by Hope White
She was stunned. Flummoxed. Nonplussed.
This incredible man was worried about her emotional needs, and since he believed he fell short, he would simply remove himself from her life. He cared about her that much.
She started to call after him but wasn’t sure what to say.
Shannon approached and put her arm around Zoe. “You were busy while I was kidnapped and held hostage in the mountains,” she said.
“He doesn’t think he’s worthy of me.”
“He’s not. No one is.” Shannon gave Zoe a squeeze.
“That’s not true.” She glanced at Shannon. “If anyone’s worthy, it’s a guy like Jack.”
“Let’s go decompress at the hotel and figure out what to do about our guy trouble.”
* * *
Back to work. Back to normal.
Jack had a hard time sitting still, focusing. He paced to the window overlooking Puget Sound.
“I’m not sure about Quantum Enterprises. There’s something about the CEO that makes me think they’d be difficult to work with,” Heather, Jack’s assistant, said.
Everything struck him as difficult lately.
“I could set up an introductory meeting if you want to check it out for yourself?”
“No, I trust your judgment.” Besides he didn’t have the bandwidth to sign on with difficult clients. He wasn’t sure what he had the energy for these days.
“Okay,” Heather said. “Unicom Properties wants to know when you’ll be testing their system.”
He turned to Heather. “If I tell them, then they’ll try to prepare. That defeats the purpose of my service.”
“Good point.”
Jack’s phone vibrated. He glanced at a text from Zoe. He looked away. Glanced back at the phone.
“SAR?” Heather asked.
“What?”
“You keep looking at your phone. Did you get a search-and-rescue alert?”
“No. It’s a female.”
“O-kay,” she chuckled.
“I don’t understand females.”
“Want me to...?” She motioned.
He handed her his phone. She read aloud, “‘I have never felt so cherished, understood or safe with a man.’” Heather looked up. “What’s the confusion?”
“I don’t understand what that means.”
“Uh...boss? I think it means she loves you.”
He paced to his bookshelves and analyzed the binding on a hardcover edition of a coding textbook.
Love? Even after he’d told her he was broken, that he couldn’t give her everything she needed?
The phone pinged with another text. He turned to Heather. “Read it, please.”
“She’s asking you to meet her at Serenity Lake Overlook tomorrow.” She stood. “You’ve only got one meeting tomorrow. I’ll handle it. I’ll put off the Principality meet and greet until next week and tell Unicom March 1.”
“Why March 1?”
“To throw them off track so they won’t be prepared.”
“But—”
“Nothing is more important than love, boss.” She handed him back his phone. “Even a man as brilliant as you must know that.”
* * *
Zoe checked her phone. 12:17 p.m.
He wasn’t coming.
She paced the area overlooking Serenity Lake. Jack knew where to find her, both from her text and the fact he was probably still tracking her phone location.
Which meant he’d chosen not to come.
Well, she never would have forgiven herself if she hadn’t tried, hadn’t reached out one last time.
She accepted the fact you couldn’t fix another person, couldn’t give them the confidence they needed or make them feel something they didn’t.
Yet Jack felt love for Zoe. He’d admitted as much. He just didn’t believe himself good enough to make her happy.
“Oh, Jack,” she said softly. Zoe believed in her heart that he was exactly the type of man who would be a good life partner. He was honest to a fault, caring of others and had a high moral compass. A wonderful combination.
He’d even seemed to open his heart to God during the short time they’d spent together.
Was she crazy for feeling this way? No, she reminded herself, you can’t control your feelings, you have to name them and embrace them.
She had fallen in love with Jack Monroe.
Crossing her arms over her chest, she gazed out across the gorgeous aquamarine lake below. It was beautiful here. Even after all the trauma of the past week, beauty ruled over darkness.
If she left town in a few days with a wounded heart, she’d still focus on the things she’d learned, like the fact it was okay to rely on another person for help. She didn’t have to do everything on her own.
She had relied on Jack.
A text vibrated and she glanced at her phone, hopeful. It was Shannon, checking in. Zoe was optimistic for her friend since Shannon and Randy had been spending time together. Randy had begged for Shannon’s forgiveness, both for suspecting her of being involved in the drug scheme and for having to lie to her about his motivations. He said he loved her so much he’d consider quitting the DEA to be with her.
Now that was true love.
Zoe responded to Shan that Jack was a no-show, and pocketed her phone. She decided to say one last prayer of surrender. Interlacing her fingers and closing her eyes, she said, “Dear Lord, I know I’ve done my best to open his heart, to make him feel safe and loved. If it’s not meant to be, then I surrender my pain to You and pray that You help Jack find peace, love and happiness. Amen.”
She took a few slow, deep breaths.
The sound of a barking dog filled her heart with joy. She turned just as Romeo raced up to her. She dropped to her knees and embraced him.
As she buried her face into his fur, she thanked God for what she hoped was about to happen.
Jack joined her and she stood, offering a smile. “You’re eighteen minutes late.”
