KILLER STORY
When army journalist Casey Jordanâs attacked, sheâs convinced itâs a random muggingâuntil a killer comes after the military team sheâs interviewing. But whoâs the real target: Casey or her exâstaff sergeant Travis Heath? Despite an attraction that still lingers, Travis pushed Casey away months ago, convinced military life leaves no room for attachments. But when the attacks grow increasingly personal, Travis begins to question his chosen path. As the targets of a killerâs vendetta, though, it could be too late to make up for lost time...because he and Casey may not have a future to share.
Travis couldnât shake the prickly feeling of being watched.
If he and Casey were still together, heâd have suggested a quick run to the coast, a dinner of sandwiches and soda while they dug their toes in the sand. It was half on his tongue to ask, but probably wasnât a smart idea.
âYou look like youâre plotting something.â Casey had stopped at the edge of the brick sidewalk and was eyeballing him like she really could read his thoughts.
That would be scary.
He looked both ways, waiting for a break in traffic. âMe? Plotting? Not at all.â
An older Nissan 280ZX stopped half a block away and flashed its lights.
Travis and Casey both threw a wave of thanks and stepped into the street, aiming for Travisâs truck on the other side.
A sudden squeal tore the air.
Adrenaline crashed through him in a lightning jolt of pain as the Nissan roared straight for them.
Dear Reader,
When I was little, we were vacationing at the beach. My mom found a piece of sea glass. Sand and surf had smoothed the bumps and edges of a broken Coke bottle.
She handed it to me and said, âWeâre like this glass. We start out broken from sin. Jesus is like the waves and the sand, making us shiny and beautiful.â
It was a lesson Iâve always remembered. The greatest thing Mom taught me was God is in everything, and He is everywhere. If we wait for Him, He will reveal Himself.
I like to think she learned that from my grandmother, who once called and said, âI was making the bed, and the way the light came through the window and hit the bedspread... I sat down and cried, because I felt how much God loves me.â
Funny thing is, Iâve stood in our kitchenâwhich used to be hersâas the light fell over the butcher-block island and felt that same thing.
God loves you right where you are. He is a Zephaniah 3:17 God: âThe Lord your God in your midst, the Mighty One, will save; He will rejoice over you with gladness, He will quiet you with His love, He will rejoice over you with singing.â
I hope you will take a few minutes alone with Him and let Him tell you how much He loves you!
I also hope you will drop by and say hello over at www.jodiebailey.com or at [email protected]. Iâd love to hear how youâve seen God in the small things, too!
Jodie
JODIE BAILEY writes novels about freedom and the heroes who fight for it. Her novel Crossfire won a 2015 RT Reviewersâ Choice Best Book Award. She is convinced a camping trip to the beach with her family, a good cup of coffee and a great book can cure all ills. Jodie lives in North Carolina with her husband, her daughter and two dogs.
There is no fear in love; but perfect love casteth out fear: because fear hath torment.
He that feareth is not made perfect in love.
â1 John 4:18
To Mom, who taught me to see God in all things, big and small. Because of you, I see Him everywhere I go.
ONE
The conversations of the late dinner crowd in the Mexican restaurant hummed around Staff Sergeant Casey Jordan as she loaded one more chip with salsa and promised herself this oneâlike the eight before itâwould be the real âlast one.â Probably not, but still... Didnât she deserve to indulge a little after her dinner companion had excused himself to take his fourth phone call in twenty minutes? Finally, sheâd given up and told John Winslow they could reschedule, and heâd taken off for the door after a quick thanks and a wave.
Sure, it wasnât technically a date, rather an interview for the story she was working on for the Fort Bragg Public Affairs Office, but the diners around them had no idea of that. To them, sheâd been royally disrespected.
Reaching for the chip basket, Casey chose a perfect triangle. One more, then sheâd throw in the napkin and go home to the cliché of pajamas, ice cream and the hardest sudoku puzzle she could lay her hands on. After her last relationship had spectacularly flamed out, she deserved all the comfort food she could get.
âCasey?â The sound of her name rose above the other noises in the small restaurant. For a second, her hopes rose, but they crashed to the floor just as quickly. The voice was definitely not Johnâs.