Hart To Hart

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Authors: Vella Day

Tags: #Erotica, #Medical romance, #Terrorism, #Mystery, #Romance, #Suspense

BOOK: Hart To Hart
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Hart To Hart

Montana Promises
Book 4

Vella Day

HART TO HART

Copyright © 2015 by Vella Day

All Romance Ebooks Edition

www.velladay.com

velladayauthor@gmail.com

Cover Art by Sloan Winters

Edited by Rebecca Cartee and Carol Adcock-Bezzo

Published in the United States of America

E-book ISBN: 978-1-941835-05-0

Print Edition ISBN: 978-1-941835-06-7

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author except in the case of brief questions embodied in critical articles or reviews.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events or locales, is entirely coincidental.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

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

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Other Books by the Author

About the Author

Prologue

D
arkness wrapped itself
around Ellie Hart like a thin blanket, only tonight it brought little comfort. As she hurried to her car in Old Alexandria, Virginia, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. If she hadn’t left the art gallery to pick up more punch cups, she wouldn’t have had to park so far away upon returning.

Brr
. She tugged her wrap tighter across her chest to fend off the brisk November air. Wearing the bejeweled shawl instead of her fall coat had seemed like a good idea earlier in the day. Now? Not so much.

Ellie picked up the pace, but she wasn’t able to go as fast as she wished. High heels weren’t made for speed. The heavy footsteps about a half block behind her didn’t worry her—at least, they didn’t at first—but the street was too quiet tonight, and the thudding of the heavy heels echoed off the tall buildings.

What was up with the lack of pedestrians? It was ten on a Friday night. People in the Washington, D.C. suburbs were always about—but they weren’t now for some reason. She chanced a glance behind her. Instead of some creepy man, two young girls stepped out of a bar and headed in her direction. Oh, well. Her imagination must be in overdrive.

Just keep going
. Clutching her purse tight against her chest, she spotted her car in the next block.
Yes!
As she neared, that strange sensation of being watched crept up her spine again. She shook it off and dug her hand into her purse for her keys. It must be the residual unease from the strange phone calls she’d been receiving this past week. Heavy breathers were the worst.

She unlocked her car with the remote then stepped into the street to edge her way to the driver’s side. Only then did she notice another Gerbera daisy hooked under the windshield wiper. She plucked it from under the rubber strip, hoping for a note this time, but didn’t see one. Damn.

Had her ex-boyfriend, Brian, put it there hoping for a reconciliation? Or had it been Hilton, her co-owner of the gallery? Yeah, it must have been him—to thank her for the success of tonight’s showing. But when had he placed it? When she’d dashed out to pick up more cups, the flower hadn’t been there. Strange.

It didn’t matter. On instinct, she brought the flower to her nose, but it didn’t have much of a scent—at least, not enough to make a dent over the exhaust fumes. She slipped inside the car then locked the doors. Her hand actually shook so much she had to inhale to get the key in the lock. Damn. What was her problem? Too many late nights and too much caffeine? The stress this past month had been rather intense. Or was it that she’d agreed to teach an art class two nights a week when she really couldn’t spare the time?

She started the engine and let it idle for a moment to warm up. The space in front of her was free, so she pulled forward—or rather, she tried to pull forward. It was as if she was driving through thick sand. Kerplunk. Thud. Kerplunk. Thud.
Shit
. She must have a flat. Ellie dropped her head back against the seat and groaned. She absolutely didn’t need this. Not tonight.

She pushed open the door and jumped out. The streetlights provided enough illumination to show both front tires had been slashed. “Are you kidding me? Freaking gangs.”

This couldn’t have come at a worse time. She was supposed to leave early tomorrow morning for a weeks’ vacation to visit her daughter in Montana. Now, she’d have to postpone the trip a day or two to get the tires replaced. The added expense of changing the flight was the last straw. Ellie ran her hands through her short hair and tugged hard, trying to calm down. She failed.

She supposed she could call Brian to give her a lift home, but it might not be safe to leave her vehicle here overnight. Shit. She fished out the number for roadside assistance and slipped back into the car to stay warm. Once she gave the information, she locked the doors again and waited. With each minute that passed, her anger built. Who had left the flower? And why? And what ass saw fit to damage her car? Damn, she couldn’t buy a break.

Chapter One

“M
om, I’m so
happy you finally made it,” Charlotte said, giving Ellie a hug at baggage claim.

“Thanks, sweetie. Good to see you, too.” It had been too long between visits.

Charlotte ran her hands down Ellie’s arms. “Not to be rude, but you don’t look so good. You’re shaking; you look like death warmed over. What’s wrong?”

Ellie chuckled. Had she been that blunt at twenty-three? “Way to sugarcoat it. I know I brought you up to speak your mind, but be kind. I’m just tired, that’s all. I would have been in a lot better shape if some thugs hadn’t slashed my tires.” She wouldn’t have told Charlotte about the incident had Ellie not needed to delay her flight by two days. Ugh.

“I get it. Do the cops know who did it?”

She hadn’t reported it. “No. Things like that happen all the time in our area.” Ellie checked the baggage claim belt and spotted her pink suitcase. When she grabbed it off the conveyor belt, Charlotte slipped it out of her hand. Ellie didn’t argue. She was that tired.

“What you need is to rest this week,” her daughter said.

“That and a hot cup of coffee.”

“Coffee I can do.”

The trip from Montana’s Kalispell airport to Charlotte’s cute one-bedroom bungalow was pretty, especially with the view of the mountains in the distance. Her daughter was smart enough not to grill her about what was going on in Ellie’s life—yet.

“You can stay in my bedroom. I’ll sleep on the sofa.” Charlotte headed toward the hallway with Ellie’s case.

“You’ll do no such thing. I get up a lot in the middle of the night and don’t want to disturb you.” Of late, she’d been unable to shut off her brain. Between making the Davies-Hart Gallery a success, breaking up with Brian, and starting the classes, she was worn out. Sleep came in spurts.

They argued a bit, but in the end, Ellie won.

“Fine. I’ll make some coffee.”

Ellie smiled. “Now you’re talking.”

Charlotte fixed a pot and poured both of them cups. As soon as the first sip hit her stomach, the caffeine from the rich brew soaked into her veins. “Ah, I think I’ll live.”

Charlotte picked up her cup from the kitchen counter. “Let’s sit in the living room. I want to hear what’s going on with you.”

Here it comes. Ellie followed her daughter. While the space was small, the living room was cozy with vibrant, rich colors, yet practical at the same time. Her daughter took after her artistically, which was why Charlotte now worked for an interior designer. “You’ve done a fantastic job with this place.”

“Thanks. It’s been fun.”

Ellie plopped down on the sofa while Charlotte sat on the art deco style, lime green chair across from her. She set her drink on the coffee table. “So what has you so stressed out? And don’t say it’s the tire-slashing event.”

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