Half-Broke Heart (Combat Hearts #1.5)

by Tarina Deaton

  The last bit of cold tea she was swallowing shot up her nose and she coughed. She set her cup on the counter and stuck her fingers in her ears. “La la la la la. I don’t need that visual.”

  “Well, you’ve got it. Why have you been avoiding me?”

  “I’ve been avoiding everyone, not just you.”

  “Why?”

  She returned the pitcher of tea to the fridge. “Why’re you so crabby?”

  “I’ve moved onto anger. I can’t take it out on Cindy, so I’m taking it out on the people I love. It’s healthy. You should try it.”

  Denise leaned back against the counter and crossed her arms. “I’ll keep that in mind when I get there.”

  “But there’s something going on for you to get there?”

  She gave her best friend a curt nod.

  “Hmm.” Bree turned back to the living room.

  Denise rolled her eyes to the ceiling and huffed out a breath. Bree didn’t get like that very often, but when she did no one was safe. If she didn’t think Bree would keep poking at her, she’d be so proud. She grabbed her glass and followed her friend.

  Jase was sprawled on one end of the sectional, eyes fixed to a football game. “Hey, Jase.”

  “Hey.”

  At the next commercial break, Jase rose from the couch and handed the remote to Bree with a kiss. “I’ll start the grill.”

  “Why don’t you call Chris, see if he wants to come hang out.”

  Denise froze and slowly cut her eyes to Bree, who gave her a calculating look. That wench. Bree’s eyes widened ever so slightly and Denise knew she’d figured out something had happened between them.

  I can’t believe you didn’t tell me, she mouthed.

  Hello! You got stabbed, Denise mouthed back.

  Bree shot her a death glare and Denise stuck out her tongue.

  “Can’t,” Jase said. “His phone’s deactivated.”

  That got Bree’s attention. “What do you mean his phone’s deactivated?”

  “It’s happened a couple of times before.”

  “Why?” Bree asked.

  Denise smiled, watching Bree get worked up on her behalf. She didn’t even know the full story and she was already outraged.

  “It happens when he goes deep undercover. They basically cut off any and all communication with their normal lives.”

  Without telling anyone?

  “What about the guys with families?” Bree asked. “They just disappear without telling their spouse or kids?”

  Jase came back in from the kitchen. “I don’t know, babe. I’ve never asked him how it works.”

  “Well, did he tell you he was going undercover?”

  “It’s a guess, since his partner called me and asked me to pick up his truck for him, and that’s what happened last time.”

  So there had been a way to get word to someone. To her, if she’d been someone important enough. Just a quick note or message letting her know he was okay and hadn’t blown her off after getting in her pants. Guess she should have known better. Once again, someone’s job was more of a priority than she was.

  Suck it up, buttercup. At least this time no one died because of it. She still hated feeling like a chump. Stupid fucking emotions.

  Sprocket rose on her hind legs, put her paws on Denise's thighs, and shoved her snout under her chin. She nudged her dog’s head to the side and stared up at the ceiling.

  "Denise?"

  Lifting her head, she saw the concern on Bree’s face.

  She pressed her lips together in a parody of a smile."Later, Bree." She didn’t want to share just then, with Jase on the back deck. She would. After she’d had some time to gather the pieces of her heart back together. It wasn't shattered. It wasn't even broken. Even a half-broke heart is still broken. She shoved that thought to the deepest, darkest corner of her mind. She refused to allow someone to have that kind of power over her again.

  But it still hurt. And it was time to lock that shit down for good.

  Keep reading for an unedited sneak peek of Locked-Down Heart.

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  Locked-Down Heart

  Chapter 1

  Boom. Boom. Boom.

  Denise woke with a start. Rolling off the edge of the bed, she took up a defensive position. Heart pounding, she crouched in the small space between the bed and wall and reached for her gun, groping in the dim light. Where the fuck was her gun?

  A groan sounded from the bed and sheets rustled. The jangle of dog tags worked it’s way into her consciousness as she came fully awake. Sprocket, her 200-pound English Mastiff, eased herself off the bed and stuck her snout in Denise’s face, bathing her with doggie breath and smearing slobber on her cheek.

  “Ugh, quit that.” Denise pushed her dog’s huge head away and wiped her face with the sleeve of her worn t-shirt. “I’m awake.” Sprocket huffed at her.

