Laura Scott - The Thanksgiving Target

“Because I didn’t know for sure,” Tara said. “I didn’t really believe it, until I saw…my dog.”

Max stared at her intently for a long moment, then leaned his hips back against her kitchen counter and crossed his arms over his chest. “You have fifteen minutes to pack.”

“What?” She stared back at him.

“Tara, I’m not leaving you here alone with some stalker on the loose. I’ll find a safe haven.”

Admittedly, the idea held some appeal. She’d be closer to the hospital, able to keep an eye on Max’s sister. And if she stubbornly insisted on staying in her house, she doubted she’d get any sleep. She’d lie awake, frighteningly aware of every sound.

But going with Max would be a risk, too. She was already feeling too close to him. Too grateful for his protection.

grew up reading faith-based romance books by Grace Livingston Hill, but as much as she loved the stories, she longed for a bit more mystery and suspense. She is honored to write for the Love Inspired Suspense line at Steeple Hill Books, where a reader can find a heartwarming journey of faith amidst the thrilling danger.

Laura lives with her husband of twenty-five years and has two children, a daughter and a son, who are both in college. She works as a critical care nurse during the day at a large level-one trauma center in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, and spends her spare time writing romance.

Please visit Laura at www.laurascottbooks.com as she loves to hear from her readers.

In my distress I called to the Lord; I cried to my God for help. From His temple He heard my voice; my cry came before Him, into His ears.

—Psalms 18:6

To my husband, Scott, with love—thanks for a truly

blessed twenty-five years of marriage. I look forward

to many more cherished years together!

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

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

“Wait a minute. Stop right there,” a female vice commanded. “Who let you in?”

Lieutenant’s Max Forrester’s head snapped up, and he belatedly realized there was a woman at his sister Lissa’s hospital bedside. A chair with a discarded blanket on the seat was tucked in the corner where she must have been sitting.

Who was she? The ICU clerk had told him Lissa’s visitors were restricted.

“Are you Gary?” she asked sharply, a dark scowl marring her otherwise dainty features. She was young, about Lissa’s age, her long dark hair pulled back in a braid that hung down to her shoulders. She was dressed in a conservative navy blue jacket and skirt, with an official-looking ID pinned to her lapel. Her radiating anger caught him off guard. “Don’t you dare touch her.”

Gary? Who was she talking about? He lifted his hands palm forward, hoping to calm her down. “I’m not Gary. I’m Lissa’s brother, Max Forrester. The woman at the desk checked my ID before letting me in.”

“Her brother?” The petite woman eyed him suspiciously, not giving him an inch. “Melissa didn’t mention a brother.”

She hadn’t? The news hurt. Why hadn’t Lissa said anything about him? True, they didn’t chat often, but she’d been happy to know he was coming home on leave to spend the Thanksgiving holiday together.

Glancing down at his sister, with her bruised and battered face, he realized this woman, who must be a friend of Lissa’s, had every right to be suspicious. His heart squeezed painfully in his chest. Lissa couldn’t even breathe on her own because she wasn’t conscious. His sister must have been mugged to end up here like this.

“Here’s my ID,” he said, handing it to her. “I’ve been in Iraq the past three years and just arrived home on leave today. When Lissa didn’t meet me at the airport, I went to her apartment and her landlord told me she was here.”

The woman stared at his ID for a long moment, then handed it back with a weary sigh. “I’m sorry. I should have known Gary wouldn’t go so far as to disguise himself in army fatigues.”

“Who are you?” Max asked, putting his ID back in his wallet. “And who’s Gary?”

“My name is Tara Carmichael. I’m Melissa’s social worker.” She crossed her arms over her chest and gazed down at Lissa, with sorrow and despair. “Unfortunately, Gary is the man who did this to her.”

Tara Carmichael eyed the handsome stranger warily. Melissa’s brother cut an impressive figure in his camouflage fatigues, and she imagined he’d be even more so in action. Right now though, his tormented gaze was riveted on his sister, his face drawn into harsh lines of anger.

“What’s Gary’s last name?” he asked, his low voice vibrating with suppressed anger. “Where can I find him?”

She suppressed a sigh. “I wish I knew. Melissa never told me his full name. In fact, the last time she left him, she refused to go to the police to press charges. Even when I drove her to a women’s shelter, she stayed for only a few days before going back home.”

“What?” Max whirled on her, pinning her with his stark gaze. “Are you telling me this happened before?”

She swallowed hard, knowing his anger wasn’t directed at her. Besides, she had to admit, he was showing remarkable control. “Yes, I’m afraid so. Not this bad, just a few bruises but enough to make me concerned.”

He was silent, and she watched a myriad of emotions playing across his features: fury, despair, agony, helplessness. Finally he turned away, letting out a harsh sound as he tightened his fingers around the side rail of Melissa’s bed. His tortured expression of self-recrimination tugged at her heart. “I didn’t know,” he murmured, his tone full of anguish. “I honestly didn’t know.”

Tara wasn’t sure what to say. Melissa had obviously kept secrets. From both of them.

“She didn’t mention Gary or that she had a new boyfriend?” she asked, hesitantly. It did seem odd to her that Melissa hadn’t mentioned her brother during any of their meetings. Although maybe it was because he was so far away, stationed in Iraq, Melissa hadn’t seen him as a true support system.

For a long moment, Lieutenant Forrester stared down at his hands. “A few months ago, she did mention meeting a guy but didn’t really say much about it. I don’t always have a chance to respond to e-mails, especially once the fighting heats up. Weeks can pass before I’m able to return messages.”

She could only imagine how difficult it must be for the men and women who fight overseas. Even if Melissa had mentioned Gary, what would it matter? The damage was already done. Clearly, this time Gary had gone too far.

“I understand.” She tried to smile, but it wasn’t easy. Melissa’s situation was grim. When the hospital had called, letting her know about Melissa’s admission and suspected abuse, she’d immediately rushed over. Seeing Melissa in such bad shape had shaken her. Especially when Melissa had begged for her to keep Gary away, right before she’d slipped into a coma. There wasn’t much she could do at that point, other than pray for her safe recovery. But sitting there, watching Melissa fight for her life, she’d vowed to stay close, supporting Melissa’s escape from her boyfriend once and for all.

At least having Lieutenant Forrester here eased one of her concerns. Melissa wasn’t alone, not any longer. Between her brother and herself, she was convinced they could pull Melissa through this crisis.