Love's Shining Light Read online

  Love’s Shining Light

  Lincoln’s Lost Gold Book 4

  Jeanette Lewis

  Contents

  Introduction

  Get FREE books!

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Epilogue

  Get FREE books!

  Books by Jeanette Lewis

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  The Passionate One

  The Billionaire Bride Pact, Book 1

  Love’s Shining Light

  Lincoln’s Lost Gold Romances

  Book Four

  by Jeanette Lewis

  JeanetteLewisBooks.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. Do not upload or distribute in any form, anywhere.

  Copyright © 2019 by Janet K. Halling.

  Cover design by Novak Illustrations

  Edited by Jenna Roundy

  Published in the United States of America

  Introduction

  by Lucy McConnell

  Jeanette and I toyed with the idea for this series years before we got serious about writing romantic adventure books. But when we get serious, watch out! We sat down for a planning dinner and the table was quickly covered in color-coded sticky notes. The server brought our plates and there was nowhere to put them! We talked about everything from names and locations to character motivation and job titles. In short—we shut the place down.

  After that meeting, the real work began and we dove into the history surrounding the printing of the first American currency. Abraham Lincoln is one of the most researched and written about presidents in our history. He held the country together by will power and blood—the weight of his decisions was never far from his soul. One of the ways he planned to reunite the North and South was to give them one currency. Before that, any bank could print money as long as they had the gold to back it up. Can you imagine living in that time? You wouldn’t know if your three-dollar bill would be worth the paper it was printed on in a week because the bank could go under. Counterfeiters ran amuck and then ran from the law. Bad guys were easy to spot and hung out in saloons. Men fought with fists to defend their honor and guns to defend their freedom. It was a time when America was rough and tumble and, in a way, figuring out who we were and writing our history.

  That was the heart Jeanette and I wanted for our heroes. We wanted them to be strong men who knew what was right and what was wrong and when to stand up and defend their honor and fight for the woman they love.

  I hope you fall in love with them as we have.

  Happy reading,

  Lucy McConnell

  Get FREE books!

  Hi Bookworms!

  I like to rotate sale days and typically offer at least one book free every month. Join my reader's club to learn about free book days, special sales, new releases, and works in progress.

  There’s no obligation and I typically send only one email per week.

  Join by clicking here!

  Chapter One

  Heath Macgregor pressed his forehead against the plexiglass window of the airplane and gazed down. They were less than an hour from Spokane and, according to the TV above his tray table, over Montana at the moment. The Rocky Mountains were deceptive at this height with gentle curves and wrinkles and patches of gray that would turn into canyons, peaks and rocky cliff sides once they were on the ground. Though the mountain range had been extensively mapped and explored over the years, Heath hoped it still held some secrets.

  Like a gold mine, purchased by Abraham Lincoln and hidden for over one hundred and fifty years.

  Buried treasure. Even now, it seemed crazy. But as the cogs had fallen into place and the team uncovered clues and then evidence and then more clues, Heath let go of his skepticism. They had a map, discovered in a dusty storage shed in Lincoln’s hometown of Springfield, Illinois, and a cipher, plucked from the underside of an antique wagon in Richmond, Virginia. The map was encoded and even with the cipher, they’d been unable to fully solve it. But it was undoubtedly a treasure map and they’d discerned latitude and longitude coordinates and the instructions to “start here.”

  The coordinates turned out to be near Kellogg, a small town in northern Idaho perched on the edge of the Coeur d’Alene National Forest. The town wasn’t even incorporated in Lincoln’s time, but the area was already known for its plentiful mineral deposits and hundreds of prospectors had flocked to the area, hoping to strike it rich.

  The idea of buried treasure had seemed easy in the hotel room in Springfield, when the team was flush with victory and anticipation. Triumphant in the realization that the hidden gold existed and all they had to do was fly to Idaho and pick it up. But now, staring down at the miles and miles of dense pine forests, Heath wasn’t so sure. Finding one tiny gold mine would take a miracle.

  But, if he’d learned anything in the last three weeks, it was to believe Bridger. And Radley. Funny how they’d started off as strangers but now, they’d trust each other with their lives. Had in fact. There’d been blood spilled on this treasure hunt, more than Heath had expected. Not that he thought it would be a cakewalk, but he certainly hadn’t contemplated death to come in the form of a willowy, red-haired tour guide with a chip on her shoulder.

  Heath pressed his fingers to his side where he’d been shot by Moira Wilson, underground agent for the Lincoln Historical Society. Moira was on a mission to keep Lincoln’s treasure a secret and she’d almost succeeded. A few millimeters to the left and she’d have hit something vital. Heath shuddered whenever he thought about bleeding out in that dusty little storage shed.

