Dangerous Devotion

By Valerie Hansen

Jessica was just 18 when she married the love of her life: handsome, strong, independent, Greg Dixon, who promised to always be there for her. What he didn’t tell Jessica was that he was an undercover agent, sworn to bring down a dangerous drug cartel.In too deep, Greg had no choice but to fake his own death – the only way he could protect her – leaving Jessica alone to raise their son.  Seven long years have passed since Jessica was told she was a widow…and now Greg is back, more magnetic than before, but with shocking news: someone high up in the CIA is dirty – and Jessica and their son are in terrible danger!From the majestic Ozarks to exotic jungles, from hometown to the unknown, Jessica and Greg are running against the clock. Their love and faith put to the test, just how far must they go? And is Jess's devotion to Greg more dangerous than the relentless enemy at their heels?

• Language: English
• Publisher: NYLA
• Release date: Jan 31, 2013
• ISBN: 9781617509056

Valerie Hansen

Valerie Hansen resides in the rural Ozarks where she writes the books of her heart, primarily for Love Inspired Romance and Suspense. She is married to her childhood sweetheart and has worked as a teacher's-aide, EMT, fire dept. dispatcher, dog breeder, commercial artist, dulcimer builder, Veterinarian's asst., 4-H leader, Sunday School teacher, antique restorer and certified Storm Spotter, etc. See ValerieHansen.com for more!

Book preview

40:31

Prologue

Flames from the burning hacienda leaped high, roaring, crackling. Killing his dreams. Smoke blotted out the moon. Glowing, falling embers stung the man’s flesh like a swarm of angry bees but his grief masked the pain.

Dios! A howl of anguish began in his deepest soul and echoed off the lush vegetation of the Colombian jungle that surrounded the fortress-like compound. He had escaped just in time. His favorite son had not. That was all that mattered.

Hoards of armed men were swarming over the grounds, inside and beyond the electrified fences. He had done everything he could to protect his family; guards, alarms, the most expensive surveillance equipment his drug smuggling profits could buy, yet those efforts had failed.

His already stony heart hardened further. Someone would pay for this assault. If it took him the rest of his life, he would wreak vengeance on the American spies who infiltrated his organization and ruined everything.

Chapter One

Agent Greg Dixon consciously slowed his breathing and sent up a silent prayer for patience. The hardest part of his job was always the waiting, the watching.

He shifted his feet in the lush, green, California grass outside Jessica’s bedroom window as he recalled his last official assignment. Memories of the humid South American jungle were painful, at best. That moist air had closed in around him like a heavy blanket. Stifling. Cloying. Oppressive.

He could imagine the rotting vegetation beneath his boots, the insects buzzing around his sweaty face, the vines clawing at him as he’d cheated death by creeping through the undergrowth to freedom while the hacienda burned behind him.

Greg mentally shook himself. There was little similarity between this balmy night and his time as a prisoner of a Colombian drug lord.

So why am I complaining? he muttered, disgusted with himself.

He should be thanking God that he’d made it back to the States. At least he wasn’t being forced to crawl on his belly through snake-infested mire to escape the well-armed drug cartel he’d been sent to locate. And, he wasn’t in danger of being shot on sight, either.

Of course, in Colombia, all he’d had to worry about were smugglers, hostile guerillas, crooked national troops and politicos on the take. Here, he’d have to face the woman he’d once pledged to love forever, and explain why their happily-ever-after marriage had had to end almost before it had begun.

Greg drew his sleeve across his forehead to wipe away fresh perspiration. If he hadn’t been so worried about Jessie’s current safety he’d have turned this job down cold rather than stir up old memories. How she must have wept when she’d been told he wasn’t ever coming back.

Picturing Jessica as his young, innocent bride was a false perception. And dangerous. He’d seen recent photos of her. She looked anything but naive with that satiny, reddish-blond hair and those sparkling green eyes... not to mention a womanly figure that had apparently followed the birth of her only child.

