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Mountain Hostage. Hope WhiteЧитать онлайн книгу.

Mountain Hostage - Hope White


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Cover

       Back Cover Text

       About the Author

       Booklist

       Title Page

       Copyright

      Note to Readers

       Introduction

       Dear Reader

       Bible Verse

       Dedication

       ONE

       TWO

       THREE

       FOUR

       FIVE

       SIX

       SEVEN

       EIGHT

       NINE

       TEN

       ELEVEN

       TWELVE

       THIRTEEN

       FOURTEEN

       FIFTEEN

       Extract

       About the Publisher

       ONE

      Zoe Pratt lost her footing on the icy trail and gasped. Stabbing her hiking stick into the snow for balance, she peered over the steep drop below into the vast, white blur of nothingness. A shudder ran down her spine.

      Maybe a winter hike hadn’t been the best idea.

      “Shannon, slow down!” Zoe called, recentering herself to keep up with her friend.

      “I can’t,” Shannon said. “Wait till you see the view from Prairie’s Peak!”

      “Do we have to risk our lives getting there?”

      “You know I’d never let anything happen to you.”

      Zoe adjusted her red scarf to cover her mouth and nose. It was cold in the Cascade Mountains, and Zoe wasn’t an experienced hiker. She’d come to the charming town of Mt. Stevens, Washington, to hang out with Shannon, her childhood best friend. Zoe thought they’d spend time relaxing, catching up on their lives, maybe even laughing a little. She eyed the steep drop to her right. Nothing to laugh about there. One wrong step and—

      “Pick it up, pokey!” Shannon teased.

      Zoe glanced at the gray sky. Light snow began to fall. “You sure it’s safe out here?”

      “What, you’re not afraid of a grizzly, are ya?”

      “A grizzly as in a bear?”

      “They’re probably more afraid of you than you are of them.” Shannon continued her enthusiastic pace and Zoe struggled to keep up.

      Shannon had always been the one to challenge Zoe out of her funk when things seemed desperate. Well, things weren’t exactly desperate, but Zoe did need a break, both from her challenging job as a social worker for adolescents and teens, and from her dismal personal life. She still couldn’t believe how badly she’d misjudged things with her ex-boyfriend, Tim.

      Shove it aside, Zoe. This was supposed to be a rejuvenating getaway, not a depressing one.

      Zoe inhaled the fresh mountain air and let it clear her lungs, her thoughts. She felt grounded and at peace in the mountains. She could see why Shannon loved it so much and why she thought it the perfect place to bring Zoe.

      She caught up to her friend, who hesitated at a small outlook, gazing out across the Cascade mountain range.

      Shannon eyed Zoe’s jacket. “You warm enough?”

      “Sure, I’m okay.”

      “Yeah, you should’ve worn my spare, matching jacket.”

      “And look like a pumpkin?” Zoe eyed Shannon up and down.

      Shannon smiled, then redirected her attention to the horizon.

      Zoe noticed a tower in the distance. “What’s that?”

      “Portage Fire Lookout. It’s ridiculously easy to get to from the Frontage trailhead. You can really see the vastness of God’s beauty from that spot.” She glanced at Zoe. “It helps to get perspective on things.”

      Zoe smiled. “This is exactly what I needed to get my mind off my love life.”

      “Yeah, tell me about it.”

      “Are you having problems with Randy?”

      “Who knows.”

      Zoe had noticed a photo of Randy and Shannon tucked in a kitchen drawer as if it had been recently put away, out of sight. The couple looked happy, both with wide grins, although Randy’s was partially hidden by a full beard.

      “Shannon?” Zoe prompted.

      “He’s been acting weird lately and I haven’t heard from him since he left a few days ago to visit family in Denver.”

      “I’m sorry.”

      “No.” She touched Zoe’s shoulder. “We’re not going to let guy trouble spoil our fun. Come on.”

      “How much farther?” Zoe asked.

      “Depends how slow you hike.” Shannon winked. “Race ya?”

      “Ah, come on, Shan.


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