  Radley had been shot too and his wound a bit more serious. But he’d handled it with a cavalier attitude that Heath had suspected was to impress Skye—the woman he’d met in the Lincoln Museum. Skye had been instrumental in finding the map and she and Radley had fallen for each other hard and fast. She’d stayed in Illinois after extracting a promise from Radley that he’d be back as soon as the team found the treasure.

  And now they were on a clock and not just one set by the woman Radley had left behind. The treasure had taken on a life of its own, its siren song calling to everyone involved, urging them onward. Rumors were circulating and just like in the days of old, treasure hunters were once again flocking to Kellogg, Idaho.

  Heath and the team had boarded a plane for Spokane straight from Springfield. No time for hospitals or even sleep for that matter. Moira wasn’t the only one on their tail. Two days ago, Sophia had been kidnapped by a gang of armed thugs who were also searching for Lincoln’s lost gold. She’d escaped, but not before learning some vital information about their pursuers.

  Heath shuddered. He’d fought three of those thugs at the museum. They’d taken a beating, but he’d been naïve to hope one fight would convince them to drop the hunt. The group didn’t appear particularly bright, their modus operadi seemed to be brute force and threats, b
ut even the dimmest hyena wins sometimes through simple determination and pure dumb luck.

  “Idaho,” Radley leaned across Heath to look out the window. “I never would have guessed Idaho.”

  “Totally,” Heath agreed. “Not exactly the first place you think of when you hear the words gold mine.”

  One row ahead of them, Sophia turned around in her seat. She was a leggy brunette, graceful, athletic, smart, and deadly. “Actually, I looked it up, there are more gold mines here than you’d think. Some of the biggest motherlode strikes ever recorded are from mines in Idaho.”

  Radley grinned. “Did you just ‘actually’ me?”

  “Actually … I did,” she laughed. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize,” Radley said. “I didn’t know about the motherlode.”

  “Nevada is number one for the most mines,” Sophia said, “but Idaho is no slouch.”

  “I thought for sure we’d be in Nevada,” Heath admitted, then grinned. “So this is tight. I’d much rather be scouting around a forest than the middle of the desert, especially in the summertime.”

  “No doubt,” Radley said. “Though, the trees are going to be a problem.”

  “How so?” Next to Sophia, Deacon turned around. He was barrel chested and thick armed with an impressive biker beard. A blacksmith by trade, he also threw a mean hatchet and had won several competitions. And he only had eyes for Sophia.

  “The best way to find a mineral deposit is by looking at the patterns in the rocks,” Radley said. “Quartz veins are usually whiter than the surrounding rock and if you find one, there’s a pretty good chance there’s a gold deposit nearby. Or there was, if it hasn’t already been stripped out.”

  “How do you know that?” Heath wrinkled his forehead. Radley was an engineer, not a geologist.

  Radley elbowed him in the side. “The internet is your friend.”

  “Huh. And all this time I thought you’d been texting Skye,” Heath said.

  “Well, there’s that too,” Radley grinned.

  Heath rolled his eyes. Gold was the word of the day, but lately, his teammates seemed to have latched onto a different four-letter word – Love. Bridger and Cora had fallen for each other in DC, then Radley and Skye discovered love in Springfield. Deacon and Sophia were practically joined at the hip and Heath knew the only reason they weren’t in full-on PDA right now was because Sophia’s brother Leo was giving them the side-eye from across the aisle. He hadn’t been thrilled when his little sister had fallen for his best friend, but all things considered, he was taking it well.

  “So what happens if we don’t find quartz or some other signs in the rocks?” Heath asked.

  “I’m hoping we can crack the rest of the code on the map,” Sophia said.

  The cipher had given them a starting point, but there were still pieces of the map they couldn’t decode. The images were burned into Heath’s brain – what looked like a backward seven and two slanting lines. The symbols would not look out of place in a modern day HTML string, but so far, they’d been unable to tie them to anything from Lincoln’s time period.

  “We’ll get it, babe,” Deacon said. He darted a quick look to Leo and planted a kiss on Sophia’s lips. “I have a good feeling about this.”

  “Well, sure,” Heath snorted. “You get to go on an all expenses vacation with your girlfriend. Who wouldn’t have a good feeling?”

  Sophia leaned in to nuzzle against Deacon’s neck and Heath pulled his focus back to the window and the view beyond. His heart felt heavy, sour. Not that he begrudged Sophia and Deacon their happiness, they were obviously made for each other.

  But first Bridger, then Radley, now these two. He’d watched them all turn to goo over a sweetheart and the bitterness stung in the back of his throat. He’d never had that. Or, he thought he’d had it, but then it’d all been snatched away while he was helpless to do anything about it.

