His eyes sparkle with tears. “I would do anything for you, Quinn. I’ll spend the rest of my life proving that.”
I beam. “I hope so, because I want you around for it.”
He smiles and I stand, rushing over and throwing myself into his arms. He holds onto me tightly, and we sit like that for a long time. When I pull back, he kisses my forehead. “I don’t say it enough, but I’m so incredibly proud of the woman you’ve become, Quinn.”
“And I’m proud of you.”
“I love you, Pixie girl.”
My heart explodes and I smile up at my father.
“I love you too, Dad.”
Things are finally coming together for good.
It’s about time.
Three Months Later
“Keep your eyes closed, Quinn,” Tazen orders, with his hands over my eyes.
“You know I hate surprises, Taz. Where are you taking me?”
He chuckles. “It’s a surprise, remember? If I tell you, I think that might just destroy that.”
“You’re probably right.” I laugh.
“Just keep walking forward.”
“Did you buy me a pony?”
He laughs. “A pony? Woman, don’t insult yourself.”
I giggle. “Okay, a truck?”
He chuckles. “That’s more like it, but no. I got you something much better.”
“It’s not my birthday.”
“No,” he says, his voice dipping low. “So can you imagine what you’ll get for that?”
My cheeks heat and I grind my ass against him as we walk.
“Enough of that,” he murmurs into my ear.
“Why? Will you get hard in front of the surprise?”
He nips my earlobe. “Too late for that.”
Oh boy.
“All right,” he says, making me stop. “Are you ready for this?”
“I don’t know.”
“You are.”
He takes his hands from my eyes and I blink to get my bearings. I see my old team, as well as Tazen’s guys, and my dad all standing around a covered car. My heart starts pounding as I stare at it. It couldn’t be … could it? Tazen surely hasn’t managed to finish my car without me. I mean sure, I’ve been so busy at work I haven’t even checked on it in his garage but …
“Quinn,” he says, turning to me. “I’ve been wanting to fix things for you since the day I bought this garage, but I have never been able to figure out a way to do that. I took something from you, and I wanted to give it back.”
“Tazen,” I say gently. “You didn’t take anything, you made it better.”
“Just let me finish,” he says softly.
I nod.
“You loved that garage for what it represented in your life. It was your mom, and your dad, and everything beautiful that you had left.”
Tears spring to my eyes.
“So, with your dad’s help, your old crew and my crew, we managed to finish your car for you.”
I swallow the lump forming in my throat. “Tazen,” I rasp.
“But before I show you, I have some other news to share.”
Oh gosh.
“The first is that I’ve given everyone in your old crew a job in the garage. We need more men with the workloads we’ve taken on.”
A tear leaks out and I take his hand, bringing it to my mouth and kissing it, rasping, “Thank you, honey.”
“The second piece of news, is that your dad also has a job. He’s working as head of the new mechanical team, which is your guys.”
He gave my dad a job. Oh God, he gave my dad a job.
“Taz,” I croak.
“Now, for the best part. I thought about so many ways I could make this car true to you, but in the end there was really only one way that could happen. So, Quinn baby, this is your car, it’s your family, and it’s all your memories right back where it belongs.”
He nods and everyone pulls the cover off the car. As it slowly appears before me, my tears go from drops, to a waterfall. My heart burns. My throat clogs up and I let out a loud, piercing sob. The car, which was originally orange, has been fully repainted. It’s now purple, which was my mom’s favorite color in the world. That’s not the best part, though. No, it’s not even close.
The best part is the pictures that have been incorporated into the paint, and then glossed over. Pictures of my childhood, pictures of my family, pictures of everything that was once amazing in my life. My sobbing turns into thick, heavy crying when my eyes move to the hood of the car and there, in perfect bold letters are two words, two words that have always meant the world to me.
Pixie Wheels.
I spin and throw my arms around Tazen, clutching him and sobbing loudly. He holds me tight, and then he leans down to my ear and whispers, “I can’t give you back your mom or the past, but I can give you back every beautiful memory you’ve ever had.”
I lean up and I kiss him, I kiss him with such ferocity my throat burns, my lips ache and my heart feels like it’s bursting with love.
“I love you, Tazen Watts.”
He swipes a tear away with his thumb. “And I love you, angel.”
I look back to the car, filled with all my happy places and then I smile at each person in the room, because they’ve all come to mean so much to me. I never had many friends, never had any family, and now I have it all because of one incredible man.
“You asked me if I had a car that I loved enough I always wanted to keep,” Tazen says, tucking me into his side.
