Cold Heart: A Paranormal Mystery Romance (Hearts and Minds Trilogy Book 2)

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Cold Heart: A Paranormal Mystery Romance (Hearts and Minds Trilogy Book 2) Page 1

by Penny BroJacquie




  COLD HEART

  Hearts & Minds Trilogy

  Book 2

  by

  Penny BroJacquie

  *

  COLD HEART

  Copyright ©2019 Penny BroJacquie

  All Rights Reserved

  Editing: Learning To Fly

  Cover Art: Cosmic Cream

  All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Cold Hear (Hearts & Minds Trilogy, #2)

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  PENNY BROJACQUIE’S BOOKS

  Acknowledgments

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  In loving memory of my Facebook friend, Priscilla Jimenez

  CHAPTER ONE

  *

  “Croque Monsieur and Tartine au Framboise, s'il vous plaît.”

  Alexandre handed me the menu with a sly smile on his face. He knew I had just read what was in his mind and as excited I was by the naughty thoughts it was flooded with, I couldn’t express my excitement, at least not until we both got back home.

  “Would you like something to drink, sir? Coffee? Tea?” I asked instead.

  “Yes, I want to drink your blood in a champagne glass,” Alexandre whispered in my mind. That didn’t shock me, though. I knew he wouldn’t do that; he wouldn’t do anything to hurt me or cause any pain to me, physically or emotionally. However, he was still a vampire and vampires love drinking blood as humans love to drink soda. Of course, in the case of humans, drinking too much soda may increase their health problems. However, when vampires drink too much human blood, oh well, pray for those humans.

  “A cup of Ceylon Black Tea maybe? Or a double espresso? Or an orange juice?” he said playfully while his mind read “In fact, I’d like to taste all your juices now”. And it wasn’t the fruit juices on the menu he was talking about, if you know what I mean. Blushed with embarrassment, as if everyone in the patisserie had heard our silent conversation, I remained still, tapping my pencil on the small notepad I was holding and waiting for him to complete his order.

  “That’s not gonna happen, mon cheri. Not until we get back home dead tired and have a nice warm bath before we get into our cozy bed with the fluffy duvet and fall asleep,” I whispered in his mind.

  “Speak for yourself, ma chérie. I’m a vampire, I’m never tired,” he spoke into my mind and winked.

  He was right. He never got tired, which was great for sex but when it came to daily life activities, it was hell for me as I could never match his energy levels. The man was a nuclear bomb and I was a grenade. He was the orchestra and I was the horn. He was a five centuries vampire and I was half human. The thing was that we didn’t know what my other half was. Chances were we would never find out. As much as we tried, as many old vampires we asked, and as many ancient books we read, we didn’t manage to track down my bloodline. You can’t even imagine how disturbing that was. I was half a human, half a person, half a lover, hoping that I would someday find the fullness the knowledge of my origin could bring me.

  I was a full telepath, though. No question about that. I was a telepath and a damn powerful one. I’d been able to read minds for as long as I could remember. No one could hide their thoughts from me. No one, except Alexandre. He was the only entity in the world that could block me out of his mind. God knew how hard I had been trying for the last two years to unlock every hidden thought of his, but I hadn’t managed that yet. But I wouldn’t stop trying. I was determined to make him reveal every secret his five centuries mind had kept from me, with or without his authorization. My determination didn’t come only out of my stubbornness. Okay, I had always been stubborn, but that wasn’t the case. Since I had first met him, I had that creepy feeling that he had been keeping secrets from me. Maybe that was because he was the only person in the world whose mind I couldn’t fully unlock. Maybe it was a hunch that he refrained from revealing to me a big secret or a weird truth that he thought that I wouldn’t be able to handle if I found out. That feeling was the only smear in our happily ever after life. And it was probably entirely my fault.

  “So, what would you suggest I should have?” Alexandre’s voice got me out of my daydreaming.

  “A double espresso would be perfect to start your day, sir,” I replied, keeping a strictly professional face on.

  “Well, bring that to me,” Alexandre said and pinched my butt as I turned to leave.

  “Stop it,” I giggled and hit his hand with the menu booklet. “Don’t do that. We’re not in our bedroom.”

  “Don’t worry, no one noticed,” he smirked. “Besides, I have other plans for when in our bed.”

  “Alexandre LeBlanc, you’re a beast, you know that,” I batted playfully my eyelashes before I left his table behind.

  Patisserie Le Coeur was full that morning. My tiny French patisserie in Soho, London. My very own French patisserie. Customers would line up daily to get one of the beautiful, bright, colorful cakes, pastries, and tarts that I personally baked. With Alexandre’s support, my dream for an old-school French patisserie had come true. The always freshly baked authentic tarts, cakes, and pastries would make you feel like you've stepped into the Parisian cafes of old. In a short time, Patisserie Le Coeur made a name on the classics; buttery croissants, fluffy baguettes, and fancy Belle Epoque’s cakes; the perfect French craft which I had mastered during my studies in Paris. Le Coeur’s Instagram account had dozens of thousands of followers. The custard crème filled French crepes had become our signature dish. I was very proud of my baby, and Alexandre was very proud of me. However, he couldn’t hide his concern about the high popularity Le Coeur had gained. He was afraid that our enemies could easily find us.

