Appalachian Prey (Lavender Mountain Book 1; Appalachian Magic)
Star-crossed lovers on Lavender Mountain... Danger awaits them both.
After her father’s murder, pregnant Lilah Tedder dreads facing deputy Harlan Sampson, her child’s secret father, who left her heartbroken. Though she still wants him, Lilah knows his professional ambition won’t let him associate with a moonshiner’s daughter. But when a killer targets Lilah, Harlan becomes more than her protector. Now they must uncover old family secrets or pay the ultimate price.
“Nothing’s changed,” she said.
“Everything’s about to change,” he argued.
“I’m still who I am.”
“I’ve never asked you to be anything different. You’re perfect just the way you are.”
Pewter-gray eyes nailed him. “Do you love me?”
Did he? His heart quickened at the same moment his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. Go on. Tell her what she wants to hear. Trouble was, he didn’t much believe in love.
Harlan stared into Lilah’s eyes. She was everything a man wanted in a woman. The better question was—what did she see in him? He’d brought her nothing but trouble.
She was also going to be the mother of his child, and he wanted her in his life.
“Time’s up. I’ve got my answer,” she said softly, turning away from him.
“Lilah, wait. You know I—” Great. Now he’d found his voice?
She never turned. Her footsteps padded down the hallway, and then came the firm click of a closed door.
APPALACHIAN
PREY
Debbie Herbert
Debbie Herbert writes paranormal romance novels reflecting her belief that love, like magic, casts its own spell of enchantment. She’s always been fascinated by magic, romance and gothic stories. Married and living in Alabama, she roots for the Crimson Tide football team. Her eldest son, like many of her characters, has autism. Her youngest son is in the US Army. A past Maggie Award finalist in both young adult and paranormal romance, she’s a member of the Georgia Romance Writers of America.
Books by Debbie Herbert
Harlequin Intrigue
Appalachian Prey
Harlequin Nocturne
Bayou Magic
Bayou Shadow Hunter
Bayou Shadow Protector
Bayou Wolf
Dark Seas
Siren’s Secret
Siren’s Treasure
Siren’s Call
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CAST OF CHARACTERS
Lilah Faye Tedder—As the daughter of a legendary moonshiner, Lilah’s used to keeping secrets. But her biggest secret is her pregnancy. When she’s forced to return home, she discovers trouble brewing—the kind that could get her killed. As secrets bubble to the surface, she has no choice but to face them...and the man who rejected her.
Harlan Sampson—A deputy sheriff with ambitious plans, he’s been warned to stay away from Lilah Tedder. But he can’t forget the passionate week they shared, and he’s determined to win her love. Trouble is, she wants nothing to do with him. Whatever the professional cost, he intends to marry the mother of his unborn baby and save her from a killer.
Darla—Lilah’s elder sister and complete opposite. She steals a portion of their family’s estate, and pays dearly for this transgression.
Uncle Thad—The charismatic leader of the family business. Is there a dark side behind his generosity and good nature?
Sheriff J. D. Bentley—Is he an upright law enforcement officer, or is he in league with the criminal element in the county he’s sworn to protect?
Uncle Jasper—Reclusive, but with an apparent fondness for his niece Lilah. He knows the family’s secret history, but will he help Lilah and Harlan find the killer, or will he stop at nothing to keep the past buried?
This book is dedicated to Maxine Brooks,
one of the best readers ever!
And, as always, to my husband, Tim; my dad,
J. W. Gainey; and my sons, Byron and Jacob.
Contents
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
Chapter Nineteen
Excerpt from Secured by the SEAL by Carol Ericson
Chapter One
Moonshine again...seriously?
Hidden caches had turned up everywhere in her father’s cabin. No surprise there. Lilah snatched two plastic jugs from the back utility room and marched to the kitchen, intent on pouring the illegal hooch down the drain. Corn liquor had destroyed her parents’ marriage and her dad’s liver. Would have killed him, too, if he hadn’t been murdered a week ago.
Unexpected tears blurred her vision as she unscrewed the lid on one of the jugs and poured the liquid poison into the chipped enamel sink. Not that she and Dad had been all that close in recent years, but still, the man had been her father. Lilah tipped the jug. Glug, glug, glug...a hundred dollars’ worth gone. Could have bought a used college textbook with that money.
She blinked and gazed out the open window. The cabin was nestled in the foothills, with rolling mountains standing sentinel in all directions like a green fortress. A deceptive beauty, as though the price for living in such a visual feast meant being taxed with rampant poverty and violence. Dad’s death was the latest evidence of that.
Whoever said you can’t go home again was dead wrong. After a mere week, Lilah felt like she’d never left Lavender Mountain. Memories washed over her, most of them unpleasant—her parents’ screaming matches, brutally cold nights where they’d all huddled in front of the fireplace. But it hadn’t been all bad. Some days, wandering the woods with her older siblings, Jimmy and Darla, had been magical.
