Amish Christmas Hideaway

She’s hiding from killers...

Can she find a haven in Amish country?

A festive evening quickly becomes a holiday nightmare when Alisha Braxton witnesses a double murder. And the killer’s cold eyes promise that she’s next. There’s only one person Alisha trusts with her life—private investigator Nathan Craig, the man she once loved. But hiding in Amish country, can they outwit a murderer who’s determined she won’t survive Christmas?

With over seventy books published and millions in print, LENORA WORTH writes award-winning romance and romantic suspense. Three of her books finaled in the ACFW Carol Awards, and her Love Inspired Suspense novel Body of Evidence became a New York Times bestseller. Her novella in Mistletoe Kisses made her a USA TODAY bestselling author. Lenora goes on adventures with her retired husband, Don, and enjoys reading, baking and shopping...especially shoe shopping.

Also By Lenora Worth

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Amish Christmas Hideaway

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Deep Undercover

Military K-9 Unit

Rescue Operation

Classified K-9 Unit

Tracker

Classified K-9 Unit Christmas

“A Killer Christmas”

Rookie K-9 Unit

Truth and Consequences

Rookie K-9 Unit Christmas

“Holiday High Alert”

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Amish Christmas Hideaway

Lenora Worth

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-0-008-90077-9

AMISH CHRISTMAS HIDEAWAY

© 2019 Lenora H. Nazworth

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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“Just get me out of here...please.”

Alisha’s car was mere inches away from what looked like a sizable drop-off into a ravine.

“I’ve got you,” Nathan said. “C’mon, take my hand.”

She nodded. “My bag.”

“Okay, grab it. But careful.”

She lifted the big businesslike leather bag and handed it to him.

“Turn slowly toward me, okay?”

She nodded, the car rocking with each movement and slipping another inch against the old tree trunk.

Nathan’s breath caught. That old stump wouldn’t last much longer.

“On three,” he said. “One, two...three.”

He tugged her up and out and then pulled her away from the now-shaking car. With a groan, the car’s front right fender scraped against the rock before sliding over the edge of the ravine and crashing down below.

The sound of metal breaking apart echoed out over the hills.

“Are you all right?”

Alisha let out a long, shuddering sigh. “I could have died if you hadn’t come along...”

Why do the heathen rage, and the people imagine a vain thing?

—Psalm 2:1

To all of the friends I’ve made while writing Amish fiction. Thank you to our loyal readers!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Introduction

Bible Verse

Dedication

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

TWENTY

TWENTY-ONE

Extract

About the Publisher

ONE

She’d stopped here on a whim. Tired from a lengthy deposition in Philadelphia, Alisha Braxton planned to find a strong cup of coffee. She needed to stay awake to drive the two hours from the city to the small community of Campton Creek in Lancaster County to celebrate Christmas with her grandmother Bettye Willis.

This quaint Christmas market on the outskirts of Philadelphia beckoned her with the promise of something warm to drink and maybe something wonderful to nibble on while she traveled. Too busy to shop for gifts before now, she decided she’d do a quick browse and buy her grandmother something special. And maybe Mrs. Campton, too.

The two elderly women lived together in the carriage house at the Campton estate, now called the Campton Center. Alisha did several hours a week of pro bono work at the center. It was a good chance to visit with her grandmother and help out the community.

But this week she wouldn’t be working as much. A whole week with Granny—a gift from her firm. Five days before Christmas. Her boss had insisted and, as much as she loved her career as an associate with the law firm of Henderson and Perry, Alisha needed a break.

She looked forward to spending the upcoming holidays there with her grandmother, who’d been Judy Campton’s assistant for years and now her companion since they were both widowed. A week off and then she’d get back to her paying hours at the small law firm near Reading where she’d worked since law school. The firm was a satellite branch connected to the main firm in Philadelphia. Alisha hoped to work at the big firm one day, but for now she was paying her dues and working her way up the firm’s ladder.

Taking in the bright lights lining the marketplace that had once been a town square on the outskirts of Philadelphia, Alisha pulled her small blue sedan into what looked like the last available parking place. A couple strolled by together, holding hands and laughing, packages hanging from their arms. The man smiled down at the woman then tugged at her long dark hair.