  The pounding came again. The door. The luminous numbers on the clock showed four-twenty-three. Shit, she’d fallen asleep. Who the hell was at the pounding at the door? She reached between the mattress and the boxspring for her Glock.

  “Come on.” Pushing at Sprocket, she rose from her position on the floor and followed the dog out the room.

  Kimber stood in the door of her and Kaden’s bedroom. Denise shifted her hand behind her back.

  “Who is it, Aunt Denny?”

  “I don’t know sweetheart. I’m going to check. Sorry I fell asleep.”

  “It’s okay. You’ve had a hard week.”

  Not something a nine-year-old should be worrying about. “How’s your homework going?”

  She shrugged. “I’m done. I’ve been helping Kaden with his.”

  “Okay. We’ll sit down and go over yours after I see who’s at the door.”

  Kimber put a hand on Sprocket. “Can Sprocket stay here?”

  “Sure. Looking at the dog, she said, “Stay with K-Squared.” Sprocket sat and licked her chops. “Good girl.”

  Holding the gun low beside her leg, finger poised along the trigger guard, she walked through the small, combined living room and dining room. She glanced through the peephole, then rocked back on her heels.

  What the fuck? She stared at the door, trying to decide if she should open it or not.

  Three more sharp knocks made the decision for her.

  She unlocked the door and yanked it open.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” she demanded.

  Chris took a step back. Whether from the door opening suddenly, her, or her question, she wasn’t sure. He looks tired. It wasn’t her problem. Never was.

  “Denise?”

  “Yes, Chris. What are you doing here?”

  The lines between his dark eyebrows grew more pronounced.“What are you doing here?”

  His strong jaw was covered with stubble, accentuating the lines of his mouth. A mouth that was surprisingly soft, especially when it grazed over her skin. Her nipples pebbled under her thin t-shirt. Damn her traitorous body. It’d been almost four months, it should have gotten the message by now.

  “I asked first.” She set her gun on the high shelf above the coat hooks and grabbed the zip-up hoodie hanging by the door.

  “Why are you answering the door with a gun?” he asked.

  “Because this isn’t the greatest neighborhood.” The neighborhood sucked. It wasn’t the greatest when her cousin bought the small three-bedroom house and it had only gone down in the last five years. She was pretty sure her neighbor two doors down was dealing. As long as he wasn’t cooking, and he kept it to his doorstep, she was willing to over look it. But Kimber and Kaden were going to her parents’ the minute the school year was over.

  “Why are you here?” She enunciated the question this time. She needed a quick answer so she could work on forgetting Christopher Nolton.

  “I
’m looking for Sarah Reed.”

  Her shoulders sagged and she rubbed a hand over her eyes. “She’s not here.”

  “When will she be back?”

  Denise glanced over her shoulder. Sprocket sat in the opening of the short hall that led to the two small bedrooms at the back of the house. She let out a low woof and laid down, resting her head on her paws. Denise stepped out of the house and pulled the door shut behind her, leaving it cracked. Chris stepped back on the small concrete pad.

  “She’s not coming back. She’s in the hospital with terminal cancer.”

  Light dawned behind his eyes. “Shit. She’s your cousin.” Chris ran his hands over his hair. Hair that had grown long in the last three months and now curled around his ears and jawline.

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “What is this about?”

  He took a deep breath. “Her ex-husband was released from prison. He skipped parole.”

  She dropped her arms. “What the fuck? He’s not supposed to be out for another five years. At least.”

  His face pinched, like he had sucked on something sour. “He made a good impression with the parole board. Got out early. I need to know why her ex has been calling her.”

  “What? He hasn’t been calling her.”

  “Denise, he’s been contacting her. We traced the calls to this residence.”

  Anger threatened to strangle her. “I will guran-damn-tee you, she hasn’t had any contact with that fuckwad in almost ten years.”

  “Aunt Denny? What’s going on?” Kaden stood in the doorway behind them.

  She took a deep breath and schooled her features. “Hey, buddy. What are you doing?”

  “I heard talking.” He pointed at Chris. “Who’s he?”

  “Just a friend,” she said. She brushed his hair back from his forehead. “Why don’t you go back inside? I’ll be there in a few minutes and we can read before dinner.

  “Is Mom okay?”

