скачать книгу бесплатно
Concealed Identity
Jessica R. Patch
DEEP COVER ASSIGNMENTAfter Holt McKnight’s criminal informant disappears, the DEA agent must go undercover to get close to the missing man’s sister, who may know more than she’s letting on. But when Blair Sullivan’s attacked, it’s up to him to protect her—without blowing his cover. Blair isn’t sure she can trust her new neighbor, Holt. After all, the last charming and handsome man she fell for was her late husband, and he turned out to be the brother of a ruthless drug lord. Yet when it’s clear the target on her back is somehow linked to her past, she has no choice but to accept Holt’s protection. Even if getting close is the last thing her scarred heart can handle.
DEEP-COVER ASSIGNMENT
After Holt McKnight’s criminal informant disappears, the DEA agent must go undercover to get close to the missing man’s sister, who may know more than she’s letting on. But when Blair Sullivan’s attacked, it’s up to him to protect her—without blowing his cover. Blair isn’t sure she can trust her new neighbor, Holt. After all, the last charming and handsome man she fell for was her late husband, and he turned out to be the brother of a ruthless drug lord. Yet when it’s clear the target on her back is somehow linked to her past, she has no choice but to accept Holt’s protection. Even if getting close is the last thing her scarred heart can handle.
“Blair, you’re in trouble. I can tell.”
She wouldn’t look him in the eye.
“Fine. Don’t tell me.” Frustration leaped into his words. Not just because he was losing precious time finding her brother and his colleague, but he wanted her trust. Holt wanted her to lean on him.
Even though he shouldn’t.
“I—”
“It’s obvious you’re worried but you won’t go to the police.” He softened. It was time to give her the peace she so desperately needed. “I know someone who can help who isn’t a cop. He’s a private investigator. And he could look into what happened. Maybe find out where Jeremy is.”
For a brief moment her chin quivered and her eyes seemed hopeful, but she tamped it down. Inhaling deeply, she shook her head. “Jeremy has a friend. Someone he said he could depend on. He helped him get clean and keeps him accountable. He might know where Jeremy is. Could you...could you help me find him?”
Holt’s insides wilted.
Yeah. He could help her find that friend. She was staring right at him with watery eyes, and he wanted desperately to tell her. His gut said she was innocent. But his job said to follow protocol. He’d never been more torn. But he’d never once broken cover. He couldn’t start now.
Dear Reader (#u9e00df7a-09f9-58b4-84ad-539d93e1d0de),
I hope you enjoyed Holt and Blair’s story. Maybe you can relate to Holt. He had big dreams and lots of plans that he’d committed to the Lord, but a tragedy in his life ripped them out of his grasp and he feared to dream again. To hope again. He buried his faith when he buried someone he loved deeply. One of my favorite accounts in the Bible is Jesus traveling to raise Lazarus from the dead. Lazarus’s sisters were devastated. All seemed lost. No hope. And yet Jesus called Lazarus to come forth. The passage tells us that he immediately arose and came out of the tomb, still bandaged from his grave clothes.
Maybe all your hopes and dreams have decayed in a tomb built by tragedy, pain, loss. If you can muster up even a mustard-seed-sized amount of faith to believe that God can heal your heart, raise up dead or new dreams—like Holt, you’ll find that peace and joy you’ve been craving for so long but were afraid to grab hold of. Maybe it’s time for you to trust Jesus to say, “Come forth!” and see what He raises to life!
I’d love for you to get Patched In! My newsletter subscribers receive first looks at book covers, excerpts and occasional FREE novellas, as well as notifications when new books release. Sign up today at www.jessicarpatch.com (http://www.jessicarpatch.com). Please feel free to email me at jessica@jessicarpatch.com (mailto:jessica@jessicarpatch.com), join me on my Facebook page, www.Facebook.com/jessica rpatch (http://www.facebook.com/jessicarpatch), for daily discussions and take a peek at my Pinterest board (https://www.pinterest.com/jessicarpatch/) to meet the characters and get an up-close view of the scenes from the book.
