Amish Rescue

Hiding with the Amish

Another thrilling book in the Amish Protectors series

Englischer Sarah Miller escapes her captor by hiding in the buggy of an Amish carpenter. Joachim Burkholder is her only hope—and donning Plain clothing is the only way to keep safe and find her missing sister. But for Joachim, who’s just returning to the Amish, the forbidden Englischer is trouble. Trapping her kidnapper risks his life, but losing Sarah risks his heart.

DEBBY GIUSTI is an award-winning Christian author who met and married her military husband at Fort Knox, Kentucky. Together they traveled the world, raised three wonderful children and have now settled in Atlanta, Georgia, where Debby spins tales of mystery and suspense that touch the heart and soul. Visit Debby online at debbygiusti.com, blog with her at seekerville.blogspot.com and craftieladiesofromance.blogspot.com, and email her at Debby@DebbyGiusti.com.

Also By Debby Giusti

Amish Protectors

Amish Refuge

Undercover Amish

Amish Rescue

Military Investigations

The Officer’s Secret

The Captain’s Mission

The Colonel’s Daughter

The General’s Secretary

The Soldier’s Sister

The Agent’s Secret Past

Stranded

Person of Interest

Plain Danger

Plain Truth

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

Amish Rescue

Debby Giusti

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-08267-9

AMISH RESCUE

© 2018 Deborah W. Giusti

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 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.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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Version: 2020-03-02

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She was trapped.

The basement was dank and smelled of mildew.

She’d been foolish to reenter the house, and now Joachim was upstairs with her former captor, giving her her only chance to escape.

Muffled voices came from the kitchen, followed by footfalls as the men exited the house.

Sarah started for the stairs...but stopped when a scratching sound came from the other side of the basement. Though she had little time to waste, she followed the sound to a padlocked door.

She tapped on the door. The scratching came again, and her heart stopped. Knowing she had to be careful, she put her mouth to the door and whispered, “Can you hear me?”

Silence.

She glanced out the window. Joachim couldn’t keep her captor occupied much longer. She had to get out now.

She gripped the handrail as a wave of vertigo swept over her. The walls started to cave in around her in a sweep of claustrophobia.

Then she heard it. Her captor’s footsteps nearing the basement door. She glanced up just as the doorknob turned.

Dear Reader,

I hope you enjoyed Amish Rescue, Book 3 in my AMISH PROTECTORS series (Book 1, Amish Refuge and Book 2, Undercover Amish). An Englisch woman and an Amish handyman are an unlikely match, but when Joachim Burkholder rescues Sarah Miller from captivity, their lives are entwined forever. Yet memories from the past continue to hold them back until their love for each other can no longer be denied.

What struggles hold you back? Turn to the Lord. He wants to set you free.

I pray for my readers each day and would love to hear from you. Email me at debby@debbygiusti.com or write me c/o Love Inspired, 195 Broadway, 24th Floor, New York, NY 10007. Visit me at www.DebbyGiusti.com and at www.Facebook.com/debby.giusti.9.

As always, I thank God for bringing us together through this story.

Wishing you abundant blessings,

Debby

Then spake Jesus again unto them, saying, I am the light of the world: he that followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life.

—John 8:12

This story is dedicated to children at risk. Please join me in praying for their protection and well-being so the forces of darkness will not prevail against them.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Introduction

Dear Reader

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

TWENTY-TWO

TWENTY-THREE

TWENTY-FOUR

TWENTY-FIVE

TWENTY-SIX

TWENTY-SEVEN

TWENTY-EIGHT

TWENTY-NINE

Extract

About the Publisher

ONE

Sarah Miller’s heart pounded in sync with the footsteps that echoed up the stairway leading to the third story of the old antebellum home. Rats scurried in the attic as she crouched in the closet, pulled her knees to her chest and fought back tears that burned her eyes. The rats didn’t frighten her, but Victor Thomin did.

The shuffle of his feet on the landing signaled his approach. Keys rattled as he unlocked the door, sending another wave of panic to ricochet along her spine. The locks—all three of them—were to protect her from those who hoped to do her harm...or so Victor claimed.

“Sarah?”

Her lungs constricted at the sound of his voice. She gasped, struggled for air and wished she could be anywhere except in his mother’s house, where he said she was safe.