  “She’s fine. We’re still going to go see her Friday after school.”

  Kaden stared at Chris, eyeing him from top to bottom. He looked between them before asking, “Is this about the man that’s been calling?”

  “What man?” Denise glanced at Chris, trying to gage his reaction. He stared intently at Kaden, but didn’t ask any questions.

  “He said he’s our dad, but Mom said he was dead. He keeps asking to talk to Mom.” He dropped his head and looked down at his toes. “Am I in trouble for talking to him?”

  “Hey. No.” She grasped his chin and turned his face toward her. “You’re not in trouble. I’ll explain everything later, okay? I don’t want you to worry about anything.”

  His gaze was too serious, too somber for a eight-year-old little boy who shouldn’t have any cares in the world.

  “Go back inside. I’ll be in there in a minute.” She kissed his forehead and turned him by his shoulders. “Go with Sprocket.” She watched as he walked back into the house, hanging onto her dog’s neck.

  She leaned against the door jam facing Chris. “That answers that question.”

  “You need to warn him,” he said, pointing through the open doorway.

  She glanced over her shoulder to make sure Kaden wasn’t in sight and spoke in a low voice. “I know. I don’t know why Eddie’s calling here all of a sudden. That fuckwit hasn’t shown any interest in his kids since they were conceived. Why are you involved in this?”

  He shoved his hands in the pocket of his jeans pushing them a tad bit further down his lean hips. “I’ve been assigned to this case.”

  She blinked. “What case? Assigned how?”

  “FBI, remember?”

  “So?”

  He looked off to the side and took a deep breath, letting it out through his nose. “I’m on a violent gang task force.”

  Understanding dawned. “Eddie was a member of the Southern Anarchists.”

  “Yeah.”

  She scrubbed her hands over her face. “I’ll disconnect the phone tomorrow.”

  “We don’t actually want you do that.”

  She dropped her hands and stared at him. “I don’t give a shit what you want. He’s not having any contact with those kids.”

  “Denise, this is one of the few links we have to the Anarchists. We need it. Just warn the kids not to give him any information when they talk to him.”

  “Let me say it again. I don’t give a flying fuck. And you’re sure as shit not using those kids as bait or as a way in to a criminal gang. It’s going to be a moot point in a few weeks anyway when I move them out of this house.”

  “Denise—”

  “No. I’m not putting those kids in the middle of a war between the FBI and the Anarchists. I’ll do what I need to do to protect them. End of story.”

  She stepped back into the house and closed the door firmly. She wanted to slam it, but didn’t want to upset the kids. How dare he? Who the hell did he think he was to show up after disappearing into thin air and ask her to use her cousins as a connection to a damn gang.

  Jesus. She needed to talk to Sarah.

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  Acknowledgments

  Thank you to everyone who invested time and energy into making this little tidbit of Denise and Chris so much better.

  To my wonderful beta team: Tami, Vicky, and Mary. Thank you so much for your input and suggestions.

  Toni: Even though you aren’t an author, you’re more of a critique partner than a beta reader. Here’s to many more lines in the future. Hopefully not too many of them in Scotland.

  My wonderful editor Jessica who managed to squeeze work in before and after Retreat.

  To my family and friends for your support and encouragement.

  And finally to the early fans. If you’re reading this, that’s you. Thank you so much for the reviews, the emails, and the private messages. Your encouragement and support means so much.

  The Combat Heart Series

  Stitched Up Heart (Combat Hearts #1)

  Rescued Heart (A Titan World Novel)

  Half-Broke Heart (Combat Hearts #1.5)

  Locked-Down Heart (Combat Hearts #2)

  About the Author

  Tarina has spent her entire life in and around the military - first as a dependent and then as an enlisted Air Force member.

  A life-long day-dreamer, she never envisioned being a published author was a possibility. All that changed when a friend challenged her to complete NaNoWriMo. She dusted off one of the many stories she had started over the years, threw it in the trash, and started all over.

  Her debut novel, Stitched Up Heart, released in September 2016. She draws heavily from her own military experience to create authentic characters and challenges.

  Tarina is still active duty and a single mom of young twins. Her favorite hobby is sleep. She has delusions of retiring from the military and being a stay-at-home mom.

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  www.tarinadeaton.com

  tarina.deaton@tarinadeaton.com