His jaw muscles clenched. Jessie’s dossier revealed she’d had a son by some guy he’d never heard of. Learning that had bothered him far more than he’d let on to anyone, even himself. Yet who could blame her? She was young and lonely and she’d been convinced her husband was dead.

Glancing at the luminous dial of his watch, Greg realized twenty minutes had passed. Jessica’s bedroom light had gone out an hour ago. She should be asleep. At least he hoped so. If she awoke and raised a fuss before he reached her, quieted her and explained, his advantage would be gone.

He’d removed the window screen earlier. Creeping closer to the side of the single-story dwelling, he slowly eased the window open, paused a few moments to be sure his quarry hadn’t stirred, then pulled on a black ski mask before he levered himself up and into her bedroom.

The first thing Greg was conscious of was the familiar, fresh-washed scent. His mental and physical reaction was intense. Gut-wrenching. Revealing. Coming to see Jessica after all this time, no matter what the extenuating circumstances, was clearly his biggest mistake since exposing the crooked Colombian agents and having to flee into the wilds in a hail of bullets.

Greg straightened from a crouch. What choice did he have? Lives hung in the balance. And if Jessica could be persuaded to help, it would simplify a lot of things as well as protect her and her child. All he had to do was awaken her and explain his mission before she panicked and screamed or conked him on the head with a baseball bat and called the cops.

If Greg hadn’t been trying so hard to remain quiet, he might have laughed aloud at the thought.

Jessica Dixon was drifting in the netherworld between sleep and wakefulness, picturing her beloved son while trying to avoid disturbing, related thoughts. For the most part, she was succeeding.

Keeping her child’s real father a secret had been the right thing to do, she insisted, feeling pride and a surge of accompanying inner strength. The trials she had been through in the past eight years had hardened her in a positive way. Even her own father had seen the change for the better and come around to her way of thinking before...

Suddenly wide awake, Jessica stiffened and held her breath, listening. That noise! What was it?

She froze. A slight breeze whispered across her face. There should have been no air stirring like that. So why was there a draft?

Barely opening her eyes she focused on the area directly in front of the only window. Instead of the white lace curtains and a smattering of stars beyond, she saw a shadow outlined by eerie ripples of moonlight.

Her first thought was that maybe little John Michael had had trouble sleeping and had tiptoed into her room for solace.

In micro-seconds her rational mind rejected that idea. This shadow was no slim, seven-year-old boy. It was man-sized. And it was getting larger as it came closer!

Tense beyond words, Jessica feigned sleep. What should she do? What could she do? If she tried to escape, her innocent son might hear the ruckus and try to come to her rescue. Above all, she mustn’t put the little boy in danger, especially if all this man wanted was to burglarize their house.

Her hands balled into fists, her nails cutting into her palms. What if this intruder wasn’t a simple thief? What if his intent was to harm someone? Her teeth clenched. If he dared touch her or her son she was going to make him pay, no matter what the personal consequences.

Jessica’s muscles ached, then began to spasm from being held so tightly in check. Breath whooshed in and out of her lungs. Her heart hammered. If only she had a weapon handy! Anything to shift the odds to her favor.

To her chagrin she realized that her love-your-neighbor, live-and-let-live principles had been whisked away the moment she was truly threatened.

The man’s shape now blotted out the window. Jessica held back as long as she could, then inhaled deeply, ready to lunge for the bedside lamp and hurl it at him.

At that moment he leaped.

Jessica gulped air, intending to scream.

The prowler landed across her bed and clamped a large, strong hand over her mouth before she could make any real noise.

Frantic, Jessica did exactly what her instinct to fight back insisted; she bit him.

Ouch!

Cursing, the intruder switched hands, using a leather-gloved palm to replace the bare, injured one. Cut it out, Jess!

Thrashing wildly, she writhed beneath his weight. He’d thrown one leg across hers and was trying to hold her still. She fought back. Managing to free an arm she pounded his head and shoulders.

The blows did nothing to stop the assault. She gasped. Struggled. Increased her efforts until her knotted muscles screamed in pain.