“I did,” I croak.
“Well, I finally found it. This is it, Quinn. This is that car for me. It’s the best thing I’ve ever built and it’s like that because of you. You brought passion back into my garage, you brought pride but most of all you brought spirit. You gave us back exactly what we needed.”
“My mom would be so proud of this car, of me, of Dad, of all of this.”
Tazen squeezes me close. “Angel, she would have been proud of you no matter what.”
“Thank you, Tazen,” I say, looking up at him.
“For what?”
I smile, and it’s the purest, most real smile I’ve given in a long, long time.
“For bringing back everything beautiful.”
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HARD TO FORGET
PROLOGUE
The rain is cold against my skin, each drop sinking in slowly, as if torturing me. My hair is plastered to my face and I’m furiously blinking back the droplets that insist on invading my eye space. My clothes are soaked and I can feel the chill right down to my bones. My shoes squish every time my feet hit the pavement, which is a lot.
Considering I’m running.
It’s barely past five a.m. and yet here I am, pounding the pavement. Most people think I’m crazy—the truth is I probably am. I’m twenty-eight years old and instead of acting like most normal girls, I’m out training for my job. A job I’ve studied for and fought for since the day I left high school—it’s been nothing but a constant battle, especially considering it wasn’t always what I planned on doing.
I’m a bodyguard.
Well, I’m trying to be. I have a job, I have a boss, I have a team, and it took a good long time for them to accept that I could do the job as well as them. I was constantly battling against the other members, proving my worth, and it seemed no matter what I did, they just didn’t think I had what it takes. It took me a solid two and a half years to earn even a snippet of respect.
Lucky me.
The man running beside me both loves and hates me. I’ve come to this conclusion on my own because he can’t seem to decide which one it is. One moment he’s barking orders at me, and then he’s staring at my breasts longingly. It’s alarming and kind of flattering all at once. Still, he trains with me every single day and I’m grateful for that.
/>
I hate running alone.
When I got out of school, I was going to join the armed forces, it was something I’d always wanted to do. I can’t say there was an exact reason for it, but sometimes you feel you are just born to do something. Then came the test that changed my life. Turns out you have to have exceptional eyesight to join the forces. Mine was shit, and eye surgery improved it a bit, but not enough to make the cut.
Originally, I was crushed, and for months I couldn’t figure out what to do. It was something I’d planned from day one, and to have it taken from me seemed almost cruel. Then there was a day when I was out with my uncle, and we saw a drive-by shooting. A man, dressed all in black, single-handedly saved a person’s life. Turns out that person had hired him to do just that. My passion was reborn. I could do it. I could still protect and serve.
So last year I officially became qualified to protect someone’s life. And a second experimental eye surgery worked better than I’d ever hoped.
“Where’s your head at this morning, Delaney?”
Kyle yells this through the pouring rain, snapping me from my thoughts. I turn and glare at him, trying hard not to notice how good-looking he is all wet and panting. Kyle might drive me bonkers, but that doesn’t take away from the fact that he’s considered a fairly good-looking man—well, to most. He’s not really my type, and I think he hates that.
His usually brown hair seems darker in the rain and it’s pressed to his forehead. His strong jaw is covered in a few days’ growth and his blue eyes seem gray beneath the mist. He’s over six feet tall and built like a stone, which I’m grateful for, considering I stand at five ten. Yes, five foot ten. I’m as tall as a man. This makes dating particularly difficult since I’m bigger than most of the guys who take me out.
“Jesus, Delaney, wake up!”
I blink and realize I zoned out again.
“I didn’t realize our running was a chance for us to happy chat and tell life stories,” I reply bitterly.
Kyle snorts. “It’s not, I have no interest in your life stories.”
I flash him a grin. “Sure you do.”
“No, I don’t. I’m just making sure you’re with me.”
“Well, Kyle, last time I checked I was right beside you. I think you need to get your eyes checked.”
“Shut it, Delaney. Just run.”
I grin and run. I love taunting Kyle, more than I love my job some days. Okay, maybe not more than my job, but it is entertaining. I don’t think Kyle will ever come out and admit he likes me, but I know he does. How can he not? I mean, come on, I’m pretty badass.
And I can outrun him. “You’re falling behind, old man,” I call, running ahead. “Better keep up or you’ll be the laughingstock of the team.”
“Bite me, Delaney,” he barks, running harder.
Ah yes, I do love running with Kyle.
