Crushed: A Love Letters Novel Read online

  Crushed

  A Love Letters Novel

  Kristen Blakely

  Copyright © 2015

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Contents

  Crushed

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Epilogue

  Desired

  Love Letters

  About the Author

  Crushed

  A Love Letters Novel

  I need a hero…but not him.

  Losing my job wouldn’t have fazed me.

  Losing my brother and then my job almost broke me. I’m down to my last hundred dollars and ready to accept help in any shape or form when Cody turns up on my doorstep with a job offer. And not just any job offer.

  My dream job.

  I can’t accept. I’m not that desperate.

  Because I know Cody.

  He’s the daredevil black sheep of the esteemed Hart clan, and should never have made it to his twenty-fifth birthday. What he probably hadn’t counted on, though, was his best friend dying instead of him.

  His best friend. My brother.

  I’m out of options, but nothing on Earth could possibly entice me into the arms of the man who killed my brother.

  Chapter 1

  If Felicity Rivers needed an indicator of just how far she had fallen, she found it in the realization that a good day was scarcely different from a bad day.

  The ceiling fan above her head creaked as it cast its shadow over the old carpet. The muggy air infusing her bedroom scarcely stirred in response. She did not notice the heat any more than she paid heed to her small and cramped quarters. It was a far cry from the expansive one-bedroom apartment she had occupied in a classy West End condominium six months earlier, but such was life, and life sucked.

  She sat cross-legged on her single bed, hunched over her computer notebook. Squinting against her headache and the glare of the screen, Felicity reread the e-mail she had composed, swallowed her pride, and hit “send.”

  Her gaze fell on a book on the bedside table. Her fingers twitched toward it. She had not had time to read in weeks, and she wanted, so badly, to get lost in a world where her problems did not exist.

  No, she had to do the responsible thing, and at that moment, sleeping was the responsible thing. She sighed, set her computer notebook aside, and got out of bed to turn off the light. The digital numbers on her alarm clock gleamed bright green in the darkness. It was two thirty in the morning. There seemed hardly any point in going to bed. She would have to get up in two and a half hours to begin her workday; it was a long commute into the city.

  Her cell phone rang. She snatched it up before its shrill tone disturbed Stacie, who was asleep in the next room. “Hello?”

  “Felicity? It’s Drew.”

  “Drew?” She sank down on her bed. “Why are you calling now?”

  “I was at my computer when your e-mail came in. I figured that if you were awake enough to send an e-mail, you were probably awake enough to talk.”

  She cast a confused glance at the clock. “What time is it where you are?”

  “Eight thirty. I’m in Milan, six hours ahead of you.”

  “Oh.” In spite of her throbbing head, Felicity relaxed into a smile. Drew Jackson, her former boyfriend, was a financial advisor. He had recently married Marguerite Ferrara, who modeled and designed clothes for the Italian fashion house, StilEterno. “You’re back from your honeymoon. How was it?”

  “More relaxing than I expected.”

  She laughed. “I suspect Maggie is a lot more laid back now that she has what she wants—you.”

  “That probably has something to do with it.” The easy humor vanished from Drew’s voice. “And how are you?”

  Felicity’s shoulders sagged on a silent sigh. “Well, the e-mail captures the gist of it.”

  “But why didn’t your brother’s medical school loans discharge with his death?”

  Death. The word still sent aftershocks through her. With effort, she steadied herself and focused on the conversation with Drew. “Because I co-signed them.”

  “What?”

  “The banks wanted a co-signer, and I had a steady job, so why not?” Her twin brother, Darrell, was the only family she had, and she would have done anything for him.

  Drew was silent for a moment.

  Was he trying to find the right words? Felicity rushed to fill in the silence. She didn’t want his sympathy or condolences. They distracted her from the fact that she had a problem to solve right now. “I’ve done all I know how to do. I’ve given up my West End apartment, sold just about everything I owned that was worth something, and moved across the river.”

  “To New Jersey? That’s a hell of a commute.”

  “Two hours on a good day.” Twice or three times that if the transportation network clogged up. “The savings managed to keep the loan company happy for three months, but it’s all gone now, and I don’t earn a regular income from my second job.”

  “When did you take up a second job?” Drew sounded concerned. “What do you do?”

  “Virtual assistant. Thirty bucks an hour, but I’ve only just started, and I don’t have any regulars yet. Once I do, it’ll be better.” She decided to leave out the fact that she was weeks late on her rent and her share of the utility bill.

  “Have you negotiated a loan repayment plan with the bank?”

  “Yes. It was the most lenient plan they said they could offer me.” Her gaze fell on her bedside table. Despite the darkened room, she could make out the most recent letter from the bank. It threatened to garnish her wages. Good luck, she thought bitterly. Her inability to pay her brother’s education loans was not from lack of trying.

  “All right,” Drew said. “I’ll take a look at your finances. I might be able to make a few suggestions.” He hesitated. “Will you accept a personal loan?”

