Hearts Collide

  Hearts Collide

  Teia Marks

  © 2018

  Created in the United States of America

  Worldwide Rights

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any form, including digital, electronic, or mechanical, to include photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the prior written consent of the author, except for brief quotes used in reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Cira Atwood is on the run.

  After stealing a laptop full of murderous secrets, a notorious crime lord wants her dead, and she’s running out of time. But an accidental encounter with Detective Kyle Walters hands her an opportunity for more than survival. He offers her hope.

  Together, they race to turn the tables on the crime lord before he hunts them down, but Cira soon learns there is far more at stake than justice. Her heart.

  Table of Contents

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  Twenty-Eight

  Twenty-Nine

  One

  Cira’s fingers blazed across the keyboard of the stolen laptop set before her. A muffled bleep told her she’d guessed the password wrong once more. She sneered at the flickering warning box that popped up, dismissing it with a thumping click of the mouse. Going to need that password cracker after all. Google, here I come.

  She leaned back in the booth and stretched to relieve the twinge in her lower back, snatching up her iced coffee and taking a sip. It slithered cold across her tongue. The Java Pit, the out of the way, independent coffee house she’d sneaked away to after absconding with Dante’s laptop was quiet and dark, just as she liked it. There were rarely more than ten customers in the place at any given time. Cira often wondered how the shop stayed open, but she was glad it did. It was a coffee-scented oasis in the middle of the windswept desert that was Oak Park. She’d been trapped here too long, but now she had the means of escape in her hands. She just needed to figure out the password. No pressure.

  The melodious jingle of chimes drew her attention to the front door. She took another sip of her coffee and froze as she went to set it down, the cup hovering inches above the tabletop. Sunlight gleamed in the background of the doorway, making the man a broad silhouette, his features cast in shadow. Her breath caught in her lungs as the door eased closed and revealed him as he strolled into the shop.

  She couldn’t help but stare.

  He wore his black hair short, but just long enough that it looked windswept, a couple of errant curls teasing his forehead. Narrow blue eyes took in the place, casually scanning the room as he approached the counter. His gaze fell over her and Cira was certain he faltered, pausing for just a moment to take her in—her mind cursing her bland outfit of loose sweats and gray hoodie—while he waited for the customer in front of him to finish her order.

  She eased her coffee down and smiled, unable to stop herself. He smiled back as he dug his wallet from his back pocket, the movement drawing her attention. Dressed in a pair of blue jeans, Cira couldn’t help but admire the way they hugged his sculptured ass and legs. He clearly spent a lot of time in the gym. A chill caused her to tremble as her reluctant gaze drifted upward, taking in the rest of him in. A plain blue, button up shirt completed his casual outfit, not overly tight but enough to define the hard ripples that lay underneath. Even standing still, he carried himself with confidence.

  She continued her perusal, taking in his clean-shaven jaw and moving to his eyes once more. That was when she realized he was still looking at her. Cira’s cheeks warmed, but she forced another smile and took a sip of her coffee to cover her embarrassment. He grinned, clearly amused by her attention. He didn’t seem to mind.

  “What can I get for you, Kyle?” Jake, the barista behind the counter, asked, drawing his focus.

  And now she had a name.

  Cira’s smile widened as Kyle snapped about as if only remembering where he was. He stepped up to the counter and ordered, chatting jovially with Jake, making it clear he was a regular there.

  Maybe this morning won’t be so bad after all. Just as she thought that, she glanced over at the laptop screen and gasped, quieting the sound in her palm.

  A small red icon glimmered in the corner of the screen. How long had it been there? Her pulse raced as she rushed to turn the laptop off, mashing the power button and cursing her inattentiveness. The sounds of squealing tires outside the coffee shop told her it had been just long enough. They’ve found me.

  Cira snapped the laptop lid closed and stuffed it into its case, pulling her hood up over her head and slipping out of the booth as she did. She cast a furtive glance at Kyle but his eyes were on the door as Jake handed him his coffee, wisps of steam billowing from the tiny holes in the lid. He stepped away from the counter, allowing the next customer access, but he never once looked away from the commotion outside.

  Cira eased into the dim lighting of the employee hallway near the booth she’d purposely chosen for that reason, just as the chimes clanged, alerting her to the abrupt arrival of people she didn’t want to see; they were Dante’s men. She recognized them—Joaquin and Victor—as they stormed into the shop…running straight into Kyle.

  All three grunted at the impact and Kyle’s coffee cup slipped from his hand. It toppled once, twice, headed for certain doom, splattered across the floor, but a serpentine hand lashed out at the last minute and caught it.

  “Oh no you don’t,” he said.

  Cira’s heart sputtered as Kyle pulled the cup back to him, barely a drop spilled, a single line of milky brown running down the side.

  Dante’s men didn’t even acknowledge him or what they’d done, moving to push past without a word. Kyle was having none of it. He stuck his arm in their way, shaking his head.

