The Littlest Witness
To protect a childWhen Delta Force soldier Caleb Judd’s brother and sister-in-law are murdered, the killers turn their attention on his orphaned nephew. Caleb’s new mission: protect little Tommy—who hasn’t said a word since witnessing his parents’ deaths—and figure out who’s targeting his family. He needs help, and security expert Shelley Rabb is perfect for the job. But Caleb’s used to calling the shots, not taking orders…even when they come from a beautiful ex-Secret Service agent. Shelley knows firsthand what can happen when business becomes personal, so she vows not to get too close to Caleb and his nephew. She will risk her life to make sure they’re safe, but will that mean risking her heart, too?
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TO PROTECT A CHILD
When Delta Force soldier Caleb Juddâs brother and sister-in-law are murdered, the killers turn their attention on his orphaned nephew. Calebâs new mission: protect little Tommyâwho hasnât said a word since witnessing his parentsâ deathsâand figure out whoâs targeting his family. He needs help, and security expert Shelley Rabb is perfect for the job. But Calebâs used to calling the shots, not taking ordersâ¦even when they come from a beautiful former Secret Service agent. Shelley knows firsthand what can happen when business becomes personal, so she vows not to get too close to Caleb and his nephew. She will risk her life to make sure theyâre safe, but will that mean risking her heart, too?
âEach of us, no matter who we are in life, can make a difference.â
âIs that why you do what you do? To make a difference?â
âI like to think I am,â Shelley said softly, at last. âHelping people who are in trouble. Sometimes I succeed. Sometimes I donât. But at least I know Iâve tried.â
Caleb wasnât surprised at her answer. He was beginning to realize that Shelley Rabb was a special kind of woman. A warrior. A believer. She was all those things and more.
âFor what itâs worth, youâre making a difference to me. To Tommy.â He hesitated. âWhy is that so important to you? Making a difference.â
She didnât answer right away, and he wondered if heâd gone too far, asking something so personal. She stilled, as though searching her heart as to how much she should reveal, how much she wanted to reveal.
As a man who guarded his own privacy, he understood. Giving away too much of oneâs self left a person vulnerable. That was something Caleb had promised himself heâd never be.
JANE M. CHOATE dreamed of writing from the time she was a small child when she entertained friends with outlandish stories complete with happily-ever-after endings. Writing for Love Inspired Suspense is a dream come true. Jane is the proud mother of five children, grandmother to seven grandchildren and the staff to one cat who believes she is of royal descent.
Be still, and know that I am God: I will be exalted among the heathen, I will be exalted in the earth.
âPsalms 46:10
To all of Americaâs servicemen and women,
past and present, especially those wounded warriors. Thank you for your courage and service. America owes you a debt that can never be repaid.
Contents
A muffled footstep awakened Caleb, setting him on high alert. There was no reason anyone should be here. No good reason, that is. Calmly, he slipped from the bed and stepped behind the draperies, just as an intruder entered the bedroom.
Another man might have panicked, but Caleb Judd was not just another man. Instinctively, he clicked into Delta mode, a heightened sense of awareness overtaking him, his vision sharpening, his hearing growing more acute. His breathing remained regular, his pulse steady, courtesy of training from the United States Army.
No one should have gotten in. Alfred Kruise had boasted about the state-of-the-art alarm system when heâd offered Caleb use of the guesthouse, insisting that both he and his nephew, Tommy, were safer here than they would have been anywhere else.
Kruise had been wrong.
The alarm system hadnât gone off. Probably disabled.
A pro.
The strangerâs movements were nearly silent as he made his way toward the bed, his intentions clear. He wanted Caleb. But why? He had his share of enemies, but they werenât personal. Fighting his countryâs enemies was what he had been doing when heâd gotten the call about Michael and Graceâs murders.
But now here he was in Atlanta, Georgia, eight thousand miles from Afghanistan, facing a gunman who clearly wanted to eliminate him. The only reason Caleb could think of was connected to his brother Michael, but that made no sense.
With his own weapon packed in his duffel bag, he had no chance of going for it. If he were going to take the man down, it would have to be with his hand.
Recognizing the disadvantages of his position, he relied on the faith that had sustained him through countless encounters with the enemy. It had never deserted him, even upon learning of the deaths of his brother and his wife.
Caleb registered the assailantâs weapon held in a steady hand. A Walther. A good choice for an assassination. Heâd probably appreciate it more if he werenât the intended target. He stepped out from behind the draperies and kicked out, knocking the weapon from the manâs hand.
The would-be killer, who had to be several inches taller than Calebâs own six feet and weighed at least two hundred and twenty pounds, recovered quickly and grabbed for the weapon. Caleb spun, delivered a roundhouse to the manâs chest, but fatigue and unrelenting grief had taken their toll upon him, making his effort lack its customary power.
