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AMISH TARGET
Rebecca Fisher’s life was turned upside down when her husband was accused of murder and died in prison. Now, more than a year later, someone is reminding the Amish widow that all hasn’t been forgiven. But Rebecca isn’t about to pay for the sins of someone else’s past. So when the threats escalate and her rebellious stepson starts keeping secrets, Rebecca turns to former army ranger Jake Burke for help. She knows the Englisher is an honorable man, but being around him rattles her traditional community. Before long, Rebecca senses Jake is the only person she can trust with her safety…and with her fragile heart.
“I don’t mean to cause you any grief,” Jake said, tilting his head. There was a kindness in his eyes she wasn’t used to seeing in a man.
She blinked at him. Flo was right. He was pleasing to the eyes. Inwardly, she shook the thought away. She had no business thinking in those terms.
“I’m not looking for your friendship.” She didn’t try to hide the exhaustion in her voice. “My coming to your office the other night was misguided. I was desperate. I thought you could help me understand what’s going on with my son.” Rebecca wrung her hands. “But I suppose that’s something I have to work out with Samuel.”
The professor put his hand on the railing near hers. For the briefest of moments, she thought he was going to cover her hand with his, warming it.
She ignored the disappointment that swelled inside her when he didn’t.
ALISON STONE lives with her husband of more than twenty years and their four children in Western New York. Besides writing, Alison keeps busy volunteering at her children’s schools, driving her girls to dance and watching her boys race motocross. Alison loves to hear from her readers at [email protected]. For more information please visit her website, alisonstone.com. She’s also chatty on Twitter, @Alison_Stone. Find her on Facebook at facebook.com/alisonstoneauthor.
Plain Threats
Alison Stone
MILLS & BOON
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God is our refuge and strength, always ready to help in times of trouble.
—Psalms 46:1
To my son Alex, as you embark on your senior year of high school. May you continue to be fearless and intelligent in your choices. You have the world at your feet, Buddy. I can’t wait to see what you decide to do in life. I’m so proud of you. Love you.
To my editor, Allison Lyons, who continues to believe in me. Thanks for your keen editorial input. My books are the best they can be because of you.
To my husband, Scott, and the rest of my kids, Scotty, Kelsey and Leah. Love you guys, always and forever.
Contents
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
EPILOGUE
Dear Reader
“I won’t be long.” Rebecca Fisher scooted forward on the vinyl seat in the van and raised her voice over the swoosh, swoosh, swoosh of the worn wipers scraping against the windshield.
“I have another pickup.” The driver’s words were clipped, as if a return ride hadn’t been understood. He pulled back the sleeve of his jacket and checked his wristwatch. “Meet you back here in thirty minutes?”
“Yah.” Gathering the folds of her skirt and her tote bag, Rebecca climbed out of the van, popped up her umbrella and slammed the van door closed. She cast one last glance at the driver, who seemed oblivious to her indecision. Not as chatty as some, the young driver was one of several employed in the heavily Amish community of Apple Creek, New York, to cart the Amish around when they didn’t want to be bothered with a horse and buggy.
Standing on the sidewalk under her black umbrella next to the brick building, Rebecca watched the red brake lights of the van as it slowed, then disappeared around the corner. She tugged on her black bonnet, trying to shut out the brisk wind and the whipping rain. It was late September, too early for snow, but the cold and rain were a hint of the winter to come in western New York.
Rebecca checked the address for Professor Jacob Burke on the slip of paper in her hand. Then she squinted at the name of the building carved into the stone above the nearest doorway. Her heart sank. It wasn’t the