Stephanie Newton - The Widow's Protector

HER SON IS NEXT

Someone is trying to take everything from widowed mother Fiona Fitzgerald Cobb. Their method? Fires, like the one that left her little boy fatherless—and destroyed Fiona’s dreams—two years earlier. Could the attacks be linked? Fitzgerald Bay firefighter Hunter Reece vows to keep Fiona and her son safe. He wasn’t able to save her husband—his best friend. This time, he won’t let Fiona down. Especially since the handsome man she’s known all her life has a secret…one that will make him risk everything to save her.

Fitzgerald Bay:

Law enforcement siblings fight for justice and family.

STEPHANIE NEWTON

penned her first suspense story—complete with illustrations—at the age of twelve, but didn’t write seriously until her youngest child was in first grade. She lives in northwest Florida, where she gains inspiration from the sugar-white sand, aqua-blue-green water of the Gulf of Mexico, and the many unusual and interesting things you see when you live on the beach. You can find her most often enjoying the water with her family, or at their church, where her husband is the pastor. Visit Stephanie at her website, www.stephanienewton.net, or send an email to newtonwriter@gmail.com.

The Widow’s

Protector

Stephanie Newton

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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You will keep in perfect peace him whose mind

is steadfast, because he trusts in You.

—Isaiah 26:3

For Ilise—encourager, brainstorm partner, friend

A special thanks to my friends,

Becki Reeder and Joe Reeder, Firefighter/EMT with Bay County Fire Rescue who are

so generous with their time and expertise.

As usual, Joe tells it like it is and then

I make up stuff that goes along with my story.

It was great fun working on this project

with authors Shirlee McCoy, Valerie Hansen, Rachelle McCalla, Lynette Eason and

Terri Reed. A special thanks goes to our editor, Emily Rodmell, who had the unenviable task

of keeping us all in line!

Special thanks and acknowledgment to

Stephanie Newton for her contribution

to the Fitzgerald Bay miniseries.

Contents

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

DEAR READER

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

ONE

Fiona Cobb sliced open a box of books in the storage room of The Reading Nook. This was the last box, and by the clock on the wall, she had exactly twelve minutes before she had to leave to get her son to school.

Thankfully, Betsie, who owned the Sweet Shoppe two doors down, had stopped by half an hour ago to see if Sean wanted to taste test her new cinnamon rolls. Her son had bounced out of the storeroom after Betsie with a constant stream of conversation, their two dark heads nearly touching as he pulled Betsie close for a six-year-old secret. Quite the lady’s man, her Sean. Fiona shuddered as she imagined what life would be like at sixteen.

Ah, well, with four brothers—three of them cops—and a passel of cousins who were firefighters, she had plenty of experience with alpha males.

Fiona loaded her arms with the stack of books on gardening in preparation for the Happy Diggers Club meeting. In April in Fitzgerald Bay, everyone’s mind would be turning to spring flowers, even if they were still buttoning up their winter coats in the early morning hours.

In fact, someone nearby must be burning a fire this morning to take the chill off. She carried the books to the round display table near the front window. The Happy Diggers tended to be early and she wanted them to have plenty of books to browse through…and buy on their way out.

She glanced at her watch. Betsie had saved her skin again. Five minutes until she had to pick up Sean to walk him to school. Maybe enough time for one more stack of books?

If possible, the smell was even stronger back here in the storeroom. Most people loved a fire, but for Fee, a burning fire wasn’t cheerful and the aroma of smoke wasn’t reassuring. All it did was remind her of what she’d lost. A husband, Sean’s daddy, a happy united family.

She looked up. A curl of smoke came through the vent in the ceiling. For a few seconds, she stared at it, frozen.

Smoke in the vent meant fire—not the warm your hands kind of fire, but real life-stealing fire.

Fiona grabbed her cell phone, pressing the numbers 9-1-1. She ran out the back door, looking both ways down the back alley. Smoke poured through the seams of the building over the Sweet Shoppe. She ran down the alley, toward the back door. Oh, dear God, please, not again. Please.

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”

“Fire. At the Sweet Shoppe on Main Street. I think there are people trapped inside.” More smoke swirled in the alley behind the confectionery as she hung up the phone.

“Sean!” She pounded on the door. She couldn’t hear anything. “Betsie!”

A faint yell came from inside. Oh, God, no. They were still in there. She reached for the door handle. It wasn’t hot, but the door wouldn’t budge. She pulled again, putting her foot against the wall on the other side. It wasn’t moving. “Betsie!”

Her phone rang in her hand. She fumbled it, nearly dropping the handset before she answered it.

“Fiona! There’s something jamming the lock. And there’s fire blocking our way to the front door.” Betsie’s voice was calm for Sean, but there was the edge of panic lacing it. Fiona saw Hunter Reece’s familiar old navy blue truck slam to a stop down the street and in the distance, finally, she could hear sirens.

She looked at the solid wood door. Even if she had the tools, she wouldn’t be able to get it open in time. The small storage room window was their only option.

“Bets, open the window. If it’s painted shut, find something that you can break it with. I’m going to get something to stand on.” Fiona looked around the alley. A couple pine fruit boxes were stacked behind the market. She wasn’t sure they would take her weight, but it was all she had to work with.

“Okay, okay. I think I’ve got something.” Betsie coughed. “Sean, it’s gonna be okay. Mommy’s right outside waiting for you. Fiona, stand back.”

The window burst out in a shower of glass. A can of shortening came rolling to a stop at Fiona’s feet. “Great job, Betsie. Okay, you’re going to have to hurry. Get Sean up there, fast.”

She stuck the phone in the pocket of her slacks and stacked the fruit cartons one on top of the other next to the window. Climbing on, she stripped off her jacket and threw it over the ragged edge of glass on the bottom of the window. Sean’s head appeared in the opening, his small face streaked with soot and tears. “Mommy!”

“Stretch your arms out, Sean. You can do it.” Tears streamed from her own eyes. He was still her baby.

Strong, steady hands gripped her waist, stabilizing her balance. Hunter. Thank God.

“Come on, Sean. Just a little farther.” Her boy extended his arms as far as he could. She could barely touch one hand.