  “No,” Felicity snapped out the word like a curse. She realized, belatedly, how hostile she sounded. “I mean, thank you for the offer, but I’d rather owe the government than my friends. I don’t want to declare bankruptcy, but if I have no choice—”

  “Bankruptcy probably won’t discharge those student loans, and you’d be no better off.”

  Felicity sighed. “That’s what I figured.”

  “How are you, really?” Drew asked.

  She knew he wasn’t asking about her finances, but about her. In that moment, she was grateful he could not see her in her tiny room, with the remnants of her life around her. Drew was a good man, and like many good men, he had a compulsion to protect women, whether or not they needed his protection. She had to remember that he was Maggie’s white knight now, not hers.

  Felicity forced a smile, knowing that it would trickle into her voice. “Not great, but it’ll be better here on out.” She hoped it would be enough to assuage Drew.

/>   In fact, she believed every word she had said, if only because she couldn’t imagine it getting any worse.

  Chapter 2

  “Get me closer!” Cody Hart shouted over the gusts of wind whipping past the open helicopter door. At least fifty feet below, he could see the stranded hiker, a pale speck huddled on the narrow ledge, scarcely two feet from a sheer drop off the Colorado mountaintop.

  “I can’t get closer!” Jake, the pilot, shouted back. “The wind’s too strong. It’ll slam the helicopter into the mountain. The county will be mighty pissed if it can’t sue your ass off for damages because you’re dead.”

  Cody smirked. “Real men don’t let death get in their way of getting the job done.”

  “Apparently, real men like you don’t let brains get in their way either,” Jake shot back. He grunted as he wrestled the helicopter controls. “We’ll have to come back tomorrow morning when the winds die down.”

  “We can’t. If the report’s right, that hiker’s been out there for twenty hours with nothing but a light jacket. If she stays overnight out there, she’s going to lose fingers and toes.” Cody leaned out of the helicopter to survey the area. “Land on the mountaintop. It’s only about two hundred feet down to her.”

  “Only? You’re going to climb down to her?”

  “Yeah.” Cody grabbed his backpack, loaded with everything he might need for the rescue, and shrugged it onto his shoulders.

  “And then what?”

  “I don’t know. I’m still working on the rescue plan.”

  “You’re crazy, man. No one goes mountain climbing in the dark. If Darrell were alive, he’d kill me for letting you do this.”

  Heartache stabbed through Cody as it always did at the mention of his best friend. He gritted his teeth and, with effort, managed to keep his tone nonchalant. “Yeah, well, fortunately, Darrell is no longer around to kick our collective asses. Come on, Jake; land this sucker.”

  Jake muttered a curse but swung the helicopter to a safe landing on a wide ridge on the mountaintop. Cody leapt out and scrambled toward the ledge. He lay flat on his stomach and looked over. “Hey, you, down there.”

  A muffled cry rose up to him.

  All right. The hiker was still conscious.

  “Hang tight. I’m coming.” He drove a spike into the ground, clipped his climbing rope to his belt, and looped the rope around the anchored spike. Okay, now. Remember the plan is always to die tomorrow, not today. Here goes.

  Anchored by his safety line and agile as a mountain goat, he half-jumped, half-slid down the side of the mountain. His pace slowed when he approached the stranded hiker. With care, he lowered himself onto the narrow ledge. The hiker stirred weakly. “Glad you’re here.” Her voice betrayed weakness and exhaustion. The missing person’s report filed by her mother had stated her age as twenty-three. “Hurt my leg. Can’t stand.”

  “Is it bleeding?”

  “No, just badly sprained, I think.”

  “Yeah, your family figured something of the sort might have happened. Any other injuries?”

  “Nothing broken. Just cold and starving.”

  “I can help with that.” Cody squatted and pulled out a thermal blanket and extra-thick gloves and socks from his backpack. “There’s a couple of energy bars and water in the backpack as soon as you’re ready. You just focus on staying warm while I figure out a plan to get out of here.”

  “You didn’t have a plan coming down?”

  “Not really.” And the woman’s injury nixed the initial plans Cody had been formulating in his head. Time for plan B. He glanced at her, assessed her slight frame and her curves. A hundred and fifty pounds, tops. He stared up the nearly sheer rock face. Could he carry her weight two hundred feet?

  Well, it was that or stay on the ledge until morning. Cody looked at the woman. “You think you can hang on to me?”

  “I’ll try.” She slipped her arms through Cody’s backpack.

  “Do better than try. Falling ain’t much fun out here.” Cody bent down to secure her to the climbing rope and then squatted so that she could wrap her arms around his shoulders. Cody huffed against the extra weight and began the climb. He fought for each inch of progress up the mountain in spite of the strong winds that swirled and slashed at him. Twice, he nearly lost his footing, but a combination of honed skill and raw nerve finally brought him and the woman over the cliff and onto the ridge.

