Shattered Hart: Hart Pursuit Trilogy Book 2

by Paige, Violet

  Shattered Hart

  Hart Pursuit Trilogy Book 2

  Violet Paige

  Copyright © 2018 by Violet Paige

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  *Previously published as Sounds Like Deception by Violet Paige

  Contents

  Shattered Hart

  Also by Violet Paige

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Preview for Stolen Hart

  Keep in touch with Violet

  Shattered Hart

  Hart Pursuit Trilogy Book 2

  I was supposed to protect her.

  AJ

  I was cocky enough to think she’d forgive me.

  But Sydney’s gone and there’s no way to keep her safe.

  I’m not the only one looking for her.

  My gorgeous ex refuses to accept she’s a target.

  Without me, she’s in incredible danger.

  Sydney

  I hope AJ understands I have to keep moving.

  Before he strolled back into my life, I had a job to do.

  I won’t let him scare me into FBI custody.

  I’ve been on my own for five years.

  No matter how smoldering his bedroom eyes are, I can’t give in.

  Not when I’m so close to getting what I’ve always wanted.

  Also by Violet Paige

  Hart Pursuit Trilogy

  Damaged Hart

  Shattered Hart

  Stolen Hart

  Cold Love Hockey Series

  Cold As Puck

  Cold As Hell

  Cold As Ice

  Football Romance

  Turn Over

  Sidelined

  Dirty Play

  Double Score

  Royal Romance

  Tempting the Crown

  Risking the Crown

  Loving the Crown

  Billionaire Romance

  Don’t Go

  Not Husband Material

  Not Daddy Material

  The Dirtiest Deal

  The Hottest Deal

  Military Romance

  Don’t Tell

  Don’t Lie

  Don’t Promise

  Ranger’s Baby Surprise

  Delta’s Baby Surprise

  Sweet Satisfaction

  Suspense

  Resist

  Surrender

  One

  Five Years Ago

  I kicked off my shoes by the back door. It was a practice AJ and I agreed to when we moved in together. I shook my hair out of a bun and jogged to the second floor to change clothes. I was halfway up the stairs when my phone beeped. I paused on the top landing to read the message.

  My heart felt as if it was surrounded by ice. The blood stopped pumping in my veins, and I couldn’t fill my lungs with air.

  What happened after that was as much of a blur as the way my brain couldn’t comprehend the text. It was like moving through honey. I often thought about what I should have done differently in the fifteen seconds I had to prepare. Should I have run? Should I have hidden in the back of my closet? Should I have tried to call AJ? Paralysis from shock is a real thing. I couldn’t process the warning fast enough.

  We never used the front door of the townhouse. It was reserved for guests. Strangers. Delivery people. The heavy antique door flew open and I screamed when I saw armed agents flood our beautiful home. A home we had promised would be our sanctuary away from work. A home that we had christened from corner to the other. A home we had made together.

  I watched in disbelief as they drew their weapons and pointed them at me. I blinked just before I dropped my phone. Everyone watched it tumble to the bottom step. I didn’t know the agent who scooped it into his hand. He read the message before tucking my device in his front coat pocket.

  I didn’t say a word when the same man cuffed my wrists together behind my back. I didn’t protest when I was shuffled out the front door. I wasn’t wearing shoes. I was loaded into a black SUV barefoot.

  They spoke in mumbled tones. I didn’t try to decipher the words or the questions. I sat in silence and watched my life recede from view as soon as the vehicle peeled away from the curb. I couldn’t meet their eyes. I heard AJ’s name bounce around the car a few times. Where was he? What did he know about this?

  I hung my head and waited for what was coming next.

  * * *

  I’d never seen inside the Bureau. Not one time since we started dating had AJ offered a tour. I hadn’t asked.

  Now that I was here, it was like everything and nothing I’d imagined. Too many movies and books clouded my preconceived visual of the interrogation room. Sure, it was an office building, but it wasn’t as sterile as I expected. It wasn’t grim or dark.

  When I was placed in an empty room I glanced around, looking for cameras and recording devices. Who was watching this take place?

  They left me alone in the room. I rubbed my wrists where the cuffs had been. I began to pace, making circles clockwise and after three rotations, switched to counterclockwise.

  The door finally opened. I didn’t mean to cry when I saw AJ standing at the opposite end of the room, but I did. Big sobs erupted from my throat. I collapsed to the floor.

  “I’m sorry.” I gulped and sniffed.

  His feet came into view. I followed the lines of his pants leg, along his waist and to the dark eyes I knew so well.

  He sighed. “I don’t know what to say, Syd.”

  I began to shake. The trembling started low, until my fingertips rattled uncontrollably. AJ knelt beside me.

