Canyon Standoff

by Valerie Hansen

  She swallowed hard. “Because you want to start a family.”

  “With you. I love you.”

  “And I love you.” Her lips drew between her teeth and she eyed him for a long moment before she straightened and cleared her throat. “You know, I haven’t heard a question.”

  Slipping both arms around her waist, Eric pulled her to him and rested his forehead against hers. “Marry me again, Dunham.”

  “That wasn’t a question.” The words were whispered and choked, but her arms slipped around his waist and gave him the answer he was looking for.

  “Will you marry me again, Dunham?”

  She tilted her chin until her lips brushed his and whispered, “One last time. For the rest of my life.”

  * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from The Baby’s Defender by Jill Elizabeth Nelson.

  Dear Reader,

  The craziest things happen when you write a book. You think you know where you’re going, then God steps in. I thought we were going to trace Morgan’s journey out of fear, but the deeper I dived, the more the story was about Eric. Initially, he was going to be the hero who saved everybody, but I realized sometimes being the hero means understanding you can’t be the savior. See, we can believe in God. We can know Jesus died to save us. We can have knowledge yet lack surrender. We want to work our own plan. That was what Eric was doing. He was going to save everybody, but, in the end, he couldn’t even save himself.

  In that moment, he became a hero. His arrogance, cockiness and self-reliance were stripped away, and he realized he had to trust God. Surrender isn’t a bad thing when it’s surrender to God. Jesus never asked us to do anything for salvation other than believe salvation comes through Him alone. Like Eric, we have to drop our self-protective (and sometimes self-righteous) stance and tell Jesus, “I can’t do a single thing to redeem myself. It’s all You.” That’s the moment salvation begins. Actually, that’s the moment when real freedom hits and that weight goes away. I’d love to hear from you. You can find ways to contact me at www.jodiebailey.com. I’m praying for you, and I’m so glad you hiked the Grand Canyon with me!

  Jodie Bailey

  WE HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS BOOK FROM

  Courage. Danger. Faith.

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  The Baby’s Defender

  by Jill Elizabeth Nelson

  ONE

  Cady Long bent her neck and kissed the top of her baby Olivia’s head. The peach fuzz of her daughter’s hair tickled her nostrils, and she suppressed a sneeze. It wouldn’t do to startle the child wide-awake at four o’clock in the morning. Livvy had just finished nursing and had fallen fast asleep again in her mother’s arms. The normal routine that had finally developed in this sixth week of her baby’s life consisted of at least another two to three hours of precious sleep for them both before they started a new day.

  Yawning silently, Cady rose from the rocking chair and placed Olivia in her crib. A tiny sigh fluttered from the infant’s lips and expanded Cady’s heart like a balloon. How could she contain the love bursting inside her for this blessed child? Olivia was her legacy with her soldier husband, Griffon, who had given his life on a foreign battleground before he even had a chance to know he was going to be a father.

  A dull ache that never totally went away throbbed deep inside her as she tiptoed from her daughter’s room and headed up the short hallway toward her own. The rich smell of old woodwork newly refinished teased her nostrils. She’d recently inherited this nineteenth-century home in Glenside, a suburb of Philadelphia, from her great-aunt Anita. Memories of visits to this house featured as bright spots in a childhood deeply marred by parental alcohol and drug abuse. But as much as she treasured this priceless piece of history passed down through her troubled family, especially when she had desperately needed a place to live and raise her daughter, she would trade the massive Gothic Revival house in a heartbeat to have Griffon back alive.

  A bittersweet smile flickered on her lips at the thought of how he would have delighted in his daughter and, in order to provide the best for her, would have thrown himself into the restoration projects this old home required. At least now she had West Foster, her husband’s former sergeant, as well as Darius Creed and Brennan Abernathy, two other former army buddies, helping her gradually make repairs on this place without violating the conditions of the will and the preservation restrictions attached to such vintage structures.

  Her soft pillow beckoning, Cady reached for her bedroom doorknob but a faint yet distinct thump from somewhere downstairs halted her abruptly. The breath froze in her lungs. That noise was not among the catalog of natural creaks and groans this old house often made. Had someone broken into her home? Stock-still and holding her breath, she continued to listen for unusual noises aside from the accelerated drumbeat of her pulse in her ears.

  A click followed by a scrape carried to her from somewhere directly below her feet. Cady’s heart leaped against her ribs. Someone was in her house!

  Sharp prickles ran up and down her body as heat bloomed in her chest. Was she afraid or angry? Both sounded about right, but she wasn’t about to react like those idiot heroines in the movies and head downstairs to investigate on her own.

  Gritting her teeth against a shiver, Cady continued through the door into her bedroom. Her phone was on the charger atop her bedside table, and the gun Griff had given her and taught her to shoot was in the drawer beneath. In smooth, tandem motions, she snatched up her phone and yanked open the drawer. With the cool metal of the firearm cradled in her palm, she thumbed her phone awake and tapped in the number for emergency services. The call rang through in one ear while she strained with her other ear to catch any further sounds from elsewhere in her house. No more foreign noises. But that didn’t mean the intruder was gone. At least the old staircase was not emitting the telltale creaks that would signal someone ascending toward the bedrooms, which meant she could be thankful the person seemed to be confining his or her activities to the downstairs.

