Amazing Love Read Free Page A

the young man who played lead guitar for the Harvest Sons. A ringer for Luke at that age, obviously filled with startling promise and easy prey for a gold-digging agent. The boy’s image had haunted Luke, who was impressed to the point of distraction during the hours he’d studied the video. He’d been drawn to Houston by a force toobig to fight. He was on a mission to satisfy himself that the kid named Eric would not suffer the same fate as Striker Dark.
    Pastor Ken looked at his watch, stood and motioned for Luke to follow. “The band uses the main sanctuary to practice before the evening service. Let’s go see if the Sons live up to their reputation.”
    â€œSir—” Luke paused before standing “—I should warn you about my no-nonsense style. I don’t mince words and I’ve been known to step on more than a few toes. But it works for me and I’ll pit my results against anybody’s any day.”
    Ken smiled, grabbed another bite of candy and tossed one to Luke. “As I recall, Jesus was a pretty direct communicator.”
    â€œYeah, and look how popular He was with the Pharisees,” Luke quipped, and the two men chuckled as they passed through the doorway.
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    Saturday afternoons were always a time of bustling activity at Abundant Harvest. Claire made a habit of being on-site each week whether or not she’d signed up for volunteer work. By all standards this church had a large congregation with a perpetual need for unscheduled help. Arriving early, she parked at the outer edge of the lot, collected her purse and book bag and began the hike toward the main sanctuary.
    She stopped short at the sight of an unmarked black truck and matching gooseneck trailer thatstretched across a half-dozen parking spaces. The combo would be commonplace at Savage cycles, however, in the church parking lot it was an unexpected and imposing sight.
    Shrieks of obvious delight and the excited yapping of a dog drew her thoughts from the black rig. Claire changed her course and followed the sounds to the temporary classrooms positioned behind the youth center known as the Hangar.
    â€œHi, Miss Claire!” a gaggle of girls called. Three high school seniors perched with legs swinging on the tailgate of a friend’s muddy pickup. Their attention was immediately diverted by barking and laughter.
    â€œWhat’s all the fuss?”
    â€œThe guys are teaching this puppy to play Frisbee,” one of them explained. “He’s a natural but he doesn’t want to give it back after he catches it. Brian and Eric will be too tired to play for the service tonight if they keep this up.”
    Peals of laughter rose from the growing crowd of high schoolers. Claire navigated the parking lot to the edge of the grass, where lively activity was in full swing. At the sight of a yellow Lab pup, a stab of anguish shot through her heart as she remembered the scene only hours earlier. But this well-groomed dog sported a red bandana around his neck, brandished a white Frisbee in his mouth and proudly ran the boys a merry chase.
    Brian dived for the animal’s skinny hind legs and missed by a long shot. The dog whirled about, trotted back to where Brian lay facedown in the grass, dropped the Frisbee on the boy’s head and woofed in chorus with the kids’ laughter.
    Claire took in the relaxed scene, wondering if these youngsters had any idea how fortunate they were to be so carefree. At their age she’d had precious little time for weekend afternoons of games and laughter. There were voice lessons and costume fittings, rehearsals and rounds of competition.
    Even in the quiet of her room at night she never forgot that one small mistake could cost her everything. After her father left to chase his dreams, the life she and her mother salvaged depended upon vigilance and dedication. To secure her tuition at the acclaimed private school she had to have scholarships. She had