  “You have to tell them everything you know.” His voice was stern. I searched for warmth.

  I nodded. “Ok. I can do that.”

  “The truth. You have to tell the truth. It’s all you have right now.”

  I felt the deep lump in my throat. Did that mean I didn’t have him?

  He pressed his forehead against the side of my head. He didn’t say anything. I tried harder than before to stop shaking. I just wanted to feel him next to me. I wouldn’t ask him to help me. I didn’t deserve his help. But this might be enough to keep from collapsing into complete panic. If he could just stay another minute.

  We both looked up when the handle clicked, and an agent walked into the room wearing a dark suit.

  AJ immediately straightened his posture, leaving me on the floor.

  “Agent Mare.” He nodded at the man.

  Agent Mare sat at the oblong table. He opened a file flat and clicked his pen. “Agent Hart, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. You can’t be present during the questioning.”

  “I know.” AJ stepped away from me and I felt the last bit of strength drain from my body. He looked over his shoulder at me huddled on the floor.

  “Agent Mare, where are her shoes?” AJ asked. It sounded more like a bark. When the agent
didn’t answer, I responded.

  “They’re at the house,” I whispered. “I took them off at the door.”

  “I’ll bring some for you,” he offered. He pressed his lips together and exited the room. The door shut and I was left alone with Agent Mare.

  “Would you like to take a seat?” He pointed to a chair close to him.

  I pushed off the floor and dragged my body into a seat.

  “Do you know why you’re here?” he asked.

  I nodded. “I think I know why.”

  “Can’t say I’ve ever met a hacker like you before. Sydney Miller, high-level hacker.” His eyebrows arched unusually high on his forehead.

  It was the first time I had heard my name in conjunction with the illegal title I had assumed. It didn’t feel like reality. Hacking was something I did when no one was looking. Hacking wasn’t a part of me. It was a part of the me I was trying to discover. It was the device I needed to use to find my birth parents.

  “High-level?” My voice squeaked.

  He huffed. “You want more accolades?”

  I shook my head. “No, sir.” It was also the first time I realized that what I had done was actually extraordinary.

  “We’re going to start at the beginning. The very beginning. When did you first use code to hack into the Federal Bureau of Investigation, Miss Miller?”

  I twisted my fingers in my hand. I told AJ I’d tell the truth.

  “Two months ago.” I spoke without faltering.

  His bottom jaw dropped. “Did you say two?”

  “Yes. Two months. Eight weeks.” I could break it down into days if he needed.

  He scribbled some notes and then turned around in his chair. I assumed to catch the eye of someone on the other side of the mirrored glass.

  “I just need a second.” He held up his pen before walking out of the interrogation room. I leaned over the table to see what he had scribbled on his notepad.

  If I had seen my reflection, I would have witnessed the blood drain from my face when I read what Agent Mare had written. Instead, my mouth went dry and I began to shake again. He had scrawled in jagged letters: cyber terrorist???

  I wondered if they’d ever let me out of this room, and if I’d ever see AJ again.

  Two

  Present Day

  I switched from one XM station to another, pressing the touch screen as if I was somehow going to be content with talk radio or music. I was lying to myself if I thought that was true. There wasn’t a distraction big enough to keep the thoughts from bouncing in my head.

  I hit a pothole in the road and grabbed the wheel to avoid the shoulder. I careened back into my lane.

  “Shit,” I muttered. I wasn’t used to the car yet. It still had the temporary tags from the dealership.

  I felt like I could crawl out of my skin. I would never be content again. Not after what I had just done. I tapped a button on the steering wheel to increase the volume. The louder it was the greater the chance I could drown out the guilt in my head.

  I was swimming in guilt. Trying to keep my head above it. Pressing my lips upward to take gulps of air in case it slinked down my throat and cut off the oxygen.

  For the past three days, it was all I had. Guilt and me. It slept next to me in the lonely hotel bed. It sat next to me in the passenger seat with its feet up on the dash. It followed me inside at the gas stations for a snack break. I couldn’t escape it. I couldn’t shake it. It was going to tail me this entire trip.

  Deep down, I knew I deserved this kind of companion. One that wouldn’t let me have a sliver of hope. No joy. No happiness. I had to live with guilt on this journey.

  The guilt for what I had done to AJ and me. I had sabotaged our second chance.

  He would think it was payback. Some twisted kind of retribution for the way he left me five years ago. I had accepted that chance the minute I walked out his door.

  Left him sleeping in the bed we had shared. Sleeping next to the sheets we had burned to ash.

  I kept driving. I stopped at night when I was tired. It wasn’t like I had planned any of this. I didn’t have hotels mapped out or rest stops. I was driving toward something I had wanted my entire life. I hoped AJ would understand that. I also understood if he didn’t.