  “In a hurry, gentlemen?” he asked, his voice a basso rumble. Cira crept toward the back door that waited behind her. Neither Joaquin nor Victor had seen her, yet, but she couldn’t pull her eyes off the confrontation to run.

  “Yeah, we are,” Joaquin said, his expression shifting from harried to neutral. Cira knew that look all too well. Violence always followed that look. “Now, how about you step aside.”

  Cira felt for the doorknob, torn between her need to flee and her guilt at unintentionally putting Kyle between her and Dante’s goons.

  Kyle, however, didn’t seem to care.

  “Might want to remember your manners first and say please.” His free hand went to the front of his shirt and she saw the material bunch up for a moment. He pulled out something she couldn’t see, only hearing the soft rattle of a thin chain, and held it up before the two men.

  Joaquin and Victor stiffened and both took a step back, unease in their posture, their gaze going from whatever it was Kyle held to his face. The threat of violence passed in an instant.

  That was Cira’s chance. She turned the knob and darted outside, knowing the coffee den didn’t have an alarm on the door.

  Whatever Kyle had done, it had stopped Joaquin and Victor cold and bought her time to get away. She’d have to thank him one day, but that would have to wait. Now that she didn’t have to worry she’d gotten an innocent man hurt, she sprinted across the street that ran behind the Java Pit, and into the parking lot of the Denny’s on the corner. Her head on a swivel, she sought the best direction to go, none providing her with adequate cover on foot.

  Cira knew Dante’s men would be on her soon, no matter Kyle’s intervention, so she needed a way out, fast. She circled the restaurant and found luck had provided. An older man escorted his wife up the ramp to the Denny’s, their vehicle left with the driver’s side door open and the engine running. Cira stumbled to a halt, battling her instincts. She felt sick as she watched the man struggle to open the door to the restaurant and usher his wife inside, knowing what she intended and not wanting to.

  The screech of tires over by the Java Pit made it clear she didn’t have a choice anymore. A familiar black SUV jumped the curb and hurtled into the street, headed her way, and there was no doubting who was inside.

  Cira pulled her hoodie lower over her face and ran to the empty Honda, jumping inside and slamming the door behind her. Without a glance back, mainly because she’d cave to her guilt and leave the vehicle behind, she tore into traffic and sped away from the restaurant.

  She’d just stolen a car.

  What a day. Wonder what else I’ll do before it’s over. Cira shook her head at the thought. She really didn’t want to know.

  With the SUV caught in traffic on the other side of the Denny’s, Cira took a sharp left and steered back the way she’d come, toward the coffee shop, hoping Dante’s men wouldn’t think to circle back. The engine in the sedan wh
ined as she accelerated, mirroring her desperation.

  She knocked her hoodie down so she could see cast a quick glance over her shoulder to spot where Dante’s men were, trailing the SUV’s path with her eyes. It looked as if they had missed her, the vehicle still headed the same way as they had been a moment before. Cira exhaled hard and turned back around in the seat only to see the harsh gleam of a red light just before she ran it and flew into the intersection.

  A huge, silver 4x4 pickup pulled out in front of her.

  Two

  Today had started off nicely for Detective Kyle Walters.

  Right up until those two hoods nearly bowled him over. They’d been quick to turn tail once he whipped out his badge, but there was something off about the way they’d barged into the shop. They’d been looking for someone; looking hard.

  If his instincts told him anything, it was the gorgeous young woman who’d been pecking away at her laptop at the booth in the back. They had to be looking for her. But what could they want?

  He’d spied her out of the corner of his eye as he confronted the men, and then she was gone. Just up and vanished. That was enough to make him wary, seeing how she hadn’t passed him on her way out. She must have slipped out the back, only confirming his thoughts.

  While she didn’t look the type to be mixed up with people like them, lowlife hoods if ever he’d seen one, she sure took off fast when they showed up, her iced coffee still half-full, sitting on the table alongside an uneaten donut. That was enough to make him think twice and circle the block after the two men had hopped in their SUV and took off, certain there was more to this than coincidence.

  And if there wasn’t, at least he’d have a reason to introduce himself to the woman. That alone would make his being late to work worth it.

  Kyle chuckled as he pulled through the intersection at Grant and Sails, the green light ushering him on. Smatters of emerald gleamed across his hood as he passed beneath, reminding him of the woman’s eyes. He felt like a teenager, mindlessly trailing after a beautiful woman, desperate to have a reason to approach her, to ask her name, but he’d have to find her again to do all that.

  As it turned out, it wasn’t that hard.

  He heard the squeal of tires on asphalt and adrenaline lit fire to his veins. His head snapped to the side to see a black Honda Civic careening toward his pickup. The driver materialized behind the windshield, her eyes wide as she turned in her seat to face him. Recognition struck home. It was her.

  She hurtled into the intersection and time slowed. He could see her indecision, the uncertainty as terror waged a war with self-preservation. She jerked the wheel to the left to avoid his truck but Kyle knew it was too late.

