- Author: Elizabeth Goddard
Book online «Alaskan Mountain Pursuit Elizabeth Goddard (best short novels .TXT) 📖». Author Elizabeth Goddard
What was that noise?
It penetrated her sleep and she sat up. Will stood at the open door, silhouetted in the morning light.
Realization dawned. A helicopter. Someone to rescue them.
Newfound energy surged through Sylvie, and she ran to Will on her injured ankle. “Why aren’t you out there signaling them?” She pushed by, prepared to limp outside. “If you won’t, then I will.”
“Sylvie, no.” He gripped her shoulders, his eyes imploring her to listen. “The help I radioed for won’t be here for hours.” He nodded toward the helicopter. “That’s not our help.”
She froze. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that could be the men after you.”
She backed away from him. “No, that can’t be. How—”
A spray of bullets ricocheted through the woods. Will slammed the door and pressed his back against it. Determination was carved into his features. “We have to get out of here.”
A chunk of fear lodged in her throat. When would this end? She knew the answer...and that’s what scared her.
Alaskan Mountain Pursuit
Previously published as Tailspin and Mountain Refuge
Table of Contents
Tailspin by Elizabeth Goddard
Mountain Refuge by Sarah Varland
Hidden Amish Secrets by Debby Giusti
Elizabeth Goddard is the award-winning author of more than thirty novels and novellas. A 2011 Carol Award winner, she was a double finalist in the 2016 Daphne du Maurier Award for Excellence in Mystery/Suspense, and a 2016 Carol Award finalist. Elizabeth graduated with a computer science degree and worked in high-level software sales before retiring to write full-time.
Books by Elizabeth Goddard
Love Inspired Suspense
Mount Shasta Secrets
Coldwater Bay Intrigue
Thread of Revenge
Texas Ranger Holidays
Texas Christmas Defender
Targeted for Murder
Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.
But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.
To my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ,
who truly does renew my strength.
When it comes time to write acknowledgments, there are so many people I want to thank. Too many to name in a short paragraph, but all my heartfelt gratitude goes to my family—my parents and grandparents who encouraged me, always telling me that I could be whatever I wanted to be. They taught me the sky was the limit. To dream as big as I wanted to dream and accomplish even more. The journey to this place of living my dream of writing novels has taken years, and it’s a journey I would never have made without God, who continued to nudge and direct me to answer His call. Along the way I’ve made many deep and lasting friendships—my partners in writing and in life. You know who you are. Thank you. I want to thank my wonderful editor Elizabeth Mazer, for your encouragement and suggestions that make my books the best they can be. I could never forget my amazing agent, Steve Laube. Thank you for believing in me.
The scuba-diving dry suit, along with the warm layers beneath, protected Sylvie Masters from the biting cold waters of the channel that carved its way through the Alaska Panhandle.
Breathe too fast, you could die. Hold your breath, you could die. Stay too long, you could die. Ascend too fast, tiny little bubbles of nitrogen on a death mission enter your bloodstream.
Her mother’s words, an effort to dissuade her from her love of scuba diving, gripped her mind as she searched for the missing plane in the depths. Her mother had worried about Sylvie’s diving, but in turn, Sylvie had reminded her that famous undersea explorer Jacques Cousteau had lived to be eighty-seven, his death unrelated to his underwater endeavors, and his sons were still alive except the one who died in a plane crash—a seaplane, no less!
Sylvie never imagined her words would be so prophetic. Never imagined that horrible phone call two months earlier, telling her that a seaplane with her mother on board had disappeared without a trace, and that her mother was missing and presumed dead.
A sea lion glided past, much too close for comfort, and Sylvie exhaled sharply, her pulse accelerating. The enormity of the creature this close left her in awe. The large mammal, intent on a search of his own, swam away, putting a comfortable distance between them.
Slowing her breathing, she flutter-kicked and moved on. The glint of painted metal, something completely unnatural to the environment, caught her attention. A wing thrusting from the sandy bottom? The final resting place for a plane and passengers?
Her heart jumped, taking her breathing with it. Not good. At two atmospheres, or forty feet, this was a simple recreational dive. But she still needed to maintain slow, steady breaths. Two cardinal rules: never overbreathe and never hold your breath.
Her body was like a carbonated drink. The deeper the dive, the harder the shake. She only had to remember to open the bottle slowly, ascend at the proper rate with the right stops and then, upon surfacing, her body wouldn’t explode with nitrogen bubbles like a shaken can of soda opened too quickly. She wouldn’t get decompression sickness.
As an instructor for a diving school in Seattle, and a volunteer member of a local dive rescue organization, Sylvie had ample experience and was trained to solo dive. Good thing, too. Chelsey, a friend at the school, had planned to come with her, but Chelsey’s sister was seriously injured in a car wreck the day before they were to leave, and she needed to be at her sister’s side. Sylvie didn’t blame her for that, but neither would she wait until Chelsey could join her for yet another search for her mother’s missing plane.
She’d already taken the vacation time. It