  Alexandre always said that with my olive skin color tint, long silver hair, and exotic facial features, I could not pass unnoticed. I used to calm him down saying that I was just a girl who could easily pass unnoticed in a cosmopolitan city of millions such as London. I felt safe in my lovely tiny patisserie and Alexandre’s gorgeous three-story Georgian townhouse in Belgravia.

  “Miss?”

  A strong female voice made me stop walking halfway through to the kitchen.

  “Miss?”

  I turned around and I saw her. A beautiful woman with sleek blonde hair in a perfect elegant updo, dressed in a tight black dress and with bright red lips. With the black veil fascinator she was wearing, she looked like she had just popped out a 1950s noir film.

  “Oh, can I borrow your looks?” I almost let slip out. I forced myself to behave and instead I said, “Good morning. How can I help you?” while I stepped towards her.

  “Can I have a slice of red
velvet cake, please?” she asked.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, red velvet cake isn’t on the menu today. But we have freshly baked opera cake. It is made with layers of almond sponge cake soaked in coffee syrup, layered with ganache and coffee buttercream, and covered in a chocolate glaze. We also have a lovely coconut cake, frosted with white glaze and covered in coconut flakes,” I replied with a joyful smile.

  “Is there anything red? In the color of blood?” she asked slowly.

  “We have amazing Poire à la Beaujolais. It’s pear in Beaujolais wine,” I said.

  “Is it red enough?”

  Her question made me raise an eyebrow.

  “It’s made of pears cooked in a pan with red wine, sugar, a piece of cinnamon and cloves. Since the cooking doesn’t always result in the desired red color, a bit of cochineal is added to enhance it. It looks like it swims in blood,” I answered trying to hide my annoyance.

  “Bloody hell,” the black-clad woman with the bright red lips said as she stared at me.

  I froze. That was weird. Something was wrong with her. I tried to scan her thoughts and a shiver went down my spine. There was nothing there. Her mind was simply empty of thoughts. I couldn’t detect any sentiment in her heart, not even the desire for a mouthwatering dessert like one of those displayed on my patisserie’s front window. My hands became sweaty and clammy.

  “I’ll take it,” the woman finally said.

  “Excellent choice,” I replied as I wrote down her order with shaking hands and turned around to move away from her the fastest I could.

  “Is everything alright?” That was Alexandre’s voice that had sneaked into my mind.

  “Everything is fine,” I reassured him telepathically as I entered the kitchen. A few minutes later, I was serving him his breakfast.

  “Croque Monsieur, Tartine au Framboise, and a double espresso for the best customer I’ve ever had,” I told him trying to hide my frustration.

  “Is everything alright?” he insisted asking.

  “Absolutely,” I said but I knew that he didn’t buy it.

  “Ms. Stella Burke, I’m going to ask you for one more time. Is everything alright?” he pressed his lips together.

  “Nothing to worry about,” I said smiling. “Yet,” I should have added.

  “I’m afraid I have to leave,” Alexandre puffed out.

  “Oh, no, what about your breakfast?” I pouted. In fact, it wasn’t him eating breakfast I was worried about. His presence in the patisserie that made me feel safe and his absence was not what I wished in that weird October morning.

  “I’ll be fine,” Alexandre said and took a sip of his espresso. “A suspicious pile of ashes has been found in Hyde Park. If they prove to be vampire ashes, then it’ll be the third incident of a murdered vampire within the last three days.”

  “Oh, shit,” I exclaimed.

  “Indeed. Someone is after London’s vampires and I have to find out who they are,” he said as he stood up and gave me a kiss before walked toward the bistro entrance. Right before he crossed the exit, he turned around and stared at me in a way that made me swoon.

  The door closed behind him and suddenly, a stream of spinning images filled in my mind and my heart raced frantically as the images projected into my mind carried a blast of sentiments in me. Pictures of men and women turning into ashes whirled in my mind. Anger, terror, happiness, grief; all kind of emotions simultaneously whipped my soul. Panic-stricken by the uncontrollable flow of horrifying pictures and creepy feelings, I placed my hand on a nearby table to avoid collapsing to the floor.

  I turned my gaze at the mysterious blonde. Her table was empty, she wasn’t there anymore. How could that have happened? I didn’t see her leaving. The place was so tiny, with only a few tables placed one close to the other, that I couldn’t possibly have missed her leaving.

  With shaking hands, I straighten my tight black skirt and removed a curl from my forehead. I was scared to death, but I didn’t know why. I was going to find out the hard way.

  CHAPTER TWO

  *

  It had been seven years since I had left Idaho to pursue my dream to become a world known pâtissière. It had been two years since I had met Alexandre in Paris and we had moved to London to avoid the vampire clans war in France. My plan to become a famous pastry chef was set in action. I had found love and I was professionally successful. I hoped for a bright future and I worked hard to upgrade my business.

