Locked Down Heart
Combat Hearts Series #3
Tarina Deaton
Tarina Deaton LLC
Copyright © 2017 by Tarina Deaton LLC
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.
Photographer: Kruse Images and Photography
Cover Design: Imagination Uncovered
Editing: Jessica Snyder Edits
Created with Vellum
For El.
You had me at, “What in the fresh hell is this s**t?”
Contents
Also by Tarina Deaton
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
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Afterword
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Tarina Deaton
Also by Tarina Deaton
Stitched Up Heart
Rescued Heart
Half-Broke Heart
Chapter 1
Boom. Boom. Boom.
Denise Reynolds rolled off the edge of the bed and took a defensive position. Heart pounding as she blinked sleep out of her eyes, she crouched in the small space between the bed and the 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 its way into her consciousness as she came fully awake. Sarah’s house—not the desert. The dust ruffles on the bed should have given it away. Sprocket, her two-hundred-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.” She 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.
“Aunt Denny! Someone’s at the door!” Her niece’s high voice reached her from across the small house.
How long had she been asleep? Twisting her neck around to look at the clock, the luminous numbers showed four-twenty-three. Seriously? She’d been out for less than fifteen minutes. Fifteen hard minutes if she woke up this disoriented. That hadn’t happened since she started staying at Sarah’s house a few months ago.
She’d sat on the end of the bed to kick her shoes off after coming home with the kids and told herself the universal lie of I’ll just close my eyes for a few seconds. God, she was burning it at both ends between work, spending time with Sarah at the hospital, and taking care of Kimber and Kaden. She needed to figure out a better schedule.
Levering up out of the tight spot on the floor, she tried not to fall over Sprocket, who thought she was being helpful.
She reached between the mattress and the box spring for her Glock. Whoever was pounding on the door like that deserved to be greeted with the pew end of her gun.
“Come on.” Pushing at the dog, she rose from her position on the floor and followed the dog out of the room.
“Aunt Denn—” Kimber stood in the door of the bedroom she shared with Kaden. Denise shifted her hand behind her back. “Someone’s at the door.”
“I heard. Sorry—I fell asleep.”
“It’s okay,” Kimber said. “You’ve had a hard week.”
Jeez, not something an eight-year-old needed to worry about. Denise needed to be better about being with them—they needed all the emotional support they could get right now. Her exhaustion would just have to wait. Or she’d have to start catnapping at her apartment during lunch.
“How’s your homework going?”
She shrugged. “I’m done. I’ve been helping Kaden with his.”
Why was she helping Kaden with his homework? He was a grade ahead of her. She made a mental note to ask Sarah about it when she visited next. “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.
The bottom dropped out of her stomach then rushed up again to choke her. 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 seven months since he’d ghosted, it should have gotten the message by now and forgotten him.
“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, zipping it half way up.
“Why are you answering the door with a gun?” he asked.
“Because this isn’t the greatest neighborhood and some asshole was pounding on my door.” The neighborhood sucked. It wasn’t the greatest when Sarah bought the small two-bedroom house and it had only gotten worse 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 overlook 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 fucking Nolton. Again.
“I’m looking for Sarah Reed.”
Her shoulders sagged, and she rubbed her hand over her eyes. “She’s not here.”
“When will she be back?”
She 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 lay down, resting her head on her paws. She sensed Denise’s stress, but was doing what she’d been told.
Denise stepped out of the house and pulled the door shut behind her, leaving it cracked. Chris moved back on the small concrete pad.
“She’s not coming back. She’s in the hospital with terminal cancer.”
Light dawned in his eyes. “Shit. She’s your cousin.” Chris ran his hands over his hair. It had grown long and now curled around his ears a
nd jawline. If it weren’t for the stubble and dark circles under his eyes, he’d look boyishly charming. Things she should not be noticing.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “What is this about?”
He looked at the ground and took a deep breath before raising his head. “Her ex-husband was released from prison. He’s 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 guaran-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 now open 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 accusingly. “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?” His voice broke at the end and his eyes became glassy.
“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 and asked, “Is this about the man that’s been calling?”
She blinked and only by sheer will kept her voice even. “Why do you think this is about a man calling?”
Kaden looked back at Chris. “I heard him say someone was calling mom.”
Denise glanced at Chris, trying to gauge his reaction. He stared intently at Kaden, but didn’t ask any questions. “Has someone been calling for your mom?”
“Yes. He said he’s our dad, but Mom said he was dead. He keeps asking where she is and when he can talk to her.”
“What do you tell him when he asks that?” she asked.
