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False Security
Elizabeth Goddard
NO SAFE HAVENArriving at her secluded cabin to find her brother missing, Olivia Kendricks follows his trail into the woods—until two shooters take aim at her. She only escapes when ex-detective Zachary Long, her brother’s friend—and Olivia’s first love—comes to her rescue. Now as they run for their lives in the snowbound wilderness, they must search for her brother while figuring out why someone wants them dead. And though Zach’s police force training may be what will save them, it’s also what once drove them apart when he gave Olivia up to chase his dream. In a freezing landscape as deadly as it is beautiful, they’ll have to let go of the past…and face down powerful men willing to kill to keep secrets buried.
NO SAFE HAVEN
Arriving at her secluded cabin to find her brother missing, Olivia Kendricks follows his trail into the woods—until two shooters take aim at her. She only escapes when ex-detective Zachary Long, her brother’s friend—and Olivia’s first love—comes to her rescue. Now as they run for their lives in the snowbound wilderness, they must search for her brother while figuring out why someone wants them dead. And though Zach’s police force training may be what will save them, it’s also what once drove them apart when he gave Olivia up to chase his dream. In a freezing landscape as deadly as it is beautiful, they’ll have to let go of the past...and face down powerful men willing to kill to keep secrets buried.
“I don’t need your protection.”
Hurt flickered in his gaze then vanished behind a stone cold stare. Oh...I didn’t mean to say that. She hadn’t meant to hurt him. When would it ever end?
Her legs trembled with fear and her lips weren’t far behind. She wouldn’t let him see her like this—though why she wanted to hide that from him she wasn’t sure. After all, someone was trying to kill them and she was scared. But she didn’t want him to protect her. She didn’t want to be that vulnerable.
Did she have a choice?
And wasn’t Zach scared too? Trying to read his mind, sense his emotional state, wouldn’t do either of them any good. Again, she averted her gaze, listening, watching for the shooters as she caught her breath.
Zach gently touched her chin and turned her to face him. “Are you okay?”
It hurt when he touched her like that, all gentle and caring. She didn’t want that from him, or for him to see that she was absolutely not okay.
Dear Reader (#uc1d17cac-c789-57ee-a5b9-b951a9064ecc),
Thank you so much for reading False Security. I hope you enjoyed it! Have you ever been snowmobiling? My husband and I rode snowmobiles on a guided tour through Yellowstone National Park—eighty miles—for one of our anniversaries. It’s an exhilarating experience, to be sure. I tried to share some of that exhilaration in my story.
As often happens in novels, there are several themes that run through the story. Readers will usually pick up on one theme that resonates with them. In regards to writing this letter, I selected the theme that resonated with me (in my own story!) in the strongest way.
During the course of writing this, my mom passed away. I couldn’t have imagined how difficult it would be to put simple words on paper. I’m thrilled that God answered my prayers and that the required contracted story was produced. But not without a lot of blood, sweat and tears. Adding to my personal loss are many other serious issues I’ve struggled with the last couple of years.
Of course I pray and sometimes wonder if God hears me. I question His silence or the answers that come in ways I hadn’t expected. I realized, too, that I felt so emotionally and psychologically bruised that it was palpable in a very visceral and physical way. Then I pictured myself in a river, fighting to survive and bumping into the rocks and branches and becoming bruised for my efforts.
I had an epiphany at that moment—if I would simply stop fighting that which I could not control, and “go with the flow” as we so often hear—then I wouldn’t be so bruised. You might remember reading similar references in the story when Zach thinks of the Rogue River and feels like he’s being tossed and twisted in the white-water rapids, being bruised for his efforts to stay alive. He comes to the realization that he should let go and trust God.
So that is the message I hope will resonate with you. Psalm 46:10 in the King James Bible reads “Be still and know that I am God,” or as the NASB version translates, “Cease striving and know that I am God.”
I pray for His many blessings and favor in your life!
If you haven’t signed up for my Great Escapes newsletter, please visit my website today at ElizabethGoddard.com (http://www.ElizabethGoddard.com), where you can also connect with me on Facebook and Twitter.
Blessings!
Elizabeth Goddard
ELIZABETH GODDARD is the award-winning author of more than thirty novels and novellas. A 2011 Carol Award winner, she’s a double finalist in the 2016 Daphne du Maurier Award for Excellence in Mystery/Suspense, and a 2016 Carol Award finalist. Elizabeth graduated with a computer science degree and worked in high-level software sales before retiring to write full-time.
False Security
Elizabeth Goddard
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted
among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth.
—Psalms 46:10
To Mom. Oh, how I miss you! But we will be together again in glory with our Lord and savior, Christ Jesus.
Acknowledgments (#uc1d17cac-c789-57ee-a5b9-b951a9064ecc)
I’ve lost the person who inspired me to become an avid reader and the person who was the greatest influence on my life in this writing endeavor, but regardless, I want to thank my mother for loving me and raising me to know the Lord so that I may have the hope of seeing her again one day soon. And as always, I appreciate the encouragement I receive daily from the dear writing friends God has brought into my life, and for my awesome editor, Elizabeth Mazer, and my amazing agent, Steve Laube, who makes me feel like I’m his only client.
