Rule Breakers, Soul Takers (Hell Runners Book 1)

by Jacqueline Jayne

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  Published by The Hartwood Publishing Group, LLC,

  Hartwood Publishing, Phoenix, Arizona

  www.hartwoodpublishing.com

  Rule Breakers, Soul Takers

  Copyright © 2017 by Jacqueline Jayne

  Digital Release: September 2017

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Rule Breakers, Soul Takers by Jacqueline Jayne

  For more than a hundred years, gifted humans of the uber-elite, ultra-secret Hell Runners Society have sworn to rescue lost souls from the First Ring of Hell. Thousands of misguided spirits have been saved and sent onto Heaven without one Soul Saver ever questioning the Society’s authority.

  Until now.

  Prudence Luckett trained almost her entire life to earn the prestigious position of Soul Saver. Just like her father. But once Jack Luckett became Chancellor, he wielded his power to prevent his daughter entering Hell’s First Ring. Her career stunted. Without explanation. Bent on circumventing her father’s orders, Pru swallows her pride and approaches Hell Runner’s only-ever demoted Soul Saver with a proposition. Though as arrogant and stubborn as he is sexy, she’s certain he’s like her—desperate to regain his good reputation as she is to create one.

  Jesse Thorne rescued more souls than anyone else in the Society’s history, but lost everyone’s respect the day his former partner decided to punt the rules. Though forbidden by the boss, his partner chose to remain behind the Gate and search for the Legendary Door connecting Heaven to Hell. Jesse didn’t agree with his decision, but he kept his friend’s secret. The backlash resulted in accusations of negligence for leaving his partner behind. Worse still, he suffered a total shunning by all the other Soul Savers.

  All, except one. The Chancellor’s irrepressible and smokin’ hot daughter, offering him a chance at redemption.

  He accepts Prudence as his new partner and together they storm Hell, saving more souls than ever. Their bond is immediate and charged with delicious sexual tension. But at the instruction of a council elder, she drinks holy water. The result is a new and powerful weapon—she burns demons with her sweat.

  And Jesse.

  Possessed by a demon as a teenager, a stain remains that marks him as one of Hell’s own. The stain enables him to see hidden demons, but Prudence must keep her distance if he wants to maintain his secret. And his skin. No kissing. No touching. No future.

  Complications arise when his old partner returns, swearing he can find Heaven’s Door, but the ancient prophecy requires use of all their unique gifts, including the love growing between Jesse and Prudence. Against the rules, they help search for Heaven’s Door and navigate the dangers of Hell’s deeper rings. The deeper they go, the more secrets are revealed and the deeper they fall into love.

  In a showdown that locks horns with the Chancellor and the demon from Jesse’s past, they find the key that will open Heaven’s Door. And the chance to free Jesse from his eternal curse.

  But will the pull of Heaven pull them apart, separating them forever?

  Dedication

  To Mom and Dad

  Author Notes

  Dear Reader,

  I hope you’re as excited to read Rule Breakers Soul Takers, as I was writing it, or more truthfully, as the characters insisted on dictating to me.

  But first, please take a moment to read my heartfelt thank yous and shout outs to the first readers that helped get this book from my imagination into your hands. Like you, they love a well-told story and deserve recognition for their support and insights. I’m lucky and ever so grateful to know them all.

  First off, I’m thrilled Hartwood Publishing picked up Rule Breakers. Thank you Georgia Woods, CEO, for sending me the best “we’d like to acquire your book” email ever and then graciously enduring all of my subsequent questions. Thank you Editor Lisa Dugan, for your kind and thorough feedback necessary to produce the best possible book. And for your patience with a newbie author. Both of you believe in my Hell Runners Series as much as I do, and I can’t thank you enough. And thanks to Jennifer Roques for keeping me in line and being so detailed. Big hugs all around.

  To Maria Entenman and Jeannine Standen, kick-ass critique partners, fellow paranormal authors, and most of all dear friends. Thanks for all your brainstorming, plot discussing, craft dissecting, cheerleading, tear drying, spontaneous laughing, and long talks. You are the BEST.

  To Susan Scott Shelley, brainstormer, beta reader extraordinaire, “romantical” contemporary author, and sweetest of friends. You were my first friend at VFRW and I’m so happy we stuck.

  I’d also like to thank the other members of the Valley Forge Romance Writers. Group support makes all the difference. I’d especially like to thank Stephanie Julian, Cathy Pritchard, Eileen Emerson, Veronica Forand, Beth Long, and Leslie Anne Lighton.

  Thanks to the Southwest Florida Romance Writers for choosing Rule Breakers Soul Takers as a finalist in the Joyce Henderson Writing Contest. Their contest put my work on Georgia’s desk and I’m very grateful for the opportunity.

  Special thanks to Maggie and Ed Bridge, long-time friends and lovers of Rodin. The idea for the Gates of Hell Network began when they shared their adventures in Paris.

  Special thanks to Phyllis Kelly. We’ve been best friends since high school, and outside of the publishing community, no one possesses a more critical eye with a bend toward romantic literature. She loves a hard-earned HEA, and I’m grateful she holds me to a high standard. She also makes me laugh and keeps me sane!