  Driving for three days should have given me time to think clearly. I remembered when road trips used to give me clarity. There was something about turning up the music as scenery blurred past that restored calm. But not on this trip.

  I kept replaying horrible scenes in my head. A sane person would have pulled over when she had a flashback of a gun pointed at her face. A sane person never would have gotten behind the wheel after a nightmare that was actually a memory of being shoved in a wooden crate and packaged up for sale. A sane person would have stayed with the man she loved. She would have spent time with him, caring for his injuries. Tending to her own pain. Shutting out the world and mending. Healing.

  But after Flight 552, nothing felt sane. It didn’t feel safe either. I didn’t know where to land. I woke up early Monday morning to a text. I did the one thing I’d been doing for years. I chased a lead.

  I shouldn’t have exited on I-95 in Virginia. I had a chance to slow down and change my mind when I drove through North Carolina. I could have stopped to see my mother and sister in Raleigh. There was solace there. Love. A warm bed and my old room. But I kept driving. Right through South Carolina and Georgia. It was as if something propelled me. I wanted to believe I was driving toward something. Not running from the trauma I had survived.

  If I let myself go back to the memory, it only paralyzed me with fear. The men who had ransomed and sold me were still out there. The FBI didn’t know who they were. I sure as hell didn’t know either. There was a recklessness under my skin that told me I had to keep moving before they found me again. It was stupid and careless. I had nothing to protect me but AJ’s gun. A gun he and I both knew I’d never use. I could never bring myself to pull the trigger.

  I spotted sugar cane, wide canals, and moss. The scraggly gray plant was everywhere. Hanging like spiders from low limbs. I was somewhere on the backroads of Louisiana.

  I picked up the Styrofoam cup from the console, rattling it in the hopes there was a drip of caffeine left, but it was empty. I hadn’t passed a gas station or drive-thru in over thirty minutes. I was off the beaten path. At some point I had forgotten to pay attention to signs of civilization.

  As I drew closer, it somehow felt as if I was simultaneously in the right and wrong place. I knew this was the address I had tapped into the GPS, but I was uneasy, as if I had gone too far. It didn’t help that the farther I drove, the more I began to lose signal on my phone. Siri kept cutting out, until she stopped telling me how many miles I had to go.

  The hair on the back of my neck stood up. My throat felt numb when I saw the name on the rusted mailbox: Harper.

  Beneath it was a sign that read: Private Drive No Trespassing.

  Only the r’s were missing in all the words, so instead it was Pivate Dive No Tespassing. I wondered if it was a prank some local high school kids played. But as I scanned the area, I couldn’t spot another house.

  I slowed the car to a full stop. Was I really going to do this? Dark clouds loomed behind and in front of me, so dark the center of the cluster was black. There was a storm closing in. I gripped the steering wheel and turned right onto the dirt path. I had expected a neighborhood, or at least a row of houses when I received the address. But I knew that was only because I had conjured images in my head of what this was supposed to be. What it should look like. What it should feel like when I arrived.

  Instead, this was utter isolation.

  I groaned when the rain started to splatter on the windshield. It took me a second to find the switch for the wiper blades. They scraped across the glass, smearing dust and rain in messy streaks.

  I passed by the edges of a pond before realizing it stretched into a full lake. Mist collected on the surface. I bounced and bumped over
deep ruts in the dirt road. The tree limbs seemed to reach lower, tangled between each other, forming a tunnel over the private drive. The road was at least a mile long, possibly longer. Finally, I emerged in a clearing, shaded by wide oaks.

  I turned off the radio as I looped in front of the house on the circle drive. Weeds stuck out from the driveway. For a second, I stared at the one-story farmhouse. I took in the wraparound porch and black shutters. The railings and banister were white. It was so picturesque it could have been on the front of a magazine.

  It wasn’t perfect, but it had charm. There were patches of grass in the front yard. Peeling paint around the banister. Rustic touches on the door.

  It looked as if it was the kind of house that had been filled with stories over the years. Fourth of July parties on the front lawn. Christmas lights and greenery draped on the railing while neighbors sang carols. A vegetable garden, now covered in weeds, that was used to stock the cellar for the winter. It was all there. A storybook that was passed down over generations.

  I took a deep breath. Where did I fit in that story? Could I still write a chapter?

  I looked at my phone once more. There were no bars. Siri had gone completely silent. I didn’t have service this far out in the country. I shoved it in my back pocket and stepped out of the car. I glanced at my gear in the backseat. It was the first time I didn’t reach for the microphone and recorder. As crazy as that seemed, I didn’t want it. Not now. I needed to be in this moment without holding a mic in my hand.