Safe in His Arms

READER GROUP GUIDE


1. It’s a common thing to greatly admire an older sibling. It’s also common for a younger sibling to feel ignored. What were the dynamics in your family?

2. Having a friend who sees the real you can be one of the most rewarding experiences in our lives. When did you have your first real friend like that? How did he or she change your life?

3. Have you ever felt judged for your gender? If so, how did you handle it?

4. Charlie fell in with the wrong crowd because he felt unloved at home. How can we keep ourselves from this reaction in our own lives?

5. What do you think caused Golda to head down the wrong path?

6. Margaret was quick to make assumptions about others. On what criteria should we evaluate other people?

7. What makes you feel safe? Is this true safety or just an illusion of safety?

8. Margaret’s worth was tied up in how she looked and in her status. Where do you find your worth? If it’s based on an illusion, what can you do to change it?



ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

My friend and cheerleader, senior acquisitions editor Ami McConnell, loves change. Me, not so much. When publisher Allen Arnold called to tell me he was taking a ministry position and leaving Thomas Nelson, I was crushed. But Ami is right, and change can work out well. I adore Daisy Hutton, who took over as publisher for Allen! She’s the right person for the position. She’s handled the transition with such grace and wisdom, and I’m so thankful we have her. Thanks, Daisy!

My team is a dream to work with. I can’t imagine writing without my editor, Ami. I crave her analytical eye and love her heart. Ames, you are truly like a daughter to me. Marketing and publicity director, Katie Bond, is always willing to listen to my harebrained ideas. I wouldn’t get far without you, friend! Fabulous cover guru Kristen Vasgaard works hard to create the perfect cover—and does. You rock, Kristen! And, of course, I can’t forget my other friends who are all part of my amazing fiction family: Natalie Hanemann, Amanda Bostic, Becky Monds, Kerri Potts, Jodi Hughes, Ruthie Dean, Laura Dickerson, Heather McCulloch, and Dean Arvidson. You are all such a big part of my life. I wish I could name all the great folks at Thomas Nelson who work on selling my books through different venues. I’m truly blessed!

Julee Schwarzburg is a dream editor to work with. She totally gets romantic suspense, and our partnership is a joy. Thanks for all your hard work to make this book so much better!

My agent, Karen Solem, has helped shape my career in many ways, and that includes kicking an idea to the curb when necessary. Thanks, Karen, you’re the best!

Writing can be a lonely business, but God has blessed me with great writing friends and critique partners. Hannah Alexander (Cheryl Hodde), Kristin Billerbeck, Diann Hunt, and Denise Hunter make up the Girls Write Out squad (www.GirlsWriteOut.blogspot.com). I couldn’t make it through a day without my peeps! Thanks to all of you for the work you do on my behalf and for your friendship. I had great brainstorming help for this book in Robin Caroll and Cara Putman. Thank you, friends!

I’m so grateful for my husband, Dave, who carts me around from city to city, washes towels, and chases down dinner without complaint. As I type this, he has been free of prostate cancer for a year, and we’re so thankful! My kids—Dave, Kara (and now Donna and Mark)—and my grandsons, James and Jorden Packer, love and support me in every way possible. Love you guys! Donna and Dave brought me the delight of my life—our little grand-daughter, Alexa! She’s talking like a grown-up now, and having her spend the night is more fun than I can tell you.

Most important, I give my thanks to God, who has opened such amazing doors for me and makes the journey a golden one.





AN EXCERPT FROM TIDEWATER INN

ONE

Libby Holladay fought her way through the brambles to the overgrown garden. She paused to wave a swarm of gnats away from her face. The house was definitely in the Federal style, as she’d been told. Palladian windows flanked a centered door, or rather the opening for a door. The structure was in serious disrepair. Moss grew on the roof, and fingers of vine pried through the brick mortar. The aroma of honeysuckle vied with that of mildew.

She stepped closer to the house and jotted a few impressions in her notebook before moving inside to the domed living room. The floorboards were missing in places and rotted in others, so she planted her tan flats carefully. She could almost see the original occupants in this place. She imagined her own furniture grouped around the gorgeous fireplace. She’d love to have this place, but something so grand that needed this much repair would never be hers. The best she could do would be to preserve it for someone else who would love it. She itched to get started.