  I’ve dedicated this book to my mom and dad, the reader and the storyteller. Thanks for those genes and everything else you’ve given me.

  Mentioned last, but certainly not least, thanks to my husband Michael. He is my sounding board, my hand holder, my rock, my heart, and my inspiration for all the heroes I write. Hard to believe this handsome man is all mine.

  See – I told you I was lucky!!

  Chapter One

  Section I, Paragraph B, of the Hell Runners Society handbook clearly states: No mortal—born gifted or otherwise blessed with the ability to pass through Hell’s Gate unfettered—will bypass training and be granted automatic promotion to Hell Runner.

  Especially not the chancellor’s daughter, Prudence Luckett, who will have to bust her ass three times longer than everyone else.

  The last phrase didn’t outright appear in the booklet, but Prudence had been called Princess too often not to understand she was a victim of bias.

  She didn’t want special treatment, anyway. Didn’t need it. After five years of nonstop training in a warehouse on the outskirts of Philadelphia, she’d proven worthy of the Society’s respect, and more importantly, earned the chance to rescue lost souls from the Underworld.

  Or so she believed.

  Even after all her
dedication, promotion wasn’t a guarantee, and five years of training was the maximum time allowed a field candidate to move up.

  Strangely, she’d miss the rigorous maneuvers—demon-ditching simulators, the in-depth classes on post-death psychology, and most of all, honing her natural empathetic gift to read deep feelings.

  Gaze riveted to the front of her new assignment envelope, she crimped the ends in her hard grip and prayed for good news.

  Her last chance to become a full-fledged, soul-savin’ Hell Runner.

  In the upper left corner, the golden HRS emblem gleamed halo bright. She rubbed a thumb over the embossed letters, every nerve in her body prickling in anticipation. Surely, hard work was the backbone of miracles, and she’d stuck it out like a saint.

  The floor rumbled, and the subterranean elevator pinged from down the hall.

  Shit.

  The ancient contraption took a solid five minutes round trip. With the way her heart pounded, she could barely withstand the one-way drop down to her office, let alone wait for that coffin-on-a-string to return.

  She needed a closed door before breaking the seal on her final fate.

  Running so hard her cross-trainers punished the waxed floor, she dashed through the foyer of the Philadelphia Rodin Museum.

  “Wait!” She sidestepped into the hallway opposite the exit, her shoes squeaking. “Hold it. Please!” She ducked past the coatroom and skidded into the alcove forbidden to tourists, just as the narrow doors rattled closed.

  “Son of—”

  A big hand shot out, gripping the rubber seal and strong-arming the door back until the sensor activated the slide. “Hurry up, Luckett.”

  Anyone with a voice that seductively sonorous should never sound that irritated. At least, not at her. But Jesse Thorne always found reason to criticize when she worked harder than any of his other students.

  She hesitated, suddenly unsure if she wanted a ride.

  “You coming or not?” Her former instructor removed his hand, and the doors clattered herky-jerky.

  Startled, she dropped the envelope, and it sailed across the linoleum toward the elevator.

  Choice made.

  She chased after her new assignment.

  With a booted foot, he stamped on the precious envelope before it slipped into the slot for the elevator shaft. “I hear if you lose your orders before you open them, they email them to you. One. Word. At. A. Time.”

  He didn’t smile, and for a second, she believed the lie.

  “Then I’m lucky you were here,” she said, daring a hint of sarcasm. “Ya mind?” She crooked an eyebrow on the way to a low stoop.

  He lifted his boot and backed into the elevator cab.

  Prudence scooped up her envelope and joined him. The doors shuttered closed behind her, and the elevator started its slow descent.

  T-shirt to T-shirt, the tiny space felt excruciatingly small. He glared down at her with his fiery amber eyes, and for the first time ever, she glared back. His tan face sported a few days’ worth of scruff, but it usually did. Easily over six feet tall, with a broad, athletic chest and shoulders that tested the seams of his shirt, he was as sexy as he was intimidating.

  Prudence hated noticing that.

  A shudder rattled the cab, and then the elevator freefell a few feet, sending her stomach swooshing up. Moaning, she swayed forward, grazing his venerable chest with her face before grabbing the support rail to stand upright. The elevator recovered quickly, but she didn’t. With a snootful of his musky cologne lodged in her nose, her cheeks grew hot from embarrassment. The worst part of her job was getting to her underground office. Hopefully, this would be her last daily descent.

  “Why haven’t you opened your orders?”

  Used to answering his questions when called on, she stated the truth. “I want privacy.”

  “I get it.” He nodded and spoke softly. “You’ve waited a long time, Princess. I hope you finally scored fieldwork.”

  She was taken aback by his encouraging tone and his curious statement. “Wouldn’t you…know?”

  Not answering, his gaze went as hard as the set of his square jaw. And a little sad. He looked away and leaned his shoulder against the opposite wall. His thick, mahogany-colored hair rested at the nape of his neck in a disheveled ponytail. An envelope, identical to hers, stuck out of the back pocket of his jeans, the flap torn jagged.

