Rancher's Hostage Rescue. Beth Cornelison
The hero of this book, Dave Giblan, was one of those characters. I knew he needed closure, a happy ending...and maybe a bit of redemption along the way.
Who better to match him with than the one person who shared his grief over a certain loved one’s death? I hope you will enjoy Rancher’s Hostage Rescue, and Dave and Lilly’s second chance for a brighter future.
By the way, as in all my books, Rancher’s Hostage Rescue includes a cat. But this is no ordinary cat. I’m pleased to introduce you to Maddie, my grandcat! My son, who grew up surrounded by my felines, learned to love cats and all their eccentricities almost as much as I do. I was thrilled for him when he adopted a skittish long-haired cat during his first year of graduate school. Maddie has overcome her scary pre-adoption beginnings (mostly) and is now an attention-hungry, lovable fluff ball. Thanks, Jeffery, for sharing Maddiecakes for this story! You can find pictures of our family’s cats on my website, bethcornelison.com.
Happy reading,
Beth
To Paul and Jeffery—all my love
Contents
Note to Readers
The plan was ready. His weapon cleaned, primed, loaded. His target identified and surveilled. His escape mapped out. Contingencies decided. The time had come.
He stashed his gun in an accessible place on his person, then covered it with his long shirt, his jacket. By this time tomorrow, he’d be out of state, on his way to his next small-town target as he made his way to the Mexican border. To freedom.
Wayne Moore strapped on his grandfather’s watch, the only thing he had left of his grampa’s. His father had given it to him just days before he’d died. Wayne acknowledged the familiar tangle of regret, longing and disgust he experienced when remembering his father. A complicated legacy. A love-hate relationship. Jacob Moore had taught him well. Some lessons were learned on their homemade backyard shooting range and some at his father’s side as they held up gas stations, diners and liquor stores. Others were taught with fists and belts. His dad’s last lesson had been taught through his failure.
Wayne shook his head, remembering. His father had gotten careless, cocky. Had taken on a large city bank without adequate backup, without considering all the ramifications and obstacles. Had seen only his past successes and the promise of a bigger payday. He’d paid for his hubris with his life, shot by the security officer as soon as he fired his own weapon.
Lesson learned. Stick to small jobs. Keep it simple.
Small-town banks had smaller payouts, but also a smaller risk of capture. And the number-one goal, above the take, was not to be captured. Stay out of jail and be free to do another job on another day. Wayne wasn’t sure how many days he had left, but if he didn’t get some money for all his medical bills, they were sure to end sooner rather than later.
After a last check of his supplies, his weapons, his escape plan, Wayne climbed in his old beater sedan and headed for his target.