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“You’re not going to get rid of me, not going to talk me into walking away.”
“I told Kane that if you were alive, I’d find you and get you home safely. That’s exactly what I intend to do.”
“I don’t need a protector, Jonas.” She smiled, trying to lighten the mood, but his eyes flashed and a muscle in his jaw clenched.
“There’s something you need to understand. I always finish what I start.” He turned on his heel, walked to the door and opened it, disappearing inside before she could respond.
That was probably for the best.
There was nothing she could add to the conversation that would change anything. Jonas had his mission. She had hers. For now, they converged. Soon enough, they’d both fulfill their goals. When they did, they’d part ways and go on with their lives.
That was the way it was supposed to be.
That was the way she should want it to be.
She just wasn’t sure she did.
Dear Reader,
Tragedy often brings us to a place of choices. Will we hold tight to our faith or will we doubt what we believe? Jonas Sampson has stood in that place. After the murder of his wife and unborn son, he questions his purpose and struggles to hold his faith. When he’s asked to help find missing private investigator Skylar Grady, he agrees. But getting Skylar back to safety is more complicated than he expects. As he and Skylar work to uncover a killer’s plan, Jonas must search his heart and learn that no matter how far we roam, God is only a prayer away.
I hope you enjoyed reading Lone Defender as much as I enjoyed writing it! I love to hear from readers. If you have time, drop me a line at [email protected].
Wherever you go, whatever you do, may you feel the fullness of God’s ever-present love.
Blessings,
Lone Defender
Shirlee McCoy
MILLS & BOON
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To my niece, the real Skylar Grady,
you make me so proud to be your aunt!
For you, LORD, have delivered me from death,
my eyes from tears, my feet from stumbling,
that I may walk before the LORD
in the land of the living.
—Psalms 116:8–9
ONE
Dying shouldn’t be so difficult.
At least, in Skylar Grady’s estimation it shouldn’t be.
The way she saw it, if it were her time to die, she should be allowed to go quickly. No fuss. No muss. No wandering through the wilderness for days.
Her time to die?
No way did she plan for it to be that.
Then again, she hadn’t planned to get lost in the Sonoran Desert, but there she was.
Lost.
She frowned, forcing herself to keep walking toward the shadowy mesa. A couple more miles and she’d be there. God willing, civilization would be on the other side. It better be, because six days with no food and minimal water had taken its toll. Much as she wanted to deny it, truth was truth. If she didn’t find her way out soon, she wouldn’t find her way out at all.
And that would be a shame. Not just because Skylar would be dead but because it also meant that the guy who’d drugged her, driven her out into the desert and left her to die would get away with it.
That definitely wasn’t how Skylar planned for things to play out.
Unfortunately, she wasn’t sure she had much of a choice in the matter.
Desert wilderness stretched out as far as the eye could see. No roads. No buildings. Nothing but an endless landscape of cacti and low-lying desert scrub, with the mesa in the distance. It’s all she’d seen since she’d left her jeep, everything she had lived, breathed and felt for six days. She wanted out with a desperation that left her hollow and empty inside.
If there wasn’t something or someone on the other side of the mesa…
She pulled her thoughts up short. Going there wouldn’t help things. She had to keep walking, keep moving and, above all, keep hoping.
Lightning flashed in the distance, and the quiet rumble of thunder followed. Another storm. Was it the third or fourth since she’d made the decision to leave the rental jeep she’d woken in?
Did it matter?
Another winter storm meant water. Water meant life.
Her foot caught in thick desert scrub, and she fell hard, her breath leaving on a painful gasp. She forced herself up again, shivering as icy wind seeped through her T-shirt. Warm days. Cold nights. Sunburned skin and bone-deep chill. They’d taken their toll, and she wanted to rest more than just about anything.
But not more than she wanted to live.
Not more than she wanted justice.
And she did want that.
Someone had tried to kill her. She was going to find out who, she was going to find out why and she was going to smile when her would-be murderer was thrown in jail. First, though, she had to survive.
One trudging painful step after another to