The door creaked open.

In her mind’s eye, she could see his pallid skin, deep-set eyes and shock of red hair as he glanced around the room.

“Where are you, Sarah?” Anger rose in his voice. “Are you hiding from me?”

He knew too much about her, about being left alone as a child, about the fire and the fear that continued to eat at her even though she should know better. Why had she told him so much in her drugged stupor? At least he no longer forced her to take the pills.

“You can’t hide from me, Sarah.” His voice made her tremble all the more.

The closet door flew open. She startled, gasped for air and wanted to run but was too frightened to move.

He grabbed her arm.

“Don’t hurt me.” She struggled to pull free. “It was the dream that made me hide.”

“Did you dream of being dragged from the car along with Miriam?” he asked, seemingly concerned. His hold eased. “Tell me about it, Sarah.”

His voice was syrupy sweet now. How could he be such a Jekyll and Hyde? Hateful one minute, feigning compassion the next.

If only she could remember all the details of the carjacking instead of hazy flashes that clouded her mind.

He leaned closer. “I told you about the bad men, Sarah, the men in your dreams. They captured your sister, but I’m working to get Miriam back before she’s transported so far away that you’ll never find her again.”

Sarah’s stomach roiled, sickened by the horrific thought of her sister gone forever. All her life, Sarah had relied on Miriam in times of need. But it wasn’t just Miriam she could count on. Even her eldest sister, Hannah, had offered support, though the two of them had not been as close.

“If Miriam can’t help me, then Hannah will.”

He clicked his tongue. “She left you years ago. Remember, you told me how you cried after Hannah was gone.”

Frustrated that he had manipulated even that information from her, she raised her chin in defiance. “I don’t believe what you said about Miriam. You’re wrong, Victor. She hasn’t been taken away. She’ll save me.”

Sarah eyed the open door to the hallway. Without thinking, she shoved past him and ran toward the stairs.

He chased after her, grabbed her arm and threw her down.

Her shoulder crashed against the floor. She groaned, then scrambled to her feet. He caught her hair and yanked so hard she thought her scalp would rip from her skull.

His other hand wrapped around her neck; all the while he pulled her hair until her face pointed to the ceiling, exposing her throat, where his fingers tightened, constricting her airway.

She clawed at his arm and kicked, her lungs on fire. She couldn’t swallow, couldn’t scream.

“Don’t ever doubt me, Sarah.”

Hot tears seared her eyes. She tried to nod, but the movement caused more pain along her scalp.

Her ears rang, something gurgled in her throat, blackness swirled around her. Her knees gave way. In the split second before she would have slipped into unconsciousness, he released his hold. She fell to the floor, gasped for air and clawed her way back to reality.

“Are you going to obey me?” he demanded, standing over her, hands on his hips and eyes glaring.

She opened her mouth, hoping he hadn’t seriously damaged her vocal cords. A raspy “Yes” filtered out along with a whimper.

“That’s my good Sarah.”

She wasn’t good and she wasn’t his. She never would be. After her mother’s transgressions, she would never belong to any man, and especially not a crazed lunatic who had suddenly become abusive. His verbal threats had unnerved her and made her tremble, but until today, he had never touched her inappropriately or raised his hand in anger. Seemingly in the blink of an eye, all that had changed. She couldn’t fathom why. The only thing she did know was she needed to escape from Victor’s control.

Not that she’d had an opportunity to elude him in the past. He kept close watch on her during the day and made sure she was locked away each night.

With a huff, he yanked her to her feet. “Mother has been asking for you.”

“She wants Naomi.” From what Sarah could tell, Naomi was a local Amish woman who had taken care of Ms. Hazel before Victor had brought Sarah here. Ms. Hazel repeatedly asked for her.

“You’re taking Naomi’s place.”

Something in his tone chilled Sarah to the core. “Wh-what happened to Naomi?”

His gaze turned somber. “She disappeared, leaving Mother brokenhearted.”

More likely, Victor had arranged for Naomi’s disappearance.

He touched Sarah’s cheek. She turned her head away.

“Listen to me.” He grabbed her jaw and forced her to look at him. “A man is bringing your sister here in a day or two. I’ll pay George off. Then you and Miriam can take care of Mother together. If you want to see your sister, do as I say.”