  The emergency operator answered, and Cady whispered her situation and address into the phone. The operator started saying something about staying on the line, but Cady put the call on hold and tapped the shortcut button for West Foster. Sure, she wanted the cops to show up, but they were strangers. West, she knew and trusted. Her body began to shake uncontrollably. She was going to need a friend by her side at this moment, and West’s apartment building was only a couple blocks away. Besides, if the recently discharged Army Ranger got here before the law, any intruder would take one look at all that solid muscle and power and flee like his pants were on fire.

  “Hello, Cady.” West’s tone was sharp and clear even though she had to have awakened him from sleep. More evidence of his military training—instant awareness.

  “Come quickly.” She shivered as if a chill breeze had wafted over her. “An intruder is in my hou—”

  Something hard crashed against her skull, and Cady’s brain went woozy. She fell forward onto the bed, face-planting onto her pillow. The phone flew from her hand, but the hard bulk of her handgun pressed against her belly where it was sandwiched between her body and the mattress. A weight leaped on top of her middle back, as if someone were sitting on her. Hands shoved her face into the pillow, robbing her of the ability to breathe. A pair of sturdy legs trapped her arms against her sides, rendering her helpless. The weight on her back was a boulder. Clearly, her assailant was larger than her.

  Cady kicked and thrashed, pajama-clad legs scissoring the air fruitlessly, but her attacker only increased the pressure that forced her face into the pillow. Seconds passed like minutes, minutes like hours, and even though her attacker grunted with the effort of holding her, no matter how she wriggled she remained trapped. She was being suffocated! Her natural petiteness off
ered no advantage in the situation.

  Pulse roaring in her ears, her heart hammered against her ribs. Her lungs ached for oxygen. She was going to die.

  What about Olivia? Who would look after her?

  Cady’s heart wept for her orphaned daughter as consciousness faded.

  * * *

  West charged up Cady’s sidewalk, his bare feet slapping the cool cement. Cady was in trouble! That’s all he’d needed to know to send him running without wasting precious time donning his lace-up utility boots or even buttoning the shirt he’d thrown on over his jeans. He’d grabbed his gun and run.

  Behind him and closing in fast, a siren sounded. Cady had called the police too—smart girl—but their proximity wasn’t going to slow him down when seconds might count. West took the porch stairs in a single leap and the heavy, ornate front door loomed before him. Cady had given him a spare key since he and his buddies had been coming over to help out with the household projects this old place demanded. He thrust it toward the lock just as the screech of skidding tires and the siren’s blare caught up with him.

  “Stop! Police!” A male voice bellowed behind him.

  Without a backward glance, West turned the key and burst into the spacious foyer.

  “Cady!” His voice echoed back at him from the vaulted ceiling.

  No response. The home was silent except for the countdown beep of the home security system that would soon blare if he didn’t enter the access code. He couldn’t afford the noise when the ability to hear evidence of human presence might be critical. He punched in the code as his heart beat a tattoo in his chest. This massive place was a house and half. Where would Cady be this time of night? Upstairs, most likely. West flipped on a light and took the steps two at a time, calling her name. A soft moan drew him to the second door on the right.

  Readying his pistol for action, he burst into the room. His line of sight located no one except a pajama-clad figure, lying facedown, gasping and stirring on the bed. He swept his gaze and his gun to the left and then right. Unless someone was hiding in the closet, only he and Cady occupied the room.

  “West?” She croaked at him as she rolled over, panting for breath, and sat up. “I can’t believe...you came...so fast.” A hiccuping sob cracked her voice. “The attacker ran off...when you yelled, and the siren closed in. The person was trying to suffocate me. I thought I was going to die!”

  Fighting an impulse to run to her and gather her in his arms, West edged over to the closet door and popped it open. Nothing and no one inside except clothes and shoes and a few storage boxes.

  He turned toward Cady. “What happened? Are you okay?”

  “Drop the gun and get your arms in the air.” The authoritative voice from a husky man in a police uniform cut off any response she might have made.

  West complied instantly. He slowly bent and lowered his weapon to the carpet. He had no reason to resist when Cady no longer appeared to be in danger. Thank you, Jesus.

  “That’s not necessary,” Cady said. “This is my friend.” She motioned toward West. “I called him right after I called for the police, and you both came quicker than I believed possible.”

  “My partner and I were in the area, ma’am,” said the cop as a female officer entered the room, also with gun extended.

  “Please, put the weapons away.” Cady’s tone went a little shrill. “I’ve had enough of a shock this morning.”

  “You’re holding one, too.” West kept his voice gentle and even.

  Her body visibly trembled, and her skin was pale as chalk. Those symptoms, plus her rapid breathing, betrayed the potential onset of shock. The enlarged pupils of her amber eyes were not a good sign, either.

  Cady’s gaze fell toward her lap where her hand rested, clutching her firearm. “Oh!” she gasped out and dropped the gun. It thudded to the floor. “Much good that thing did me when I needed it.”