“Nineteen actually. Please forgive me. There was an accident in Darrington and I tried texting but couldn’t get service in the pass.”
He reached out and took her hand. The warmth shot clear up to her heart.
“I’m glad you waited,” he said.
“Me, too.” She squeezed his hand and gazed across the lake, marveling at the beauty below. “I like it here.”
“It’s the view,” Jack said, studying her. He offered a smile and pulled her into a hug. “Is this okay?”
“It’s perfect.”
“Perfect. As good as it is possible to be.” He broke the hug and looked directly into her eyes. “Your text... I wasn’t sure... I mean, after what I said about not being able to make you happy.”
“Look at my face.” She cracked a wide smile. “This is my happy face, and it’s how I feel when I’m with you.”
“Oh, good. I mean my assistant interpreted the text—”
“My text needed an interpreter? Wow, I’m honored.”
He actually smiled, indicating he understood she was joking around.
“I needed her assistance because I wanted to confirm I wasn’t misreading things,” he said.
“You weren’t.”
“That’s a first.”
She chuckled and searched his eyes. “What about your plan to sell your company and go on adventures? I’ll be honest, Jack, I’m not the type to pick up and leave for months at a time.”
“I think...” he offered a half grin “...this adventure will be better.”
He kissed her, a warm kiss filled with promise, devotion and love.
* * *
Look for more books from Hope White coming soon from Love Inspired Suspense!
Keep reading for an excerpt from Amish Country Undercover by Katy Lee.
Dear Reader,
Sometimes it’s a struggle to find hope when confronted with stressful situations. Yet hope and faith are so important to help us stay on the path of grace.
Zoe Pratt clings to hope that her friend is both safe and that she hasn’t gotten mired in criminal activity. Through faith and prayer, Zoe remains strong and realizes that even if her friend has made poor choices, Zoe will forgive her because she—and God—love her unconditionally.
Hope is a mystery to Jack Monroe since his own hope was extinguished as a child, and again as a young man. Yet by watching Zoe’s dedication to hope, something is rekindled in his heart. Jack admires her devotion and realizes it might be worth opening his heart to God, friendship and something more.
Jack and Zoe learn from each other by appreciating their differences and accepting each other for who they are, their flaws as well as their strengths. By the end of this story, they find that unconditional love opens the door to remarkable things, including love and grace.
Peace,
Hope White
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!
Amish Country Undercover
by Katy Lee
ONE
The hay crunched beneath a heavy foot, snapping Grace Miller to high alert. Earlier that night, she had thrown the straw across her barn floor as an alert system to tell her when the thief arrived. Now her makeshift alarm had sounded. She tensed, ready to catch him in the act this time.
Twice now, Grace had lost her father’s newly purchased horses. The thought of having to explain a third to the church elders and lose her daed’s job gave her the strength she needed to confront the thief now—even if no Amish woman would ever think of doing such a hazardous and ferhoodled thing.
From her hiding place in the far back stall, Grace quietly shifted from her sitting position onto her bare feet. She gripped her long blue skirt and matching apron in her fists and readied herself to spring up into action. She had a horse thief to catch.
Or most likely Leroy Mast.
Leroy had been pestering her to continue their courting, which had been put on hold six months ago when her mother passed away. But now Grace’s daed’s illness had propelled her into his role as the horse trader in the Amish community of Rogues Ridge, Kentucky. And if the bishop found out how far along Benjamin Miller’s Alzheimer’s had progressed, she would also be forced into another role in her community—most likely as a maidal woman in need of a husband. Just what Leroy wanted.
But did she?
Not if Leroy thought stealing her father’s horses would endear her to him. That wouldn’t be the type of mann she wanted—if she wanted one at all.
The hay crackled again as the intruder moved toward the horses in their stalls—here to take her life as she knew it away from her. If the intruder was Leroy Mast, he would find out right now that she was certain sure not having any of it—or him.
Listening carefully, waiting for the most opportune time to make her presence known, Grace leaned forward, hoping to tell when the thief reached the first horse’s stall. She turned an ear to detect any sound but heard only silence.
Holding her breath to be as quiet as possible led to aching lungs, and she had to refill them, realizing the only thing she could hear was her heart pounding in her ears. No other sounds drifted her way, not even the flapping lips of the sleeping horses. She felt ferhoodled at her slip. She must have simply imagined the crunching. Maybe it had been one of her horses shifting in its sleep.
That had to be it, she figured.
With a disgruntled sigh, Grace eased back onto her makeshift bedding. The pitchfork she’d used to fluff the hay earlier now leaned against the back of the wooden stall. Her white organdy kapp lay on the lumpy sack she had propped up to use as a pillow. Catching a thief in the act was proving to be a long and tiring endeavor, and most likely a ridiculous waste of time for an amateur like herself. There was a reason the English called on their police for this type of work. But not the Amish. They shied away from involving law enforcement in their business. Even if Sheriff Maddox had repeatedly made his willingness to help her known, she would not take him up on his offer. Ever since her mamm died in the buggy accident, the sheriff learned about her daed’s illness and took it upon himself to check in. He came by after the first theft occurred and wanted her to report it. But she could handle this on her own, even if it took all night.
