Shattered Hart: Hart Pursuit Trilogy Book 2

by Paige, Violet

  My ass wiggled backward, as I dug my heels against his waist.

  “I want you,” I whispered.

  “Not like this,” he groaned. “Too many ears out there. Too many agents.” He struggled for air the way I did. “I’m not going to put you in that position.”

  His hands roamed my body. Squeezing my breasts. Combing through my hair. Sliding under my bra and pinching my nipples. We were failing miserably at backing down.

  “I like this position,” I teased. My teeth clamped the bottom part of his earlobe.

  I felt the cold rush between us when AJ jogged to the door and locked it. He put a clothes hamper in front and turned on the shower.

  “Oh shit. You do want to fuck me.” I bit my lip.

  He unzipped his pants and they fell to his ankles.

  “I always want to fuck you, babe. Always.” He tugged my pants off my ankles.

  I hissed when he slid a finger along my slit as he dragged the silk panties to the floor. Had we been this reckless before? This wild? I didn’t know. I didn’t care. I craved him when there was danger. I thirsted for him when there was calm.

  He fisted his wide cock, and then buried it inside me.

  “Oh, AJ,” I cried. My hips tried to match his thrusts, but he was ruthless. Untamed. He pumped harder and faster.

  My ass rocked on the counter as he lifted me higher to meet his thrusts. It was pure bliss. It was the quickest way to make us both come. We were on a roller coaster headed for the fall. I clenched against him. He hilted himself as far as he could and we trembled, holding and clawing at each other with one orgasm and another.

  “Oh fuck,” he whispered in a gravelly voice in my ear. It sent shivers to my core. “I can’t believe we did that. I’m on duty, babe.”

  I giggled. “I’m not sorry.”

  He playfully smacked me on the ass. “I guess there’s nothing wrong with helping you ease your nerves before the debrief.”

  “Is that what they call that in the agency?”

  He winked. AJ stooped to collect our pants from the bathroom floor. He walked over to the shower and turned it off.

  “I’ll tell Canson you just got out of the shower.”

  “All these agents make me nervous. I need a few more minutes.” I considered the idea of hopping in the shower even though the water was already off.

  “I’ll go talk to Canson and let him know you’re getting ready. He’s not the most patient man.”

  “Thank you.”

  He dropped a rough kiss on my lips. I looked in the blackness of his eyes.

  “Tonight, we’ll talk.”

  I nodded. “Ok.”

  He closed the door and I turned toward the mirror.

  I didn’t know what to expect in the interview. I imagined it was going to be something long and grueling. Not that Agent Canson would shine a flashlight in my eyes, but the questions would be just as pointed. Trying to go back to the hijacking seemed like an impossible task right now. My mind was focused on the stalker. The man who had lured me to Louisiana. The fact that I had more adversaries in the world who were still out there was inconceivable. How had this shit happened to me?

  I brushed my teeth and reapplied a light concealer. I looked somewhat alive as I left the bathroom. My cheeks were flushed and my hair wasn’t as neat as it had been. I hoped the pounding in my head would stop. I walked into the kitchen.

  This was it. Time to get the big interview out of the way.

  Twenty-Four

  As I walked into the kitchen, I expected to see all the agents who had been milling about the safe house, but they only ways in the room were AJ and Canson. I was reminded most of the topics we were going to cover today were above certain security clearances.

  Agent Canson greeted me. “Ms. Miller, good to see you again.”

  “Is it?” I questioned.

  He cleared his throat. “Not under these circumstances. I was briefed about the bomb threat. I’m sorry to hear about that this morning. I’m glad everyone is safe. The team did an excellent job with the evacuation. I’m glad there were no injuries reported.”

  “Are there any updates?” I looked between him and AJ.

  “As a matter of fact, we can report there were no explosives found in the hotel,” Canson announced. “There was a thorough sweep of all the floors. The explosives team has cleared the building for re-entry. My understanding is that all of the guests have returned to their rooms.”

  “Except us,” I grumbled.

