Hard Hart: The Harty Boys, Book 1

by Cox, Whitley

  Her heart lurched inside her chest. Well, if that wasn’t opening up, she didn’t know what was. Gently, she took a step forward, wanting desperately to touch him. “Which man do you like?”

  “I like who I am when I’m with you.”

  Holy crap.

  “I like who I am when I’m with you, too.”

  He took a hesitant step toward her. “But I don’t recognize myself or these emotions. I’m happy when I’m with you, but I’m also terrified. Terrified of something happening to you or the baby. Afraid of being a dad and that the kid is going to be as angry as I am. Afraid that something might happen to me and he or she will grow up without a dad like I had to. I’m used to living alone. Nobody knows or solves my problems but me. It’s worked for me all these years. I don’t know how to function any other way.”

  She ate up the rest of the distance until nothing but the baby they’d made, on a cold and windy night, sat between them.

  “Then be the you you like when you’re with me. And be the other guy with everyone else. Be who you want to be.”

  His throat undulated. “I’m just worried that one day you’ll realize I’m just the angry guy and want nothing to do with me. Or one day, that’s who I’ll become all the time.”

  She shook her head and rested her hand on his chest. “Tell me.”

  He gripped her hand like a lifeline. “Tell you what?”

  “Tell me why you’re so angry.”

  Brock’s pupils dilated, but then he let out a heavy sigh and sat down on the bed, bringing her with him. “It started after my dad died. I was angry at the world. Angry that he was taken from me. From us. The drunk driver who hit us did a bit of time in prison, but not nearly enough. One night, when I was in my late teens, this was shortly after he’d been released from prison, I went to his house. I stood out front with a baseball bat in my hand and watched through his picture window as he played with his kids in his living room. I hated him. Still do. He took my father, and yet he still got to have a family, got to watch his kids grow up.” He looked up at her. “How is that fair?”

  She squeezed his hand and inched closer to him on the bed. “It’s not.”

  His mouth dipped down into a tight frown. “I wanted to kill him. Smash his head in with the bat. Take his life, just like he’d taken my dad’s.”

  Krista’s breath hitched. “But you didn’t.”

  He shook his head. “No, I didn’t. I couldn’t. Just like my brothers and me, his kids were innocent and didn’t deserve to grow up without their dad.”

  Krista let out a ragged breath. She didn’t think he’d killed the guy, but the way Brock was holding on to her hand, turning her fingers blue, made her suspect he’d at least taken a swing at the guy.

  “It wasn’t fair what happened to your dad,” she started. “Wasn’t fair at all. Not fair to your dad, to you, your mother or your brothers.”

  “But life isn’t fair,” he said softly.

  “It’s not.” She shook her head. Her heart hurt for him. He’d witnessed something so utterly horrific and been forced to grow up way too quickly because of it.

  “I joined the Navy Reserves just like my dad, hoping to do some good in the world. And I did. But I also saw a lot of evil. Kids dying. Mothers and babies being ripped apart.

  “It all just made me so mad. Mad that I couldn’t do more. Couldn’t prevent more people from getting hurt. More people from dying. I felt even more helpless than I did that night my dad died.”

  She put her other hand on his thigh. “You were doing so much good. You can’t save everyone.”

  He glanced up at her. “I know. But I saw too much. Didn’t save enough people. Too many people I’d grown close to, friends and civilians, died. So I retired and went to work for Stewart. Now I’m protecting people but on a smaller scale. I know sometimes those people are spoiled little rich girls, but when they’re with me, they’re safe. I can protect them. I can save them.”

  “You’re doing a pretty great job of protecting me and this baby, too,” she said. “You can’t stack so much responsibility on your shoulders. You have me now. Stack some of that on my shoulders. I can take it.”

  “Don’t move out … please.” That last word was barely a whisper.

  “Then let me get to know you. I think I deserve that, considering you’ve uncovered all my secrets, either by asking me outright or snooping via your hacking brother.”