Jessica, stop it, the man hissed in a low, hoarse voice. It’s me, Greg.

Several seconds passed before her subconscious took in what he’d said.

Wide-eyed, she held perfectly still. That voice! Staring into the dimness she tried to make out the features behind the ski mask. Was this another dream? Or had Greg really come back into her life the way she used to pray he would?

The moment he relaxed the pressure on her mouth, she twisted free. Her first instinct was to scream. Her second was anger. Unbelieving, she rasped, You’re dead.

Do I look dead? It’s really me, honey.

Prove it.

Greg levered himself up very slowly. Promise you won’t try to get away?

Her nod was not meant to be a commitment. Far from it. What she wanted was the opportunity to flee.

Okay. I’m going to reach over and turn on the light by your bed. I won’t hurt you. Understand?

Another nod. Time seemed to halt. The room was spinning. So was her head. She hadn’t seen or heard from Greg Dixon for eight long years. His bosses had insisted he’d been killed while on a mercy mission to bring food to some third-world country. She was even receiving a widow’s stipend.

And now she was supposed to believe he’d come back to life and sneaked into her room in the middle of the night? For what possible reason? Certainly not to take up where they’d left off when they were newlyweds, she chided herself. The Greg she’d known and loved when she was seventeen wouldn’t be the same person after all that time. She’d certainly changed. Thank goodness.

Blinking in the brightness of the bedside lamp, Jessica focused her frightened gaze on the knitted mask. You’re not Greg, she said, breathlessly. You can’t be. I went to his funeral!

She heard a wry chuckle as he gave the mask a yank and uncovered his head, revealing the thick, wavy, brown hair she remembered so well. His darkly-mysterious eyes removed all doubt he was exactly who he claimed to be, yet her conscious mind was unready to believe him.

No. It’s not you.

Then he began to smile. It was Greg. Her Greg. Her husband. Who was supposed to be dead.

She pressed her elbows to the mattress and edged away from him. Some answers to prayer were simply impossible to accept – and this was one of them.

Part of her wanted to throw her arms around Greg’s neck and hold on tight to keep him from vanishing again. Another part wanted to slap his face for putting her through such agony.

Before she could decide which option won, Greg leaned closer, brushed a kiss against her cheek, then eased himself away. I’m glad to see you too. How’ve you been, honey?

His nonchalance was maddening. Don’t you honey me, she said, smacking his shoulder. And get off my bed!

Yes, ma’am.

She eyed his totally black outfit as he straightened and stood. Do you know what you put me through when you disappeared? How I suffered?

That couldn’t be helped. Greg sobered. It was for your own good.

My own good? Jessica raised herself into a sitting position and glared at him. If you wanted out of our marriage you could have just told me so.

I never said I didn’t want to be married to you. Things happened. Dangerous things. The only way I could be sure you’d stay safe was to make everyone believe I’d died. Even you, Jessie.

Oh, sure. I suppose this wonderful plan for our lives wasn’t even your idea.

It wasn’t. I only went along with it because it was the only way to protect you.

How noble. She pulled a face and folded her arms across her chest. Assuming I buy that excuse – not that I’m saying I do – why did you suddenly decide to come back after all this time?

I’m here on business, Greg said soberly.

Terrific. My husband abandons me for eight years and I don’t see him again until his mysterious boss sends him on an errand. Wonderful. So, why are you dressed like a Hollywood-style cat burglar and why did you break into my room in the middle of the night?

It’s a long story.

Shorten it.

Greg shrugged and smiled down at her. Can’t. Sorry.

Then go away.

I can’t do that, either, Jess. At least not till I’ve done what I came to do.

Her fingers tightened involuntarily on the bedclothes and she pulled them higher. And what would that be?

His chuckle was self-deprecating and brief. Nothing personal, honey, although I have to admit, seeing you again does remind me what a good time we had on our honeymoon. He sobered. I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to continue our discussion in your room like this, do you? Why don’t you get dressed while I go make us some coffee? I’ll meet you in the kitchen.

