Page 11 of Salvaged Hearts

I wasn’t Nona—not a Sunday mass kind of man, to her devastation—but Mattie made me wonder if there really was a god out there. A god that knew Ollie needed a reason to get his shit together and that I would forget how to smile and need someone to teach me again. Some benevolent being that sent us Mattie.

By the time she pranced off the stage, my eyes were a little misty, and I frankly jumped at the opportunity to excuse myself into the hallway when my phone started buzzing.

Jackson Reynolds calling…

My old captain called for three reasons, but only one of them was good.

Nerves clipping my voice, I answered, “How’d it go?”

“How the hell are you too, asshole?”

“I’m at a ballet recital, dick.” Honestly, where we came from, these were endearments between brothers.

“Say hi to Oliver.”

“Will do. You gonna answer my question?”

“We fucking did it, Commander.” Jax was the only motherfucker allowed to call me that these days. He seemed to enjoy needling me with it at any opportunity.

My heart ratcheted up. When you lose the ability to do the saving yourself, living through your guys is the only way to keep your sanity. Or at least, it was for me. Glancing around the mostly abandoned brick corridor, I asked, “Yeah?!”

“Everybody’s home safe.” His words had me blowing out a breath I’d been holding since his name popped up on my screen. Every face of every man who put themselves on the line for our cause flashed through my mind.Home safe.My shoulders relaxed, and I leaned into the nearest cement block wall.

“How many?”

“Twenty-two.”

“Jesus Christ,” I breathed, my chest constricting as I processed that.

Twenty-two lives.Twenty-two victims saved. At least not everything about being a Hart was a nightmare. Our resources, at the very least, could make an impact. Feeling lighter and not wanting to be missing when all the dancers came out to bow, I managed a curt, “Thanks for the call, Jax.”

“I’ll be in touch.”

“Anytime.”

3

Is Something On Fire?

ALICE

Monday morning, I took extra time contouring my cheeks and styling my hair into a glossy sheet of straight chocolate strands before adding the fiercest winged eyeliner I could manage. I was no Kaia, but it was impressive, regardless. While I sat with my coffee at the kitchen counter, I pulled up Instagram, smiling when the first picture was of Ollie and the kids at what looked like a recital. I gave it a like and a quick comment congratulating sweet Mattie. Perhaps the only thing Hartless and I had in common was how much we adored Matilda.

She was a quirky little kid, but her spontaneous appearances in the office, around Greyson or Ollie’s houses, or whatever resort we piled into when the board had mandatory appearances out of town had become something of a game for us.

When the Harts beat me into estates, I was wise enough to look for hidey-holes, and if I was first into the rooms, I’d wriggle under a bed or behind a curtain like Big Bird. She always found me with a glare at my simplicity but giggled anyway.

I had no doubt she’d end up as the first female President of the United States if that’s what she wanted.

Holding myself a little taller after a night with the latest Lucy Score—a gift from my brother’s fiancé—and a bath hot enough to turn me into soup, I gathered my bag and keys and headed out to conquer Monday.

I couldn’t put the roof down on my Bronco in the morning without destroying my meticulous hair, but I’d packed my beach stuff in the back and would one hundred percent be taking advantage of the sunshine tonight. I put onWeaker Girlby Banks and let her voice guide me through the city until I pulled into the parking garage beside our building.

Car locked, I flipped my pepper spray into my hand to make the walk through the garage and out into the sunshine—a habit my big brother Jameson had insisted I acquire the first time I left home. Thankfully, I’d never had a reason to deploy it. That gratitude faltered a step, although the click of my heels stayed steady as nerves shot up my spine when I spotted the two men loitering around the corner.

It wasn’t all that unusual for paparazzi to linger when big news had broken in the Harts' world, but I had a sinking sensation in my gut. Tightening my hold on the canister in my hand, my thumb flipped the lock when one of them looked up and not-so-subtly nudged his friend when his eyes found mine. Lifting my chin, I eyed the entrance and then decided just to leave a bit of a berth around them. Ollie, Reggie, or Greyson would deal with them when they arrived.

Only, as I went to sidestep them, the first mimicked the motion. “Alessandra Rhodes?”

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