Enjoy the first two chapters of Her Devoted Protector

Hello, lovely readers.

Her Devoted Protector teaser is here!

I think Ivy Cavanagh is the strongest female lead I've created so far. Readers' Favorite describes her as 'headstrong,' and the chemistry between her and the hero, former Green Beret Mark Connor, 'sizzling.'

I must admit, I have the softest spot for Mark. The hunky rescue specialist is a thinking man, great with kids (ahem...), and very tender and caring. I hope you love him as much as I do.

Enjoy,
Alessa


HER DEVOTED PROTECTOR: A Rescue & Protect Romance Suspense Novel

Chapter 1 - Ivy Wren Cavanagh

Helena, Montana

The car doors open one by one. The wind rushes in, and soon I hear boots hitting the ground. It must’ve been the men jumping out.

I’m blindfolded and gagged, and my hands are tied behind my back. Those men have abducted me from my home, and we’ve traveled less than an hour, so I’m likely still within the city limits. But you don’t need to go far to find a secluded space in Montana. Hearing widespread grass and leaves blowing in the wind, I sense that I’ve been taken to a place where the only eyes witnessing proceedings are those of owls or coyotes.

Someone pushes me off my seat, and I tumble out of the vehicle. Then I feel two men passing their hands under my arms, dragging me. Their moves are so rough and swift that my feet almost lift off the ground. It must be ten yards or so before we finally stop.

Something creaks in front of me. I think someone is opening a door. It sounds woody, but the ground I’m treading feels like concrete. The smell of moss is strong, and it’s so damn cold in here. I’m sure I’m in an enclosed space now—perhaps it’s part of the Mosaic headquarters.

The men shove me forward, so I walk on my own for a few steps. Soon I’m forced to kneel. One of my captors pulls out my gag but leaves the blindfold and keeps my wrists bound.

The silence is eerie. It’s not absolute silence. Rather, it’s frigid air filled with harsh breaths released by men who, I guess, will do anything to hurt me.

One taps their boot from one end, followed by another behind me. They’re certainly trying to toy with my psyche. I think they removed my gag to figure out how frightened I am behind my lack of response.

Then I hear steady footsteps ending right in front of me.

“Attorney General Cavanagh.” His voice is sandy and deep, just like the voice I heard on the phone before I was taken—only here, it has a touch of grandiose thanks to the echo. He calls himself Deuce. No one knows who he is, but many believe he’s the man behind the feared and powerful drug syndicate Mosaic.

“Deuce,” I greet him.

“You’re shivering.”

“I didn’t know Mosaic was this broke. Can’t even pay for heating. Fentanyl business hitting a rough patch? And I haven’t even started!”

“Ah, that’s exactly what I admire about politicians. They always see things through rose-tinted glasses, even when they can’t see at all.” The sound of his footsteps circles me. “You might’ve rattled the industry with your war declaration. But don’t flatter yourself. Mosaic is stronger and more prosperous than ever.”

Deuce moves away. There’s a splash as his feet land somewhere, maybe on a puddle. And when I listen carefully, there’s water dripping.

“What, AG Cavanagh?” Obviously, he knows I’m trying to figure out the environment around me.

“Was that you pissing yourself?”

He slaps me.

But I stay upright, challenging him. “I didn’t know you’re the slapping type. The coward type. Let me see you!”

Silence falls again. Then a man steps behind me, and my blindfold is removed.

I immediately look up.

“There you are!” Deuce hisses.

I should’ve known it wouldn’t be this easy. The prick is wearing a mask, but not a ski mask like his soldiers. It’s white and sturdy, like the Phantom of The Opera. Only it covers his whole face. It’s hard to judge his height from where I am, but he’s six-foot-two or thereabout. His hair is hidden under a black beanie, and he’s wearing a tan overcoat that falls almost to his ankles. It’s impossible to make out the exact shape of his body, but from what I can see, he’s a well-built man—just like his soldiers.

“You didn’t think I would show my face, did you? You haven’t earned it.”

“And you’re not as brave as I thought you were.” I look around—four others are surrounding me.

“Oh, I have more men guarding this place. So don’t you think about escaping. I even have spares who are busy getting rid of those two corpses from your house.”