  “There was a bomb threat, Ms. Miller.”

  “It was just like our cars at the farmhouse,” I whispered. “No bomb.”

  I shook my head. AJ had been right. The bomb scare was merely a smoke screen to force me out. It had worked.

  “Any idea who made the threat?” I pressed.

  “Our agents are working on that. I can’t say much more. It’s an active investigation.”

  “But you of course want to talk to me about the on-going investigation for Flight 552.”

  “That’s a difference circumstance. You are a key witness. The key witness.”

  “And I’m not for the bomb threat?” I argued.

  I saw AJ’s eyes. He wanted me to be compliant. I wasn’t sure how to do that. I was angry. Frustrated. Maybe he should take me back to the bedroom.

  Canson glanced at AJ. “I realize Ms. Miller is upset about these situations, but I’m hoping we can have a reasonable interview.”

  “It’s not going to be a problem,” AJ replied.

  The guilt crept in. Canson was one of his co-workers. I didn’t need to make things harder for him.

  “Should we sit for a minute together before I continue the interview alone with Ms. Miller?”

  “Sydney. Please call me Sydney. Otherwise, it sounds like you’re talking about my mom.”

  Agent Canson nodded. “Fair enough.”

  We gathered at the kitchen table. I smelled coffee brewing in the coffee pot on the counter. I was too jittery to drink a cup.

  Agent Canson reached into his bag and dumped a pile of envelopes and magazines on the table.

  “Is that my mail?” I saw my name on credit card offers and donation requests. I picked through the stack of envelopes. “Why do you have my mail?” I glared at the agent. I was ready to pull back my one olive branch. He could go back to calling me Ms. Miller.

  “After the hijacking, one of our teams entered your apartment to collect evidence.”

  “And you took my mail?”

  He continued, “We obtained any and all communication going in and out of your residence. That includes mail routed through the United States Postal Service.” He tilted his head to the side. “I thought I’d have you look through it here and see if anything seems odd or unusual. We didn’t find anything ourselves, but you would know your mail better than anyone.”

  I pinched my lips together. “No one uses snail mail. This seems invasive. And unnecessary,” I added.

  AJ reached under the table and squeezed my thigh. I needed to back off Agent Canson. I knew I wasn’t living up to my part of the agreement. I closed my eyes and tried to picture the night we were going to have tonight. I tried to picture his expression when I told him I was going to join Project Compass. I had to get through the next few hours.

  I exhaled and thumbed through the leaflets and junk mail. There was a large square envelope buried in the mix. I plucked it from the stack.

  “Oh my God. I forgot.” I stared at the calligraphy on the front. My name was written beautifully.

  “What is it?” AJ stared at it.

  “The invitation for Becca and Travis’s wedding.” I held it up to show him.

  It was bizarre that in the middle of everything we were going through a thousand miles away Becca was finalizing flower arrangements. She was being fitted for her gown. She and Travis were arguing over the colors for the groomsmen’s shoes. She was living in the glow that surrounded brides.

  “Oh that. I think I heard something about them
getting married in a few months,” he answered.

  “Wait, are you and Travis not close anymore? I guess that means you’re not a groomsman.”

  He shook his head. “No. We kind of lost touch. What about you and Becca? I thought you two were best friends. Not a bridesmaid?”

  I didn’t want to admit how far apart we had grown. It wasn’t her fault. It had been too painful to stay connected after AJ. Everything was a reminder. I cut ties to the past we shared. Becca was a casualty. We agreed never to talk about AJ, but it had never been enough for me. Nothing was enough once he was gone.

  “Texts here and there. She invited me to the bachelorette party, but I didn’t make it. I’ve seen a few pictures of the ring,” I admitted. “I know I should have been more involved.” I rose from the table and walked to the coffee pot. Maybe a cup would help with my headache. I poured a small cup and added creamer from the refrigerator.

  “I think there’s one more cocktail party to celebrate the pre-wedding season. I should definitely attend. I need to support her,” I added. “It’s not too late to be a part of it. To be there for her, right?” I didn’t want to reveal that now that AJ was back in my life, Becca didn’t cause me unintentional pain.