A surge of longing hit Alisha, causing her to sit there in the dark while the couple kissed by a stark white sports car parked directly across from Alisha. After putting their packages in the tiny trunk, the man helped the woman into her seat and hurried around to get inside.

They looked so happy, so in love.

Would she ever have that? Probably not. She’d sealed away her heart and focused on work. No time for romance or anything that followed. Once, she’d fallen in love. Once. Putting her memories away, Alisha took in her surroundings.

Dusk moved over the sparkling Christmas trees decorating the tiny square, causing the whole scene to shimmer and glisten. People bundled in scarves and jackets strolled along the busy open market, sipping hot drinks as they laughed and took in the lovely holiday displays. Beautiful but so deceptive. She’d seen the underbelly of life too often lately to appreciate the forced facade of a commercial Christmas. And she sure didn’t need to sit here longing for something she’d never have.

“When did I become so jaded?” she said out loud before opening her car door. She needed caffeine and maybe something with pumpkin spice.

She lifted one booted foot out onto the asphalt parking lot, the chilly air hitting her in a burst of December wind. Hoping the snowstorm headed this way would hold off, Alisha watched a vehicle approaching at high speed. The black SUV came to a skidding halt behind the white sports car now trying to back out of the parking space across from where Alisha had just pulled in.

Before she could exit her car, a window came down on the SUV. Then the air shattered with the sound of several rapid-fire gunshots, aimed at the sportscar.

Alisha screamed and sank down in her seat. When the shots kept coming, she crouched low and watched in horror as the couple in the sports car scrambled to find protection.

The gunman kept shooting. And they had no way out.

Alisha looked up and saw the gunman’s face in the bright lights from the twinkling decorations and the glow of streetlights. His cold, dead gaze stopped and froze on her.

She got a good look at him.

And...he got a good look at her.

Ducking back down, she held her breath. He’d try to kill her, too. She’d seen him. Bracing for a bullet, she heard people screaming, heard footsteps rapidly hitting the pavement as pedestrians tried to scramble away.

Dear Lord, please help these people and protect me. Help me. Alisha’s prayers seemed to freeze in her throat as she waited for more gunshots.

Instead, the vehicle’s motor revved and then the dark SUV spun away, tires squealing, the smell of rubber burning through the air. Only a few seconds had passed but the scene played over in Alisha’s mind in slow motion as she relived the sight of that face and then the screams from inside the tiny car. And then...a stunning split second of silence.

She heard people running and screaming. Quickly pulling out her phone, her hands shaking, she called 911 as she wobbled onto her feet and hurried to the car that now looked like it had been in a war zone, bullet holes scattered across it, the heavy vinyl convertible top split and torn.

“A shooting,” she said to the dispatcher. “At the Christmas market near West Fairmount Park.” She named the street and told the dispatcher what had happened. “I... I witnessed the shooting.”

People had gathered around and a security guard stood staring into the car, his expression full of shock. “What in the world?”

The dispatcher confirmed the location and told Alisha to stay on the phone.

“Officers on the way,” Alisha said to the scared guard after the dispatcher had told her as much. “Secure the scene and get these people back.”

She stepped away, her stomach roiling at the carnage in the two-seater car. Blood everywhere and both passengers slumped over, holding each other, their bodies riddled with bullet holes. They’d been smiling and happy seconds before and now they were obviously dead.

The other vehicle was long gone but while she waited she managed to give a description to the dispatcher.

“Large black SUV.” She named the model. “A driver and one shooter but I couldn’t make out the license plate. I didn’t see anyone else inside.”

But she remembered the shooter’s face. A light scruffy beard and stringy long dark hair covered by a thick wool cap. His eyes—black as night and dead. So dead inside.

Alisha stayed on the phone but heard the sound of sirens echoing through the chilly night. Her boots crunched against something as she tried to scan the surrounding area. She looked down and saw the delicate, gold-embossed Christmas ornament that had decorated the now-shattered streetlight hovering over the sports car. A star shape, shimmering white.

The ornament laid broken and crushed underneath her feet.