  The smile finally beat up the eternal frown, and his face softened. “I don’t know everything about you.”

  She lifted one lone eyebrow in protest. “No?”

  He shook his head. “But I’d like to.”

  Her fingers bunched in the fabric of his shirt. “I’d like to know everything about you, too. The good, the bad, the beautiful and the ugly. You don’t scare me, Hart, so stop pushing me away. Take down the walls, unglue the pages and let me in.”

  His head bobbed. “I’ll try … harder.”

  “Okay.” She brought his fingers to her lips. “Thank you for sharing with me. About your dad and your time in the navy. I know it wasn’t easy. Please, don’t keep me at arm’s length like everyone else. I want to be wrapped up in your arms instead, right next to your heart.”

  His fingers untwined from hers, and he tucked a knuckle beneath her chin. “I’ll do whatever I can to keep you here.”

  Her lips twisted playfully, and her heart beat wildly inside her chest. “Even unglue the pages?”

  He tilted his head down and brushed his lips over hers. “Even unglue the pages.”

  * * *

  “The sooner we get all your stuff back to my—our—house, the sooner we can bang,” Brock said with a laugh as he plunked one final box of God only knows what into the trunk of Krista’s car.

  Krista grinned at him. “Thank you for coming with me.”

  “You going to go give your landlords notice?”

  She shook her head. “Not yet. You say you’re going to try and open up, but I need to see it first.”

  He glared at her over the hood of her car. She’d insisted they take her car, much to his chagrin. A power thing of course. But his truck was also getting the clutch replaced, so he was without a vehicle until the morning.

  “Stare me down all you want, Hart. I’m not giving my notice until I know this is the real deal. And I don’t know that yet. I need to know who I’m having a baby with. Who I’m living with.”

  He growled and muttered “stubborn woman” under his breath before opening the car door. He was driving. There was no argument there. “Get in, woman,” he barked before slamming his door.

  She opened the door and swung herself into the seat. “Besides, Mr. and Mrs. Geller are like surrogate grandparents to me. I’d like to take some time next month to come by and properly clean the suite, maybe help them paint it, spruce it up a bit and then help them find a new, suitable tenant. The guy before me was a knob. Played loud music, smoked pot, had an ugly little dog that wasn’t properly house-trained and ate up part of the carpet. They were so happy when I applied, gave it to me on the spot. I can’t leave them high and dry with no money coming in without at least helping them find someone new.”

  “Bloody bleeding heart,” he grumbled.

  She grinned at him. “You like that about me.”

  “I don’t know about that.” He pressed down on the brake and turned on the ignition. “Hmm … ”

  “Hmm?”

  “Brakes are a little mushy.”

  She lifted an eyebrow at him, her face half confused and half scared. “Mushy?”

  He threw the vehicle into gear and then abruptly tossed on the brakes again. It lurched but still stopped. They still felt off, but not nonexistent.

  “Everything okay?” she asked.

  “Have to get this looked at once my truck is back. Need new tires.”

  She scoffed.

  “You’re carrying my baby. If I had my way, you’d be driving a goddamn tank.”

  They rode in silence for a
while. Every so often Brock would glance over at her, sitting there quietly watching the snow fall out the window. It had grown dark as they were packing up inside her place, and by the time everything was loaded, night had fallen completely. Driving down the narrow back road that had been turned into one lane by the piled-up snow from the plow made Brock glad Krista was going to be done with this place. There were no streetlights anywhere, no curb, nothing. Nothing besides a rock bluff wall on one side and a big ravine into a dense wooded area on the other. To know his woman wasn’t going to be driving this death trap anymore eased his mind. He’d push her to wait until the spring to come back and clean. Maybe by that time she might be too pregnant and grumpy to want to.

  “Fuck, I hate this hill,” Krista muttered, one hand falling to her belly and the other gripping the handle on the door.

  Brock hated it too. It was steep as fuck and had a hairpin turn at the worst part of the slope. It’d frozen hard yesterday and was now a sheet of ice where the plow had missed.