A faint scrape of boots on leaves and pine straw jarred her senses. Someone approached.
Lilah stilled, picturing in her mind’s eye the open front door and windows. Had the murderer returned? She fought the instinct to flee to the back bedroom and lock herself in. Probably just one of Dad’s old customers who hadn’t gotten the word yet.
Quickly, she raced across the rugged pine floorboards to the den. Through the battered screen door emerged the silhouette of a tall bearded man dressed in denim overalls. What mountain had he just climbed down from? Lilah sprinted to the door and latched the rusty lock into place. A joke of a defense. She reached for the weapon always propped by the door frame, and her right hand curled around the barrel of the twelve-gauge shotgun, its metal smooth, familiar and comfortable.
And loaded.
“What you want?” she called out in her fiercest voice.
The man didn’t appear the least bit intimidated as he shuffled forward, his foot on the first porch step. “I got bizness with Chauncey Tedder.”
“Guess you could say my dad’s out o
f business,” she said, sliding the shotgun next to her hip.
He climbed the second step. One more and he would be within six feet of where she stood. He swayed and squinted, peering into the room. Lilah was painfully aware he could see straight into the little kitchenette.
“Looks to me like you got some ’shine in there,” he boomed. “Go git me a jug afore I get really riled.”
She didn’t aim to find out what the stranger was like “really riled.” This place was well out of range for anyone to hear if she screamed, and Dad was shot not far from the cabin. Lilah unhitched the lock and kicked open the screen door. She drew the shotgun up to shoulder level, finger twitching at the trigger. “I repeat—this place is closed for business. I’d appreciate you spreading the word.”
“Whoa, little missy.” He threw up his hands and backed away. “Don’t mean ya no harm.”
He tripped on the step and took a tumble. Oomph.
Chagrined, Lilah bit her lip and lowered the shotgun. “You okay there?”
He rose, brushing dirt off his overalls. “I reckon. You sure are a touchy thing. Best be gettin’ on my way.” With one last sorrowful glance at the jugs on the kitchen counter, he ambled away, gingerly limping on his right foot.
What the hell.
She returned inside, retrieved the full jug she hadn’t yet dumped out, and stepped out onto the porch. “Hey,” she yelled. “Come on back, you can have a jug.”
He shot her a wary look, clearly suspicious of her change of heart. But in the end, the pull of the moonshine outweighed his reservation, and he returned.
Lilah set the jug down at the bottom of the stairs and scampered back to the door.
“Same price as always?” the man asked, carefully pulling out a wad of dollar bills from his side pocket.
“It’s on the house. Just don’t come back, ya hear? This is the last of it.” Unless she found more while cleaning out the cabin. No telling how many bottles were tucked away in nooks and crannies.
A grin split his weathered face as he tucked the money away. “Thank you kindly, ma’am.”
He picked up the jug and gave a quick nod before walking across the yard. A sheriff’s cruiser rounded the bend in the road and turned into her dirt driveway. The man momentarily froze at the sight, and then took off running to the nearby tree line—more like hobbling with his injured foot—but almost quick enough to get out of sight. Couldn’t have hurt too bad, she mused.
The cruiser came to an abrupt halt, and a man started to climb out.
Lilah’s heart skittered, even faster than when the stranger had suddenly appeared at her door minutes ago. Could it be...
Oh, yes, it most definitely was.
Harlan Sampson. The man who’d quickly won her heart three months ago and then had dumped her twice as fast after a week of fun and games. Her left hand involuntarily fluttered over her stomach, and Lilah hastily jerked it away.
“Well, looky here,” Harlan drawled, eyeing the man carting his haul off into the woods. He faced her and pushed the dark sunshades up on his head, revealing the startling beryl-blue eyes that had enthralled her on her last ill-fated visit, which—damn it—still sent her heart pounding into overdrive. He walked toward her. “Looks like I finally caught a Tedder point-blank in the act of distributing illegal whiskey.”
“Wrong. I wasn’t selling. I was giving. Ain’t no money exchanged hands here.” Inwardly, Lilah winced at the slip into the local vernacular. It had been twelve years since she’d called Lavender Mountain home, but in times of high emotion—and now definitely counted—she lapsed back into the lingo.
“So you say.”
She pinched her lips together. “What brings you here?”
“Came to pay my respects, see how you’re getting on.”
Weeks ago, she would have flung herself on Harlan at those words. But not now. “I’m jim-dandy,” she replied, lifting her chin a fraction. “I saw you at Dad’s funeral. No need to come over.”
“I believe I owe you an apology.”
“Forget it.” There was no way she’d admit how much his silence had hurt.
His eyes smoldered, and he slowly climbed the porch steps, close enough now to make her breath hitch. “I can’t forget it. And I can’t forget you.”