CHAPTER ONE
I plod next door into my Aunty Bett and my Uncle George’s apartment to borrow their carton of milk. I’m sure they adore having me live next door, especially when I continually steal all their food. I’ve lived next door to them since I was nineteen. They own the apartment block, living in the biggest one themselves. When I turned eighteen, they told me if I got a job, they would rent one out to me.
I’ve been in that one for nearly ten years now.
I was raised by Aunt Bett and Uncle George when I lost my mother and father at the young age of five. They died in a car accident, and Aunt Bett and Uncle George stepped forward and took me on. They were close with my parents; Uncle George and my dad were brothers. They became like my own parents and helped me through some dark times.
They have one child, Jed, who is only a year older than me. He’s my best friend and has been since the first day I was welcomed into their home. He used to climb into the bed with me when I was crying at night and hold my hand until I stopped. He’s like my own brother and I adore him. Though there are certainly times I’m sure he doesn’t adore me. I drive him a little crazy.
I slip into Aunt Bett and Uncle George’s apartment like the stealthy little crime fighter I am. I tiptoe over to their fridge and open it, pulling out the carton of milk. My clothes are still damp from my run, but I need a cup of coffee before a shower. It’s what motivates me the entire time I run.
“I know you’re not poor, Laney.”
I squeal and spin around to see Uncle George sitting at the table in the dark, coffee in his hands.
“Uncle George,” I cry. “Why are you sitting in the dark like a creeper?”
He chuckles. “Why are you sneaking into my house like a creeper?”
I grin and wave the milk carton. “I needed milk.”
“You can’t afford your own?”
I pout. “Well, sure, but yours tastes better.”
He snorts. “I wouldn’t know. Maybe if you went to the store every now and then, I might be able to come try some of yours.”
“Good point,” I say, waving the carton again. “Okay, I’m going to just borrow a splash and bring it back.”
He grunts as if he knows I’m not going to bring it back. I smile and walk over, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “You know I love you, Uncle George. You’d be lost without me.”
I reach the door before I hear him grumble, “How can I miss you if you won’t go away?”
I smile all the way back to my apartment.
* * *
“You stole our milk again!”
The sound that fills my apartment comes from Jed and his loud, booming voice. I smile as I pull on my boots. Jed appears in my bedroom doorway a second later, glowering at me. Jed is the exact replica of George, with his raven black hair that falls messily over his brown eyes. His skin is olive and he’s tall and lean. He’s an athlete, and he runs for a living, and the look suits him.
“Morning, Jeddy,” I croon, zipping my boot.
“Don’t call me Jeddy, and give me back my milk. I can’t eat my damned Lucky Charms without any milk.”
“How old are you?”
He narrows his eyes.
“Why do you still eat Lucky Charms?” I continue.
“Because they’re magically delicious.”
I laugh. “I’ll pretend I never heard you say that. Besides, I thought you were all healthy eating?”
“I am,” he grunts. “But breakfast is my treat. Every morning. Don’t judge me, just give me the milk.”
“Can’t,” I say, standing and stomping my feet further into my boots. “I used it all.”
“Jesus, Laney, you’re such a little thief.”
I waggle a finger at him. “It wasn’t stealing, it was borrowing.”
He picks my half-empty coffee cup off the counter. “Then I’m borrowing your coffee.” He lifts it to his mouth and drains the cup.
After he’s finished, I say, “Joke’s on you because I just hocked a big loogie in that cup.”
He looks equal parts skeptical and disgusted.
I burst into laughter.
“I’m going to work. Later, handsome.”
“You wouldn’t really do that … would you?” he mutters as I walk out the door on my way to work.
Maybe today I’ll be given a case of my own.
Just maybe.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
USA Today bestselling author Bella Jewel is a fun-loving Australian who lives with her husband and two playful daughters. She’s been writing since she was fifteen, and has written a broad range of stories, with wild characters ranging from bikers to pirates. When she’s not writing, she’s kicking about on dirt bikes or riding horses. Bella has many more books planned for the future.
Visit her at bellajewelbooks.com. Or sign up for email updates here.
Don’t miss all three installments of Bella Jewel’s sexy Alpha’s Heart series!
HARD TO FIGHT
HARD TO BREAK
HARD TO FORGET
From St. Martin’s Press
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Epilogue
Hard to Forget Teaser
About the Author
Alpha’s Heart series
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
HARD TO BREAK. Copyright © 2015 by Bella Jewel.
Excerpt from Hard to Forget copyright © 2015 by Bella Jewel.
All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.