FAMILY ON THE RUN
Criminals are trying to kidnap attorney Samantha Callahanâs adopted daughter, Lilyâand she has no idea why. So when bullets start flying, Samantha and Lily speed off in her carâ¦and crash right into help. Ex-cop Reid Palmer is shocked when former law school classmate Samantha rear-ends his car and then climbs in with her daughter and begs him to drive. Now they are on the run, and Reid will do anything to protect them and figure out why kidnappers are after Lily. As they struggle to evade capture, Reid begins to realize that Samantha is more to him than just a woman in trouble. But with the enemies closing in and their motives finally revealed, will Reid be able to make sure justice is served?
âStop!â The strident voice echoed around the bare hallway. Lily let loose of Samanthaâs hand to cover her ears.
Samantha glanced back. It was him. The man who had broken into their room and then followed them into the store.
âRun!â Reid commanded, and her feet obeyed.
âGet out.â
She and Lily dashed past Reid. In her peripheral vision, she saw him turn and follow.
Lily grunted at Samanthaâs side, a step ahead.
At the door, she pushed it open and Lily ran through. As she jogged through, she turned to look back. The thug lumbered only two paces behind Reid.
Samantha moved aside as Reid stepped through the door. He swiveled around and grabbed the edge of the door, shoving it back toward the thug as he tried to step through. The heavy metal door collided with the thugâs face with a resounding crack. He fell back and hit the floor. They watched for a moment, but the man didnât move.
By sixth grade, MEGHAN CARVER knew she wanted to write. After a degree in English from Millikin University, she detoured to law school, completing a Juris Doctorate from Indiana University. She then worked in immigration law and taught college-level composition. Now, she homeschools her six children with her husband. When she isnât writing, homeschooling or planning another travel adventure, she is active in her church, sews and reads.
Then they cried out to the Lord in their trouble,
And He saved them out of their distresses.
âPsalms 107:13
To Steve, my happily-ever-after. Youâve been telling me to write a book for two decades. Here you go. May there be many more.
To my children; the Bigs for brainstorming and proofreading and nagging me to âgo write,â and the Littles for their help and obedience to the Bigs so I could âgo write.â
To my editor, Emily Rodmell. Thank you for your encouragement, your wisdom and your availability in The Search for a Killer Voice. Iâm honored that you saw potential in me.
To Love Inspired Historical author Angel Moore. Thank you for believing I could write for Love Inspired Suspense. Your encouragement and helpfulness are invaluable. This story wouldnât exist without you.
To my writing friend and critique partner, Jenni Brummett. Thank you for sharing with me the absolutely lovely way
you have with words. I appreciate the time and energy youâve funneled into this story and my life.
ONE
A scream tore through the humidity of the summer evening. Spikes of adrenaline pulsed through her veins as Samantha Callahan pressed hard on the accelerator of her little Honda to round the corner of the church building. She was late to pick up Lily, but the day camp director had agreed to look after Lily for the extra half hour.
The pickup area at the back of the church was empty save for a monster-size black SUV. On the sidewalk, a large man with a baseball cap pulled low and an open button-up shirt had his hands on her Lily. The tires on Samanthaâs car squealed in protest with the speed, and Lily looked up, her mouth open from her scream, relief washing across her features. The thug seemed to tighten his hold on the girlâs skinny arm, jerking her closer to him. Red splotches radiated from beneath his grip.
Samantha stopped the Honda nose to nose with the SUV and instinctively grabbed her bag. There wasnât time to consider her professional clothes wholly inappropriate for fighting bad guys, or her sensible but still high heels, which would make it difficult to run away. Lily pulled against the bully, but her thin frame barely allowed her to budge against his bulk.
Samantha swallowed, determined her voice would come out strong. âI donât know who you are, but sheâs not yours to take. Let her go.â
The man stared at her, his eyes cut into narrow slits. Without looking away, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a photograph. He glanced down at the photograph then eyed her, his gaze sweeping from her hair to her shoes. Her skin crawled and itched as his attention swept over her.