  He pressed his foot to the brake, but nothing happened.

  They weren’t slowing down.

  They weren’t stopping.

  Holy fuck! They had no brakes.

  The car began to rattle on the front right side.

  Shit. The tire.

  They hit a bump and suddenly the car dipped on Krista’s side, only slowing down slightly.

  “W-what’s wrong?” Krista asked, her eyes going wide and her knuckles turning white on the door handle.

  Brock slammed his foot down. “Brakes. We don’t have any brakes.”

  “Don’t kid!”

  “I’m not fucking kidding, Krista. We have no fucking brakes, and the tire is fucking loose.”

  They were gaining speed now. The tread on her tires was shit, and they were slipping down the ice and at an alarming speed.

  “What are we going to do?” Both hands fell to her stomach now.

  Brock pulled the emergency brake, and the car hitched and made a disturbing clunk and grind sound but didn’t slow down much.

  He gripped the steering wheel to keep them on the road. “Fuck!”

  Panic flooded Krista’s face in the dark cab of the car. “What now?”

  “Now? Now we crash.”

  Brock knew that if they didn’t stop before the hairpin turn, the car might not make the turn at the speed they were going, and they’d go over the embankment. They needed to turn into the rock bluff and hope to God it slowed them down and stopped them without crushing them.

  He geared down, steered into the wall and prayed.

  The sound of metal on stone filled the silent winter night, only competing with the thunderous pounding of Brock’s heart as the car ripped down the hill, grating against the bluff. But it was slowing down.

  Sparks and green paint chips flew from the front of Krista’s Tercel as it continued on down the hill, scraping against the bluff. There was a pile of snow bigger than her car coming up, and if they kept going, they were going to hit it. Brock only hoped the snowbank would be strong enough to sustain the impact of her vehicle and would stop them rather than just breaking apart and letting them keep going down the hill.

  It was coming up. Forty feet, then thirty, then twenty. Brock held his breath. Ten feet …

  Crunch.

  Crash.

  Smash.

  Followed by what could only be described as a vehicle going oof, the airbags going whoosh, a hard punch to the chest. And then everything was still. Everything was quiet.

  Brock felt the airbag slowly begin to deflate. “Krista?” He took inventory of his body. Nothing hurt too badly, his limbs all seemed to work and his neck didn’t ache … that much.

  A groan next to him had him turning his head and unbuckling his seatbelt. “Brock?”

  His driver’s side door had taken the majority of the impact—thankfully—but now he wasn’t sure he’d be able to open it.

  “Brock?” she said again.

  Fuck! The baby. Was the baby okay?

  “I’m here. I’m here.”

  Krista’s airbag slowly started to deflate, and she shifted in her seat to face him. “You okay?”

  He let out a relieved sigh. “I’m fine. You? The baby?”

  Her whole body began to shake. “I don’t know.”

  Fuck.

  Brock reached into his coat pocket for his phone, pulled it out and dialed Rex.

  * * *

  “Well, that was fucking scary,” Rex said, tipping his beer back as he sat on the couch in Brock’s living room later that night. Brock was right behind him and took up roost in his La-Z-Boy, followed by Chase who sat on the opposite end of Rex’s couch. Heath was out on a mission. They didn’t know where.

  “Yeah,” Brock said with a nod, leaning back in his chair. His body ached, and he failed at keeping his groan of discomfort silent.

  “You think someone cut her brakes?” Chase asked, sitting down on the opposite end of the couch from Rex, his green eyes, the same as Brock’s, looking far more serious than Brock would like.

  Brock tipped his beer back and grunted. “I do,” he replied, wiping his mouth with the back of his wrist. “It’d been running perfectly fine just days ago. I meant to get her some better winter tires; the tread on them wasn’t great. But the thing had no brake fluid left, the lug nuts on the right front wheel were loosened and someone had punctured the tire.”

  “Slade?” Rex asked.

