Marta Perry - In the Enemy's Sights

“Well, I-I don’t know.” How odd it was, that she hadn’t even thought of that. She’d been too focused on Ken’s safety.

“Neither do I. But I’m going to find out. That lumber didn’t accidentally fall just when I was walking by.”

Julianna rubbed her forehead. “You’re right. Those stacks are perfectly secure. One couldn’t collapse unless–”

“Unless somebody made it happen,” Ken finished for her, his voice grim.

FAITH AT THE CROSSROADS: Can faith and love sustain two families against a diabolical enemy?

A TIME TO PROTECT–Lois Richer (LIS#13)

THE DANGER WITHIN–Valerie Hansen (LIS#15)

THROUGH THE FIRE-Sharon Mignerey (LIS#17)

IN THE ENEMY’S SIGHTS-Marta Perry (LIS#19)

STRICTLY CONFIDENTIAL-Terri Reed (LIS#21)

HEARTS ON THE LINE-Margaret Daley (LIS#23)

has written everything from Sunday school curriculum to travel articles to magazine stories in twenty years of writing, but she feels she’s found her home in the stories she writes for Love Inspired.

Marta lives in rural Pennsylvania, but she and her husband spend part of each year at their second home in South Carolina. When she’s not writing, she’s probably visiting her children and her beautiful grandchildren, traveling or relaxing with a good book.

Marta loves hearing from readers and she’ll write back with a signed bookplate or bookmark. Write to her c/o Steeple Hill Books, 233 Broadway, Suite 1001, New York, NY 10279, e-mail her at marta@martaperry.com, or visit her on the Web at www.martaperry.com.

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Special thanks and acknowledgment are given to Marta Perry for her contribution to the FAITH AT THE CROSSROADS series.

This story is dedicated to my dear Love Inspired

sisters, with thanks for your love and support.

And, as always, to Brian.

The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom should I fear? The Lord is the refuge of my life; of whom then should I be afraid?

—Psalms 27:1

Kenneth Vance—He was shot down while on a mission, but would recovery in Colorado Springs prove even more dangerous for this Air Force pilot?

Julianna Red Feather—This expert in canine search-and-rescue was feeling burnt-out emotionally and spiritually, but her job wasn’t over yet….

Jay Nieto—The Native American teen Julianna had taken under her wing was a good assistant during the canine training, but was he also responsible for the vandalism at Montgomery Construction?

Maxwell Vance—Now that the mayor has taken a turn for the better, will the powers that want him dead finally succeed?

Dear Reader,

I’m so glad you decided to pick up this book, the fourth in the FAITH AT THE CROSSROADS series. It’s been such a great experience to write this series with five such talented and dedicated authors.

As you know if you’ve read my earlier book, Hero in Her Heart, I have a great affection and respect for service dogs and their handlers. The research I did into the lives of FEMA urban search-and-rescue teams just increased my awe at what they can accomplish.

The love story of Ken and Julianna, two wounded, hurting people, put a lump in my throat as I wrote. I hope it does the same for you as you read.

I hope you’ll write and let me know how you liked this story. Address your letters to me at Steeple Hill Books, 233 Broadway, Suite 1001, New York, NY 10279, and I’ll be happy to send you a signed bookplate or bookmark. You can visit me on the Web at www.martaperry.com or e-mail me at marta@martaperry.com.

Blessings,

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

EPILOGUE

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

If he stayed inside for another minute, he’d probably explode. Grateful for the phone call that had distracted his friend, Kenneth Vance stepped from the office into the yard of Montgomery Construction Company. Behind the long, low office building loomed the old red barn that had been the original site of the company. Now, eight-foot-high chain-link fencing surrounded a whole complex of buildings.

Beyond the fence, Ken could see a steady flow of traffic on the industrial park road. Colorado Springs seemed to have grown in the years since this place, in the shadow of Pikes Peak, had been home to him.

When he moved beyond the shade of the overhang, the Colorado sunshine, fierce even in April at this altitude, hit him like a blow. He groped for the dark glasses he’d been forced to wear since the incident.

Incident. That was the term the Air Force used. The official verdict had been that his jet was brought down over South America by insurgents armed with a shoulder-fired missile. Somehow incident didn’t seem a strong enough word for something that ruined a man’s life.

He pushed the thoughts away forcefully and wandered farther into the yard. Quinn Montgomery, his longtime friend and owner of Montgomery Construction, had made progress in repairing the destruction done by an arson fire at the yard last month, but a jumble of broken concrete and charred timbers still marred the scene.

Ken stiffened, trying to will away the incessant blurring of his vision that was an annoying leftover from his injuries. Someone was moving around in the debris. No one should be there.

He strode quickly toward the spot. With all the misfortunes that had dogged the Montgomery and Vance families lately, he wasn’t taking anything for granted.

“Hey! What are you doing here?” It was the command tone that was ingrained after eight years as an Air Force officer.

Maybe not much longer, a small voice in the back of his mind reminded him.

A slight figure emerged from a fractured piece of concrete pipe. A teenage boy, he thought for an instant, maybe from one of the street gangs Quinn said had begun to appear on the usually placid streets of Colorado Springs in recent months.

Then the figure straightened, and he realized it was no boy. Slim, small, but certainly no boy. The woman had glossy, straight black hair in thick braids. High cheekbones increased the faintly exotic quality of her looks, and dark eyes met his with a startled wariness.

“What did you say?” Her voice was soft, a little husky. Something about it rang a bell, but he couldn’t place her.

“I asked what you’re doing here.”

He took a step toward her and then froze. A dog came out of the pipe behind her—a big German shepherd that lowered its head and growled at him, pressing close to the woman’s side.