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Undercover Protector
Elizabeth Goddard
SHATTERED SANCTUARYUndercover at a tiger sanctuary, Special Agent Grayson Wilde’s convinced the owner must be involved in a wildlife trafficking ring—until someone tries to kill her. Now with Gemma Rollins’s life on the line, it’s clear that more than the wildcats need his help. Gemma’s determined to rebuild the tiger oasis she lost when her family died. But someone wants her out of the way, and she’s starting to wonder if her parents' and uncle’s deaths were really accidental. Grayson says he’ll do anything to protect Gemma, but she can't shake the feeling that her alluring new volunteer might not be all that he seems. With a vicious criminal closing in, though, she has to trust Grayson…because she won’t survive without him.
SHATTERED SANCTUARY
Undercover at a tiger sanctuary, Special Agent Grayson Wilde’s convinced the owner must be involved in a wildlife trafficking ring—until someone tries to kill her. Now with Gemma Rollins’s life on the line, it’s clear that more than the wildcats need his help. Gemma’s determined to rebuild the tiger oasis she lost when her family died. But someone wants her out of the way, and she’s starting to wonder if her parents’ and uncle’s deaths were really accidental. Grayson says he’ll do anything to protect Gemma, but she can’t shake the feeling that her alluring new volunteer might not be all that he seems. With a vicious criminal closing in, though, she has to trust Grayson...because she won’t survive without him.
“You trust too much, Gemma.” Grayson stepped closer.
“I think you’re right,” she replied. “I trust people I don’t even know. Like you. I trust you when I shouldn’t. I don’t even know you.”
How could he make her understand he was here to help her? But that wasn’t true, either. What was he thinking? Helping Gemma Rollins had never been part of his mission parameters. He was here to finish this, to find the man who was not only responsible for Bill’s death but who was also the head of a large wildlife trafficking ring.
“Listen, Gemma, I was looking for you to tell you about an idea I came up with.”
Her eyes brightened. “You came up with an idea for me? What—”
A rumble above cut off her question. Rocks shifted overhead, crashed against the cliffside, and echoed across the mountain and through the trees.
“Look out!” Grayson grabbed Gemma, cane and all, and pressed her beneath a protruding part of the rock wall, covering her with his body. Protecting her. Her breaths came hard and fast against his neck as her fear mingled with his own.
God, please protect her. Protect us!
Dear Reader (#u10314a42-35db-5031-bdb3-4598c854435d),
Thank you so much for joining me on this adventure. I hope you enjoyed the story. I set my story in the beautiful region surrounding the Rogue River in southwest Oregon—my old stomping grounds.
As always when researching a story, I learn so much more than I can ever put into the novel. What I learned about wildlife trafficking and how poachers are decimating entire species was disheartening. Whether you’re an animal lover or not, God put Adam in the garden to care for the earth—the plants and animals—and God’s directive for man hasn’t changed.
On a more spiritual note, Gemma has had her share of tragedy and she keeps moving forward in life because she focuses on something bigger than herself. She has a cause and others (the tigers) are counting on her. Still, she struggles in that she doesn’t have the sense that God hears her or answers her prayers. In the end she realizes that God was with her all along, working things out for her good.
We live in a fallen world and bad men do bad things, but we know that God is always there working things out for good on our behalf. Don’t ever forget that. If you struggle with knowing this, ask Him to open the eyes of your heart.
It’s always my hope and prayer that my stories will entertain you and provide a powerful emotional experience, but more importantly that they will bring you closer to the One who holds you.
Once again, thank you for reading Undercover Protector. For something extra, if you’d like to see pictures of the Wild Rogue Wilderness region, you can visit my Pinterest board at www.pinterest.com/bethrachg/wild-rogue-wilderness-series/ (https://www.pinterest.com/bethrachg/wild-rogue-wilderness-series/) and look at tigers at www.pinterest.com/bethrachg/wilderness-inc-book-2/ (https://www.pinterest.com/bethrachg/wilderness-inc-book-2/).
Be sure to visit my website at www.elizabethgoddard.com (http://www.elizabethgoddard.com) to find out about my books and sign up for my newsletter.
Many blessings!
Elizabeth Goddard
ELIZABETH GODDARD is an award-winning author of more than twenty novels, including the romantic mystery The Camera Never Lies—winner of a prestigious Carol Award in 2011. After acquiring her computer science degree, she worked at a software firm before eventually retiring to raise her four children and become a professional writer. In addition to writing, she homeschools her children and serves with her husband in ministry.
Undercover Protector
Elizabeth Goddard
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
A righteous man has regard for the life of his animal,
But even the compassion of the wicked is cruel.
—Proverbs 12:10
For Mom
Acknowledgments (#u10314a42-35db-5031-bdb3-4598c854435d)
Thanks to my many dear writing friends who have encouraged me along this journey. I’m so blessed that God brought us together. I’m grateful that God planted a dream in my heart and then made my dream of telling stories come true. Special thanks to Jeri at Crown Ridge Tiger Sanctuary for answering my questions about these wonderful big cats and what it’s like to care for them in a sanctuary. I’m more than blessed to have an editor who believes in my stories—thank you, Elizabeth Mazer—and an agent who saw something in me years ago—thank you, Steve Laube.
