Lynette Eason - A Silent Pursuit

Not that he begrudged his friend’s happiness; Ian just had a hard time controlling the ache in his heart every time he saw Gina’s smile.

He’d done the unthinkable.

He’d fallen in love with a committed woman…his best friend’s future wife.

So Ian had left. Run from her and his feelings, honor and integrity more important than his own selfish longings. It was the only way he’d be able to live with himself.

Now, she was calling him for help.

Someone had tried to kill her.

Like she believed someone had killed Mario.

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grew up in Greenville, SC. Her home church, Northgate Baptist, had a tremendous influence on her during her early years. She credits Christian parents and dedicated Sunday School teachers for her acceptance of Christ at the tender age of eight. Even as a young girl, she knew she wanted her life to reflect the love of Jesus.

Lynette attended the University of South Carolina in Columbia, then moved to Spartanburg to attend Converse College, where she obtained her master’s degree in education. During that time, she met the boy next door, Jack Eason, and married him. Jack is the Executive Director of the Sound of Light Ministries. Lynette and Jack have two precious children: Lauryn, eight years old, and Will, who is six. She and Jack are members of New Life Baptist Fellowship Church in Boiling Springs, SC, where Jack serves as the worship leader and Lynette teaches Sunday School to the four-and five-year-olds.

I long to dwell in your tent forever and take refuge in the shelter of your wings.

—Psalms 61:4

Dedicated to my daughter, Lauryn, who is growing up

so fast. You’re just beginning an exciting journey to discover the amazing plans God has for your life. Live

each moment for Him. I’m so proud of you, sweetie!

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

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

“Stop!” The voice shouted behind her, spurring speed to her already-flying feet. Stop?

Not if she wanted to live.

Rasping breaths escaped Gina Santino’s throat as her bare feet pounded hard sand. She squinted into the inky darkness and her heart drummed in her ears, drowning out the sound of the waves crashing onto the beach.

She could almost imagine the breath of her pursuer on the nape of her neck. A hand reaching out to spin her around…

Goose bumps puckered her skin, but fear and adrenaline heated her body; sweat beaded her forehead.

The waves pulsed beside her as she stayed near the edge of the water, desperate to stay out of reach of the lights along the upper end of the sand.

Multicolored lights announcing the fast-approaching Christmas season were strung from the roof of the public beach–access restroom and briefly illuminated part of her path.

Long dark hair whipped into her eyes, blinding her as terror threatened to knock the strength from her legs. Her large antique locket bounced against her throat, matching the frantic beat of her pulse beneath it.

How had they found her? She’d been so careful. Yes, she’d left her house in a rush, but she’d driven a crazy route that had her arriving at the beach house two hours later than the direct approach would have.

And they’d still found her. Her mind cramped at the possibilities as she flung a frantic look over her shoulder.

Was that a shadow? Were they still chasing her?

Of course they were.

Fear-induced adrenaline added wings to her fleeing bare feet.

Oh, Mario, I need you!

But Mario, her fiancé, was dead. Killed six months ago when a bomb exploded during a routine army training exercise.

Or so she’d been told. Who knew what the real story was? And now she was facing the holidays, Thanksgiving and Christmas, without him.

Of course, that was the least of her worries right now.

Driftwood crowded her path, and she jumped over another fallen piece of debris that had washed in at high tide.

Stumbling, she went to one knee, her momentum propelling her into the sand, rolling her over twice before she could push herself back up. Ignoring her screaming, sand-burned knee and oxygen-deprived lungs, she regained her balance, pumping her legs back up to full speed.

She couldn’t keep running, not at this pace.

But she sure couldn’t slow down.

He—they?—would kill her this time.

Please, God.

Her eyes darted, desperately seeking a hiding place. Shivers danced on her overheated skin as the freezing wind blew.

Up ahead, a light flickered. Someone walking toward her? She skidded to a halt, gasping, panting, sucking in much-needed oxygen; her knee throbbing a reminder that she needed to find a place to hide.

The light bobbed closer. Friend or foe? Had they surrounded her? Surely they couldn’t have gotten in front of her. But then she wouldn’t have guessed they would have been able to show up on her doorstep either.

What do I do, God? What do I do?

The safety of her little cottage lay approximately two miles behind her. Thank goodness she’d taken up running every morning for the last year. If not, she’d never have made it this far.

The light flickered, then disappeared.

A split-second decision had her making a sharp right to trudge through the softer sand. She didn’t even have a cell phone. But the little diner just up the road would have a phone and she could call for help.

If she could get there.

A gunshot rang out, and Gina flinched when it hit the ground in front of her.

A warning shot.

That told her one thing. They wanted her alive.

And that scared her more than the thought that they might want her dead. She double-timed her struggle through the sand, praying that whoever was chasing her was having the same problems. Finally, her feet hit asphalt.

Another gunshot. She cringed, expecting at any moment to feel the pain of a bullet entering her body. She pressed on.

She needed a phone.

She needed help.

Where was Ian?

Ian Masterson pressed his foot to the gas pedal. He’d promised Gina he’d be there at 9:00 p.m. It was now 11:45 p.m. and the darkness pressed in on his windshield like dirt on top of a coffin. She’d called him yesterday and asked him to meet her at the beach house. He didn’t have to ask for directions. Gina’s cousin, Antonio Santino; her late fiancé, Mario Anthony; and he, Ian Masterson, had been the Three Musketeers.