Betrayal Of Trust

“Shhh!” Raven glared at her sister and turned back to the television.

“There you have it, folks. In the political upset of the year, a candidate that polls favored by a three-to-one margin has withdrawn his name from the race for the senate with only six weeks left until the primary. Matthew Strong’s decision is final, based on personal reasons, which he apparently has no intention of revealing.”

With a sigh, Raven switched off the set. Tense silence reigned in the room and she knew her family was struggling not to ask the question. Finally, she could take the tension no more and she shot to her feet. “Okay, yes. It’s Matthew.”

“Your Matthew?” Her father looked at her over half-glasses.

“Yes.” She rubbed her throbbing temple with the balls of her fingers in an attempt to ease the pressure. My Matthew. Regret for what might have been all those years ago shot through her. She hadn’t allowed herself second guesses. No regretting her decision. So why was her heart suddenly about to pound out of her chest?

TRACEY V. BATEMAN

lives in Missouri with her husband and their four children. She writes full-time and is active in various roles in her home church. She has won several awards for her writing, and credits God’s grace and a limited number of entries for each win. To relax, she enjoys long talks with her husband, reading, music and hanging out with her kids, who can finally enjoy movies she likes. Tracey loves to encourage everyone to dream big. She believes she is living proof that, with God, nothing is impossible.

Behold, what manner of love the Father has bestowed upon us, that we should be called the sons of God.

—1 John 3:1

Lovingly dedicated to the memory of my dad,

Rodney Devine Sr., who passed away several years ago. He always made me feel safe.

Also to the memory of my father-in-law,

George Bateman. I had no doubt that he loved me. There is no one like this special man, except perhaps his wonderful son, my husband.

And to my Abba. Father to the fatherless.

God in Heaven. Thank You for adopting me into Your family.

Dear Reader,

Thank you for joining me for the third and final book in The Mahoney Sisters series. I never fail to marvel at the love of adoptive parents for their children. Chosen children. Children, who were born to one family, but planted firmly in another. Legally, they are given the same right to the surname and anything their parents have just as though they shared a bloodline.

This is exactly what Jesus does for us. His blood is like an adoption certificate, legally binding us into the family God. We were not God’s original family, but He chose us to become His children. What an awesome gift. We are heirs of salvation. Joint heirs with Jesus.

This is what Raven had to come to understand. That she was part of the Mahoney family just as surely as if she’d been born into Mac Mahoney’s bloodline. He took her as his daughter, raised her as his own, loved her as his own and gave her his name. She was his daughter. All she had to do was come to an understanding of how much Mac loved her. How often do we doubt that God really loves us, that He really wants good things for us? I pray that as you read this book, the “father” love of God spoke to your heart in a special way.

God bless you as you live, move and have your being in Him.

Prologue

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

Epilogue

Matthew Strong pulled his car into the wooded rest area of the forest reserve and watched a man approach wearing army surplus and tennis shoes. Even from ten feet away, Matthew noticed the grime on his hands. His stringy, greasy hair was held in place by a filthy bandana folded to look like an Indian headband. He sauntered, his shoulders moving with a cocky assurance that grated on Matthew’s nerves.

Fighting to contain his disgust, Matthew pressed the automatic unlock and the man slid onto the tan leather seat, his stench powerful enough to bring down a bear.

“This is the one and only time I’m going to do this,” Matthew said without a greeting. “So if you’re planning any kind of ongoing blackmail, you can forget it now.”

Ray Marx gave him a two-fingered salute as he tugged on the handle and slammed the door, closing them inside. His lips curled in a smug sneer that left Matthew fighting for control. “Really nice of you to meet me. Got a cigarette?”

Without bothering to respond to the ridiculous question, Matthew pulled an envelope from the pocket on the driver’s side door.

Silently, and for effect, he fingered the bulging manila envelope. Ray’s eyes followed every trail of his thumb in anticipation. His foot tapped in a nervous beat to no discernible rhythm. Anticipation of what? Drugs? More than likely. But Matthew couldn’t worry about that right now. Not when his child’s safety was at stake.