Her cell phone rang, and she groped in her canvas bag for it. Glancing at the display, she saw her partner’s name. “Hey, Nicole,” she said. “You should see this place. A gorgeous Federal-style mansion. I think it was built in 1830. And the setting by the river is beautiful. Or it will be once the vegetation is tamed.” Perching on the window seat, she made another note about the fireplace. “Nicole? Are you there?”

There was a long pause, then Nicole finally spoke. “I’m here.”

“You sound funny. What’s wrong?” Nicole was usually talkative, and Libby couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard strain in her friend’s voice. “Are you still in the Outer Banks? Listen, I heard there might be a hurricane heading that way.” She dug into her purse for her jalapeño jellybeans and popped one in her mouth.

“I’m here,” Nicole said. “The residents are sure the storm will miss Hope Island. The investor is really interested in this little town. And we have the chance to make a boatload of money on it. It’s all in your hands.”

“My hands? You’re the one with the money smarts.”

Nicole was the mover and shaker in Holladay Renovations. She convinced owners to dramatically increase the value of their historic properties by entrusting them to Libby’s expertise. Libby had little to do with the money side of the business, and that was how she liked it.

“I think I’d better go back to the beginning,” Nicole said. “Rooney sent me here to see about renovating some buildings in the small downtown area. He’s working on getting a ferry to the island. It will bring in a lot more tourism for the hotel he’s planning, but the buildings need to be restored to draw new business.”

“I know that much. But what do you mean ‘it’s in my hands’?” Libby glanced at her notes, then around the room again. This was taking up her time, and she wanted to get back to work. “We’re doing the lifesaving station for sure, right?”

“Yes, I’ve already seen it. We were right to buy that sweet building outright. After you get your hands on it, we’ll make a bundle and have instant credibility here. I’ve started making notes of the materials and crew we’ll need. But I’m not calling about the renovations. I’m talking a lot of money, Libby. Millions.”

That got Libby’s attention. “Millions?”

“I stopped by the local attorney’s office to see about having him handle the paperwork for our purchase of the lifesaving station. Horace Whittaker. He’s got both our names on the paperwork now.”

“So?”

“The secretary gasped when she heard your name.”

“She knew me?”

“The attorney has been looking for a Libby Holladay. Daughter of Ray Mitchell.”

“That’s my dad’s name.”

“I thought it might be. I’d heard you mention the name Ray, but I wasn’t sure of the last name.”

Libby rubbed her head. “Why is he looking for me? My father has been dead a long time—since I was five.”

“He died a month ago, Libby. And he left you some valuable land. In fact, it’s the land Rooney thought he had agreed to purchase. So we’re in the driver’s seat on this deal.” Nicole’s voice rose.

Libby gasped, then she swallowed hard. “It’s a hoax. I bet the attorney asked for a fee, right?”

“No, it’s real. According to the secretary, your father was living in the Outer Banks all this time. And Horace has a box of letters Ray wrote to you that were all marked Return to Sender. It appears your mother refused them.”

Libby’s midsection plunged. Throughout her childhood she’d asked her mother about her father. There were never any answers. Surely her mother wouldn’t have lied. Libby stared out the window at two hummingbirds buzzing near the overgrown flowers.

“Do you have any idea how much money this land is worth?” Nicole’s voice quivered. “It’s right along the ocean. There’s a charming little inn.”

It sounded darling. “What’s the area like?”

“Beautiful but remote.” Nicole paused. “Um, listen, there’s something else. I met a woman who looked like you a couple days ago.”

Libby eased off the window ledge. “Who is she?”

“Your half sister, Vanessa. You also have a brother, Brent. He’s twenty-two.”

“My father married again?” Libby couldn’t take it all in. This morning she had no family but a younger stepbrother, whom she rarely saw. Why had her mother kept all this from her? “What about my father’s wife?”

“She doesn’t seem to be around. But there’s an aunt too.”