  They were going to collide.

  He stomped the accelerator and urged his truck forward, snapping the wheel to the right at the last second, bringing his rear quarter panel around so the little compact car wouldn’t hit any part of the bumper of his 4x4. If it did, she’d be hurt, bad, the reinforced steel making a tin can of her import. Kyle’s knuckles gleamed white against the wheel.

  He hoped it was enough.

  A massive whumpf sounded and the cab shuddered around him. He’d only enough time to stiffen up—knowing it was a mistake the second he did it—and his world exploded.

  The truck spun sideways while he grappled with the wheel, trying to right it as the tires juddered beneath, vainly clutching at the asphalt. Next thing he knew, the side of the truck rose up, and he stared at the sky through the passenger side window. The seatbelt bit into his shoulder, and the clear blue was wiped away by a flurry of stars as his head struck the roof. His arms flailed for purchase, knocked loose of the steering wheel as the airbag deployed.

  Then he was airborne.

  A bouncy ball in a cocktail shaker, he rebounded about his seat in a daze, ears ringing, his heart pounding in the well of his chest, threatening to burst through his ribs. The coffee he’d so valiantly rescued earlier erupted as it flew from the cup holder, scalding liquid adding insult to injury to his chaotic tumble. He growled at the waste of it, then gravity surrendered its hold and the truck rolled over the barrier and dumped him in the ditch.

  His last thought was that he hoped the woman was okay before blessed darkness stole the sense from his head.

  #

  Kyle came to with a start, and the world swooped in with a crash.

  “Oooh,” he heard himself moan, caught off guard by the jagged rasp. His voice sounded weird to him. He reached out, trying to make sense of what was going on, when he felt a warm hand encircle his wrist.

  “Stay still.”

  He blinked his eyes and searched for the source of the voice.

  “Wh-what—?”

  “You were in an accident.” The words floated to him from somewhere above, soft, melodic almost. A mass of shadows and light danced in his vision, unwilling to coalesce. “Just sit still. Please, Kyle. I need to make sure you’re okay.”

  The hand fled his wrist and searched his neck, feeling around his head. It traipsed across his chin, fingers scraping against stubble, before moving to his chest. Pins and needles followed the gentle touch, trailing fire down his body, his every nerve alight. An ethereal voice sighed somewhere in the murk.

  “Doesn’t look like anything’s broken,” he heard, only then realizing the speaker was a woman. She started to say something else but the distant wail of sirens drowned her words. Her hand stiffened against him and was gone.

  He tried to find her again, fingers searching, but she’d already retreated, the crunch of glass echoing in her wake.

  “I’m sorry,” she told him, seeming miles away. “You’ll be okay, but I can’t stay. I-I just can’t. I’m sorry.”

  Kyle caught a glimpse of dark hair as she clambered out of the shattered windshield, a bag of some sorts in her hand, but his eyes refused to focus enough to pick out any sort of detail. There was a soft grunt and the truck shook, followed by a strange noise, like a handful of paper torn in half, accompanying the jostle. Shadows enveloped him as she hunkered past the hood. Then daylight returned, wiping the last of her from his vision.

  “W-wait,” he thought he’d called out, but there only answer was silence.

  #

  The next time he awoke, he was in an ambulance, sirens screaming overhead and an EMT staring at him, flashing a penlight in his eyes.

  “Do you know where you’re at?”

  Kyle glanced about, his neck creaking with the motion, only realizing a moment later that his head was held in place by a plastic brace. “I’m…I’m guessing this isn’t O’Bannion’s and I’ve had a few too many. Did I miss last call?”

  The EMT laughed. “Still got your sense of humor and the need for a drink, Detective. That’s a good sign.”

  Kyle drew in a slow, easy breath as his senses did their best to crawl back into his skull and reassert control. He peeked over the collar and the shoulder of the medical tech as best he could, at the gurney on the other side of the ambulance. It was empty, sheets pristine. Memories of the crash crept over him, the green-eyed woman. She’d been in the truck with him after the wreck. He remembered her saying his name, but how had she known that?

  “The woman. Sh-she…” he started, having trouble getting his tongue to fall in line with his thoughts. “There was a woman in—”

  “You were the only one there,” the EMT said, cutting him off and pressing him back into the gurney as he tried to sit up. Kyle’s gun bit into his lower back as he adjusted. “There was a wrecked Honda on the road above the drainage ditch we found you in, front end all caved in, driver’s door open, but whoever had been driving the other car apparently fled the scene. Didn’t see any blood anywhere,” he added.

  “Good,” Kyle muttered, pushing the EMT’s hand aside. If she’d been healthy enough to run, she had to be okay, he thought, his head throbbing with the effort. That was what was important.

  He offered an apologetic look to the EMT, reading the man’s nametag as he forced his way upright, clawing at the brace, peeling it off. “Sorry, Johnson, but I’m okay,” he said. “I can’t go to the hospital right now.”

  “You know the drill, man.”