  The police officers also lowered their weapons.

  The female uniformed cop pulled a small notepad from her pocket. “Would you tell us, please, what happened here?”

  West silently echoed the question. Something terrible had gone on in this room to strike such terror into this strong woman.

  “Someone attacked me,” Cady said. “The person hit me over the head with something, and while I was dazed, he tried to suffocate me with a pillow. Whoever it was tried to kill me!”

  “I’m going to search this house from top to bottom.” West’s fists clenched as his words came out in a low growl.

  “No, sir,” said the male officer. “Leave that to the professionals.”

  “I am a professional. The army trained me to search dangerous territory and expose hostile elements.”

  The officer shook his head. “But—”

  “Stop!” Cady’s voice sliced the air. “Whoever it was has to be long gone. I need to check on my baby in the next bedroom.”

  West’s gut twisted. Someone had infiltrated the house and attacked a new mother with her infant sleeping next door. How low could anyone get?

  “There’s a child here?” said the female officer. “Better let one of us do the checking.”

  “All right.” Cady’s mouth quivered beneath her wide gaze. “My attacker didn’t have a spare second to do anything to Olivia, but I still need to be assured of her safety.”

  “Understandable,” West said. “Hang in there. We’re all here for you now.”

  “Thank you.” She rose to her five-foot-two-inch height and squared her shoulders, her whole countenance firming. “But please be as quiet as you can as you go into Livvy’s room. If she’s slept through this commotion, I’d like her to stay asleep...at least for a while yet. Could you all leave for a moment? I’d like to put some regular clothes on.”

  “Sorry, ma’am,” said the female officer. “You’ll need to stay as you are right here until the crime scene investigators and EMTs arrive. The CSIs will need to collect the pajamas as evidence and be on hand while the EMTs check you out physically so that they can collect any evidence from your person. They will also collect items like your pillow for examination.”

  Cady slumped, her face losing color again. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

  “Do as you’re directed,” West told her. “It’s for the best. I’ll look in on Baby-bug and then maybe Officer Harmon—” he filled in the name from the pin on the male officer’s uniform “—and I can search the premises. Whoever attacked you didn’t leave by the front door because that’s where these officers and I came in.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” The female officer, whose name tag dubbed her Andrews, shot a frown at her partner who was staring at West with a mulish look on his face. “I’ll stay with you, ma’am, until reinforcements arrive.”

  Cady nodded silently and subsided into a seat on the edge of the bed. West’s heart twisted. Just when it looked like a modicum of peace and contentment was peeping through Cady’s bereaved sadness, something like this happened to send her back into dejection with an added heaping helping of old-fashioned fear. Whoever had done this had better hope he didn’t find them before the cops did.

  Jaw tense, West went with Officer Harmon into the hallway. He headed for the next bedroom, but Harmon brushed in front of him and slipped inside. Scowling, West waited in the hall, mindful of Cady’s request for quiet in checking on Olivia. Not that he wouldn’t rather have given Officer Grouch an earful. That baby was like a daughter to him, a sacred trust to look after in Griffon’s stead.

  Harmon soon returned wearing a small smile. “Cute kid,” the cop whispered. “A-okay and sound asleep. The room is clear.”

  West swallowed a chuckle. Apparently, babies softened grumpy cops, as well as hardened soldiers.

  “What do you know about what took place here?” Harmon asked.

  “No more than you do. When she called me, Cady barely had time to tell
me she had an intruder when I heard her cry out, followed by a thump and a grunt. Then the phone went dead. I just moved to town, and I’m without a personal vehicle at the moment, so I raced over here from my apartment two blocks away as quickly as my feet could take me.”

  The officer stared down at West’s bare toes peeking from beneath the hem of his jeans.

  “Fast feet,” he said with a grunt. “From your military background?”

  “Army Rangers. Discharged a week ago.”

  The officer nodded. “Let’s go scour this house for any sign of the intruder or how he got in or out. That’s got me curious, especially when the security alarm wasn’t tripped. Is there any other way to get up to the second floor but those front stairs?”

  West pointed into the dimness farther up the hallway. “There’s an old servants’ stairway at the far end, but the doors at the top and bottom are locked and boarded up for good measure, since the steps aren’t safe anymore.”

  “We’d better check them out, anyway.”

  West popped his head into Cady’s room and let her know Livvy was fine, then he and Officer Harmon set off on their search mission. By the time they’d checked out the servants’ stairway, top and bottom, to discover it was still locked and boarded up at both ends, the EMTs and CSI personnel were arriving, a plainclothes detective with them. Everyone went about their business with calm efficiency while West and Officer Harmon finished scouring the premises.

  They’d wound up in the spacious but old-fashioned kitchen when Cady walked into the room wearing a pair of black leggings and a floral-patterned, long-tailed blouse. Her medium-length blond hair had been pulled back in a ponytail. She held her athletic figure erect, chin high, but her eyes wore shadows.

  “Did you find out how the intruder gained access to my home?” Her wide gaze shifted from West to the officer and back again.