Scooping up her kapp, she settled it back on her head and tied it in place. There would be no more dozing. She had to keep her wits about her if she hoped to succeed without involving the local law enforcement or the elders. Calling on either of them would bring her daed’s illness to Bishop Bontrager’s attention. Grace held out hope her father’s illness wouldn’t grow worse.
Thinking about Benjamin Miller had Grace frowning and biting her lower lip to halt any more tears. Nighttime was the hardest. She didn’t think it could be so, but most nights she spent thinking about and planning for what all his needs would require of her the next day.
But there never seemed to be adequate planning for what the day would bring.
By the time the sun shone over the ridge that shadowed her farmhouse and cornfields, Grace would find herself exhausted, with no rest in sight.
“Please, Gött, help me keep him safe,” she whispered. “Help me to know what to do and how to protect and care for him.” And help him not to forget me anymore.
The crunch came again.
Grace’s nerves shot back to full alert. She was certain sure that she wasn’t alone, after all. And in all the time she had relaxed, the thief had been creeping closer. There was no time to prepare. Grace quickly reached for the pitchfork with both hands, and in one movement, jumped to her feet and came running out of her stall.
“Leroy Mast, you leave my horses alone!” she yelled. Her voice carried weight and authority.
Except it was not Leroy who stood before her. It wasn’t an Amish man at all. Because no Amish man would ever hold a gun in his hand, never mind point it at someone.
Grace had expected to see Leroy, or perhaps a young Amish boy pranking her. Perhaps an elder setting her up for her own good, so the bishop could give her father’s job as the horse trader to an Amish man, a much more suitable choice than her.
But none of her ideas matched the grave reality before her.
All she could focus on was the black barrel of the handgun less than two feet from her eyes. Its ominous closeness meant nothing compared to the speed of the bullet that could come through it and sink into her flesh. Being Amish, she’d never fired a gun, but sometimes hunting was necessary, and her daed had a shotgun for such a case.
Oh, why didn’t I think to grab that, instead of this pitchfork?
Because I never dreamed this would happen.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” the man aiming the gun on her said in a sad tone. “These are not your horses.”
Cautiously, Grace glanced up into the face of the gunman. In the dim light of moonbeams filtering through the windows and door, she could make out black, shaggy hair beneath a cap, but his eyes were in shadow behind the gun. Without seeing his face, she couldn’t tell why his tone of voice didn’t match his threatening stance.
A quick glance down showed he was dressed in full black attire, from his booted feet to the cap. Dark and sinister, maybe, but his deep voice didn’t correspond to the dark clothing, either. He sounded disappointed in her.
“I really wished I was wrong about you,” he said. He even sighed and shook his head.
More cues that didn’t match up.
Grace couldn’t follow his words. In the moment, her brain struggled to compute the whole scene, never mind what he meant abo
ut being wrong about her. The only thoughts running through her mind were of escape.
In her peripheral vision, she saw the heads of the horses, watching from their stalls. She silently prayed for their protection as her gaze swung back to the gun. Grace became aware of a large lump growing in her throat. She tried to swallow, but her mouth was dry. She finally managed to gasp, “The sheriff knows.”
The words were meant to warn the man and cause him to run, but instead, he gave a short laugh. His head lifted a bit as the jovial sound slipped from his lips.
That’s when she saw he wasn’t alone.
The silhouette of another gunman at the door also had his gun aimed right at her. She couldn’t make out his face at all, but she could tell by his outline that he wore a cowboy hat perched low on his head, and he was much shorter than the man in front of her. But height didn’t matter when one had a gun.
“What do you want?” Grace whispered, as her gaze flitted between the two men. Fear threaded through her words even as her hands tightened around the handle of the pitchfork. “Are you the ones stealing the horses?”
“Ones?” the man in front of her said and turned his head to look behind him.
In that instant, Grace had a choice to make. Stand and be shot or make a run for it. With the pitchfork still in her grasp, she took the opportunity to thrust it at the man in front of her. As he stumbled back, she veered around him, heading for the side door.
Two gunshots rang out behind her. Grace ducked her head as the bullets whooshed by her and splintered the wood frame of the door she ran toward. Two shots meant for her that missed their mark, but there would surely be more that might not. She could not stop running.
She reached the door and flung it wide, bursting out into the pitch darkness just as multiple gunshots went off. Throwing herself to the ground with her hands up over her head, she felt the hard gravel bite into her cheek. But adrenaline had her moving again, scuttling forward a few feet with her head low. Then she lifted her face with the goal of seeking safety. The refuge of her home was straight ahead...but still so far. The structure was dark, with no candles or lanterns burning in the windows. Grace prayed for it to stay that way.