Hours later, Nathan Craig heard a ringing in his ears that would not go away. “Stop it,” he groaned, coming awake to find a weak slant of moonlight filtering through the darkness of his bedroom. He wiped at his sleepy eyes and glared at the dial of his watch.

Eleven o’clock.

Exhausted after an all-night surveillance and a day full of reports to his client, he’d gone to bed early and at his own place for once. Now he’d never get back to sleep.

Then he realized his phone was ringing. Not so unusual. Being a private investigator meant he had a lot of late-night calls from either clients or informants. And sometimes, from the angry subjects of his investigations.

Sitting up, he grabbed the annoying device and growled, “This had better be good.”

“Nathan?”

The voice was winded and scared, his name a whisper from a raw throat. But that voice held a familiar tone that hit deep in his gut.

“Alisha?”

“Yes.”

Now he was wide awake.

Knowing she’d never call him unless she was in trouble or really mad at him again, he said, “Alisha, what’s wrong?”

“I... I think someone’s trying to kill me,” she said, the tremor in her words destroying him.

He stood and grabbed his jeans, hit his toe on a chair and gritted his teeth. “Where are you? Are they after you right now?”

“I’m almost to Campton Creek. Just a few miles from the turnoff. I know they’re following me but I don’t see the SUV behind me. He’ll be back. I saw his face, Nathan. I witnessed a man shoot and kill two people. And you know what that means.”

“Hold on,” he said, his mind racing ahead while fear held his heart in a vise. “I can be there in fifteen minutes. You stay on the line with me, okay?”

“Okay.”

Then he thought better. “Have you called the police?”

She heaved a deep breath. “I had a police escort following me, watching my back. Two officers.”

“Where are they now?”

“Dead, I think. Someone shot out their tires and they crashed on the side of the road. The patrol car exploded. I should have stopped to help.”

Nathan closed his eyes and tried to focus. “You didn’t stop. Smart move.”

“I wanted to stop but... I saw the SUV. I sped up and rounded the big curve near Green Mountain.” Heaving a sigh that sounded more like a sob, she said, “I pulled off on a dirt lane but it’s a dead-end. I think the SUV went on by but I’m afraid to get back on the road.”

Nathan knew that curve. Just enough time to get her out of view of any car following her but also a dangerous place where someone could hide and wait for her.

“Did you call anyone else?”

“I called you,” she said through a shuddering sob. “Because this won’t end with the local police, Nathan. I witnessed a double homicide that looked like a hit job. Those two officers are probably dead. The FBI will probably be called in and I’ll need to testify.”

FBI? Now he was tripping over his own feet. “Alisha, I know the road you’re on. Find an Amish farm and wake someone up. Stay with them until I get there. Do you hear me?”

She didn’t speak.

He held the cell between his ear and shoulder while he grabbed at more clothes and found his weapon and wallet.

“Alisha?”

“I know a shortcut,” she said, sounding stronger. “I’ll take that route once I hit the turn. I’ll try to find a house, I promise. My cell battery is low. I have to go.”

“Alisha, tell me what to look for.”

“Black Denali SUV. Two men in the vehicle. I have to go.”

“Alisha, don’t—”

She ended the call.

Nathan stood there in the dark, the images playing in his mind a terrible torment. If anything happened to her...

He’d been through this kind of terror before. He would not go there again.

With that vow in mind, he finished putting on his clothes and hurried out of the cabin toward his big Chevy truck. His heart pumping adrenaline, he headed toward Green Mountain. Once underway, he called his friend Carson Benton at the sheriff’s department. While per Pennsylvania law, the deputy couldn’t apprehend the suspects, he could serve in tracking them down and alerting the state police and the FBI if needed. He could also help in transporting them if they were apprehended.

Nathan and Carson went way back, had been friends for years. Carson sometimes helped Nathan in an unofficial capacity with missing person cases.

“This had better be good,” Carson said, echoing the same words Nathan had uttered about ten minutes ago.

“I need you to check on a woman driving alone and headed toward the turnoff just past Green Mountain, toward Campton Creek. She thinks someone is following her. Someone dangerous. She witnessed a shooting near Philadelphia and she had a police cruiser following her but the perpetrators ran the patrol car off the road.”

“Hello to you, too,” his longtime friend said with a grunt. “Got it. Who’s the woman?”