  Agent Canson cleared his throat. “Is this couple relevant to any recent events?” He tried to steer us back on track. “Should I know something here? Feel free to give me a clue here.”

  I was stuck thinking about the life AJ and I used to have. Life inside the townhouse together. Life living next to Becca and Travis. Our double dates. The soccer games. TV nights. All the things that came with coupledom. There was never a way to untangle the way AJ and I were reintroduced after college from the relationship Becca and Travis had. It was enmeshed.

  I distanced myself from her after the breakup. At first it was little things like not showing up for cocktail hour. Or being too tired for a shopping trip. What she didn’t know was that I couldn’t handle seeing the bench on her patio where AJ and I drank wine. I didn’t want to hear about Travis’s soccer games. I couldn’t bear the PDA. I slipped out of view and out of touch as soon as I moved off the street. I had already left DataCorp. Disappearing was easy. I was too embarrassed to tell her what a wreck I was. Too ashamed to admit how hard I had fallen.

  I walked back over to the table and picked up invitation. I held it in my hand. My relationship with Becca was one more thing I felt guilty about. I had been a horrible friend. AJ and I were committed to our second chance. This invitation symbolized one as well. I needed to take it.

  “I think we should go.” My eyes lifted to AJ’s. “Don’t you think?”

  He laughed. “Show up at the wedding together?”

  I bit my lip. “Yes. Can you imagine what they would say? Becca would be thrilled.” I grinned. “And I’m going to buy them the most amazing wedding present. I’ll buy all the wedding presents. Whatever they want. I have a lot to make up for. Do you want to go with me?”

  “Yes. I’ll go to Becca and Travis’s wedding with you. Could be fun. I’m sure there will be a band. Plenty of booze.”

  “Oh yes. You know Becca will have everything.”

  I had almost forgotten about Agent Canson. I was sinking in the waves of what I had rediscovered with AJ. How quickly it all came back.

  “Ms. Mil—Sydney, we need to get back to your debrief. If this couple is not a relevant part of Flight 552 or what happened today, I suggest we move on.”

  I ripped open the envelope, searching for the RSVP card. I stood and opened kitchen drawers until I found a pen. I quickly scribbled my response on the linen paper. Two guests. One chicken and one steak entrée. I’d let my plus one be a surprise.

  I sealed it inside the self-stamped envelope and handed it to AJ. “Will you make sure this gets mailed? I know I’m not allowed outside or I would take care of it.” I shot an accusatory stare at Canson.

  “Of course, babe. I’ll handle it.”

  “Please, Sydney,” Agent Canson grumbled. “Is there any other item in this distribution that looks unusual to you?”

  I folded my hands across the table. “No. There is no other mail in here that looks out of place. It’s all junk. You can throw it away.” I pushed it back toward him.

  “All right, since that is taken care of.” He shook his head as if he was clearing the last five minutes from his memory. “I want to clarify a few other items.”

  I took a sip of coffee. The creamer was laced with something sweet. I puckered my lips.

  “What are those?”

  He lifted a photo from his briefcase and placed it in the center of the table. I couldn’t see what it was a photo of under his hand.

  “There is a classified situation we need to discuss. My understanding is that Agent Hart has been debriefed. Because of the high level of intelligence being discussed, you will have access to certain briefings. This is one of those briefings.”

  I didn’t know if he was about to identify Jack. Maybe he knew Beechum’s identity. Any of those would be a win. Taking down the dark web buyers and sellers was now one of my priorities. I realized how closely it all tied together with the stalker. I couldn’t easily separate one part of my life from another. Just like I couldn’t separate on the why I loved AJ then and the way I loved him now. They were interconnected.

  That’s why when Agent Canson spoke his next words, it was if something had thrown a bucket of ice in my face. Hard, unrelenting cubes. Shards of frozen glass. His words had the same effect.

