Answer the question at the end of the excerpt and be entered into the drawing on Tuesday, December 30th! Winner announced at midnight!

Here's this week's excerpt:

"Stop! Stop, this vehicle immediately," the reverend yelled when he
continued driving forward. "We can't just leave him down there."

"Are you crazy? He tried to kill us."

She unbuckled her seatbelt. With the window already down and cold wind blowing in, she hung out of the moving SUV to look over the rim. Kel wanted to grab her sweatshirt to keep her from falling out. "I see the black roof. It's all twisted in the trees. The poor man can't hurt us now."

He'd known a few do-gooders in his lifetime, but this was taking it too far. "Are you for real?"

"It's the Christian thing to do. I couldn't live with myself if we didn't try to help him. We must turn the other cheek. In fact, I just gave a sermon on this very subject two weeks ago. It was called Doing the Right Thing."

Okay. All right. He decided the best thing to do would be to check out the situation anyway. If anything, maybe he could discover exactly who called the shots. If not, at least Kel could get rid of the menace permanently so the thug would never threaten anybody again. Otherwise, the cat and mouse game could get old real fast.

Without a word, he drove into a little scenic pullout and turned the SUV  onto a narrow dirt road that led into the gully.

She let out a deep gusty sigh. "Whew. I'm so glad you agree."

Not bothering to correct her that he was going to help, he continued to drive, taking a side road that angled more toward the crashed Ram. Once they reached the wreck, he wanted no meddling from her. He'd have to keep her away until he assessed the situation.

Twice the ruts in the crude path caused the vehicle to bounce enough to bottom out. When the road ran out and he could go no farther, he pulled to the side, about fifty yards or so from the wreck. Reaching inside the ashtray where he'd tossed loose change, he retrieved a quarter and crammed it between the flat piece of her safety belt and the locking mechanism, jamming it. She might eventually work it free but it would hinder her for awhile, hopefully long enough for him to do what he must do.

"What are you doing?" She slapped his hands, trying to stop him.

"Slowing you up some. I don't want you in the way when I deal with this criminal." For added measure, he flipped on the childproof switch hidden on the end of the driver's door before locking all four doors and the hatch. He withdrew his Glock.

She yanked on her seatbelt, then threw him a panicky glance. "Come on now. Let me out of here. Mr. McGuire? Kel? Kel."

"Reverend, everything will be okay," he murmured low, his words of comfort surprising him. With a strange reluctance, he quietly shut the door, muffling her last call to him.

The frosty air was nippy, but he ignored it, keeping his senses alert as he approached the wreckage. Door hanging askew from one hinge, the Dodge Ram leaned drunkenly against a huge pine. The bearded criminal sat on a bed of pine needles, shaking his head and blinking as if trying to clear his vision. Blood trickled down his forehead from a gash on his bushy hairline.

Wearing jeans the color of dirt and a holey flannel shirt, the hollow cheeks and eyes of the man reminded Kel of the drug addicts in every slum across the United States. When the man saw Kel, he froze, then jumped to his feet,
swaying.

Kel withdrew his Glock. "Stay right there unless you want a bullet added
to your injuries."

The thug's eyes widened. "Please don't kill me, mister."

"Answer my questions and maybe I won't. Maybe." He made his tone as menacing as possible, even as the memory of his own near accident swept over him in a hot wave. "Who do you work for?"

"I don't know, I swear I don't. I was just told to watch the road for a dark green SUV and give a little trouble."

"How were you contacted?"

"By cell phone. But I don't know the number or nothin'. Please, don't take my life. Please, I'm beggin' ya. I might be worthless but I promise to try to live better."

"The cell. Give it to me."

"Huh?"

With a steady glare, Kel motioned toward the man's pocket. "You heard
me."

"But I'll be a dead man if I give it to you."

"You'll be a dead man if you don't."

Reluctantly, the criminal withdrew the cell.

A movement in Kel's peripheral vision had him turning before something
whizzed in front of him. A rock hit the gun, knocking it out of his grip. The
thug bolted into the woods. Shouting for the man to stop, Kel reached for his
weapon.

Like a baseball runner diving for home, the preacher landed on the Glock. His hand collided with the back of her sweatshirt. For a moment the flowery scent of roses swept over him before he realized she had rolled up onto her feet, grasping the gun awkwardly. His heart stopped when he saw that she held the grip and had it pointed at her leg.

"Careful! Do you want to cripple yourself?" He waved his arm at her.

Alarmed, she swung the deadly muzzle toward him. He dove into pine needles and hard snow, not about to take any chances. Then, lying on his back, he covered his eyes with the crook of his arm, feeling utterly defeated. Catching the thug had been the first decent lead he'd gotten since beginning the mission a month ago. Now because of this overly sanctimonious woman, he was back to square one.

"Mr. McGuire? Kel? I laid down the gun. See? Are you hurt?" The crunch of dried leaves sounded under the rubber soles of her tennis shoes before he felt her lean over his supine form and touch his shoulder.

Anger suffused him—surely not an emotion that would win him any points with the Almighty. What was more, as she leaned over him, her clean scent caused him to burn with a sweetness he had no business feeling for a reverend. And she was a reverend, as untouchable and out of reach as heaven.

With as much dignity as he could, he got to his feet and retrieved the Glock from where she'd laid it on the bed of needles by the tree. To remind himself exactly who she was, he asked, "And what was the title of your sermon for today?"

She gave him an unexpected, perky smile. "When God Messes With Your Plans."
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Question: Has God ever interfered with your plans? What happened?