Sometimes romance is hiding in plain sight…
When Connor Danson becomes an unwitting witness to a violent crime, he is forced to leave Sacramento and keep a low profile until the trial is over. He arrives in the tiny mountain town of Virgin River with a chip on his shoulder and an ache in his heart.
Leslie Petruso didn’t want to leave her hometown either. But she can’t stand another minute of listening to her ex-husband tell everyone that his new wife and impending fatherhood are the best things that ever happened to him. Virgin River may not be home, but it’s a place where she can be anonymous.
Neither Connor nor Leslie is remotely interested in starting a new relationship…until they meet one another. Even they can’t deny they have a lot in common—broken hearts notwithstanding. And in Virgin River, no one can stay hidden away from life and love for very long.…
“Carr pulls out all the emotional stops…in her popular contemporary-romance saga featuring the drama-rich Northern California mountain community.”
—Booklist on Paradise Valley
Praise for New York Times and USA TODAY
bestselling author
“This book is an utter delight.”
—RT Book Reviews on Moonlight Road
“Strong conflict, humor and well-written characters are Carr’s calling cards, and they’re all present here.…You won’t want to put this one down.”
—RT Book Reviews on Angel’s Peak
“This story has everything: a courageous,
outspoken heroine, a to-die-for hero
and a plot that will touch readers’ hearts
on several different levels. Truly excellent.”
—RT Book Reviews on Forbidden Falls
“An intensely satisfying read.
By turns humorous and gut-wrenchingly emotional, it won’t soon be forgotten.”
—RT Book Reviews on Paradise Valley
“Carr has hit her stride with this captivating series.”
—Library Journal on the Virgin River series
“The Virgin River books are so compelling—
I connected instantly with the characters
and just wanted more and more and more.”
—#1 New York Times bestselling author
Debbie Macomber
Hidden Summit
Robyn Carr
Contents
One
Brie Valenzuela finished her large latte and looked into the empty cup. She’d been waiting in this coffee shop for over an hour, trying to look engrossed in her newspaper, but as the time ticked by, she only grew more concerned. The man she was meeting was a witness to a murder and needed a place to hide out. She’d be hooking him up with a place to stay and a job in Virgin River as a favor to one of her colleagues from the Sacramento District Attorney’s office, and when a witness was late in meeting his contact, there was reason to be concerned.
Brie wanted to make a phone call to Sacramento but didn’t want to alarm anyone. Instead, she asked the barista for another latte.
This witness, now known as Conner Danson, had seen a very well-known, high-profile Sacramento businessman shoot another man. Danson had been taking trash out behind his hardware store when it had happened and had seen everything. He’d called the police and become the sole witness to the crime. Thanks to his prompt report, they’d found evidence of blood in the man’s car, though it had been cleaned, but no weapon. DNA tests had proved the blood belonged to the victim. But, shortly after an arrest had been made, Danson’s hardware store had burned to the ground, and a threat had been left on his home phone voice mail: You stayed out of the heat this time, but you won’t slip by us again.
Clearly the suspect, Regis Mathis, a very distinguished pillar of the community, was “connected.”
Brie had served as an Assistant District Attorney with Max, officially Ray Maxwell, some years ago. Max was now the D.A. He’d suspected some trouble with other witnesses’ anonymity and wasn’t sure whether the leak was in his office or the Federal Marshal’s unit. A cautious man, he’d set up his own program. He wasn’t about to take any chances on losing the only witness to a high-profile murder. Virgin River was an excellent option.
It was another twenty minutes before the door opened and a man entered, but her first thought was that he couldn’t possibly be her witness. First of all, he was too young to own a prosperous hardware store that catered to custom builders—this guy was no more than thirty-five. And he was, for lack of a more refined description, hot. At about six-two, he was built like a warhorse, his muscles popping into prominence beneath the white T-shirt under his opened leather jacket. Wide shoulders, narrow hips, low-slung jeans, long legs. Although he wore a very unhappy expression at the moment, his face was perfectly symmetrical—square jaw, straight nose, thick brows and deep, dark blue eyes. He sported a very handsome, sculptured and tightly trimmed mustache and goatee.