Vanishing Act

Vanishing Act
Liz Johnson

Eighteen months ago, Nora James watched as her father was shot in an alley–and then she fled. She changed her name, her appearance and her job, hoping to keep her father's shooter at bay. For months, it worked…but now her luck has run out. A ruthless assassin is on her trail, and soon Nora, now known as Danielle, will be found. But this time, she has FBI agent Nate Andersen by her side–right? The handsome agent would give his life to protect Danielle, but he's wary of giving his heart…until a deadly confrontation leaves him with both on the line.

Fear crashed through Danielle’s stomach, nearly stealing her breath.

Yet for the first time in well over a year, she wasn’t alone. She had someone she could ask for help. But she wasn’t very good at doing that, either.

God, if it’s safe to let Nate in, please show me.

It seemed that the more she prayed for peace, the more her life spun out of control. The spying eyes. The jimmied lock. The butterflies that Nate caused.

She’d come to Crescent City to run away from her father’s death. But she hadn’t counted on a whole new set of problems.

Nate was nearly to his car, and she had to make a decision.

“Wait!” She jogged over to him. “On Tuesday I thought someone was following me home. I’m afraid they might try again tonight.” His face turned stony. “Would you mind just following me to make sure no one else is behind me?”

She’d barely closed her mouth before he agreed. “I’ll be right behind you.”

LIZ JOHNSON

After graduating from Northern Arizona University in Flagstaff with a degree in public relations, Liz Johnson set out to work in the Christian publishing industry, which was her lifelong dream. In 2006 she got her wish when she accepted a publicity position at a major trade book publisher. While working as a publicist in the industry, she decided to pursue her other dream—being an author. Along the way to having her novel published, she wrote articles for several magazines.

Liz lives in Colorado Springs, Colorado, where she enjoys theater, ice skating, volunteering in her church’s bookstore and making frequent trips to Arizona to dote on her nephew and three nieces. She loves stories of true love with happy endings. Visit her online at www.lizjohnsonbooks.com.

Vanishing Act

Liz Johnson

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

“For God has not given us a spirit of fear and timidity, but of power, love, and self-discipline.”

—2 Timothy 1:7

To Julia, Rachel, Caleb, Emily, and Jacob, I count myself blessed beyond measure to be your aunt. May our family leave a legacy that you are proud to carry on, one of grace, hope and love.

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

LETTER TO READER

DISCUSSION QUESTIONS

PROLOGUE

A car parked at least a block away backfired loudly, making Nora James huddle against the car door. Alone inside the car, she wrapped her arms around her stomach and leaned closer to the tinted window of the Lincoln Town Car, searching for any sign of the events unfolding in the dark alley. But night surrounded the car, cloaking the men she knew lined the brick buildings on each side of the narrow street.

Twisting her long ponytail behind her shoulder, she pressed her ear against the window, hoping for a voice she recognized. Cars sped over the bridge, crossing the nearby Willamette River, but everything else was silent.

No birds chirping. No people talking or strolling along the river. Not even the soft tinkling of evening rain, strange for the time of year. Eerily silent.

Suddenly the door on the opposite side of the bench seat jerked open, and a large man filled the opening. The car’s dome light spread an ethereal glow over his menacing sneer. His shoulders stretched his Italian suit jacket, and his hair was slicked back with something the consistency of motor oil. He made an imposing figure, but Nora was surprisingly glad to see a face that she recognized.

It was neither friendly nor safe, but it was familiar. And she had dearly missed anything familiar since being forced into a nondescript, white van three days earlier.

It had all been so cliché. Walking to the home that she shared with her dad from her final class of the day, she had lifted her face to the warmth of the sun, a rarity in the usually cloudy Portland climate. Lost in thoughts of her upcoming college graduation, she’d ignored the world around her.

That day it had been far from silent. Couples walking down the sidewalk, chatting vibrantly to each other. Cars flying by. The subdued chime of bicycle bells.

But then the world tilted on its axis. The screeching tires of the white van immediately signaled that something was amiss, and the men who jumped from the open sliding door moved like lightning. Both linebacker types and dressed in black, they easily subdued Nora, throwing her onto the floor of the van and slamming the door closed as the vehicle jerked forward.