Petty Thief of Hearts

by Beth D. Carter

  Evernight Publishing

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2014 Beth D. Carter

  ISBN: 978-1-77130-773-4

  Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs

  Editor: JS Cook

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  Thanks to Evernight and my editor on this one, JS. I appreciate everything.

  PETTY THIEF OF HEARTS

  Romance on the Go

  Beth D. Carter

  Copyright © 2014

  Chapter One

  One single footfall was enough to wake her up.

  Jessie sat up in bed, the covers clutched to her breasts, as she strained to hear any whisper that she was no longer alone in the house. Her heart felt like it was about to thump out of her chest, but she tried to breathe calmly because it was hard enough to hear over the roar in her ears.

  And then it came again, the softest tread upon the wooden floor below, and she knew she was no longer safe in this “safe house”.

  She pushed back the covers and scrambled out of bed, making sure to be quieter than the stalker below. She grabbed her jeans and shirt, donning them quickly before putting on her socks and sneakers. Another step, this time on the stairs, had her moving quickly, grabbing the money belt she always kept full of ready cash and her fake ID. Nothing else was important.

  She moved to the door and turned the latch before heading to the window, wincing slightly as it scraped a bit on its slide upward, the frame revealing the age of the decrepit farmhouse. The step on the stairs came faster and Jessie knew she was out of time. She threw down the fire ladder the agent on duty had installed when she had first moved in and practically leapt out. She had, perhaps, only a second or two head start.

  Sure enough, when her feet touched the ground, her bedroom erupted in gunfire. Not looking back, she ran toward the woods, conscious of a black SUV in the driveway whose driver door was opening up, revealing another black-clothed man with a really nasty looking gun. He must have seen her as she dashed from the shadow of the house to the open field that led to the dense woods beyond. She saw the red beam of a laser tracker so she began to zigzag her run, trying to prevent a lock on her small frame. Only a few seconds more and she’d be in the woods, and then she could hide.

  She beat the fear and panic down, knowing they would hinder her more than anything. If she were to survive she had to keep calm, focused. One bullet went whizzing by her head and she gasped, ducking as she leapt behind a tree. She bent over, hands on her knees, as she gulped as much oxygen into her burning lungs as possible. But she couldn’t rest forever. They were still behind her, so she straightened and pushed onward. The night was chilly, her breath steaming as she ran further into the woods.

  She heard the men behind her in a dim, distant part of her mind, knowing she had to keep them partially blocked out or else she would freak the hell out. She knew these woods, had walked them a hundred times, and she ran to the small brook that was lovely during mid-day. At the water she turned north, heading upstream, keeping to the pebbles that lined the banks to hide her tracks. Her chest heaved in pain from the exertion, but the alternative was unacceptable. If she didn’t make it to her hiding place, she would die a quick death in these woods. Lost forever to her family and friends, as well as the life she longed to get back to.

  The sounds behind her were growing dim, fading just a bit, but enough to give her hope that she would be safe in the dark, at least giving her enough time to survive the night and plan. There was a bend in the brook and she followed it, but instead of continuing on, she jumped a fallen tree and slid down the muddy embankment, easily finding the rocks she used to cover the entrance to the tiny cave she had discovered once upon a time. She wedged her body in, slithering around and rebuilding the door. The ground was cold and damp and her clothes offered no real protection, but better a slight cold than six feet under in a pine box.

  And then there was nothing to do but wait. She consciously brought her breathing under control, in through the nose and out through the mouth. She didn’t move a muscle. She knew she’d be revealed come light of day, but in the darkness, even with a flashlight, the embankment would just look like fallen debris had mussed it.

  Several minutes later she heard the mutterings of the hired gunmen as they continued their search. Her heart almost stopped as she saw a beam of light pass over the rocks, and she waited. For the spray of gunfire, for the tumble of her make-shift door, for anything really, only none of that happened. The beam of light swept right on by and Jessie’s heart double-timed in relief.

  She lay there through the night, packed into the cold ground feeling as if she was already in a tomb, shivering as she wondered how her life came to be filled with such danger and desperation. She had been a simple college student, working in a coffee house, who happened to see one man shoot another man. Only the killer had been on the FBI radar as some sort of major crime boss and if she pointed the finger she could put away a very dangerous man. But doing the right thing had cost her a lot.

  She’d been placed into protective custody, her handler a man by the name of David McCoy, a man who had guaranteed her safety in trade for her testimony. She’d been hiding out in the Delaware farm country for eleven months and only had a few more days until she was to testify. Just that morning a U.S. prosecuting attorney had sat with her, going over her statement, coaching and grilling her about how the defense would try to tear down her story. She was so close to the end and if something happened now, then everything she worked so hard for would be for nothing.

  As she lay thinking about what to do, she knew one thing was perfectly clear now…she couldn’t go back to the FBI, the very people who had guaranteed her safety, because it was abundantly obvious she could no longer trust them. She had no idea where Agent McCoy was now. Somewhere, someone had sold her out. She was in the middle of nowhere, in a farmhouse older than dirt, and she’d been found.