Family. For as long as she could remember, Libby had longed for a large extended family. Her free-spirited mother was always wanting to see some new and exciting place. They had never lived at the same address for more than two years at a time.

“You need to get here right away,” Nicole said. “There are a million details to take care of. This is the big deal we’ve been praying for, Libby. You will never want for anything again, and you’ll have plenty of money to help your stepbrother. He can get out of that trailer with his family.”

The thought of buying her stepbrother’s love held some appeal. They weren’t close, but not because she hadn’t tried. “I can’t get away until tomorrow, Nicole. I have to finish up here first. We have other clients.”

How much of her reluctance was rooted in the thought of facing a future that was about to change radically? She never had been good with change. In her experience, change was something that generally made things worse, not better.

Her partner’s sigh was heavy in Libby’s ear. “Okay. Hey, want to see Vanessa? She’ll be here in a few minutes. There’s a beach cam out by the lifesaving station, and I’m supposed to meet her there. I’ll send you a link to it. You can see her before you meet her.”

Libby glanced through the window toward her car. “I have my computer in the car.” She tucked her long hair behind her ear and gathered her things. “What does Vanessa think about our father leaving prime real estate to me?” She left the house and started for her vehicle.

Nicole cleared her throat. “Um, she’s pretty upset.”

“I would imagine. What did you tell her about me?”

“As little as possible.”

“I don’t know if that’s good or bad.”

“I wouldn’t worry about them. She and her brother are fishing for info though. She mentioned lighthouse ruins and I asked for directions. She offered to show me, but I went out there by myself yesterday. I’m still meeting her today because I knew you’d want to know more about her.”

It sounded like a disaster in the making. “I have so many questions.”

“Then come down as soon as you can and get them answered. Wait until you see Tidewater Inn, Libby! It’s really old. It’s on the eastern edge of the island with tons of land along the beach. The inn was a house once, and it is a little run-down but very quaint. It’s hard to get out here. Until Rooney gets the ferry approved, you’ll have to hire a boat. You’re going to love it though. I love this island. It’s like stepping back in time. And I’ve even seen some caves to explore.”

“No road to it from the mainland?” Libby couldn’t fathom a place that remote.

“Nope. Boat access only.”

Her phone still to her ear, Libby opened her car door and slid in. The computer was on the floor, and she opened it. “I’m going to have to get off a minute to tether my phone to the computer. Send me the link to the harbor cam. Don’t tell Vanessa I’m watching.”

“When can you get here tomorrow?”

“It’s about two hours from Virginia Beach?”

“Yes.”

Libby doubted she’d sleep tonight. It would be no problem to be in the shower by six. “I’ll be there by nine.”

She ended the call, then attached the cord that tethered the phone to the computer. She would use the cell signal to watch Nicole’s video feed on the larger screen. Then she could watch and still take any calls that came in. Her skin itched from the brambles. She established the connection, then logged on to the Internet. No e-mail yet.

She owned property. The thought was mind boggling. No matter what condition it was in, it was a resource to fall back on, something she hadn’t possessed yesterday. The thought lightened her heart. She stared at the grand old home beside her. What if there was enough money from the sale of the inn to allow her to buy a historic house and restore it? It would be a dream come true. She could help her stepbrother. She could buy some Allston paintings too, something she’d never dreamed she could afford.

A woman pecked on Libby’s car window, and Libby turned on the key and ran down the window. “Hello. I’m not an intruder. I’m evaluating this gorgeous old place for the historic registry.”

The woman smiled. “I thought maybe you were buying it. Someone should restore it.”

“Someone plans to,” Libby said. What if it could be her instead of her client?

The woman pointed. “I’m taking up a collection for the Warders, who live on the corner. They had a fire in the kitchen and no insurance.”

Libby had only two hundred dollars in her checking account, and she had to get to the Outer Banks. “I wish I could help,” she said with real regret. “I don’t have anything to spare right now.”

“Thanks anyway.” The woman smiled and moved to the next house.