  Jake ran forward as the hiker tumbled off Cody’s shoulders. “You’re a lucky devil,” Jake said to Cody and leaned down to help the woman to her feet. “Come on. Let’s get you into the ‘copter.”

  Cody stretched out his aching shoulders, picked up his fallen backpack, and followed Jake and the woman to the helicopter. His knuckles were torn and bloody from his tussles with the rock cliff, but a swipe of Neosporin would take care of them. He slouched across from the woman he had rescued and relaxed into the seat as the helicopter took off.

  Her large eyes peered at him over the edge of the thermal blanket. “I’m Joni,” she said.

  “Cody.” He grinned.

  “You saved my life.”

  “Just part of my job, ma’am. It’s what we do here with the Alpine Rescue Team.”

  By the time the helicopter landed on its helipad in Evergreen, Colorado, an ambulance was waiting to whisk the woman away to a nearby hospital. Cody glanced at the rising sun before heading into the headquarters building. Technically, his shift was not over until 8 a.m., but he figured no one was going to complain if he clocked out forty-five minutes early. He filled his mug with lukewarm coffee and sat at his desk. His gaze fell, as it always did, on a photograph of Darrell, Felicity, and him. Darrell stood between Felicity and Cody, his arms slung over both sets of shoulders. He wore a grin filled with joy and good humor. He had been the happy and good-natured one; he bridged the gap between Felicity’s serious personality and Cody’s reckless one. With Darrell gone, no one could fill the emotional and physical chasm between Felicity and Cody.

  Even so, Cody took out his cell phone, and—as he did at least once a week since Darrell had passed away—he called Felicity Rivers.

  * * *

  Felicity glanced at the clock as she rushed into the gleaming glass-encased office of Brickstein and Felder. The train into New York had been delayed by mechanical difficulties; as a result, she was fifty-seven minutes late. She was still breathing hard from running the distance between the subway station and the office building when she set her bag down on her desk in the small office she shared with Tracey Sinclair, a fellow paralegal.

  Her office phone rang, and she snatched it up. “Good morning. Brickstein and Felder.”

  Cody Hart spoke, “Felicity?”

  His smooth baritone was quiet, but it sent shockwaves of emotion through her. Anger, loss, and hate coalesced into a hard ball in the middle of her chest. Her hands trembled as she set the phone down without a word. She closed her eyes and fought for control. She was not going to let Cody ruin her day.

  Tracey walked in moments later with a cup of coffee, likely her third or fourth for the day. “Mr. Brickstein wants to see you.”

  Alarm shot up Felicity’s spine, and piled onto the tension brought on by her brief encounter with Cody. “Did he say why?”

  Tracey shook her head as she settled down at her desk and resumed her work. “The guard dog probably knows.”

  The “guard dog” was Mrs. Kepler, Mr. Brickstein’s executive assistant. Felicity stopped in the restroom to brush her windblown hair and straighten the jacket of her business suit before marching to Mrs. Kepler’s desk. “Good morning. I was told that Mr. Brickstein wanted to see me?”

  Mrs. Kepler nodded. “Gabriel Cruz is in there with him right now. It’ll be just a few minutes.” Her shrewd eyes narrowed. “You have another headache?”

  Felicity touched the tips of her fingers to the pulsing side of her skull. She had tried not to be obvious about it, but she knew she was moving with care in an attempt to not jostle her head.
“No, I think this is the same one from yesterday.”

  “Didn’t you do anything about it?”

  “Tylenol kept it under control for a while.”

  “You’re popping those things like candy.” Mrs. Kepler frowned. “Are you still staying up late working two jobs?”

  Felicity darted a quick glance over her shoulder to make sure no one was listening in on the conversation. She nodded. She had never known what compelled Mrs. Kepler to take an interest in her. The woman was notoriously unfriendly to most of the employees in the firm, but she always took a few minutes to chat with Felicity whenever they passed in the corridor or when Felicity waited, as she did now, outside Mr. Brickstein’s office.

  “It pays the bills?” Mrs. Kepler asked.

  “Not really,” Felicity said. “But most days, it buys lunch and dinner.”

  Mrs. Kepler frowned. “Apparently, not often. You’re not eating enough.”

  Felicity did not argue since it was true. “On that happy note, I’m back in my skinny jeans.” And cinching it tight with a belt.

  “You’re not pretty when you’re skinny.”

  Felicity fought to keep her lips from twitching. Mrs. Kepler’s comment was harsh, but Felicity took it for the obscure compliment that it was. She had been shedding pounds since her brother’s death. In fact, she considered it a blessing when her lack of appetite coincided with her lack of funds. It would have sucked to be broke and hungry.

  The door of Mr. Brickstein’s office opened, and Gabriel walked out. He was a respected and well-liked senior associate in the firm, a step down from a partner, but he looked tense, his lips set in a tight line. He jerked his head at the door. “You’re next.”