His thin lips twisted into a hateful smirk. “But if you disobey me, if you try to escape, I’ll—”

He let the threat hang.

She uttered the first question that came to mind. “Then will I disappear like Naomi did?”

He bristled.

Evidently, she had struck a chord that rang a little too true.

“I’m not afraid of you, Victor.” Could he hear the tremble in her voice?

He leaned closer. “What if I turn off the power and use candles to light the house? Remember what you told me about the fire when you were a little girl?”

Her chest constricted. She struggled to pull air into her lungs.

“Do everything I say, Sarah, so you and Miriam can be together again, and so you can be safe. Do you understand?”

She cocked her head and furrowed her brow as if listening to a rustling sound coming from the unfinished portion of the attic.

He bristled. “What’s wrong?”

“Do you hear them?” she asked, feigning an unfounded confidence in her voice.

His face blanched.

“Rats, Victor. They’re in the attic.”

“I don’t believe you.”

The fear that flashed from his eyes proved what Sarah had assumed was true.

“Feed Mother her breakfast,” he ordered as he hurried out of the room.

From the open doorway, Sarah watched him race down the stairs to save himself from the rats. If she could only escape as easily.

Her momentary euphoria at having unsettled him was short-lived. Exhausted from lack of sleep and weeks of confinement, Sarah dropped her head in her hands. Hot tears burned her eyes. Would she ever be free again?

“Send someone to help me, Lord,” she pleaded, her heart breaking at the hopelessness of her plight. “I don’t want to die trapped in this old house.”

* * *

Joachim Burkholder guided the buggy along the mountain road. He had come home like the prodigal son. Except he had not squandered money or lived a life of debauchery. He was, instead, coming home to reconcile with his father. At least that was his plan.

Metanoia, some called it, a conversion or transformation, which was what Joachim had started to experience. Now, he needed to piece his broken life back together. He had tried to live Englisch. His heart remained Amish.

Jostling the reins, he encouraged the mare forward. Together he and Belle had traveled from farm to farm to farm. Joachim had worked odd jobs and saved his earnings until his yearning to come home had caused him to slowly retrace his steps.

Belle increased her speed as Joachim took in the rolling hills and lush valleys. How deeply he had missed the beauty of this land and the serenity of the Amish way of life.

Gott, he silently prayed, forgive my obstinate pride that forced me away from family and faith when I sought to place my will above Thy own.

The tranquil setting soothed Joachim’s troubled soul. He breathed in the loamy scent of Georgia clay mixed with fresh pine from the trees that dotted the side of the roadway. The cool morning air tugged at his black jacket and lulled him into a sense of peaceful calm that dissipated as soon at the buggy rounded the bend. At the bottom of the incline, a level plain stretched out in front of him. His gut tightened as he recognized this particular section of the road home he had inadvertently taken.

Was he trying to add more burden to his already guilt-laden shoulders? Why had he guided Belle to the very spot he had never wanted to pass through again? Some memories were too hard to bear.

He glanced back, debating whether to turn around, retrace his journey and take the longer route that would circumvent this place of pain.

Joachim squared his shoulders, refusing to cower. He needed to face the past to heal. He felt sure that was the advice the bishop would provide when and if he sought to return fully to his Amish faith.

As he turned his gaze to the intersection ahead, Joachim’s chest constricted. The morning sunlight filtered through the gray sky overhead, yet for a moment, he stepped back in time as the memory of that night assailed him. He heard the rhythmic clip-clop of horses’ hooves against the pavement and the creak of the two buggies as they strained along the ill-fated path.

In his mind’s eyes, he saw Eli turn and laugh at Joachim, who followed close behind in the second buggy. The ongoing competition between the two brothers had taken a tragic turn that night.

At eighteen, Joachim should have known better than to go along with the seemingly innocent challenge. He did not blame his brother. Nor had his datt blamed Eli. Instead, his father had blamed Joachim.

Once again, he remembered how Eli had egged him on, ignoring the roar of the oncoming vehicle and the headlights speeding too fast.

Joachim had raised his voice in warning. “A car approaches on the road.” But Eli had not heard and had not reacted.