Libby ran the window back up and clicked on her in-box. An e-mail from Nicole appeared. She stared at the link. All she had to do was click and she’d catch a glimpse of a sister she had no idea even existed. Her hands shook as she maneuvered the pointer over the link and clicked. The page opened, and she was staring at a boardwalk over deep sand dunes that were heaped like snowdrifts. In the distance was a brilliant blue ocean. A pier extended into the pristine water. The scene was like something out of a magazine. She could almost feel the sea breeze.

She clicked to enlarge the video and turned up the speakers so she could hear the roar of the surf. Where was Nicole? The pier was empty, and so was the sea. A dilapidated building stood to the right of the screen, and she could just make out a sign over the door. Hope Beach Lifesaving Station.

Then there was a movement on the boardwalk. Nicole appeared. She smiled and waved. “Hi, Libby,” she said. The sound quality was surprisingly good. The sound of the ocean in the background was a pleasant lull.

Libby had to resist the impulse to wave back. Her partner’s blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail under a sun hat, and she wore a hot-pink cover-up over her brown bathing suit.

Nicole glanced at her watch and frowned. “Vanessa is late. Like I started to say earlier, I didn’t want to wait on her to see the lighthouse ruins, so I went out there alone. I have to show it to you. Wait until you see what I found. You’ll seriously freak! Hey, give me a call. This pier is one of the few places where my phone works. Isn’t that crazy—an entire island without cell service. Almost, anyway.”

Libby picked up her cell phone, still connected to the computer. They could talk a few minutes. Before she could call, a small boat pulled up to the shore. Two men jumped out and pulled the boat aground. Nicole turned toward them. The men walked toward her. There was no one else in sight, and Libby tensed when Nicole took a step back. Libby punched in Nicole’s number. She watched her friend dig in her bag when it rang.

When Nicole answered the phone, Libby leaped to her feet and yelled, “Get out of there. Go to your car!”

Nicole was still watching the men walk toward her. “It’s just a couple of tourists, Libby,” she said. “You worry too much.” She smiled and waved at the men.

Libby leaned closer to the laptop. “There’s something wrong.” She gasped at the intention in their faces. “Please, Nicole, run!”

But it was the men who broke into a run as they drew closer to the boardwalk. As they neared the cam, Libby could see them more clearly. One was in his forties with a cap pulled low over his eyes. He sported a beard. The other was in his late twenties. He had blond hair and hadn’t shaved in a couple of days.

Nicole took another step back as the older man in the lead smiled at her. The man said, “Hang up.” He grabbed her arm.

“Let go of her!” Libby shouted into the phone.

The man knocked the phone from Nicole’s hand and the connection was broken. The other man reached the two, and he plunged a needle into Nicole’s arm. Both men began dragging Nicole toward the boat. She was struggling and shouting for help, then went limp. Her hat fell to the ground.

Barely aware that she was screaming, Libby dialed 9-1-1. “Oh God, oh God, help her!”

The dispatcher answered and Libby babbled about her friend being abducted right in front of her. “It’s in the Outer Banks.” She couldn’t take her eyes off the boat motoring away from the pier. “Wait, wait, they’re taking her away! Do something!”

“Where?”

“I told you, the Outer Banks.” Libby looked at the heading above the video stream. “Hope Beach. It’s Hope Beach. Get someone out there.”

“Another dispatcher is calling the sheriff. I have an officer on his way to you.”

“I’m going to Hope Beach now.”

“Stay where you are,” the dispatcher said. “We’ve got the sheriff on the line there. He’s on his way to the site. Don’t hang up until an officer arrives.”

She had to do something. Anything but run screaming into the street. Libby looked at the computer. She could call up the video, save it for evidence. But the stream had no rewind, no way to save it. If she could hack into the site, she could get to the file. The police could save time and get the pictures of those men circulating. With a few keystrokes, she broke through the firewall and was in the code.

Then her computer blinked and went black. And when she called up the site again, the entire code was gone. What had she done?





ABOUT THE AUTHOR

RITA finalist Colleen Coble is the author of several bestselling romantic suspense series, including the Mercy Falls series, the Lonestar series, and the Rock Harbor series.

Visit ColleenCoble.com