  “Nope. Not anymore.”

  An ache pierced her heart. She hadn’t seen Jesse in close to a month. Had almost forgotten why until this moment.

  Had the council revoked his privileges? Without a hearing?

  She flat out didn’t believe the rumors, and neither should the council. Thorne was a by-the-book-rule-spouting-hardcore Hell Runner. Whatever happened during his last mission couldn’t have been his fault. She’d have bet the contents of her envelope on it.

  The elevator bottomed out, and the finicky door slid aside.

  Compelled to show support, she blurted, “Maybe I’ll see you around Hell, sometime?”

  He frowned, shaking his head before pushing passed her. “No, Princess. You won’t.”

  »»•««

  No. You won’t. What did that mean?

  Prudence wondered at Jesse’s parting words the entire walk to her office. If he couldn’t tell her outright, she shouldn’t care. But she did. The one thing she wanted as much as saving souls was respect. Especially Jesse’s—the toughest son of a bitch to run Hell since her old man moved out of the field and onto the council.

  Of course, he’d have stiff competition for number one now.

  She nudged her office door with her heel and lifted the flap of the envelope.

  “Hey, Hotshot.” Her best bud, Zane Gideon, had ignored her closed door and entered behind her. She turned as he popped her arm with a friendly slap and then squeezed between her and the desk.

  She frowned at him. “Did you knock?”

  “Since when do I knock?” He made himself at home in her office chair. “I need to bitch about a dumbass soul. Got time to listen?”

  “Really, Big Sky? These people aren’t dumbasses. They’re…misguided.”

  “Yeah. We’ll see what you say after you burn through a couple of pairs of those fancy sneakers you like.” He pushed back in her seat and motioned to the guest chair he should have been sitting in. “Take a load off. Be one with the disgruntled philosopher.”

  “Disgruntled I can do,” she said, still thinking about Jesse. She flopped down in the hard, narrow seat. No wonder Zane had stolen her chair. “And speaking of disgruntled, have you seen Thorne? He’s one big sack of miserable.”

  Zane leaned forward. “You’ve seen him? Where?”

  “Here. We took the elevator together. What’s the council going to do with him anyway? I understand why he hasn’t been in the field, but why not—”

  “Where was he going?” Zane cut in, his baby blues filled with concern.

  “Don’t know. Jess isn’t much of a talker. He mostly scowled. Irritated I shared his air.”

  “You read him all wrong, P—which is surprising, you being an Empath and all.”

  “Hey, I don’t break the rules. No using my gift on family, friends, or other Runners.” She counted them off on her fingers. “Especially not him. If he felt me copping an emotional feel, he’d run me clear out of Philadelphia.”

  Zane chuckled. “I doubt that’s what he’d do. He admires you for sticking it out.”

  “Could’ve fooled me. And I don’t think I read him wrong, with or without my gift,” she said, wishing she could actually turn her powers on Jesse. “But he—” she started and then hawed for a second, remembering the trace of sadness in his unique eyes.

  In that instant, she realized what bothered her most about his parting remark. “But he acted like I’d never see him again.” She scooted to the edge of her uncomfortable seat. “Do you think he’s going to do something…foolish? Some Runners have gone crazy—”

  “Stop.” Zane held up
a palm. “You know as well as I do Jesse isn’t foolish or crazy. He’s in a world of trouble, but he’s a bull with a steady moral compass. He’ll work through it.”

  “We should help him. He’s one of us.”

  “Can’t. Trust me. I’ve tried. He won’t take my calls.” Zane shrugged. “We have to wait him out.”

  Prudence hated waiting. Action got things done. “I’ll go to Dad. He’ll make Jesse—”

  “Seriously, P? When has anyone made Jesse Thorne do anything?”

  She slumped back and crossed her arms. “Maybe no one’s ever tried.”

  “If you really want to help him, stay out of it. Don’t stir up trouble with your old man.” He waggled a finger at her. “You’re better off putting Jesse out of your mind.”

  “Fine,” she said, begrudging his insinuation she’d cause problems. If Zane wouldn’t brainstorm, she’d think of something on her own. “Let’s talk about a dumbass we can actually save. Whatcha got?”

  “That’s the spirit.” He held up a packet of stapled pages. “For your reading pleasure, I’ve brought you proof the righteous are as stupid as sinners. Free will’s a total bite in the ass for navel gazers.” He pushed the springs on her desk chair to the limits in order to rest his head on the wall and angle his long, jean-clad legs over the corner of her desk. Folding back the top sheet, he pointed at her with the pages. “Take this dude. He’s totally cool here on earth. Makes buckets of cash as a day trader, stays faithful to his hot wife—and who wouldn’t if she’s hot.”

  “That remark is offensive.”

  “Hey. The truth is the truth, offensive or not.” He scanned down the page with a long finger. “Here we go. Sends his kids to parochial school, donates a butt-load to charity. Moderate house. Moderate car. And woot—not surprising—a huge portfolio.” He raised both eyebrows and lowered the papers. “Look here, goes to church, one Sunday out of eight.”

  “A lot these days.”