Collide Series Box Set

by J. C. Hannigan

  I let out a strangled sound, bringing my fist up to my mouth to try and hold in my despair. He heard it, and he looked at me again. He gently raised his hand, cupping the side of my neck and cheek gently. He searched my eyes, the pain evident in his.

  "What do you want, Harlow?" he whispered.

  "You, I want you," I told him, because I did. I couldn't stand the thought of losing him. He nodded, satisfied with my answer. He leaned in to kiss me, hesitating at first as his lips gently brushed against mine. My stomach flipped with desire and anticipation, my body craving his touch even amidst our relationship-changing conversation.

  Jax broke the kiss, keeping his forehead pressed to mine. "I knew you had secrets, and I knew you would tell me in your own time. I can't be mad at you for taking time when I told you to do just that."

  "I don't deserve you," I whimpered. He was so understanding, even after I admitted that a part of me still loved Iain and that I had kissed him back.

  "You do too," Jax assured me, brushing the tears away with his fingers. "I know I'm a catch, but you're definitely worthy," he added, attempting to lighten the mood.

  I shoved at his shoulder, apologizing quickly when he winced at the tug of the stitches on his ribs.

  "It's alright, I had that coming." Jax laughed. "Besides," he said, growing serious as his gaze locked onto mine. "It's impossible to learn every single detail about someone in just a few months. I already knew all I needed to know."

  "Oh yeah? And what was that?" I whispered, conscious of how close we were. He smiled tenderly at me, lifting his right hand to touch my bruised cheek.

  "I know that you are an incredibly compassionate, strong person. I know that you are fearless and resilient. I know that you make me think and you make me laugh. I know, Harlow Jones, that I am undeniably in love with you. I didn't need all the details of your past to know those things. I'll fight for you, Harlow, but I'm hoping it won't come to that." He leaned forward, his lips gently pressing against mine, igniting my soul and consuming my heart.

  Read on for an exclusive addition of Jax’s POV!

  Jax’s POV

  The doors to the lecture hall creaked loudly with protest as they opened. I raised my eyes from the piece of paper I had been absently doodling on and watched as Professor Pedersen turned her steely eyes to the door. I inclined my head, leaning forward to see what the interruption was.

  The air left my lungs as I looked at the girl standing in front of the lecture hall doors. She was breathtaking. Long, dark hair that fell almost to her waist, bright green eyes that stood out even at a distance, plump lips that you couldn’t help but have dirty thoughts over, and her curves…they were deadly. She would be any guy’s downfall.

  I wanted her to be my downfall. The thought sprang to my mind without my permission, but I didn’t mind it. It had been so long…too long. I tilted my head, brushing my own hair from my eyes as I continued to study her from afar.

  She was apologizing to our professor, a faint blush creeping to her cheeks as her eyes searched out a free seat. Her gaze fell on the vacant one beside mine and she began her climb.

  “I do not like interruptions,” Professor Pedersen’s voice rang out against the silence of the hall. “If you’re late, don’t bother coming in. I will be locking the doors. I do not wait around to start my lectures. You need to respect the hours allotted for this course and arrive on time.”

  The girl’s head dropped forward ever so slightly. Her raven black hair fell across her shoulders, obscuring her stunning face from my view. I grinned, thanking the gods that the only vacant seat just happened to be beside me.

  She sank into it, relief smoothing out the lines of worry between her eyebrows. Her fragrance invaded my senses and I smiled. She smelt good enough to eat…an enticing combination of cherries, apricots, white musk and sugar. It was mouthwatering. I swallowed, my face breaking out into a grin.

  “What a bitch,” I said, my voice its regular, low octave. She looked at me, her brow rising a fraction as her eyes roamed over my face and dropped down to my chest and arms. My muscles involuntarily clenched as those emerald eyes roamed across the length of my body. It was as if her gaze was physically touching me. Her eyes gave away her attraction. I grinned, offering my hand to her. “My name is Jax.”

  “Harlow,” she said, shaking my hand. Her hand was tiny and warm in mine, and I liked the feel of it. She pursed her plump lips, as if trying to hold in a smile.

  “Pretty name,” I remarked, my smile growing. It was sweet with depth, just like she appeared to be. I wanted to get to know her, to find out if my impression of her was right.

  “If you two are done talking, I’d like to resume my lecture.” Professor Pedersen’s voice rang out sharply.

  “Sorry about that,” I apologized, motioning for her to go on. The professor’s lips disappeared as she scowled at me, but after a moment, she continued her lecture.

  The seats in the hall were close to one another, separated by thin armrests. I casually put my arm on my armrest, inches away from Harlow. I felt her stiffen beside me, and I smiled humorously. I knew she was attracted to me, I could feel her gaze upon my face whenever she thought I wasn’t looking.

  I wasn’t completely obtuse, in fact, suffice it to say, I knew my way around a woman. At twenty-five, I’d dated quite a few of them. I knew the look they got in their eyes when they were attracted to someone and fighting it. Harlow had that look, only her look alone made me want to jump through circles for her, walk over burning coals to impress her. Her look made the muscles in my lower stomach clench with a powerful, instant desire for her.