  “Sydney, we need to talk about this woman. We need to talk about Farrah Hart.” His fingers lifted and I saw the face staring back at me from the photograph.

  “What the fuck?” AJ barked. “No, Canson. Not now.” He slammed his fist on the table, raking the picture out of sight. “You son of a bitch.” He jumped up, grabbing Canson by the collar. He yanked him from the table.

  I tried to get my bearings. I reached for the picture that had drifted to the floor. I held it in my hands. I saw the blond woman. She looked familiar, but too much was happening around me.

  Canson was swinging his fists, trying to break free.

  “AJ! Stop!”

  The scuffle ceased for a second. My hands trembled.

  “Wh-who was that?” I knew what I heard, but I also didn’t believe it. I didn’t trust myself. My instincts had been all over the place lately.

  “No one,” AJ snapped. “No one,” he emphasized. “Give me the picture, Syd.” His hand was outstretched.

  I looked between him and Canson. One of them was lying.

  “AJ, who is this?”

  Canson’s voice was like nails on a chalkboard. “Agent Hart, she doesn’t know about your wife?”

  “Shut the fuck up, Canson.” AJ pushed the wiry agent into the kitchen wall.

  “Wife? Did you say wife?” I looked at AJ. “What is he talking about? You’re married? You have a wife? This woman is your wife?”

  AJ held up his hands as if I was a scared baby deer. As if he could coax me into a tranquil state. “No. Stop. Stop right there. I do not. This was the conversation I wanted to have with you tonight. But not like this. Syd, you weren’t supposed to find out this way.”

  I pushed back from the table, almost knocking my chair to the floor. There was nowhere to go. I wanted to run on the sidewalk and escape into the French Quarter. I’d buy a cheap Mardi Gras mask and get lost in the crowd. I’d pull money from the ATM and take a cab out of the city. I’d hitchhike if I had to. I wanted to be anywhere but here. But I was locked in this damn safe house.

  Agent Canson was rambling. I couldn’t listen to him. I couldn’t block the sound of his voice. I ran into the bedroom. AJ was on my heels before I could lock the door.

  The adrenaline pumped through my veins. The anger shot through my muscles.

  He grabbed my shoulders. “Listen to me.”

  I blinked as the tears gathered in the corners of my eyes. “You’re married,” I whispered. “This entire time you kept it from me. You kept your ma
rriage from me.”

  “No, Syd. I’m not married. I was.” He sighed. “Damn it, I’ve tried to talk to you about this. I’ve wanted to tell you the story. Look at me.”

  My eyes lifted to his as the first heavy tear drop rolled down my cheek.

  “Where is she?” I gritted my teeth. “Where is your wife?”

  “This is what I’ve been trying to tell you, Syd. Farrah’s dead.”

  Preview for Stolen Hart

  Stolen Hart

  Someone had taken a bat to my back and crushed my ribs from behind. That’s what I felt. The consuming pain of a lie so blatant and so ugly that it had shattered my body’s skeleton. There were fragments rattling beneath my skin. Shards, cutting into my lungs and my heart.

  “Farrah?” I whispered her name while searching AJ’s face for a trace of home. My home. My heart. My soul. It was all planted inside this man. He was my past and my future. I couldn’t look at him without seeing years of joy and pain intertwined. One didn’t exist without the other. He loved me more than he hurt me. Until now.

  I felt the heaviness of his palms clasp my shoulders. He shook me.

  “Take a breath and let me explain.” His voice was urgent and forceful. He was scared.

  The pain seared deep in my belly.

  Neither of us expected Agent Canson to stroll into the bedroom. He had ventured too close to a wounded animal. I struck at him, clawing my way across the room. I hadn’t decided if it was his fault that my happiness had been ripped away again. He was the closest target.

  AJ pulled me by the waist, dragging my dangling limbs from the agent. Canson hurried out and slammed the door.

  “Damn it, Syd. Stop it.” AJ’s coal black eyes flared as if the darkest embers had been ignited.

  I sat on the edge of the bed, sliding away the instant he tried to reach out to me.