I’m hoping he’s referring to the Mosaic casualties. Although I don’t know the fate of my two bodyguards, who were shot in the attack.

“What do you want?”

“Ah, getting impatient, are we? In time, I will tell you. But first, why don’t we get to know each other?”

“I know you’ve got blood on your hands, Deuce. Young lives you never give a chance to flourish.”

“Another thing about politicians. They give you lectures without looking at themselves.” He then gets his man to show me something on an iPad.

My God. Those boys on the video—some could be as young as fourteen or fifteen—are packing bottles, counting tablets, and smoking like they’ve been addicts all their lives.

“Those are the very people you swear to protect, aren’t they, AG Cavanagh? You declared war against fentanyl. But look at them! They’re gladly contributing to the industry. I can even say they’re thriving.”

“You brainwash them.”

“You and your lawmakers can try until you all die of exhaustion and despair—with your policies, bills, and whatnot. But you’ll barely make a dent.”

“Watch me!”

“Those youths are just products of failed marriages and fucked-up families. You’re not that different,” he mocks. “I can imagine someday Noah will be sitting among those boys, working hard on my factory floor.” He bends down to say to my face, “Too bad the boy’s not here!”

I’m sure he intended to take my son tonight, but I know he’s safe.

“Fuck you!”

“He’s a loose cannon, that boy. What do they say? The first seven years of a child’s life are the most important. How old is he now? Eight? Whatever he’s gone through, the effect is likely to be irreversible. I’ve got a feeling sooner rather than later, he’ll unleash his potential and step into the dark side.”

I’m not a perfect mother, but I will never let Noah be a slave like those boys.

“What did your mother do to you, Deuce?”

He hisses and steps closer to me. “She did okay. Look at me now. The most powerful woman in Montana is kneeling in front of me.”

“What do you want?” I repeat.

“You put someone in jail—I’m sure you remember him. I want his release.”

“Too many to count. You’ve got to be more specific.”

“Oh, I’ll give you his name. Don’t you worry.”

“If you want him to be pardoned, ask the governor.”

“You were a fearless prosecutor then. Now, you’re at the top of the justice food chain, and the Montana State Prison is your oyster. You’ll be able to do anything.”

“Who is he, Deuce?”

“Later. Right now, I just want to have fun with you. Perhaps we can prove that lawmakers and criminals can get along after all.”

“Oh, we will get along. Only at the end of it all, there’ll only be one of us—and it won’t be you.”

“Mosaic is bigger than you can ever imagine. It’s bigger than the State of Montana itself. Even if the whole Helena PD or State Troopers rally around you, you’ll never be safe.”

Deuce circles around me again and continue with his warnings, “Not to mention your little family secret. Hm? One that will destroy everything you’ve fought for.”

“I will keep hunting you, Deuce. Whether I’m still in the Justice Building or in hell.”

“I know you’d say something like that. You’re a strong woman. I applaud you. Thirty-six years old. Fighting for her second term as the attorney general of Montana. The youngest in US history when first elected. But you’re not alone in this—and that will make you weak.”

I know where he’s going, and I don’t like it.

“If you satisfy my demand, I’ll guarantee that you, Noah, and your other family will be off-limits. Hands off. Protected. And I don’t mean protection like those hillbillies. What do they call themselves? Red Mark?”

No one should underestimate the men of Red Mark.

When Noah managed to escape the attack tonight, I know the first thing he would’ve done was to call one of them—his ‘watchbear,’ Mark Connor.

And no one should ever underestimate Mark Connor. Or they’ll be as good as dead.

Deuce forces my chin up. “When I say his name, say you’ll release him.”

“Fuck you twice, Deuce!”

He rises swiftly, looming over me like dooms day. But I look up at him, telling him I meant it. I’ve barely met his masked gaze before his knee crashes into the side of my head.

I fall to the ground.

In the haze, I see a shadow move. It’s another of Deuce’s soldiers. Although covered in black from head to toe, I recognize his skinny frame. The elusive teenager had told me he’s the best among the Mosaic troops, and I don’t doubt it.

But the deepest part of my heart cries out for him.

I know Mark is on his way. If he could only save one person in this room, I’d tell him, ‘Save that boy.’