  She looked like the kind of girl who needed impressing, like a girl that would be a challenge, and I liked a challenge.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Harlow biting her lip. The simple action had me thinking about all the things I could do to those perfect lips.

  I grinned at my own thoughts, shaking my head slightly at myself. I wasn’t usually a horn dog who thought coveted thoughts about a beautiful stranger, but there was something about Harlow that set my blood on fire and sparked my interest. Her fragrance, which wafted over me every time she tucked her long hair behind her ear, made me feel light headed. In addition to the physical reaction, her aura intrigued me. She seemed hardened to life, almost untouchable. She had a mystery about her that I found myself desperate to unveil. She was beautiful; stunning in the most raw and pure way.

  I could tell all of this by simply looking at her. I’d always been talented in reading people. It was a survival skill that I developed when I was a child. I had to learn how to read the people around me to avoid getting my ass kicked.

  Broken people seemed to be drawn to other broken people. I recognized something in Harlow that I knew in myself. I watched her out of the corner of my eye. She remained silent throughout class, staring pointedly toward the front. She wasn’t paying attention, her thoughts were miles away…to that broken, mysterious place I knew all too well. I frowned slightly, wondering what could have captivated her thoughts so completely and brought such a sad look to those beautiful eyes. I didn’t want her to be sad, I wanted to see a smile transform her.

  At the end of class, she didn’t move. She remained still, staring off into the place where her thoughts had taken her. I stood up, peering down at her with a smile. She didn’t seem to notice me standing in front of her.

  “So…are you just going to sit here all day then?” I asked, breaking her away from her thoughts. Startled, she looked around the nearly empty lecture hall.

  My smile faded slightly as she jumped up quickly and started to weave her way through the aisle. “Nice meeting you,” she said over her delicate shoulder.

  * * *

  After my final class, I started home. I was a little tired, and I had to head to work in an hour. I stopped off at a cafe, intent on getting a coffee to wake myself up a little bit. It was hard enough trying to keep up with the seven six-year-olds that I was instructing.

&
nbsp; I approached the counter, a smile spreading to my face as I saw Harlow. Her long dark hair was pulled up into a bun and she was chatting with a co-worker. Her sweet, edgy voice was laying into the guy, and he looked rather stunned.

  “Okay, I’m just going to cut to the chase,” she was saying. “My friend, the blond one? She thinks you’re cute. Jamie noticed and he’ll probably harass you into finding your balls and asking her out. You’ve been warned.”

  “The hot one?” the guy looked completely astonished; like he couldn’t believe his luck.

  “Are you blind? Yes,” Harlow said.

  “Huh, well go figure,” he said thoughtfully.

  “Excuse me,” I noticed a break in the conversation, and I took it. The guy disappeared into the back, leaving Harlow alone on the floor. She turned her head slowly, not at all surprised by my presence. She seemed to recognize my voice.

  “Oh, it’s you again,” she exhaled as she approached the till and I grinned at her like the idiot I was. Her lips curved upward in a reluctant smile.

  “Yes, me again,” I responded, my eyes lingering on her face. She arched her eyebrow, making me acutely aware that she knew I was staring. I cleared my throat and shook my head, trying to rouse myself from the spell of her bewitching eyes. “Can I get a large coffee please?”

  “Yes,” she rang me up, avoiding my eyes. I watched her chest rise and fall as her breathing increased.

  I held out the money just a little bit out of her reach so that she had to lean forward to grab it. Our eyes met, and I felt as if my heart stopped momentarily in my chest before it increased in tempo, the green depths of her eyes pulling me in.

  People say that eyes are windows to the soul. I never really understood that until that moment. I’d never felt that I “saw someone’s soul” when I looked into their eyes…at least, I hadn’t until that moment. Looking into Harlow’s, though? I saw her soul. I saw her. I saw strength and pain and resilience and determination. I saw fear and I saw hope.

  I inhaled sharply, needing to drop my gaze and compose myself. I was still clenching the money. My eyes fell to her right forearm, at the beautiful black and white tattoo of a quill and inkpot. She must be a writer, I thought, loving the idea. It fit her. I wondered how many more she had.

  “Love the tattoo,” I said, my eyes slowly roaming back up to look at her again. I hadn’t exactly regained composure, but I got the impression that was going to be a long term thing. Harlow unsettled me; she threw everything off its axis. It was perplexing. I’d never reacted to a woman like that before, not even the ones that I had dated seriously and cared for. This was an amplified version of that; this was more, and I wanted to go with it. I was the kind of guy that just rolled with the punches, with whatever I was feeling.

  There was too much bad in the world to turn away from the things that made you smile. I had long since learned to embrace the good when I could, to go for what made me happy. There had been enough darkness in my life that I no longer felt the need to dwell in it.