The crash of metal and splintering wood echoed in Joachim’s memory, along with the horrific cry that had come from his own throat as he screamed his brother’s name.

Five years had passed, yet Joachim’s grief was still so raw. “Gott, forgive me,” he whispered as he hurried Belle through the intersection.

Perhaps coming home to the mountains had been a mistake. What had happened could not be undone. No matter how Joachim tried to reconcile the past.

He needed longer to decide if he was ready to contact his father. Work would help. Using his hands and carpentry skills to transform disrepair into integrity would allow him to see more clearly. If he could hole up somewhere, he might be able to stem the figurative bleeding of his wounded heart and come to terms with his future and the way he wanted to live his life.

Belle flicked her head.

“You want to go home, girl. I know. But I need more time.”

The turnoff to the old Thomin homestead appeared in the distance. The house had needed work five years ago. If Hazel Thomin were still alive, the elderly lady might hire Joachim to do odd jobs around the property while he tried to decide how he was going to piece his life together.

He pulled back on the reins to slow Belle’s pace, then nudged the mare onto the path that led to the grand home. The property had been in Mrs. Thomin’s family for generations, but what he saw made his spirits plummet even more. The house that had been regal in its day—some called it a mansion—now appeared wasted from neglect.

Joachim grimaced, noting the peeling paint and the sagging facade. The stately beauty had come under hard times and was in need of a steady hand that could restore her original beauty as well as her once-sturdy understructure.

He guided the buggy toward the front of the house and glanced up to see a young woman near Joachim’s age peering from a second-story window. Blond hair hung around her slender face. She stared at him, wide-eyed, for a long moment. His chest tightened in response to the need he recognized, even at this distance, in her pensive gaze. Before he could acknowledge her presence, she stepped away, leaving him confused by the tangle of emotion that wrapped around his heart.

Joachim pulled the horse to a stop and jumped to the ground as the front door opened. Victor Thomin stepped outside, coffee mug in hand. Tall and skinny with unkempt red hair, Hazel Thomin’s only child had not improved in looks—or, it seemed, in temperament—over the last five years.

With a surly grunt, Victor raised the mug to his lips and drank deeply, his beady eyes intent on Joachim, even as he wiped the back of his hand over his thin lips. A cut festered that had spattered his knuckles with dried blood.

Recalling the baleful glance of the woman at the window, Joachim made a connection that caused his eyes to widen in horror—though he immediately reminded himself that it could be wild speculation and not credible in the least. He had no proof of abuse, yet Joachim could not and would not ignore his instincts. Victor had been a scoundrel in his youth, and from the downward pull on his drawn lips, there was no reason to think he had changed.

Extending his hand, Joachim introduced himself. Instinctively, he knew from Victor’s menacing expression that the red-haired man had failed to recognize him.

Victor reluctantly accepted the handshake. “Is there something you want?”

“I’m looking for work.” Joachim glanced again at the overhead window, feeling a sense of loss at finding it empty. “Carpentry, painting or any handyman jobs you might need done. I can provide references.”

Victor pursed his lips. “You’re from around here?”

Joachim would not lie, but he saw no reason to provide more than a minimum of information. “I worked in North Carolina for a number of years. Folks said there might be jobs in this area of North Georgia.”

He studied the once-beautiful home, pausing to gaze at each window, hoping for another sign of the illusive woman. “Looks like they were right. Your house could use a bit of upkeep.”

Victor shrugged. “I doubt this old place is worth the effort.”

“A few repairs will make a big difference,” Joachim assured him. He touched the dry rot around the front door and peered inside the house through the sidelight. His heart skittered in his chest.

The woman he had seen moments earlier now stood poised on the landing. She raised her index finger to her lips as if pleading for him to remain silent about her whereabouts. The furtive look on her oval face made him even more concerned about her wellbeing.

Joachim turned back to Victor. “I can do as little or as much as you want. But you should know that the value of your property would improve with the repairs, in case you decide to sell any time soon.”

Victor arched a brow. Seemingly, the mention of financial gain brought interest. “You think I could find a buyer?”

Joachim nodded. “Yah, if you are willing to fix some of the problems.”

“I’ve got rot around the back porch, too,” Victor volunteered. “Plus, the kitchen door is warped and won’t close easily.”