* * *
EVEN GLARING AT HIM, shotgun by her side, Lilah Faye Tedder was a hell of a sight. Harlan drank it in—the long blond hair that tumbled past her shoulders, the elfin delicate face with the determined chin, the slight womanly curves of her body. He had tried to wipe away the memory of her, but with one glance, the old familiar pull returned. He nodded at the firearm. “Mind putting that thing away? Hard to talk to an angry woman holding a shotgun.”
A smile ghosted across her face before the hardened set returned to her chin. “You said what you came to say. Apology accepted.”
“C’mon, Lilah. Let’s talk.”
She hesitated, then shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
With that, Lilah spun on her heel and entered the cabin. Not much of an invitation, but he’d hardly expected her to welcome him with open arms. The place smelled as clean and as fresh as the pine breeze that blew through the open windows, but with a touch of lemon cleaner. It already had the stale antiseptic look of a bare shell of a dwelling. No knickknacks or frivolities, just an old sofa and a couple of chairs.
“I see you’ve been hard at work.” He’d been here before. Chauncey’s old place had been filled with junk when he was alive.
“It’s all set for the realtor to list as soon the reading of the will is over. After that, I’ll head on home.”
Probably for the best, at least for his career. According to Sheriff J.D. Bentley, associating with any Tedder wouldn’t reflect well on him or the office. His boss planned on retiring soon and understood that he had ambitions to run and take over the top law enforcement job in the county. And as such, J.D. had driven home the point that he had no chance of winning the sheriff’s election if he was a known associate of the outlaw family.
Personally, Harlan couldn’t care less about the piddly amounts of money some moonshiners made. No, what disturbed him were the rumors that Lilah’s family had turned to the new Appalachian cash crop of growing marijuana.
Following her lead, he took a seat in one of the old chairs that remained. “No reason to hurry home, is there? Now that school’s out, I thought you would be free for the summer.”
She leveled him with a glacial stare. “That was the original plan. Things changed.”
Ouch. Yeah, he caught her barb. Last time she had been home, they’d planned on her returning to Lavender Mountain this summer so they could see each other regularly.
“Sorry about your dad. Must be hard—”
“Any news on who shot him?” Her voice was sharp and cold.
“Not yet,” he admitted. “But we’re working on it.”
“I bet.”
This wasn’t the same Lilah from March, the woman with the ready smile, the soft eyes and the gentle voice. But she had every reason to be bitter, especially with him.
“We’re working ’round the clock. No leads have panned out yet, but we’re interviewing his friends and—” he hesitated a beat “—known associates.”
“Meaning y’all suspect this was related to his moonshining.”
If only it were that simple. He hedged. “The theory is it revolved around his illegal activities, yes. You and Darla already said he had no enemies or problems with others that you know of.”
Silver eyes clouded in pain. “It makes no sense. Why would anyone shoot Dad? It’s not like he made a fortune.” Her neck turned a fraction toward the back of the cabin.
“Maybe an irate customer?” he suggested.
“Doubt it. Most were regulars.” Again, her eyes darted to the rear of the cabin as she folded her arms at her waist.
Her eyes widened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Nothing’s going on.”
He strode past her, down the narrow hallway and peeked inside the two bedrooms at the end. One was completely empty, nothing suspicious there. The other housed only a double bed and a dresser. A lacy pale yellow nightgown was draped across a plaid bedcover. An image of Lilah in that nightgown flashed through his mind, and he gritted his teeth at the wave of loss that churned his gut.
“What do you think you’re doing?” She followed close behind him, her bare feet padding on the old wood flooring. “You have no right to search my place.”
“It’s not yours until you can show me the deed has been transferred to you in writing.” He crossed the room and glanced cursorily inside the small bathroom with the old-fashioned iron claw-foot bathtub. Nothing out of place there, either.
“Mind telling me what you’re looking for?”
He felt a tad foolish for wondering if an unwelcome visitor might have forced his way in and held her hostage.
“Well?” she demanded.
“I’m not sure. But you kept looking back this way, as if something was worrying you.”
A flush stained her cheeks. “You’re imagining things.”
This was getting him nowhere. He changed tactics. “Lilah, I want to help. If there’s a problem, tell me. I can’t leave you alone out here if there’s the slightest possibility you’re in danger.”
“Why do you care?” she scoffed. “Go on and leave me—again. It’s what you do best.”
Her words slammed into him like bullets. He’d hurt her. Bad. “I’m sorry,” he said, shuffling his feet. “I should have at least tried to explain.”
“No explanation needed. I can guess what happened. As soon as your family and friends caught wind of you seeing a Tedder, they jumped all over you. Go on, admit it.”
Heat rushed up the back of his neck. She’d pretty much nailed their reaction. He could have borne their objections, but...
“And then your boss piled on, too. Right? Wouldn’t look good for the apparent heir in the upcoming sheriff’s election to be sleeping around with a lowlife like me.”