“Alisha Braxton,” Nathan said, one hand on the wheel as he broke the speed limit. Then he described her vehicle. “I’m on my way.”

“I know how you drive, Nathan. You’ll beat me there,” Carson replied in a tart tone. “I’m on it.” Then he asked, “Hey, isn’t she the one who—”

“Yeah,” Nathan said. Then he ended the call.

Alisha Braxton.

The one who got away.

This had to be bad if she’d called him.

Because Nathan knew he was the one man on earth she’d never want to call for help.

Why had she called him?

Logic told Alisha her first call should have been to 911. But she’d panicked after she’d seen the patrol car behind her bursting into flames and when she’d grabbed for her phone, Nathan had come to mind. He lived close by when he wasn’t traveling. Thankful that she’d caught Nathan at home, Alisha knew he could get to her fast. And he’d act first and ask questions later.

He was the kind of man who took matters into his own hands.

He was also the kind of man who broke all the rules, one of the reasons she’d given up on him long ago.

Now it was the only reason she wanted him by her side.

The one man she didn’t want to call was also the one man who could help her escape from a couple of killers.

The irony of her situation made her laugh a tiny hysterical laugh while she slipped her car back onto the main road and kept watch behind her. She’d seen the SUV and now it had disappeared. But she wasn’t imagining this. If she turned down Applewood Lane and hooked a left back to the old covered-bridge road, she could throw them off. Then she could take the back roads to Creek Road and then Campton Creek proper. She’d be safe soon. She knew these roads, had traveled them as a child.

Had met Nathan in a park out by the creek when they were both in their late teens.

Nathan, who’d been Amish then.

Nathan, who now had few scruples when it came to bringing justice to this world.

He no longer lived among the Amish but for close to fifteen years, he had made it his life’s work to always help and protect the Amish. Because he had to help others seek their loved ones so they wouldn’t have to live with the pain he carried in his heart.

His younger sister had gone missing after Nathan and his father had fought about his relationship with Alisha. Hannah had been found dead a few weeks later.

Nathan blamed himself. Alisha lived with that same guilt.

She shouldn’t have called him tonight. She had her life in order, had her routines down, worked hard, rarely dated. She’d learned to be her own hero. Because she never wanted to go through that kind of pain again, either.

Nathan could complicate all of that.

He could also save her life.

Alisha checked her mirror again and tried to stay calm. She knew how to take care of herself. She’d given the police her statement, described in detail the vehicle and the man she’d seen, left the officers and detectives her contact information and finally had been given permission to leave.

“Will you be all right, Miss Braxton?” one of the detectives at the gruesome scene had asked her.

“I will be when I get to my grandmother’s place,” she’d replied, glancing around the empty parking lot. The marketplace had been shut down until the crime techs could scour the scene. By then the authorities had questioned all of the witnesses, but most of them had just heard gunshots and seen the SUV speeding out of the parking lot.

Alisha had been the only eyewitness to the murders.

“We can give you an escort,” one of the detectives had suggested.

“That might make me feel better,” she’d admitted. “It’s about two hours from here.”

They arranged for a patrol car with two officers to follow her, staying close. She’d watched their car through her rearview mirror, feeling safe, until she’d heard screeching tires and gunshots.

And watched the patrol car careening off the road and into a rocky incline. It had burst into flames.

Now she prayed for those two officers, but she knew in her heart they were probably dead. If the crash hadn’t killed them, the shooter would make sure they were dead.

She would be next.

Hurry, Nathan.

When she saw a car approaching, Alisha gasped and watched as it zoomed close. Dark, big, gaining on her.

Alisha couldn’t tell who was behind her, but the driver had a lead foot. Coming up on another curve, she took a quick glance in the rearview mirror. The big vehicle was still gaining on her.

Then she saw the headlights of another vehicle off in the distance, coming from the other direction. Her turnoff was up ahead but the on-coming car could be the SUV retracing the same route. Could she make it before either vehicle caught her? She’d have to speed up and make a hard right turn. Checking again, she gauged the distance and monitored the oncoming car, hoping she’d be past it before she spun to the right. Meantime, she prayed the vehicle behind her would keep moving ahead instead of following her.