That said, Greg strode silently to the bedroom door, opened it, and disappeared down the hall.

Jessica sat very still, the covers clasped tightly to her chest. If this was a dream, it was the most realistic one she’d ever experienced. As a matter of fact, nothing this bizarre had occurred in even the most outlandish of her romantic fantasies.

Her head snapped around to stare after Greg. Wait a minute. He’d said he was going to make coffee. How did he know where her kitchen was when he’d never set foot in this house before?

She reached a hand toward the bedside telephone, intending to call the police, then paused, undecided. Greg was the one man in the entire world she had fully trusted, once, and that feeling lingered in spite of the shock he’d just given her. Besides, she was nearly as curious as she was stunned and angry.

Jessica swung her legs over the side of the mattress, throwing the bedclothes aside in a jumble. She quickly pulled on jeans and a sweatshirt.

Could Greg have been watching her house, spying on her? And if so, how much more did he know or had he guessed? Did he suspect the secret she’d done her best to conceal?

Before she threw him out of her kitchen and out of her life for good, she was going to learn his true motives.

She had to. Or she’d never have another second’s peace of mind.

The familiar, welcoming aroma of freshly-brewed coffee wafted down the hall as she padded barefoot from her bedroom, pausing only briefly to look in on her sleeping son and ease his door closed so he wouldn’t be disturbed.

Greg was waiting for her with two mugs of hot, instant coffee. He gave her a cursory once-over, smiled and handed the closest cup to her. Compliments of your microwave. Shall we sit down?

I suppose so. Suddenly more ill-at-ease and wary than before, Jessica placed herself opposite him and pointed to a chair across the round, oak, kitchen table. You sit over there.

Yes, ma’am.

And stop toying with me, Greg. I should have called the police the minute you left me alone and you know it. She ran her free hand over her mussed hair and smoothed it back, remembering belatedly that she hadn’t even stopped to brush it.

I know. But you didn’t.

How do you know I didn’t?

Did you?

She made a sour face. No.

I figured as much. That was the main reason they sent me to contact you instead of relying on a stranger.

Strangers? Hah! You mean like those guys in suits who showed up to assure me they were going to take care of everything after you were killed? Did you know they helped me find a job? I’ve been getting a small widow’s pension from your old firm, too. How can that be if you’re still alive? Do they have spare money to throw around?

Something like that.

Jessica sipped at her coffee without thinking and jumped when it burned her lips and tongue. She carefully set the mug on the table in front of her and cupped her hands around it so he wouldn’t see them tremble. When are you going to tell me what’s really going on?

The details aren’t important, Jess. The less you know, the better off you’ll be. I just need a favor.

Like what? She was scowling and peering across the table at him.

You’re the personnel director at Imaginative Imports. I want you to get me a job there.

Are you crazy? You ditched me right after our wedding and put me through hell. You just broke into my house and scared the you-know-what out of me. Why would I help you after all that?

Because it’s the right thing to do and you’re an honorable person.

That smarted. I used to be. What makes you think I still am?

You are. You even teach Sunday School.

She tensed, her eyes widening. How come you know so much about me?

I have my ways. You got your stepbrother, Mark, a job in the warehouse last month. All I’m asking is the same consideration.

How did you find out about Mark?

It doesn’t matter. Just trust me.

She snorted derisively. Oh, sure. Like I trusted you to love, honor and cherish me till death do us part?

I never meant to break those vows, Jess. Greg’s jaw muscles clenched and released. You know that.

I thought I did.

Resentment tinged her usually pleasant voice. Reaching for the sugar bowl, she added a spoonful to sweeten her coffee and stirred it to stall while she tried to come to terms with confusion and feelings of abandonment.

Getting back to your reason for this visit, she said. Why, exactly, do you want me to recommend you for employment at I.I.?

I need to be on the inside. It’s vitally important.

To whom?

He hesitated, then looked deeply into her dark, jade- colored eyes, willing