  She could rely on no one but herself and she was going to be damned sure she kept herself alive while she made it to that fucking trail.

  Chapter Two

  Jessie pulled her baseball cap low and glanced at the large clock hanging on the wall. She’d just made it to the train station in Wilmington and was studying when would be a good time to take the short commute to Philadelphia. She had made it across the state with a thin disguise, a little luck, and even less spare cash, which was slowly but surely running low even with her budgeting. She wasn’t quite sure where to go next, but she still didn’t feel safe enough. She doubted she’d ever feel safe until she got her testimony out in the open.

  Ever since she had emerged from the woods, cold, wet, and muddy, she’d been looking over her shoulder. She’d ended up at a diner giving the waitress some sob story on how her boyfriend had left her in the woods to play a practical joke. The waitress had taken pity on her, giving her some left over clothes belonging to past employees and allowed her to wash up in the back. She’d also given her a hot bowl of soup and coffee. Jessie had secured a lift from one of the patrons and she’d asked to be dropped off a nearby bus station and from there, she’d disappeared.

  Of course, it didn’t take that long to go across Delaware and she wasn’t ready to go into Philly. So she ducked out in Wilmington. Abandoning the time schedule
, she made her way to the pay phones and dialed collect.

  “DA Johnson’s office,” a cool voice answered.

  “I need to speak with the DA,” Jessie said, pitching her voice low.

  “I’m sorry, he’s not in the office, can I take a message?”

  Crap! She hadn’t thought she wouldn’t be able to get in touch with him. “This is Jessie Ciottie. Tell him I’ll be there tomorrow.”

  “Miss Ciottie!” Suddenly, the cool voice warmed a bit and little Miss Secretary wanted to chat. “Where are you? Are you okay? Mr. Johnson will want to come get you—”

  “I’m at the train station in Wilmington,” Jessie told her. “Tell him don’t worry, I’ll make the trial time.”

  “Okay,” she said, sounding relieved. “I’ll let him know.”

  Jessie didn’t even say good-bye. She just hung up and made her way over to a vacant chair. She had just enough money to buy a ticket but not enough for a room. She wished she could call her family. They used to live in New Castle but she had no idea where they were now. She reached into her fanny pack and pulled out her ID, the fake one with the fake name. She stared at the picture, at the fake red hair that clashed horribly with her skin. She was Italian through and through, with dark hair and dark eyes and olive skin. The red hair had been poorly applied and did nothing for her complexion. Thank god her hair had begun to grow out, moving the red nightmare further down the roots.

  A man fell into the seat next to her, reeking of alcohol and mumbling under his breath as he bumped into her. Jessie pushed him away from her hard, trying to not gag on the stench, and she felt a slight pressure on her lap before the man stumbled away and in that instant she knew he’d just pilfered the last of her cash.

  “Hey!” she yelled and gave chase.

  The man suddenly straightened and the stinky jacket he’d been wearing fell away and she was no longer looking at a decrepit drunk. She was staring at young man, probably around her age, staring at her with piercing dark blue eyes and a face that artists would kill to sculpt. Jessie’s breath hitched in her throat as she looked at what possibly was the most handsome man she’d ever seen. He was tall, streamlined, with a mop of black hair and dark brows. Something happened to her, probably the last of her brain cells popping from stupidity, but her body flushed hot as a heaviness invaded her limbs. Her nipples pebbled and she saw his gaze glance down at them before lifting to give her a sardonic half grin, revealing a charming dimple.

  And then he turned and ran, leaving with her money.

  No fucking way!

  Jessie shook off the strange erotic lethargy that had gripped her and dashed into hot pursuit. Without that money she couldn’t get to Philadelphia. She wouldn’t be able to testify and the monster might walk. She couldn’t let that happen! She wanted her life back!

  It was obvious he knew the train station well because he ducked and turned around places she hadn’t seen. He dashed off the train platform onto the tracks and then ducked into a side tunnel that was dark and grimy. A stitch gripped her side but she ignored it. Once she got her hands on Mr. Handsome Thief she was going to wring his neck.

  Maybe kiss him first and then wring his neck.

  The tunnel was dark and the sunlight around the door only reached so far but she could hear his footsteps and so she followed. And then the tunnel opened up into a large empty cavern and she came to a halt.

  His footsteps had ceased.

  Suddenly, the flare of light flickered on as he snapped on a flashlight. She held up a hand, unable to see him properly.

  “Give me back my money!” she cried.

  “Why should I?”

  “It’s mine! It’s all I have left and I need to get to get to Philadelphia by tomorrow.”

  “What? Just dying for a cheesesteak sandwich?”

  She took a deep breath. “Can you move the light off my face so I can see?”

