Survive the Night. Vicki Hinze

      THE DARKEST HOURS

      After losing everything, Della Jackson tries to begin again as an investigator. But she can’t forget the past...and neither can someone else. Someone who won’t let anyone—even Della’s best friend, former special operative Paul Mason—stand in the way. As Della is stalked and those closest to her are targeted, both Della and Paul realize there’s only one way to survive. They each have to face their greatest fears, overcome the scars of the past and dare to love again...before it’s too late.

      “You’re a compassionate man.”

      “It’s not compassion, it’s faith.”

      She pushed at her salad with the tines of her fork.

      “I had that once. That connection that let me see things, understand things like this. But it’s gone now.”

      Now there was anger and outrage and confusion and emptiness. So much emptiness.

      “It’s not gone. Faith is a choice you make.” Paul signaled the waitress for more tea.

      A choice she didn’t dare make.

      She didn’t dare try to fill the empty places. It hurt too much to fill them and watch them empty and disappear. People, possessions, emotions—no matter how much you tried to protect them and yourself, you couldn’t do it.

      You couldn’t, and then you had to suffer the loss and failure. She’d suffered enough of both. She had nothing more to give or to lose.

      VICKI HINZE

      is an award-winning author of nearly thirty novels, four nonfiction books and hundreds of articles published in as many as sixty-three countries. She lives in Florida with her husband, near her children and grands, and she gets cranky if she must miss one of their ball games. Vicki loves to visit with readers and invites you to join her at vickihinze.com or on Facebook at Facebook.com/vicki.hinze.author.

      Survive the Night

      Vicki Hinze

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      MILLS & BOON

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      “I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you,

      plans to give you hope and a future.”

      —Jeremiah 29:11

      In honor of Kathy Carmichael

      We are gifted with friends to share our joys and troubles. Thank you for being my friend, Kathy, and for the blessing of being your Sister of the Heart.

      Contents

       CHAPTER ONE

       CHAPTER TWO

       CHAPTER THREE

       CHAPTER FOUR

       CHAPTER FIVE

       CHAPTER SIX

       CHAPTER SEVEN

       CHAPTER EIGHT

       CHAPTER NINE

       CHAPTER TEN

       CHAPTER ELEVEN

       CHAPTER TWELVE

       EPILOGUE

       Dear Reader

       Questions for Discussion

       Excerpt

      ONE

      “Tired?”

      Della Jackson latched her seat belt, then looked over at Paul Mason, driving his SUV. Her day had started just after five. It was now nineteen hours long, but she had to give credit to her boss, Madison McKay, owner of Lost, Inc. Holding an “open house” at the small private investigating firm where Della had worked since returning to Florida three years ago was a brilliant idea. Holding it during North Bay’s annual street festival was beyond brilliant and now a proven, resounding success.

      “I passed tired about nine o’clock. Not that your company hasn’t been great.” On a horse wearing a cowboy hat or in a black tux as he was now, Paul Mason was gorgeous and charming. Black hair, gray eyes and lean and fit with a face chiseled by a loving hand. More importantly to Della, he was a man of character, trusted, and he expected nothing from her. That made him the perfect nondate date for any event but especially for one of Madison’s formal soirees, which Della never attended without a direct command-performance memo.

      Paul’s arm draped the steering wheel. “Can I say something without you going postal on me?”

      Odd remark. “Sure.” In their three years of being close friends, hadn’t they always spoken freely? From the first time she’d talked to him on the phone from Tennessee through his organization, Florida Vet Net, and he’d agreed to help her relocate to Florida, she thought they had done nothing but speak freely.

      He braked for a group of about thirty festivalgoers to cross the street. One boy about twelve had the Seminole emblem painted on his cheek: Red is good.

      Her dress. So he had noticed that she always wore black. Was he like her landlady’s granddaughter next door? Gracie, a precocious eight-year-old, had taken one look at the red dress her grandmother was rehemming because Della had hemmed the silk with dental floss and asked if Della was done mourning.

      What mother ever stopped mourning the death of a child? What woman stopped mourning the resulting breakup of her marriage? “The black dress didn’t fit.”

      Disappointment flashed through Paul’s eyes. “Ah, I see.” He turned onto Highway 20, then minutes later, south into her subdivision. “You seemed to have fun tonight.”

      “You know I did.” They’d danced, enjoyed a battle of the bands and had a grand time. Fun. She’d had fun.

      The