---

Chapter 2 - Mark Connor (a week ago)

When it comes to saving a life, we have little margin for error. And when the life you’re trying to preserve is that of a child, your mission becomes more than just strategies and probabilities. Your physical and mental being belongs to that child. You live for that child—and nothing else—until you get them to safety.

At the Red Mark Rescue & Protect command center, we’re monitoring two of our guys who are storming a suburban house in Billings. After days of searching, we believe that’s where a ten-year-old girl and her younger brother are being held hostage.

A two-hundred-thousand-dollar ransom has been demanded for each of them, but we know nothing will buy the kids’ freedom. The tone of threats and prior records show that the man spearheading the kidnapping is ready to ship the siblings to the highest bidder. Worse, to kill them if things go wrong.

Having cleared the ground floor, the team is now proceeding to the basement.

“Watch out for traps,” I order as they’re about to kick open a door. They know the targets are almost in their sight, but they’re moving a little too fast.

“It’s clean, sir,” Tyler Hunt replies. The former SEAL marksman joined our organization six months ago and has so far proven that the Red Mark blood runs in his vein. Even without his sniper rifle, he’s an asset. He’s a hound when it comes to tracking instincts, and the man is able to calm any distressed kids with his words and, more often, just by being there.

“We’re going in!” he announces and then kicks the door open.

“Do you see them?” Sam Kelleher, my business partner and best friend, asks in anticipation. He keeps rubbing his dark scruff as if it would trawl a ‘yes’ out of Tyler.

“Negative.”

Sam leans forward, his hands now planted firmly on the dashboard. Red Mark is no longer a two-men band, but I must admit, being in the command center is not the same as getting our boots dirty. But I trust Ty and his partner as much as I trust my own partner. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have declared them ready.

“What’s happening with their cameras?” Sam stares at the black screen.

“I think they’re passing a thick wall, sir.” Cora-Lee Rancic, Red Mark’s head of tech, punches the keyboard while switching her views between four monitors. “Boys, change your transmission mode, and I’ll take it from there,” she informs the team. Then she turns to Sam and me. “Picture quality may degrade, but we’ll have visuals back. Give me a minute.” Despite speaking in zeroes and ones when she’s in the zone, the programmer is an effective communicator when it’s crunch time, and she mans the command center like a boss.

“It’s okay. We’ll rely on audio for now,” I advise. “Ty, the BPD still with you?”

“Yes, sir.”

Most of Red Mark’s missions are carried out in collaboration with the local police, and this time it’s the Billings Police Department. We handle the rescue, and they deal with apprehending the criminals.

Suddenly, shots are fired.

“Ty! What the hell is going on?” Sam calls out. “Tyler, do you copy?”

No reply.

“Goddamn it!” His hands are now gripping the edge of the dashboard like he’s riding a roller coaster.

After a few mutters, we hear Tyler. “We’re okay. We had company, but the police took him out. The suspect’s dead, sir.”

“Any signs of the children?”

For a few seconds, we’re getting rustles and static as a response.

“They’re here!” Ty’s voice blares above the noise. “I have eyes on them!”

“Video’s back,” Cora-Lee reports.

And we see Ty’s P.O.V.—a girl hugging an unconscious boy in a corner of a dark room. Only the team’s flashlights illuminate the area.

“Hey, I’m Tyler,” he says to the girl. “Don’t be scared.”

The girl cowers, screaming into her hands.

Holding our breaths, we anticipate Tyler’s next move. Ty and his partner have been through intensive training with Sam and me. I really hope they come through on their first independent mission. Sam is about to say something, but I hold his shoulder, hinting to let the team handle the situation themselves.

“We’re here to get you home,” Ty comforts her. His point of view lowers. No doubt he’s kneeling close to the girl now. “Your parents sent us. Look, they gave me this photo.” I’m sure it’s a family photo that the kids’ mother had passed on to Ty.

The girl raises her eyes to him. The pictures we’re receiving are fuzzy and in black and white, but there’s no doubt she’s warming up to him.

“Please help my brother,” the girl sobs. “They forced him to take a drug. He hasn’t woken up in hours.”

Ty takes the boy’s pulse. “He’ll be okay. Come on, let’s get you two out of here.”

“He’ll beat us,” the girl pleads.

