Liz Shoaf - Betrayed Birthright

SECRET HERITAGE

Abigail Mayfield hopes her stalker won’t follow her to Texas—until someone breaks into her new home, leaving behind a photo of her late parents with a mysterious child. This time, with her guard dog at her side, the widowed music teacher refuses to hide. She can’t uncover why someone is after her by herself, though, not when the threat escalates from break-ins to attempts on her life. After saving her from a sniper’s bullet, FBI agent turned small-town sheriff Noah Galloway makes Abigail’s safety his personal mission. With the investigation taking them cross-country on the trail of her long-dead parents, the widowed single father can’t risk leaving his son an orphan. But Abigail needs him...because somewhere, buried deep in her past, lies a secret worth killing for.

Abby had a sick feeling.

Maybe sensing her discomfort, Noah stepped closer. “I’m not leaving your side, Abby. Not until we find out what’s going on.”

She took a deep breath. “I appreciate everything you’ve done, but I have my dog and my gun. I want you to leave.” Her heart was pounding. She needed time to process the information he’d unearthed about her parents.

With a locked jaw, he stood. “Fine.” That was all he said before he walked out.

Quickly packing a bag, she called Bates to her side and locked the door behind them. She needed to talk to Grammy. She had the sinking feeling her grandmother knew more about her parents than she let on.

She opened the car door when she spotted something on the seat. The dog released a low growl when Abby tensed, staring at the item in horror. It couldn’t be...

In shock, she backed away. Her life was spinning out of control and nobody could stop the madness.

Dear Reader,

The inspiration for this book came from my very own choir director. She is also a piano teacher, and I often marvel at the talent it takes to play the piano and teach voice lessons. I enjoyed creating a strong but soft woman. Southern women love hair, makeup and clothes, but have also been known to dig a fence-post hole or two. And, of course, my hero is thrown off balance when faced with such a contradictory lady. I hope you enjoy reading about Abby and Noah’s adventures as much as I enjoyed writing them.

Liz Shoaf

Betrayed Birthright is Liz Shoaf’s first published inspirational novel. She’s been writing for many years, and hopes this is the beginning of a long and fulfilling career. When not writing or training her dogs for agility trials, Liz enjoys spending time with family, jogging and singing in the choir at church whenever possible. To find out more about Liz, you can visit and contact her through her website, www.lizshoaf.com, or email her at phelpsliz1@gmail.com.

Betrayed Birthright

Liz Shoaf

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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For even your brothers and the household of your father, even they have dealt treacherously with you, even they have cried aloud after you do not believe them, although they may say nice things to you.

—Jeremiah 12:6

A special note to my dad, Reverend Kermit E. Shoaf, from your baby girl. You armed me with faith and courage to face whatever comes my way, and I thank you for that. I miss you and can’t wait to see you again when my time is at hand.

To my editor, Dina Davis, and her boss, for taking a chance on a newbie. And a special shout-out to all the various departments at Harlequin who work so hard to make dreams come true.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

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

EPILOGUE

Extract

Copyright

ONE

Abigail Mayfield gripped the covers, fear icing the breath in her throat as she strained to hear the noise again. A slight sound had disturbed her sleep. She closed her eyes against the darkness and listened intently. An unnatural silence greeted her. The wind was calm and no tree branches brushed against the side of the house because she’d had them removed after buying the property.

Her eyes blinked open when she heard a small scratching sound. The stalker is here! She had moved all the way across the country for nothing. She struggled to breathe and goose bumps pimpled her arms until a cold, wet nose nudged her neck.

In slow increments, Abby forced herself to relax and silently thanked her grandmother for helping her find a trained protection dog before she moved to Texas.

“Bates,” she whispered, “did you hear that noise, boy?”

The seventy-pound, playful but dead-serious-about-his-job, black-and-tan Belgian Malinois grabbed her blanket with his teeth and tugged it off the bed. That was answer enough.

As quietly as possible, she slid out of bed, grabbed her cell phone off the nightstand, along with the Glock 19 pistol her grandmother had given her last year for Christmas. She might appear to be a harmless Tinker Bell—and had been called that on occasion—but appearances were deceiving. While growing up, her grandmother made sure she knew how to handle a gun.

“God, I need a little help here,” she whispered as they moved toward the bedroom door. The dog glued to her side bolstered her confidence. Bates would attack an assailant, but his main job was to protect her; at least, that’s what the trainer had said during the handler classes.

Tinkling glass hit the kitchen tile floor and left no doubt that someone was breaking and entering. At the top of the stairs, Abby took a deep, steadying breath. She buried her fear—the way Daddy had taught her—dialed 911 with one hand and held the pistol loosely at her side with the other. She had the advantage at the top of the stairs. If someone tried to come up, she’d fire a warning shot.

“Nine-one-one. Is this an emergency?”

Having turned the volume down before leaving the bedroom, Abby held the phone close to her ear. “This is Abby Mayfield. Someone is breaking into my house,” she whispered.

“Ma’am, leave your phone on and keep it with you. We can track you through your cell if circumstances change, but for now, give me your address.”

Abby swallowed hard. She knew what that meant. They could track her if the assailant removed her from the house. “My address is 135 Grove Street, Blessing, Texas.”

“Stay hidden if you can. We’ll have a squad car there as soon as possible.”

Abby didn’t respond because the sound of soft footsteps climbing the wooden stairs reached her ears. This scenario was the reason she’d removed all the carpet and installed wood and tile floors. She raised the Glock and Bates released a low, snarling growl. Bless his heart. The sweet animal she knew and loved sounded as if he wanted to rip someone’s throat out, and he probably would if it came down to it.