Contents
Cover (#uf6dc055c-6cfa-53ad-abcf-5beeb05c696c)
Back Cover Text (#u5444b71e-3c9f-5b14-a8bb-2f4de88699cb)
Introduction (#u2ecb6456-6c00-5151-b4c8-79268b705239)
Dear Reader (#uc6951e8d-33d4-5225-9da4-7371164da196)
About the Author (#u7179d734-3f50-5170-8304-80e9323e4370)
Title Page (#u8600155a-aba3-5435-971c-33ff175c4d30)
Bible Verse (#ub3693d09-9577-5f0f-8c69-8e6c07891419)
Dedication (#ud24d7422-c545-55cc-a4d0-da55b3249383)
Acknowledgments (#u1b677b35-9ce0-50d9-8243-f29e8cbc645d)
ONE (#u287a77ca-5893-5a25-ae7e-30a559bc0625)
TWO (#ua01c600a-5488-52af-a7b9-ab5f4e5669df)
THREE (#u4e900a0e-d67d-5d1e-9088-f5a01694ba1f)
FOUR (#udf1060e2-3211-5bf4-9e85-865fd5b262f9)
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Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
ONE (#u10314a42-35db-5031-bdb3-4598c854435d)
Siskiyou Mountains, southwest Oregon
Gemma Rollins shifted gears as her beloved Jeep CJ bounced over the narrow gravel road carved from the mountain. With this torrential downpour, she was glad she’d opted for the hard cover and doors on this older model.
But she should have gotten the mud tires too.
This was just like when the Pineapple Express came through southern Oregon a decade ago. Except spring was the wrong time of year for the tropical moisture to be sweeping in from the Hawaiian Islands. The meteorological phenomenon occurred in the winter.
And the tigers in her sanctuary, fifteen beautiful creatures she knew by name, wouldn’t be happy in this inclement weather either.
Gemma downshifted, slowing at the curve on the steep one-lane road, her pulse edging up as the rain pounded harder. This was a lot more like the kind of weather she’d see in Houston, Texas, rather than southwest Oregon. And too much rain might cause flooding in the sanctuary. With a USDA inspection coming up in three weeks, she so did not need more hurdles in her goal of getting Tiger Mountain accredited as a big cat sanctuary.
She pressed her foot against the brakes as she came up on the switchback. Suddenly, the steering refused to turn. What was happening? The sharp bend approached. She would never make it!
Throwing her entire body into turning the steering wheel, Gemma’s effort paid off. The CJ slid around the bend, though still much too close to the edge of the ravine.
Trees and rocks would slow anything trying to take a fall, but that didn’t reassure her. Nearing the next curve, she pumped the brakes. They weren’t working so well either.
She was behind in vehicle maintenance, no doubt there, but her CJ had never let her down before. Another curve in the road approached, and she shifted to the lowest gear, gripped the wheel with both hands and groaned with the effort to make the turn.
She’d driven the road that bordered the fenced-in area of the sanctuary enough times to know what to expect—more switchbacks. The road was dangerous on a good day. She hit the brakes harder. Still the CJ picked up more speed. She turned the steering wheel left, barely making another switchback.
Her beloved CJ was out of control.
Heart hammering, the realization slammed her—this was a matter of survival.
She might actually die. The possibility sucked her breath away.
Mud oozed from the rocky wall to her left as it poured from the hillside above. God, please help me! I don’t want to die today. And please keep the sanctuary intact. Please don’t let those fences give way.
She couldn’t imagine that would happen, but, then again, she hadn’t dreamed her steering would give way on the same day as her brakes. What were the chances? A question rose from the shadows in her mind. Had this been intentional?
And on a treacherous, rainy day.
Images from that night long ago accosted her. Headlights glinting off a wall of water. The grinding crunch. The wreck that left her uncle dead, the Tiger Hills sanctuary her father had founded dismantled and Gemma with nerve damage and a limp.
Focus, Gemma! She gripped the steering wheel tighter, mentally skimming the road ahead. Another bend. She’d never make it with her steering out like this. But if she could make it around the next outcropping of the rocky wall—before the dangerous bend—and remain on the road, there was an incline to her right, a turn out that she could use to slow the CJ to a stop.
Would it be enough?
Come on, come on, come on...
“God, if You’re listening, and You don’t want me to die today, I need some help.” Gemma wrestled the wheel even harder and yanked the emergency brake, getting no return for her efforts.
Up ahead, mud and rocks washed over the road.
A mudslide!
Though it could be dangerous, deadly even, she could use the mudslide to slow the CJ, except she would have another battle for survival. But it was moving slowly enough she might just be able to make it.
Was that the answer to her prayer?
The incline appeared ahead in the thick of the mud. She pumped the brakes again, but they were completely dead. Gemma shifted into a higher gear and sped over the mud before it carried her away.
The roar of the torrential rain and the sight of the mudslide filled her with dread and morbid memories, erasing all other rational thought. Gemma fought the rising terror.
She gripped the wheel and steered toward the incline, shifting down once she’d gained enough momentum because she’d need to stop this vehicle, once and for all, on the other side of the mud.
Regardless of her momentum, the CJ shifted as the mud gripped the tires, but Gemma persevered and evened out the pressure on the accelerator, adjusting her steering until the vehicle lifted up, the front tires gaining traction on the ground that rose above the mud, and sped forward.
But fast, much too fast.
The CJ slammed into a tree. Her body ricocheted against the seat belt. There were no airbags in an old Jeep CJ.
Stunned, Gemma blinked. Sucked in a breath. I’m alive!
Then she groaned.
“I’m alive.” She breathed slowly to calm herself. “I’m...alive.” It could have been much worse.
Gemma squeezed her eyes shut as memories overwhelmed her. Déjà vu. Her uncle had been driving the night he lost control of the vehicle and they hit a tree. He’d died and Gemma had lived. Why had she lived—then and now?
