Julie had entered her house to find her father lying in a pool of blood.
She grimaced at the memory and rubbed her forehead, thinking again of the sharp inhale of breath she had heard behind her, along with her whispered name, before a hard object had slammed against her skull. After awakening hours later, she had stumbled to her feet and glanced at the far side of the room. Her brother, Bennie, sat propped against the wall, legs sprawled out in front of him. Mouth open. Eyes wide. She could still see the hole in his stomach and the gun clutched in his hand.
Tears burned her eyes and blurred her vision. She yanked a tissue from her purse, wiped it across her cheeks and pulled in a ragged breath as her father’s house appeared in the distance. Correction—her house. Grateful that her Honda made better time than a horse-drawn buggy, she steeled her resolve, turned into the drive and braked to a stop near the back porch.
The rain had eased and the moon hung low in the sky, as it had that night so long ago. The sheriff had determined Bennie and her father had argued, and in a fit of anger, her brother had shot Datt and then turned the gun on himself. She still struggled to make sense of something so senseless.
Her mouth went dry, and a lump of grief filled her throat, but she was determined to face the past. Pulling in a fortifying breath, she grabbed her flashlight from the console, stepped from the car and climbed the back steps to the kitchen entrance.
Fisting her hand, she hesitated before keying open the door. The house was dark and silent as a tomb. She inhaled the stale air that wafted past her, half expecting the stench of pooled blood to fill her nostrils.
For a long, agonizing moment, she stood at the threshold, willing herself to step inside. A shrill, high-pitched scream replayed in her memory—her scream, when she’d finally regained consciousness and seen not only her father, but also her brother, dead. Heart pounding from the memory, she slammed the kitchen door and locked it with trembling hands. Morning would be soon enough to deal with the memories.
Needing to distance herself from the crime scene that cut into her heart, she raced back to the safety of her car.
A twig snapped.
She stopped, cocked her ear and listened, her pulse pounding. Silence, except for the pitter-patter of raindrops falling from the trees. Relieved, she reached for the door handle.
Leaves rustled. Heart in her throat, she turned. A man dressed in black sprang from the darkness. A red bandana covered his face. He grabbed her arm and threw her to the ground.
“No!” She landed with a thud. Air sailed from her lungs. Gasping, she crawled to her knees and attempted to stand.
He thrust his leg forward and slammed his boot into her ribs.
She fell and clawed at the muddy drive.
Grasping her ankle with both hands, he dragged her toward the bushes. She thrashed and kicked her other leg.
His grip eased ever so slightly.
She kicked again. He groaned.
Again, she kicked. And again.
He tumbled backward.
Scrambling to her feet, she lunged for her car, opened the door and fell into the driver’s seat. He reached for her and she slammed the door, catching the tips of his fingers. He screamed in pain and pounded his fist against the window.
She started the engine and floored the accelerator. The car fishtailed out of the drive. Yanking on the wheel, she turned onto the main road, heading toward Mountain Loft.
Her heart pounded nearly out of her chest. She had to get away. She glanced in the rearview mirror, her stomach rolling. Headlights followed after her onto the country road.
Her secondhand Honda wasn’t built for speed. The man in black would overtake her before she got to town.
On the opposite side of the road, the Lavys’ neighboring farm sat dark in the night. A narrow path behind the house led from the road to a stand of trees and a pond where her brother and William Lavy had played when they were young. If she could turn off the main road and hide near the pond, she might elude the attacker. She switched off her headlights, eased into the turn and bounced along the muddy path. The pond appeared ahead.
She stopped behind a cluster of pines, grabbed her phone and jumped from the car into a quagmire of mud. Pulling free, she stumbled toward the house and glanced at the main road just as a car raced by. All she saw was a flash of white.
Knowing he would turn around and come back to find her, she rounded the farmhouse, climbed the steps to the porch and pounded on the door.
“Mr. Lavy! Will! It’s Julianne Graber. I need help.”
She thought back five years to the morning she had fled in shock from her own house. William had been working in his barnyard. She had run toward him, tears streaming from her eyes.
“What’s wrong, Julie?” he’d asked. “Tell me! What happened?”
“Datt... Bennie...” She’d gasped. “They’re both dead.”
Shoving aside the memory, she pounded on the door again.
Another sound came. She dropped her hand and listened. A car engine. Her pulse raced and her throat went dry. The man in the bandana was coming back.
She dashed around the side of the house as the white car pulled into the Lavys’ drive. A lump filled her throat, but she fisted her hands, unwilling to cry. Ducking behind a large hedge, she held her breath. Her heart thumped so hard she was sure he could hear her.
His car door opened. He stepped to the drive. Through the branches of the shrubbery, she could see his pant legs and mud-caked boots.
A beam of light flickered from a flashlight. He turned it first to the porch and then toward the barn and outbuildings. Angling her gaze, she saw his black jacket and trousers. The bandana still covered his face. He hesitated for a long moment and then climbed into his car, backed onto the road and turned toward town. Driving slowly, he aimed the flashlight along the side of the road.
As he neared the path to the pond, she held her breath, fearing he would see tread marks in the mud. “Please,” she whispered. “Keep driving.”
The car eased to a stop. Light flickered over the path. Her heart nearly crashed through her chest. After what seemed like an eternity, he drove on.
Letting out the breath she was holding, she tapped 911 into her phone. Nothing. She checked her screen. No bars. Her stomach churned. She raced to her car and wanted to scream when she tried her cell again with the same result.
She needed to alert the sheriff’s office. If her phone wouldn’
t work, she’d go there in person. Hunkered down in her car, she waited thirty minutes, giving the man in black time to arrive at his destination and be off the road. She turned the key in the ignition, relieved when the engine hummed to life, and stepped on the gas. A whirring sound filled the air as the tires spun in the soft mud.
With an audible moan, she got out, rounded to the rear of the car, placed her hands on the trunk and pushed with all her might. The car wouldn’t budge, and all she succeeded in doing was sinking deeper into the mud. Her only option was to wait until morning.
She shivered, not only from the cold, but also from being attacked and having her car stuck. Her side ached, and her head felt like it would explode from stress. So much for a happy homecoming.
Something rustled in a nearby stand of trees.
After climbing quickly into her car, she hit the door lock button, scooted lower in the seat and narrowed her gaze, trying to discern what was roaming in the darkness. A fox or coyote perhaps? Brown bears were not uncommon in the mountains.
She blinked to bring the form into focus, but it disappeared from sight. Or had she imagined the movement altogether? One thing was certain—she would stay locked in the car until the first light of dawn.
Yanking a heavy lap blanket from the rear seat, she wrapped it around her shoulders and rested her head back. As the minutes passed, her eyes grew heavy. She snuggled into the blanket and closed her eyes.
The man with the red bandana who wanted to do her harm was the last thing she thought of before falling asleep, but it was William’s face that filled her dream. She was at the lake so long ago. The moonlight broke through the trees and illuminated his searching eyes as he lowered his lips to hers.
Tap, tap, tap. The sound startled her and pulled her from her slumber. She opened her eyes to a glare of sunlight and blinked a blurred form into view.
Target on the Mountain Page 36