  It didn’t move at first, as if he were thinking about her request, but then slowly it shifted to her side. Jessie blinked and she saw him. Not clearly, of course, but the first thing she noticed was that he was close. Very close. She turned sideways, hoping to distract him and it seemed to work because he shifted his gait, relaxing a bit on his back heels. In a flash, she spun and launched herself, catching him off guard. She plowed into him and her momentum caused him to crash backwards. He landed with a whoosh from his lungs and she fell on top of him.

  She hit his chest with her fists. “How dare you steal from me!”

  He was gasping for air from having the breath knocked out of him.

  “Where’s my money?”

  She began searching him, ignoring the streamlined muscles rippling all over his body. She found the wad of cash and grabbed it, stuffing it back into her fanny pack. Now that she had it all back, she stared down at the handsome species of manhood beneath her, liking the feeling of him being between her thighs a little too much.

  Man, she’d been without human contact for way too long!

  He was getting his breath back. That horrible gasping he’d been doing was starting to ease up. She knew she only had a moment before he was back on his feet. She leaned over, careful not to restrict his airway too much and licked his mouth. She ran her tongue over the full curve of his bottom lip before sucking it into hers. Surprisingly, for a man hiding in train tunnels, he tasted of mint and licorice, two of her favorite things.

  She must have lost her damn mind because she took it further. In some far distant corner of her brain she knew she was taking advantage of him but something seemed to possess her. She kissed the corner of his mouth, over his cheek, until she reached his earlobe. She took the small flesh between her teeth and sucked, tracing the curve of his ear with her tongue. She leaned over his body and rubbed her softer parts all over his harder parts.

  She was a woman possessed. A year without contact of another soul, except for her handlers which didn’t count, made her go a little crazy. It wasn’t until he moaned, and she felt the hard bulge beneath the fly on his jeans, that sanity snapped back to her.

  What had she just done?

  Practically raped this…this…petty thief!

  “Oh god!” she cried and in a flash tore her body off his. She scooped up the flashlight and ran back the way she came, ignoring the throbbing ache between her thighs.

  Chapter Three

  Her hands shook as she climbed back onto the train platform, ignoring all the stares of the people. How could she have just kissed some stranger like that? He could’ve had rabies. Or lice. Or…a million other icky things.

  But he smelled heavenly. And he tasted divine.

  And oh, his body was hard in all the right places.

  Jessie blinked and shook her head. She had to stop thinking like that! She’d just molested a man in an abandoned train depot. How tacky was that? Great, now he probably thought she was a deranged slut, not that she really cared what he thought. She didn’t…right?

  As she rounded the corner to go back into the station, she saw two men in black suits walking around and it was obvious they were looking for someone. They bent around newspapers, magazines and books, searching each face. Fear gripped her. Were they looking for her? It was too much of a coincidence and at this part of the game she didn’t believe in coincidences.

  “Shit!” she cried softly.

  “Who are they?” the thief asked from behind her.

  Jessie gasped and half spun, placing her hand over her heart. She wasn’t sure if it was pounding from the fright he’d just given her or from how her body, again, reacted to his nearness.

  Damn it!

  “I think they’re here to kill me,” she said. “Now, please, just go away or you might end up getting hurt.”

  His dark blue eyes narrowed a bit as he assessed her and then glanced over her shoulder to assess them, the men in black. Finally, he gave a short, clipped nod of his head and grabbed her hand. Electricity shot up her arm, causing her to gasp, and his eyes widened a fraction at the touch. Oh man, h
e felt it too!

  “Come with me,” he urged.

  “Why?”

  “I can hide you.”

  She debated, back and forth, until logic won out. She had to hide and he was obviously very good at it. She nodded and a second later he was pulling her back onto the train tracks. They were running, fast, and now her heart was beating frantically with fear that they would catch up with a train very soon. But before the fear could manifest into full blown panic, he pulled her back into the small tunnel and clicked on his flashlight. When they reached the empty cavern, he went to another tunnel to push against a door.

  “This used to be sealed so no one will find us once it’s shut,” he told her. He closed it behind him, turned a wheel, and she heard tumblers fall into place. The passageway was pitch dark. With just the illumination of the flashlight he led her forward and she ignored the ickiness of the tunnel, the cobwebs hanging everywhere, the sound of something scurrying. The blackness felt like it was pressing in on her. What the hell had she done, blindly going with a stranger? Was she completely mad?

  They walked and walked and then, finally, she found herself in a large, cavernous room with rusted tracks going in all directions and an old train car resting right in the middle.

  “What is this?” she asked, amazed.

  The man let go of her hand and began turning on lanterns that were placed all around the car. The room lit up with a soft glow, casting shadows upon the high concrete walls.

  “I found this years ago,” he said. “Been living here awhile. I go up top when I need supplies or if I’m going completely stir crazy from talking to myself.”

  He grinned at that but she wasn’t sure if he was trying to be funny or if he was being literal.