“No. No one will harm you anymore,” Ty softens his voice. “The police are upstairs and outside, guarding us. That bad man is gone. You don’t have to be scared anymore.”

The girl reaches out for Ty, letting his partner take her brother. Her face zooms into view as Ty takes her in his arms. They finally step out of the house, where paramedics await.

“Good work, boys,” I thank them, then nod at Sam. “You’ve trained them well.”

“We’ve trained them well, buddy!” Sam pats my shoulder.

We started our training together, but as I focused on newer recruits, my partner has been out there with Ty on recent missions, and the two former SEALs were unstoppable.

“All right, boys. Time to leave the Midland Empire,” Sam quips.

“Gladly, sir.”

“Good work, Cee,” I praise Cora-Lee. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

The young head of tech smiles as she removes her headset.

Sam and I leave the command center, making our way downstairs. The Red Mark headquarters is three levels. The top floor houses our offices and secure storage spaces—files, server rooms. The second is mainly occupied by our command center, IT, and meeting rooms. The ground floor is the largest, holding the reception area, lounges, gear storage, and our ever-expanding training facility.

Surprisingly, someone is waiting for us. Precisely, two people who are legit part of the Red Mark family, even though they’re not our personnel.

“Dad!” Grace runs to Sam as soon as we join the mother and daughter in the media lounge.

Dad.

I still remember the days when Grace was calling him ‘Sam.’ Barely a year ago. As soon as Sam and Grace’s mother got married, Sam adopted Grace, and the girl has called him ‘Dad’ ever since. After multiple break-ups and trying to copy my life as a bachelor forever, I couldn’t be happier that he’s now a proud father of one and soon two.

“Hey, Pup.” Sam hugs six-hear-old Grace. “Have you been waiting long?”

“No, not really,” she replies.

Cassidy Winter-Kelleher, Sam’s wife—and the reason he can flash a smile full of pride and love like that—maneuvers her bulging belly to lean into him.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He kisses her, caressing her bump. She’s due anytime now. It’s incredible how calm she looks.

“Hi, Mark!” Grace comes to me. Being an uncle to this feisty girl is as close as I can get to being a family man. Nevertheless, it’s an honor.

“Did you find those kids in Billings?” Cass asks.

“Yeah, the guys did. Training and tough love—works every time,” Sam replies.

“Oh, thank God!” Cass gives him an ‘I’m proud of you’ gaze. “I won’t keep you. I just dropped by to see how you were. And to drop off these. New menu from the bar.”

I smell well-seasoned poultry inside the ‘Thirsty Fox’ branded brown bag. The downtown bar is only a couple of blocks away from here. It’s Red Mark’s official watering hole and Cass is the manager.

“Five-spice chicken burgers with Cajun fries,” Cass describes. “Plenty to go around. Let me know what you think.”

“You’re the best, wifey.” Sam doesn’t wait to dip into the bag.

“All right, we’ve gotta go,” Cass tells Grace.

“Bye, Dad.” Grace puts her arms around Sam’s hips.

“I’ll see you at home, Pup.” Sam chews his fries fast and then kisses Grace’s crown.

Grace then waves at me. “Bye, Mark!”

“Bye, sweetheart.” I watch Cass and her mini-me leaving hand in hand.

“I saw you,” Sam hails when we’re alone in the room.

“Saw me what?” I challenge him.

“I saw you twitch every time you hear Grace call me ‘Dad.’” Noticing my mouth move, he quickly adds, giving me no chance to reason, “Don’t say I’m seeing things.”

I roll my eyes, which earns a scoff from him.

He chatters on, “Yes, buddy, this will be one of those lectures of mine. There’s a woman who’s head over heels in love with you. And I know the feeling is mutual. You want a life with her? You want to be called ‘Dad’? You tell her!”

I pass him a bottle of ale.

“I carve my own path. And it doesn’t include a woman in it.”

“Come on. She’s not just any woman!”

It’s true. Ivy Cavanagh is not just any woman. I admire her. I may even love her, albeit secretly. But love had once burned my life to ashes. So the only thing I could do was to dedicate what’s left of me to my work.

Sam takes a bite of his burger. “God, this is good.” He then carries on, “Mark, brother. There’s no one I’d rather have by my side in any situation. But that love brain of yours—whatever happened to it!”

