Plain Threats
AMISH TARGETRebecca Fisher's life was turned upside down when her husband was accused of murder and died in prison. Now, more than a year later, someone is reminding the Amish widow that all hasn't been forgiven. But Rebecca isn't about to pay for the sins of someone else's past. So when the threats escalate and her rebellious stepson starts keeping secrets, Rebecca turns to former army ranger Jake Burke for help. She knows the Englisher is an honorable man, but being around him rattles her traditional community. Before long, Rebecca senses Jake is the only person she can trust with her safety…and with her fragile heart.
Читать Plain Threats онлайн беплатно
AMISH TARGET
Rebecca Fisherâs life was turned upside down when her husband was accused of murder and died in prison. Now, more than a year later, someone is reminding the Amish widow that all hasnât been forgiven. But Rebecca isnât about to pay for the sins of someone elseâs past. So when the threats escalate and her rebellious stepson starts keeping secrets, Rebecca turns to former army ranger Jake Burke for help. She knows the Englisher is an honorable man, but being around him rattles her traditional community. Before long, Rebecca senses Jake is the only person she can trust with her safetyâ¦and with her fragile heart.
âI donât mean to cause you any grief,â Jake said, tilting his head. There was a kindness in his eyes she wasnât used to seeing in a man.
She blinked at him. Flo was right. He was pleasing to the eyes. Inwardly, she shook the thought away. She had no business thinking in those terms.
âIâm not looking for your friendship.â She didnât try to hide the exhaustion in her voice. âMy coming to your office the other night was misguided. I was desperate. I thought you could help me understand whatâs going on with my son.â Rebecca wrung her hands. âBut I suppose thatâs something I have to work out with Samuel.â
The professor put his hand on the railing near hers. For the briefest of moments, she thought he was going to cover her hand with his, warming it.
She ignored the disappointment that swelled inside her when he didnât.
ALISON STONE lives with her husband of more than twenty years and their four children in Western New York. Besides writing, Alison keeps busy volunteering at her childrenâs schools, driving her girls to dance and watching her boys race motocross. Alison loves to hear from her readers at [email protected]. For more information please visit her website, alisonstone.com. Sheâs also chatty on Twitter, @Alison_Stone. Find her on Facebook at facebook.com/alisonstoneauthor.
God is our refuge and strength, always ready to help in times of trouble.
âPsalms 46:1
To my son Alex, as you embark on your senior year of high school. May you continue to be fearless and intelligent in your choices. You have the world at your feet, Buddy. I canât wait to see what you decide to do in life. Iâm so proud of you. Love you.
To my editor, Allison Lyons, who continues to believe in me. Thanks for your keen editorial input. My books are the best they can be because of you.
To my husband, Scott, and the rest of my kids, Scotty, Kelsey and Leah. Love you guys, always and forever.
Contents
âI wonât be long.â Rebecca Fisher scooted forward on the vinyl seat in the van and raised her voice over the swoosh, swoosh, swoosh of the worn wipers scraping against the windshield.
âI have another pickup.â The driverâs words were clipped, as if a return ride hadnât been understood. He pulled back the sleeve of his jacket and checked his wristwatch. âMeet you back here in thirty minutes?â
âYah.â Gathering the folds of her skirt and her tote bag, Rebecca climbed out of the van, popped up her umbrella and slammed the van door closed. She cast one last glance at the driver, who seemed oblivious to her indecision. Not as chatty as some, the young driver was one of several employed in the heavily Amish community of Apple Creek, New York, to cart the Amish around when they didnât want to be bothered with a horse and buggy.
Standing on the sidewalk under her black umbrella next to the brick building, Rebecca watched the red brake lights of the van as it slowed, then disappeared around the corner. She tugged on her black bonnet, trying to shut out the brisk wind and the whipping rain. It was late September, too early for snow, but the cold and rain were a hint of the winter to come in western New York.
Rebecca checked the address for Professor Jacob Burke on the slip of paper in her hand. Then she squinted at the name of the building carved into the stone above the nearest doorway. Her heart sank. It wasnât the building she was looking for and all the buildings looked the same.
If Rebecca didnât hurry, she might miss the professor. The college student she had talked to at the Apple Creek Diner where Rebecca worked as a waitress had assured her that Professor Burke had office hours on Monday and Wednesday from four until six-thirty.
Rebecca clutched the collar of her coat and turned down the first brick path leading between a row of buildings. Oh, so many buildings. A male college student strode toward her, his hands stuffed in his coat pockets, his hood pulled up against the rain and his eyes straight ahead.
âExcuse me. Do you know where...?â
The young man continued past without as much as a sideways glance.
She squeezed the handle of the umbrella tighter and looked down at the piece of paper as it flapped in the wind, the writing smeared from the rain.