  He was still deep in thought when the pilot’s landing announcement came over the intercom and several minutes later, they touched down at Spokane International. Bridger had rented a large van and the team quickly collected their gear.

  “Is that everything?” Bridger asked as he scanned the boxes and bags piled in the cargo area behind the seats.

  “Better be,” Heath said. They’d folded the backseat down and even then, it was a tight fit. “Nothing else is going to fit in here.”

  Bridger shot a quick look at Heath. “You got what you need?” he asked in a low tone.

  Heath nodded shortly. “I’m having it delivered by private courier to the motel. Should show up tonight.”

  Technically, possessing dynamite was illegal and would bring the ATF down on them faster than a Great White on a sea lion. But what the government didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them, or him. And Heath was good at being discrete with explosives.

  He couldn’t help the small grin that hovered at the corner of his mouth. He was going to get to blow up a mountain. Or, he’d better get to blow up a mountain, at least part of it. And if everything went well, there’d be a fortune waiting at the other end of the blast.

  Chapter Two

  Jessie Adams ducked into her office and shut the carved rosewood door carefully behind her, making sure not to slam it. The whispered words she’d overheard burned in her brain, hot as a glowing metal brand.

  “Daddy’s girl … trust funder … useless.”

  Pain twisted in her chest, made even worse by the reminder of who had been making such hurtful judgments—Cassidy and Maryanne, the only two women in the company who Jessie would have called her friends.

  Grifter … making everybody’s job’s harder.

  She’d been in the supply room, searching for a ream of thirty-two weight letterhead when she’d heard the door open. Eavesdropping implied bad manners, but Jessie’s immediate urge to step around the densely packed shelves and make her presence known was quelled by the first words out of Maryanne’s mouth.

  “Jessie is driving me crazy.”

  Cassidy had jumped into the conversation eagerly and it had all gone downhill from there. Jessie listened, eyes wide with shock and one hand pressed to her lips as her two friends proceeded to tear her apart.

  The conversation couldn’t have lasted more than a minute or two, but Jessie had stayed behind the shelves long after the women left the room. Her heart thudded in painful bursts as she realized how much she’d come to trust these two. Few people in her father’s company had seemed to welcome her, but Cassidy and Maryanne had seemed sincere.

  And now, she knew it was a total lie. No one wanted her to be here. She didn’t even want to be here. But after her graduation in the spring from Cornell University, her father had been clear. Three college degrees was enough; it was time to get to work.

  He was right and even Jessie was embarrassed by the number of years she’d spent as a professional student. The trouble was, there wasn’t anything she really wanted to do, no field of study where she’d felt comfortable. She was thirty-one years old and still seeking the elusive click in her mind when she’d finally know for certain what she wanted to do with her life.

  So here she was. Overqualified and overcompensating. She’d sought a position at her father’s company to show him firsthand that his money hadn’t been wasted and her stellar education held real-world value.

  But at almost four weeks in, all she’d done was run errands and keep the break room clean. They’d given her clerical busywork and she was midway through a project to organize files that had been in storage for years, would never be looked at again, and in no way needed organizing. Her overhaul of the company’s policy and procedures manual, was stuck in limbo. She needed input from the heads of the various departments and no one seemed to have time for the boss’s daughter’s pet project.

  And now she knew why. Her father had given her a small office off the file room, but no one took her seriously. She was a joke at best, an annoying distraction at worst.

  Scratch that … a grifter and a Dad
dy’s girl at worst. How had she not noticed that Maryanne’s smile was cloaked in acid or that Cassidy’s helpful tips were always accompanied by a tiny smirk? Was she that unobservant?

  “Jessie?” The intercom crackled on her desk, making her jump. It was her father’s secretary, Shelia.

  “Yes?” She hated the way her voice faltered. She hurried across the room toward the intercom and tried again, more authoritative. “Yes?”

  “Your father needs you in his office.” Was it her imagination or did Shelia’s voice have a bite to it as well? The older woman had always been seamlessly polite, but was there bitterness lurking there too?

  Jessie brushed the front of her Escada blazer, smoothing the silk fabric over her hips. Shelia had helped her pick out the suit, had said it looked fantastic. Now though, Jessie wasn’t sure. Could she have been lying? A creep of nausea tinged in her stomach. She wasn’t good at this stuff. Perform an in-depth analysis of Modernist European Literature and write a two-hundred-page thesis — no problem. Chit chat with the office staff long enough to make friends — not going to happen.

  Her office smelled like new paint and carpet, the makeover wasn’t even a month old and already Jessie knew it was a mistake. Not the sculpted gray carpet or the oyster shell painted walls, off-set with Frank Webb watercolors. Her surroundings werebeautiful. But coming here, to work for her dad, had been a mistake.