“My amygdala is just fine,” I deadpan and continue devouring my lunch. Goodness—this is what you call a chicken burger.

Sam starts the television, letting the news roll without paying attention to it. While he’s snacking on the last pieces of fries, I get up. “I’m gonna make some tea.”

“You and your hibiscus tea,” he comments, his head following me. “But don’t walk away from our conversation.”

We’re crossing live now to The Capitol, where the attorney general is giving a press conference.

“Hah!” Sam yells victoriously. “Even NBC Montana agrees with me. Look who’s on the news! It’s a sign.”

I ignore him, looking into the tea canister as if the hibiscus leaves would give me an answer to a question I don’t even want to ask. I take my mug of tea and a jar of honey, keeping cool as I sit beside Sam.

“I see that!” he elbows me. “You twitched again.”

Hell, yeah. This time I know I did. Something stirs in me every time I see that man with an earpiece by her side. The retired Army ranger turned bodyguard is in his late forties and not looking for love. But where he’s standing—that used to be my place. I remember how good it felt to be her protection. How right it felt.

Ivy Wren—I like to call her by her first and middle name in my head.

She sits tall, looking straight into the camera. While facing the public, her diamond-shaped face doesn’t usually give much. But when she speaks, it’s her eyes as much as her voice.

The trajectory of illicit fentanyl use is alarming—especially among our youth. In Montana alone, there’s been a one-thousand percent increase in fatal overdoses linked to fentanyl in the past five years.

Those ridiculous hazel eyes—mostly brown in the middle, with a tinge of green around the edge of her irises. Even through a television screen, they have the same effect on me. Whirs disturb my chest as if she was in this room, stripping me defenseless.

Strength defines Ivy Cavanagh. Yet, I’ve seen firsthand how that strength can yield to gentleness. Among egos and tensions, she won’t hesitate to put politics aside and cool down the temperature. And she has never lost her human heart. One particular case stayed with me, where a girl with a learning disability was taken from her home. Because of Ivy’s encouragement, the girl’s grief-stricken father was able to talk and help with the investigation. It wasn’t her role as the attorney general, and she could’ve left it to the police. But she stayed, and I believe her action came from a place of genuine compassion.

Today, I declare the State of Montana at war with illegal fentanyl. Now I’ll be taking questions.

Her head slants as she listens to a reporter from ABC Fox. The wavy end of her hair bounces over her chest. Then she swipes her fringe aside as she gives her answer, revealing her whole face—determined, full of intent.

“The Mosaic is going to go after her,” Sam comments.

Her words are indeed targeted at the alleged biggest fentanyl trafficker in the state.

“She knows what she’s doing.” I sip my tea, switching my attention to her bodyguard. I sure hope that man is up to the task.

“She’s lost weight, don’t you think?” This is the first time we’ve seen her in weeks, and Sam is right. “Perhaps it’s time you called her. I know small talk isn’t your forte, but I’m sure she’ll appreciate it.”

The whirs in my chest are forming words which I maybe, possibly, could say to her if I made that call. But truly, small or big—talking to Ivy is not my forte. “What has it got to do with me?”

“You’re unbelievable!” Sam cringes as I cringe to myself at what I just said. “Rena might’ve broken your heart.” God, I haven’t heard that name in years! “But I know for a fact she didn’t brainwash you.”

If brainwashing had been on the table, I would’ve chosen it in a heartbeat. What that woman did to me was a hundred times worse.

Nevertheless, everything about Ivy has got everything to do with me—because deep down I care about her. But there’s a reason why I never show it.

My best friend looks me in the eye. “Remember what I told you happened when you lay unconscious in St Peter’s Hospital? After you took a bullet for Grace?”

All lives are precious, but saving that girl was the best thing I’ve done in my life.

Sam continues, “Ivy was the first one to get to you. She was by your side when I got there. Waiting, whispering to you to hold on. And dammit, Mark, you squeezed her hand. You fucking squeezed her hand. If it takes unconsciousness for you to be aware of what’s in your heart, I’m going to drag you to her and kick you in the head.”

“You can’t wait to see a tale of redemption?”