  She snatched the cash a little too roughly from my hand, her expression one of vulnerability. I knew she was affected by me the same way that I was affected by her. I could feel it in the space between us, the charge and pull. I watched as she forced those walls back up, her spine stiffening with resolve. She didn’t want to be affected by me; she didn’t want to let me in. Her behaviour intrigued me. I wanted to find out the reasons for her walls. I wanted her to let me in. I wanted to help repair her broken spirit.

  She handed me my change, her pretty mouth in a thin line. “Your coffee will be ready to the left of the cash register,” she said, motioning with a delicate nod of her head for me to stand aside. I wanted to ask her out, but I knew by looking at her that she would turn me down. Her walls were up, her eyes stubborn and defiant. But I loved a challenge, and I knew I could get through.

  After all, I knew my way around the jagged edges of a broken heart. I knew how to piece it back together, how to find the beauty again.

  “See you around,” I winked, positive that I would.

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

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  Collateral (The Collide Series, #3)

  Copyright 2016, J.C. Hannigan

  Thank you so much to Lisa Davall for editing, Nikki Colligan, for proofreading, Yosbe Designs for bringing Harlow to life again in another phenomenal cover, and Chelsea Barnes – for being the best Book Manager, encourager, and friend I could ask for, and my FANnigans; your belief in me makes me feel that I could move mountains, and your support has been unwavering.

  When I started writing the story of Harlow Jones three years ago, I really had no idea that it would grow to what it has today. I can honestly say with upmost certainty that I wouldn’t have made it this far without the consistent voices and honest input of Christina Harris, Kristen Johnson, and Lauren Jones. They made themselves readily available each and every time I needed to sort through character development and plot issues. They kept me going when I wanted to throw in the towel and quit.

  I also wouldn’t have gotten far without my hilarious chats with Whitney Barbetti, who understands how frustrating it can be to be so invested in characters. Elizabeth Barone also needs to be acknowledged and worshiped; that girl gets mad props for telling me to participate in NaNoWriMo in 2013…without her peer pressure, I never would have sat down and penned Collide.

  Furthermore, it wouldn’t have been possible for me to continue writing without the support and encouragement of my husband and our two boys.

  This one is for those who stood by me. Thank you for believing in me; thank you for supporting me and thank you for making this dream worth having over and over again.

  Love is friendship that has caught fire. It is quiet understanding, mutual confidence, sharing and forgiving. It is loyalty through good and bad times. It settles for less than perfection and makes allowances for human weaknesses.

  -- Ann Landers

  Prologue

  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

  If fear had a taste, it would be metallic, like blood and blades.

  For the last several weeks, sleep came to me with great difficulty if at all. I usually awoke at the ungodly hour of three o’clock. I’d stay in bed, lying there in the dark of night, staring up at the ceiling while I tried to ease my racing heart. I always woke up feeling panicked, as if someone was lurking in the farthest corner of my bedroom…watching me.

  I knew better than to give in to my paranoia and turn on the light. I knew nobody was in my room. Instead, I waited for the seconds to tick by, the minutes to fade away until it was a more appropriate time for me to get up.

  The gym opened its doors at six o’clock sharp. I liked how peaceful and quiet it was at this time. Aside from one or two employees that left me alone, the place was mostly empty.

  On that particular morning, I awoke from the same nightmare I always had, the terror clinging to my skin like the sheen of sweat that coated my body. I tried to fall back asleep, but it was pointless, so at five-thirty, I threw my hair up into a ponytail and made my way over to
my own personal sanctuary.

  Exercising had become my drug of choice to battle the demons in my head. It was here that I was almost able to disconnect from the fears that plagued me, but sometimes even the ferocious exertion wasn’t enough to drive away the lingering terror.

  An hour into my workout, I was feeling little to no respite. My fists pounded against the punching bag furiously in response to the memories that always seemed to come at me in a strangled rush—memories that made up the reoccurring nightmare. Sweat poured into my eyes, but I didn't pause on my enraged attack to dry my sweaty face. I blinked away the moisture, challenging all of my pent up frustration through my fists and into the burgundy punching bag.

  When Andrew Cooper appeared in my bedroom holding a large hunting knife, intent on getting the revenge he felt he deserved, I hadn't thought the outcome would be very good for me. I knew by the twisted look of rage on his face that he wouldn't stop until he hurt me in all the ways he dreamed of for ruining his life…and Andrew Cooper had dreamt a lot about his moment of revenge.

  At the beginning of twelfth grade, I walked in on him raping a girl at a party. I encouraged Jenna Burke (who later became my best friend) to press charges and I testified as an eyewitness. The trial brought up evidence that Carl Cooper, the Chief of the North Bay Police Department, had covered up several more sexual assault incidents to protect his son, as well as countless other dirty deeds. Andrew walked away with a slap on the wrist and a smear on his permanent record, but Carl Cooper had faced serious jail time.

  Andrew blamed me for ruining his cushioned, carefree life and vowed to make me pay for it. His intention had been to maim me in unspeakable ways.