“I tell him she can’t come to the phone.” 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, buddy. I’ll explain everything later, okay?” She kept her voice soft and steady. “I don’t want you to worry about anything.”
His gaze was too serious, too somber for a nine-year-old little boy. He shouldn’t have a care 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 on to her dog’s neck.
She leaned against the door jamb, facing Chris. “That answers your 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 another 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 to 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.”
Hard, dark memories threatened to push to the surface. “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 into a criminal gang. It’s going to be a moot point in a few months 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 will 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.
Chapter 2
The elevator dinged. Denise closed her eyes and took a deep breath, inhaling the astringent scent of disinfectant. She stepped out of the car and walked down the wide hall. Sprocket padded next to her, the black and red “service animal” vest snug around her chest. The hospital was one of the few places she wore it.
Stopping at the nurse’s station, Denise leaned against the tall counter. “Morning, Nadia.”
“Good morning, Denise. Hi, Sprocket.” She smiled, flashing a deep dimple in her left cheek. “Can she have a biscuit?”
Jeez, had she ever been that young and innocent? “Sure.”
Nadia popped the lid on the tin of dog treats the nurses had started keeping behind the desk when Denise became a regular visitor and held one out to Sprocket.
“Is she awake?”
Nadia glanced at the clock. “She was when I checked on her about half an hour ago, but she’s been sleeping a lot lately.”
Denise pulled her lips between her teeth and nodded. “How’s she doing today?”
The nurse’s smile faded and her eyes filled with sympathy. “I’ll page the doctor and let her know you’re here.”
Denise looked at the desk and jerked her head in a semblance of a nod. “Thanks.” She walked further down the hall to Sarah’s room. Lifting the handle, she pushed open the door and entered the sunny private hospice room.
Her cousin reclined in the raised bed, her bald head pale against the pillows. The remote rested in her lax hand and her eyes were closed. Denise eased the remote away.
Sarah’s fingers closed around it and her eyes popped open. “I’m watching that, Cousin It.” Her voice was hoarse and broke in the middle.
“The TV’s off, cue ball.” She forced a smile.
Sarah looked at the small flat-screen mounted on the wall across from the bed. “It was on a minute ago.”
“Uh huh.” Denise sat in the large chair next to the bed and curled her legs under her bottom. Sprocket lay down next to her. A breakfast tray sat untouched beside the bed. “You didn’t eat, pipsqueak.”
“Don’t call me that.” Sarah pushed further up on the bed. “It’s mush. Did you bring me a breakfast burrito?”
She scoffed. “After you blew chunks the last time? Hell, no.”
A weak smile stretched the paper-thin skin across her cheeks. “Yeah. Probably a good idea. Wasn’t nearly as good coming back up.”
“Blech.” Denise faked gagging.
“Oh, please. I’ve held your hair back plenty of times.”
“True, but you don’t have any hair.”
“Touché.” She closed her eyes. Denise worried she’d fallen asleep again, but her eyes fluttered open a few seconds later. “How’re the kids?”
“They’re good. I’ll bring ‘em by on Friday after school.”
Sarah shook her head. “No.”
Denise sighed. “Sarah.”
“I don’t want them to see me like thi
s.”
“I’m not going to let you distance yourself. They love you and miss you. Don’t shut them out.”
A tear spilled over her cheek. “I hate this,” she whispered. “It’s not how it’s supposed to be.”
Unfolding from the chair, she sat on the edge of the bed and held Sarah’s frail hand between her palms. Sprocket raised her head, tuned into her emotions.
“They aren’t going to have me for very much longer.”
“I know, honey.” Denise kept her voice soft. “But you need to let them have you for as long as they can.”
More tears escaped as Sarah squeezed her eyes closed, but she nodded. “I just…I want their memories of me to be good ones. Not from when I was sick and dying.”
“I’ll make sure they remember all the good things about you. Mom and Dad will, too. You don’t really think I’m going to hide all your horrible nineties high school fashion fails, do you?”
She smiled. “Those were all your hand-me-downs.”
“Yeah, but they don’t know that.”
“Promise me you won’t let them forget me.”
She brushed her thumb across Sarah’s cheek. “That’d be impossible. They’re going to carry you around with them forever.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
She kissed the back of Sarah’s hand. Even though she felt like she’d said the right thing, how the hell was she supposed to comfort her? There were no words. No handbook. No how-to guide for the terminally ill. Her morbidity crept in and she selfishly couldn’t help but hope that when it was her time it happened quickly instead of slowly dragging out over the course of months.
Locked-Down Heart (Combat Hearts Book 3) Page 1