“You’ve got nothing to redeem, Mark. None of it was your fault. Rena betrayed you. She hurt you heartlessly. You and Ivy—it’s not a tale of redemption. It’s about why you’re here in Montana. It’s why you left New York. It’s about you coming out of your monolithic cave.”

“She’s harboring a secret.”

“Who isn’t?”

“Well, that’s precisely why. I have secrets too.”

“Do you?”

I look at him seriously.

His lips flatten. “Mark, we’ve known each other for how long?”

“You don’t even know the half of me.”

“That’s an insult!”

“Didn’t you say everybody harbors a secret?”

“Gah! You’re annoying,” Sam sulks. “Still, you’re like my brother, so I’m telling you this again. She loves you.”

I never deny it. Besides having confessed to Sam, she had been giving out signals. Cautious, restrained—but I knew. As a Green Beret, I was trained to read people—friends or foes. As a civilian, inadvertently, I’ve become an expert in reading my clients, including Ivy.

There’s no mistaking a woman in love. I saw that in her every time we met—her eyes sparkled, and elation rose in her face.

Back when it was just Sam and me running Red Mark, she never failed to check on us after every assignment. She’d hug Sam with a warm smile and a firm, friendly hold. But when she came to me, her face angled down, her arms softened… She’d let her glorious brunette hair drop and caress my arm, and her neck would open up to me.

I’d never found out if it was worse to try to repel her or risk it all for her. Opening up to Ivy would’ve been like undoing the stitches that hold my heart together. I wasn’t ready to gamble on whether Ivy Cavanagh could stem the bleeding.

In the end, I let the pain of the past win. I kept my distance and built a fortress. That’s the path I’ve carved for myself. Because I knew the moment my heart bled again, I would stop being human, and I didn’t even want to think what I’d be capable of.

Ivy’s love for me is neither accepted nor rejected, and I feel responsible if she ever feels hurt. So far, she’s taken it all in with finesse and regard. She keeps it professional between us, respecting our boundaries. I’m no longer her security, but since Red Mark switched focus from guarding to rescuing missing children, we continue to work together.

Sometimes I ask myself why she keeps hanging on. She doesn’t need me. For god’s sake, she has brought down many dangerous, powerful men with her wit and intelligence. And with her power and looks, she could have any man. But somehow, I understand her. A human heart is a beast that can’t be tamed. She’s the type who stands tall and has the strength to bear love alone.

Sam clears up the table, throwing away the trash-filled Thirsty Fox bag. Then something catches my eye. My protective instincts kick in seeing what’s unfolding in the press conference. “What the hell is that?”

Ivy’s assistant interrupts and whispers something in her ear. She immediately gets up and leaves the podium. Just as she’s about to disappear off camera, I notice her taking her cell phone out.

Like a show coming straight into one’s living room, my phone rings.

“Mark.”

It’s her.

“Ivy, are you okay?”

“Someone has taken Noah.”

I put the phone on speaker so Sam can listen in.

“He was at school and… I don’t know, Mark. Apparently, he followed someone and never came back. Meet me at Noah’s school.”

“We’re on our way!” I gather my gear.

Sam does the same. “It’s got to be the Mosaic!”

“We don’t know that. Noah followed someone. Perhaps he knows the man.”

“When you get there, take her hand, and tell her everything will be okay. Got it? Don’t just stand there like an insurance salesman.”

I glare at him.

“Or hug her. That’ll be even better,” my best friend insists.

“She’s the Attorney General of Montana, and right now, she’s our client.”

I take the wheel, driving straight to Noah’s school. By now, Sam seems to have lost his will to reason with me.

After a few moments, he starts fidgeting, rubbing his chin. I know he still has something to say.

“Mark,” he drawls. His round, gray eyes settle on me as if looking for an explanation. “What did you mean when you said I don’t even know the half of you?”

“Not a good time, Sam.”

He quits looking at me, puffing. “I really don’t want this to happen, brother. But the longer you go on like this, the stronger my vision is of you dying alone.”

“I won’t die alone, buddy. I’ll take my killer with me.”

---

Thanks for reading the first two chapters of Her Devoted Protector.

A reviewer from popular site Readers' Favorite says:

"The chemistry between Mark and the headstrong single mother adds depth and complexity to the story, making their romance all the more captivating." ★★★★★

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