Warmly,
Jessica
JESSICA R. PATCH lives in the mid-South, where she pens inspirational contemporary romance and romantic suspense novels. When she’s not hunched over her laptop or going on adventurous trips with willing friends in the name of research, you can find her watching way too much Netflix with her family and collecting recipes to amazing dishes she’ll probably never cook. To learn more about Jessica, please visit her at jessicarpatch.com (http://www.jessicarpatch.com).
Concealed Identity
Jessica R. Patch
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Now hope does not disappoint,
because the love of God has been poured out
in our hearts by the Holy Spirit who was given to us.
—Romans 5:5
To my son, Myles, for inspiring me with your endless imagination and amazing me with your servant’s heart. I love you.
Thanks go out to:
My agent, Rachel Kent, for continuing to champion and believe in my writing.
My editor, Shana Asaro. As always, thank you for your keen eye and amazing editorial skills.
Susan Tuttle: thank you for brainstorming and seeing me through yet another book.
Special thanks to Sergeant/SWAT Commander Greg Carson for helping me get my DEA information correct and for so many great ideas. If something’s not right, or stretched, it’s my fault!
And to Jesus. For Your glory always. My hope is in You alone.
Contents
Cover (#u1525838d-7ed6-5847-acae-2bc697c90bdd)
Back Cover Text (#u36db4671-3ce7-5804-9387-29bd7bb78f3e)
Introduction (#u265d5edd-c9ad-57c0-ae94-c786b1aec2bb)
Dear Reader (#uedf9ddc5-2ead-57ca-999e-a2ad856d7992)
About the Author (#u9a42ce56-c345-5106-a9b7-f0aa0be6c905)
Title Page (#u932b2d62-f725-5117-81ff-5f2ba55b5d71)
Bible Verse (#ua6dd9fa2-4db5-58f8-bbba-828547109628)
Dedication (#ue3bb634f-88e5-5b3a-8523-dd46a60c6914)
Acknowledgments (#u573de596-b5b1-590d-82a6-076d0152c9e5)
ONE (#u43887caf-d3c6-5657-9ccb-c0dfe8f862af)
TWO (#u894121e9-6947-52de-892c-5f7836adeb6a)
THREE (#ubbb083c8-35fa-536b-a7a7-8ce89070c4a0)
FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
ONE (#u9e00df7a-09f9-58b4-84ad-539d93e1d0de)
Blair Sullivan glanced in the side-view mirror of her company’s box truck. The dark SUV seemed a little too close for comfort, and with her past, she wasn’t taking any chances. Not when the windows were tinted far beyond the legal limit. It looked exactly like the types of vehicles she’d ridden in over the years.
And no one good had ever been inside.
Pulse skittering, she laid on the gas while her sister, Gigi, obliviously switched radio stations and rambled about lunch destination choices. She must have pressed the pause button with her on-again, off-again boyfriend who co-owned the Black-Eyed Pea. That was where they normally ate their meals, since neither had mastered the kitchen, unless peanut butter and jelly counted.
“It’s hotter than blue blazes.” Gigi lifted her hair, a shade lighter and a few inches shorter than Blair’s, from her neck. “You notice Mr. Hollywood noticing you at the auction this morning? Because I did. I also noticed you noticing him.”
Could she use notice in a sentence one more time?
Blair’s stomach roiled as she glanced in her side-view mirror again. The SUV continued to follow. Could be paranoia. She’d been looking over her shoulder since her late husband, Mateo, was gunned down in Colombia. Not long after their wedding, she’d discovered he was a drug lord in a major cartel and not the man she’d believed him to be. But at that point, it was too late to get out alive. Blair had shielded Gigi from that world of fear, and she wasn’t about to pull her into it now.
It’s a casual drive home. Act normal.
A few cars sped by. Not much traffic this Saturday morning. Her heart rate continued to elevate as memories surfaced, but she forced herself to engage in conversation. “He wasn’t noticing me. He was watching to see if I’d keep bidding on the storage unit.” He had been attractive, though. Built like a superhero made of steel. Dark scruff that did little to hide the deep dimple in his squared chin.
Okay, so she’d noticed. Every woman at the storage unit auction had perked up when he had swaggered onto the scene. Not just because he was movie star good-looking, but he was new to the monthly auctions. “That reminds me, did you see Ronnie Lawson or hear him mention he wouldn’t be there today?”
