Cheryl Wolverton - In Search Of A Hero

“You pray for me and I’ll pray for you,” André went on, “and we’ll believe that God can bring a reconciliation about. How’s that?”

Rebekkah nodded. “Better be careful what you pray for, André.”

André smiled. “Oh, I am. Believe me, I am.”

And he was certain he was going to be praying for God to help him find more time to spend around this woman….

RITA Award finalist Cheryl Wolverton has well over a dozen books to her name. Her very popular HILL CREEK, TEXAS series has been a finalist in many contests. Cheryl grew up in Oklahoma, lived in Kentucky, Texas and now Louisiana, but she and her husband of twenty years and their two children, Jeremiah and Christina, consider themselves Oklahomans who have been transplanted to grow and flourish in the South. Readers are always welcome to contact her via: P.O. Box 207, Slaughter, LA 70777 or e-mail at Cheryl@cherylwolverton.com. You can also visit her Web site at www.cherylwolverton.com.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

Jesus looked at them and said, “With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible.”

—Matthew 19:26

Mom—It’s been 12 books and you’re still reading them and even tickled with all of the overseas copies. Thank you for your support. I love you.

Anita, you had no idea how wonderful Titan could be. Now you’ll have to watch for your new baby, Katie, in a book! I love you.

To my other siblings, Deb and James, thanks for telling me you like my books!

To my family, Steve, Christina, Jeremiah and the unofficial family Darrell Stevens (who might as well be family the way he lives over here—grin) and in-laws Phyllis, Me Maw, John, John II, Michelle, Ross, Diana, Leigh and Randy.

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Epilogue

Letter to Reader

The information was out in the open again.

She had been told it wouldn’t be found, that it was buried for good. With her help, they’d managed to cover everything up.

Why had she done it?

She should have let them take their chances, but at the time, it had seemed like the right thing to do. The right way to go.

Hanging up the phone, she turned, sighing and heading toward the stairs. “What am I going to do? This will ruin everything!”

She didn’t see the shadow of a person she passed on her way upstairs.

The sweltering heat of the humid Texas night clung to André Watson as he lounged on the bench in Colundra Park in the downtown city of Hamilton. He waited for the meeting his contact had set up.

He wondered just how out of the ordinary he looked in the khaki pants and dark green polo shirt. Especially at this time of night.

Twisting his arm, he again checked his watch. Nearly ten.

Two years ago André had thought by this time he’d be married, settled down and on his way to having children with Sarah. Sarah whom his father had deceived, Sarah who had hit rock bottom and ended up at her brother-in-law’s house, Sarah who had married Justin and had a seven-year-old niece-step-daughter and now, through modern miracles, had her own child on the way.

He’d lost Sarah, left the family business and started out on his own, a business dedicated to helping the poor, the needy, not the rich class like his father did. Two years ago seemed like a lifetime.

A lifetime in which he had catered to the rich, not the poor—which was why he sat here now at nearly ten on a Friday night. Had he not started his own business after his father had ruined his engagement to Sarah he would be at home now, watching TV, getting ready to go to bed for the night and maybe play a round of golf in the morning…

So many things had changed. Looking back, he wondered how he’d been so shallow and empty and not seen it.

He would never have been caught dead out this time of night to meet a contact. And not in this part of the town.

André glanced at the overhead light, one of many that dotted the cement path winding its way through the huge park. He again told himself he was doing the right thing. He’d let go of Sarah, wishing her well with the man who had stolen her heart. He’d even, to a point, admitted the only reason he’d dated Sarah was he’d been in love with the idea of settling down and having children. He’d been searching for something to fill his emptiness—he’d just been searching in the wrong area. Sarah hadn’t been for him.

He’d even forgiven his stepbrother who, though he hadn’t worked full-time in the business at that time, had sided with his father over the firing of Sarah.

What he couldn’t forgive was his father’s actions or get over the hurt his father had caused by refusing to admit that what he’d done was wrong.

A sluggish wind whispered through the bushes, moving the humid air around in the suburb that was well outside the Fort Worth Dallas area. It did nothing to cool him off as he shifted impatiently.

Tailor-made suits had given way to khakis and jeans as he’d moved into the slums to represent the less fortunate. It seemed like another lifetime—a lifetime his father enjoyed reminding him of as he insisted André get over his snit and come back to work for him.

But André refused, for many reasons, the least of which was his father wouldn’t admit he had been wrong. So here he sat, waiting in the semidarkness, sweat trickling down his back, wishing the hundred-degree heat would finally break and bring some relief to the area.

He was waiting on a contact that had information on something that would really interest him, or so he’d been told. What it was he couldn’t imagine, but many contacts in the past had come through for him, especially the one he was waiting on, so he wouldn’t leave until the tardy man showed up. The slight sound of sneakers on cement caught his attention, drawing his gaze to his unhurried contact.

“Hey, man, you been waiting long?”

André heard the drawl of Billy Redford as he came idling up. Tall and slim, Billy wore pants that were way too big, held up with a belt cinched in around his middle, and a tank top that had seen better days. The cap on his head was turned, the bill pointed down and to the right—always the same direction, same color, same tilt to the hat. Billy dropped down on the bench next to André.

“What do you think, Billy? We were supposed to meet thirty minutes ago,” he said impatiently. It was too hot to be impatient, he realized, and glanced across the park, willing himself to relax. Billy had good information. He usually did. Getting upset wouldn’t hurry the man. More than likely it would slow him down.