  I put on my pink faux fur on and grabbed my black purse. I switched off the lights and after I locked my patisserie’s pink door, I started walking down the Greek street. It was past midnight and my pace was fast as I always felt uncomfortable walking around London alone at night. I had always been cautious but that night, in particular, I was extra cautious after the weird encounter with that mysterious woman I had in the morning.

  A turmoil of thoughts suddenly erupted into my head, accompanied by a shrill sound that made me place my hands on my ears in a desperate effort to block it out of my mind. With my eyes tightly closed and my fingers pressing my temples, I did the trick that I had perfected throughout the years; a trick that had saved my mental sanity multiple times.

  I imagined a large front door closing with a loud sound, keeping all evil outside and keeping my thoughts and memories safe. A strong wind abruptly blew from behind me and got my hair flying into the air. As I turned around, I caught the sight of a familiar silhouette with the corner of my eye. It was the black-clad woman with the black veil fascinator and the red lips standing still at the corner, staring at me without any expression or emotion on her face. Beads of sweat poured over my forehead as a million unsettling thoughts flooded my mind. I was nearly hit by a car as I hurriedly crossed the road without checking the green lights. Frozen to death, I stood still on the pavement, trying not to give away my panic. I tried to run through the woman’s mind but in vain. My hands started shaking again and my heart was racing wild. The last time that had happened was two years ago when I was attacked by vampires. That couldn’t be happening again.

  I shivered as I carefully turned around to get another look at the woman. She was gone. Maybe it was my imagination, maybe she had never been after me. Maybe it was all in my mind. Maybe she didn’t even exist. A throbbing vein in my neck almost exploded, that’s how terrified I was. I had to get back home as soon as possible. Alexandre didn’t need to know about this.

  CHAPTER THREE

  *

  The door to our bedroom opened with a smooth sound and Alexandre appeared with a tray in his hands.

  “I thought you’re hungry and I made you an egg sandwich.” He placed the tray on the table and drew the chair and invited me to sit down.

  “Enjoy,” he said as I placed the plate on the table.

  “It’s delicious,” I said and filled my mouth with a huge bite. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was.

  His fingertips slid on the scratched surface of the table before he answered. “Is there anything you aren’t telling me?”

  “I love you?” I said innocently and he laughed.

  He put his hand in his pocket. “Do you remember these?” He was holding three golden rings adorned with a red stone.

  “I do.” I swallowed hard.

  “They are identical to the rings the vampires that had attacked us in Paris wore.” He placed the golden rings with the red gem on the table.

  “Where did you find them?” I asked.

  “They are what was left of the three vampires that have been scorched down in Hyde Park,” he explained.

  “What does that mean to us?” I asked.

  “Probably nothing,” he tried to comfort me, but I knew that he was lying. “However, I want you to be extra careful when you’re walking alone in the streets, especially at night. If you notice anything alarming, please let me know.”

  “I’m sure no one is after me,” I lied.

  He leaned closer to me and softly kissed my forehead. “I’ll have someone drive you from home to th
e patisserie and back.”

  He protectively tucked an unruly silver curl behind my ear. It was obvious what was on his mind. My arms held on tight onto his neck and when our eyes met, a ripple of excitement shot through my body as he sucked on my lower lip. My heart was pounding so hard that I thought it would jump out of my chest. His gaze at me was so intense that it took my breath away. Drops of sweat rolled down my nape and my breasts moved up and down when his cold lips touched mine. He kissed my skin from my ear to my neck. My heart pounded faster as he gently unbuttoned my white shirt and I shuddered when his hand cupped my breast. A small cry escaped my mouth as his hand moved between my legs. Hands shaking, I unbuttoned his blue shirt and caressed his bare chest.

  My face was flushed. I could have used telepathy to make my thoughts known to him, but I didn’t want him to worry about me. I brushed his brown hair with my fingers and swiped a bead of sweat that rolled down from his forehead as we became one body.

  “I love you, Stella Burke,” he said softly.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  *

  It felt so warm and snuggly. A thick, fluffy blanket was wrapped around my body, offering delightful warmth. The sound of a crackling fire woke me up and I reluctantly opened my eyes and perused the dark bedroom.

  “Where the hell am I?” I muttered shocked after I realized that I wasn’t home.

  The iron bed I was lying on, covered in etchings of large flowers, glowed in the light of a marble fireplace set against the opposite wall. A round table was placed in the middle of the room with a shiny iron candlestick on its surface. I raised my body and sat up on the soft mattress.

  “How did I end up here?” I asked loudly.

  I stood up and carefully approached the heavily carved rectangular mirror that was next to the fireplace. Everything looked right on me. I picked up the iron candlestick from the table and explored the room under the light of the candle. An emerald embossed wallpaper covering the walls gave a happy tone in the beautifully decorated pink and lime room. A green velvet curtain on the wall behind the bed caught my attention. I pulled the heavy fabric forcefully, and a quatrefoil window was revealed. I could see through it only darkness, trees, and the starry sky. There was no light and no indication of another person. A shudder ran down my spine.

 

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