The SUV continued to ride her bumper. She was going seventy!
“How does Mr. Hollywood even remotely remind you of Ronnie?” She snorted. “I didn’t hear jack, but I know you’d have lost that unit if he had. He seems to enjoy outbidding you.” Gigi paused, her dark eyes concerned. “Hey, you okay? You look wigged out.”
Blair cleared her throat. “I’m fine.” She breathed evenly, pasted a fake smile on her face and hammered the gas pedal as she exited the ramp onto the outskirts of her small town of Hope, Tennessee. The place where she’d started over. Where her grandparents had lived most of their lives. The only place Blair had ever felt safe and at home. “Just feeling buyer’s remorse. I may have paid more than I should for that unit.”
She’d hoped the SUV wouldn’t have taken the ramp, too. But it had. What to do... What to do...
“You’ll know once you get home and inventory everything. So, about the guy. He looked exactly like Superman. Coal-black hair. And those eyes. No one has eyes that blue but Superman.”
At twenty-six, and two years younger than Blair, Gigi acted more like fifteen. She wasn’t going to let up on the hot topic. Mystery Auction Man was no Superman. Superman didn’t hold wildfire in his eyes. Red flags had flown high. She’d been duped by charm and good looks before and ended up marrying the man behind them. Never again. No more falling for liars and men who pretended to be one thing when they were something else entirely.
Blair changed lanes, the SUV stayed in the right one. Okay, maybe she was being paranoid after all. A few cars zinged by, leaving the bypass she was now on empty. Only them and the SUV.
“Fine,” Gigi said, “if you don’t want to talk about Mr. Hollywood, let’s talk about our brother. You heard from him?”
Another flop of her stomach. Jeremy hadn’t called or answered any of her texts and voice mails in several days. It wasn’t like she could pop on over to his apartment, since he lived in Memphis, though she’d tried to get him to move to Hope. Closer to her and Gigi since their father traveled regularly now that he was retired. Right now he was off in the West Indies and her brother was AWOL. Surely Jeremy hadn’t relapsed. He’d been doing so well. Lord, please keep Jeremy out of trouble again. Watch over him.
The SUV changed lanes and zoned in on her bumper. Blair white-knuckled the steering wheel and slid her upper lip into her mouth, concentrating. Thinking. Praying. Lord, let me simply be paranoid. She shifted back into the right lane, hoping the driver was in a hurry and would pass her.
Please. Please. Please.
Pulse pounding as they shifted in behind her, Blair inhaled and exhaled. “Can you turn the radio down?” She couldn’t think straight. Her head buzzed.
“Why?” Gigi lowered the volume but huffed. “Blair, what’s wrong with you?”
The SUV rammed the back of her truck.
Gigi squealed. “What was that?”
“Sit tight.” Blair increased speed. Nothing but fields for miles on their way home. Of course, she wasn’t dumb enough to try to make it there and lead her pursuer to the house, but she didn’t know where to go or what to do. She could hardly swallow.
She glanced in the rearview.
The SUV was gone!
But there it was in her side mirror, gaining.
“Reach under the seat and get my gun, Gigi!”
“Gun! You carry a gun?” Gigi’s eyes widened, hysteria and questions blaring loud and clear.
Blair didn’t have a choice. “Now is not the time. Get it,” she hollered, and floored it. Gigi’s hands trembled as she handed Blair her Glock.
“What are you going to do?” Gigi’s voice squeaked with panic.
Good question. She had to protect Gigi and herself. Blair had learned a thing or two—if only indirectly—being married to Mateo. Always be wary and always be on the offense.
She rolled her window down and aimed the gun, hoping her time at the gun range and some prayer would help her hit the tire and spin the SUV out.
Gigi’s anxious cries echoed through the cab.
Blair gripped the gun with clammy hands, lungs squeezing, and fired a round.
The SUV rammed her again, sending them lurching. What was that thing made of—steel? The passenger window lowered. A man she didn’t recognize, wearing dark glasses, raised the barrel of a gun.