  Brock grunted. Who else would want Krista silenced? Only they had no way to prove it.

  “I’ll see if I can pull up any traffic cam surveillance, see if he’s been out this way,” Chase offered.

  Brock grunted again and nodded. He was just thankful that Krista was tucked safely in bed. They’d rushed her to the hospital, where both she and the baby had been thoroughly checked out. The impact of the airbag deploying had scared Brock shitless that something might have happened to the baby, but thankfully—sort of—poor Krista’s face had taken the majority of the impact and was bruised and banged up pretty good. So was his. But her belly and the little monkey inside were A-Okay.

  “I’ll continue to keep an eye on Krista,” Rex added. “At least when she’s at work, we know she’s somewhat safe. There are too many other cops around, and now that she’s on light duty, she doesn’t have to be alone with him. We just have to watch her when she goes to work and when she leaves. And she can drive Heath’s truck until he gets back from his assignment.” Rex didn’t appear to be bothered that he was now the only one talking.

  Chase nodded in acceptance and tipped up his beer.

  Brock did the same but drained his. His mind wasn’t in the living room. It was in the bedroom, under the covers with his child and his or her mother. He belonged with them right now. It’s where he needed to be.

  Pushing himself up to standing and not even bothering to look at either of his brothers, he walked into the kitchen, rinsed his beer bottle and placed it in the recycling. “I’m heading to bed.” And with that, he left Rex and Chase in his living room and headed down the hallway to his bedroom.

  She was asleep.

  Peacefully.

  The hospital had given Krista Tylenol and Gravol to help with the pain and help her sleep. Her lashes fanned out across her purple mottled cheek, and her wild hair of fire looked as though someone had spread out copper threads on her pillowcase. She was stunning. Even battered and bruised, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on. And he’d nearly lost her tonight.

  Emotion clung hard and thick in the back of his throat, like a glob of stubborn peanut butter that just wouldn’t go away.

  He’d almost lost them.

  Swallowing that lump, he quickly did what he needed to do in the bathroom before silently slipping into bed next to her. His side of the bed was cool, but he needed warmth. He needed Krista’s warmth. Inching slowly, carefully behind her, he turned onto his side and tucked in behind her, protecting her and their child the way he should have done earlier tha
t night. He let his top arm fall over her body, and his hand fell to the soft swell of her belly, where their child slept soundly.

  “You’re cuddling,” she murmured, still half asleep.

  “Hmmm,” was all he managed. The words just weren’t there. Only fear and anger resided inside, and they were too big, too fierce to say out loud.

  “We’re okay, you know.” Her fingers intertwined with his over her stomach. He held on tight.

  Still he couldn’t say anything.

  Krista craned her neck around to look at him. “We’re okay. Me, you, the baby. We’re fine.”

  Brock gnashed his molars together until a dull ache ran up the side of his jaw. He liked the pain. The pain was good.

  She cupped his cheek. “Do you hear me? We’re okay.”

  In the darkness of the bedroom, staring down into the eyes of the mother of his child, he realized he wanted it all with her. Forever. But first he had a few things to take care of. There was a threat out there, and that threat needed to be neutralized.

  “Brock?” Her face grew serious. “We’re okay.”

  He swallowed down the razor blades and went nose to nose with the woman in his arms. “Not yet, but we will be.” Then he buried his face in her hair, pulled her more tightly into his body and willed them both to sleep. Tomorrow he’d figure out a way to take down the bad guy, but tonight he just wanted to hold his woman, yes, his woman, his child, and forget everything but how good it felt to have something, someone to hold on to.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Krista took the next few days off work. She couldn’t very well go into the station looking like the train wreck she saw in the mirror. She’d been fine that night, no residual pain besides that in her face, but the next morning and the morning after that, an achy stiffness took hold of her body and just refused to let go.

  The doctors had her on Tylenol round the clock and bed rest for a few days, just to make sure that there was no internal hemorrhaging and no delayed complications with the baby.