Contents
Cover (#u81d35762-5a25-508d-8b18-a736d8ab6c21)
Back Cover Text (#uf6278068-6667-5f1e-a8f0-3d941b6ea9d9)
Introduction (#u20bb5779-b8af-50eb-bed4-5096d1629274)
Dear Reader (#u37a8bf9f-3194-56c7-9008-b7e84ad37d54)
About the Author (#u17a9430a-bd5e-53cb-97ac-a9cba6d5a12e)
Title Page (#u062e3998-8174-526c-851c-bf3788d01fb3)
Bible Verse (#u8cd8af8b-7153-5a9c-84df-e480c66229fc)
Dedication (#uad8cbdb2-1425-5fa5-a568-5227459e984b)
Acknowledgments (#u2a0f9337-4f0e-506a-ba1e-03372ec01f8e)
ONE (#ub4577a02-9a54-5b79-9765-59fdab3fc48d)
TWO (#uf3635d39-0ec8-5652-bc43-ae7a7cecd35f)
THREE (#u8fb05ad4-1881-571b-bb03-70702ddcb7f6)
FOUR (#udce7cca8-92cd-5463-a941-3fe477d2be30)
FIVE (#u5321e2a6-d860-5901-bcaa-f69471e1c429)
SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
TWENTY (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
ONE (#uc1d17cac-c789-57ee-a5b9-b951a9064ecc)
Siskiyou Mountains, southwest Oregon
Olivia Kendricks slowed the snowmobile as she drew near the house, flakes growing thicker by the minute, etching the roof, fireplace and window seals in white and turning her home into a cottage from a Thomas Kinkade painting. Even after two winters here, that picturesque scene always filled her with peace.
Except today. Instead of that sense of peace, an eerie feeling crept over her.
Olivia continued forward. Traveling by snowmobile provided the best way to get here in the winter, unless she wanted to plow the long, curvy drive up the mountain when several feet of the white stuff buried the road. And she didn’t. Besides, Olivia enjoyed the ride.
She lived for it.
The whine of the snowmobile resounded through the forest, echoing off the snow-covered trees as she steered the vehicle all the way in. She parked next to the covered garage protecting her old truck, then turned off the ignition.
Something was wrong. What was it?
Then she realized the lights were off in the house.
Strange.
She removed her helmet, shook out her hair and slid off the vehicle. Flakes accumulated in her lashes and she wiped them away as she entered the front door of the family vacation cabin where she’d taken up residence. There were no relatives left to enjoy it as a getaway anymore—well except her brother, Rich, whom she hadn’t seen since their mother’s funeral three years before.
That is, until yesterday.
Stomping her boots at the entrance, she hoped to disturb her brother into letting her know he was still here.
The dark house that greeted her said differently.
“Rich? Where are you?” She flicked on the lights as she made her way through the vacation-getaway-turned-cozy-home toward the room he’d slept in last night. The same room he’d used as a boy during their stays. Had he left without even saying goodbye? She hoped she’d find the few things he’d brought with him still in the room. Hoped he would stick around for a while and give them both some time to work through their issues of the past, though Rich might not be as keen to resolve them.
His backpack lay on the bed, flap hanging open and jeans and gear sprawled out. Relief swooshed through her. At least he hadn’t left for good. Maybe he’d just gone out for a walk or even a snowmobile ride.
At the kitchen sink, Olivia poured a glass of water and glanced out the window, noting the snowmobile he’d ridden to the house was gone. And something...there was something in the snow.
Frowning, Olivia hurried out the back door.
Blood.
Her breath caught.
Crimson stained the snow and would soon be buried beneath a fresh layer. She let her gaze follow the path the snowmobile had taken away from the house. A trail of blood lined the tracks.
Her heart seized.
Rich!
But she couldn’t let panic take hold. She had to follow that trail before the blood was hidden forever under layers of snow.
“Rich!” Olivia’s gaze searched the woods even as she ran around to the front of the house for her own snowmobile.
She had to catch up to him and make sure he was okay.
Questions bombarded her as she hurried. What had happened? Why was he hurt?
Still in her snowmobile suit, she grabbed gloves and a helmet, then got back on the vehicle. Concern ratcheting up her respiration, she started the machine and sped around the house to follow in Rich’s blood-spotted wake before she could no longer see the tracks. Her heart stumbled as the image of the crimson trail accosted her, but she had to focus.
Off-road and through the ungroomed woods, she’d have to be careful of hidden obstacles and fallen trees. Her eyes strained to follow the tracks and watch where she was going. His zigzagging path showed he had steered haphazardly through the woods.
“Rich!” she called through the opening in her helmet—she’d left the visor up—though she wasn’t sure if he would hear her over the snowmobile.
Living this secluded in these woods, she’d traded the safety and security of knowing that she could call 911 and get a quick response for her privacy, peace and quiet. Now she regretted that decision. She had a satellite phone that didn’t work so well on cloudy days, and a radio she shared with the Wilderness, Inc. crew, but that was iffy in the mountains.
She was on her own up here for the most part.
They were on their own.
Calling his name again, she continued between the trees, grateful the thick evergreen canopy prevented the falling snow from breaking through and hiding the tracks as quickly here. At least she hadn’t seen more blood, which meant that somehow he’d been able to slow the bleeding or stop it completely.
The snowmobile ground over lumps of buried boulders, and skipped along over recently fallen branches covered in fresh powder. She had to be careful that she didn’t get stuck.
Why would a man who was bleeding like that get on a snowmobile and ride off into the woods?
