Hidden Heart (21 page)

The car stopped after what seemed like an eternity. We could hear muffled voices and then the thump of doors as Ingrid and the guards got out of the car.

And then there was blinding daylight and fresh air as the restrictive sheet of metal above us lifted. Glorious, because we were no longer trapped in the cramped trunk. Terrible, because there, looming above us, was the iconic circular Capitol Records Building, shaped like an old-fashioned record player with stacked disks and a needle sticking out of the top. I’d read the light atop the needle flashed Morse code for Hollywood twenty-four hours a day.

I blinked and looked around the parking lot as I was pulled from the trunk by one of the Elven guards. The action movie rescue scene I’d been hoping for was apparently not going to happen. The lot was full of high-end cars, but not a single person was in sight who might call 9-1-1 on our behalf or intervene in any way.

Holding us securely, the guards followed Ingrid, marching us toward the building and the doom awaiting us inside.

And that’s when a shiny black limo sped into the parking lot and skidded to a stop near us. The back door sprang open, and Lad came out at full speed, crashing into the guard who held me and knocking him on his backside.

The front passenger door opened and the driver leaned over the seat toward me, motioning for me to get in. I ran to him and slid inside. Looking back over my shoulder, I saw Vancia seated in the back.

“Thank you for coming,” I said to her.

She gave me a withering look before turning her attention back to the scene outside her window. “I didn’t come for
you
.”

Now Lad was grappling with the second guard, the one who was restraining Nox. The guard he’d attacked first was getting to his feet behind Lad, and Ingrid was fishing in her purse, no doubt for the gun.

I jiggled the door handle furiously but it refused to open. The driver must have locked it. He gripped the steering wheel, staring straight ahead—glamoured, no doubt. He must have been told not to leave the car—his primary job to provide us all a means of escape.

“Let me out,” I screamed at him. Then I turned back to Vancia. “Do something. They’re going to hurt him.”

She let out a bitter laugh as she opened her door. “Which boyfriend are you concerned about most, I wonder?” Then she got out.

I beat on the window of the passenger side, desperate to help. “Lad—watch out—she has a gun,” I cried as Ingrid drew the weapon from her purse and aimed it at him.

Nox broke free from his distracted captor and leapt toward her, coming between her and Lad as she squeezed the trigger.

“No!” My scream filled the car.

Nox’s body jerked back as the bullet made contact. He hit the pavement in front of Lad, going to his knees and then one hip, clutching his left shoulder. Ingrid grinned and aimed the gun again, this time at Lad.

Vancia’s command was loud and authoritative as she strode toward the group. “Stop. Don’t shoot either one of them.”

I could tell Ingrid and her guards recognized Vancia on site because their eyes went wide and they all fell back a few steps.

“Let me out, let me out, let me out!” I demanded, directing my own glamour at the stoic driver.

Finally, he hit the unlock button, allowing me to exit the car and run over to where Nox now lay on the ground.

“Oh my God. You’re shot,” I said through tears. “Where were you hit? Does it hurt?”

What a dumb question. His face was white with pain, and tiny beads of sweat covered his skin. “He heard you,” he said weakly. “He heard you.” 

Nox’s eyes closed, though he was still breathing. Maybe he’d passed out from the pain. I looked up at the Elves surrounding me. “He needs an ambulance. Someone call 9-1-1,” I demanded.

Ingrid snarled at me. “Shut up,
human
. He’ll be
taken care
of soon enough.”

Now Vancia spoke, and her tone was imperious. “You’d better hope so,
house manager
. You’ve just shot the heir to the Dark Throne.”

Ingrid’s face lost all color, contorting with alarm. “What do you mean? Your father—” 

“My
father
was merely holding the position while the search continued for the missing heir. And he is found.”

Ingrid and the two guards dropped to their knees and bowed as Vancia continued. Gesturing toward Nox, who lay bleeding in a Los Angeles parking lot at the corner of Hollywood and Vine, she said, “This is Nox Jerrik, son of Gavin Jerrik—and he is our
true
leader. He
is
the Dark King.”

Lad and I crossed the tarmac at LAX toward a private jet belonging to Davis Hart. After instructing Ingrid and her henchmen to let us go, Vancia had called the pilot and told him to fly us non-stop to the Oxford airport near Deep River tonight. She wouldn’t be joining us. Neither would Nox.

I didn’t know where Davis was or what Vancia had told her
Pappa
. I wasn’t even sure he knew I was in L.A. for anything other than a summer vacation and some college visits, the cover story I’d given Mom.

What he
would
know soon enough, if he didn’t already, was that Nox was alive and well—and a deadly threat to his rule. And he’d know his adoptive daughter Vancia had betrayed him by choosing her childhood friend over the man who’d raised her.

All
I
knew was I’d failed. I’d come out to L.A. to save Emmy from enslavement in a fan pod, and now I was leaving without her. And without Nox, who’d risked everything to help me.

“What do you think will happen to him?” I asked Lad as we watched our bags being loaded onto the Lear jet.

“He’ll be all right,” he reassured me. “He’s smart. And now he’s got Vancia on his side. She’s smart, too, and she’s furious at Davis for pretending to care for her when all he really cared about was protecting his own interests. She’ll make sure the Dark Council sees Nox and hears his story. I’m sure it’s already happened. By now they know the validity of his claim to the Dark Throne. There’s nothing Davis can do to him.”

“Maybe not.” I sniffed. “But what will the
Dark Throne
do to him?”

“Try not to worry about it. It’s out of your control. For now, concentrate on your mom and your grandma and father, on going home.”

I nodded. He was right. My mom might be the only person I
could
help. I couldn’t help Nox. I couldn’t help all those poor girls stuck in fan pods around the world, being used, sometimes tortured by Dark Elves who saw their lives as less valuable than Elven lives, as toys, as disposable. Lad didn’t want or need my help—he was going home to his people, and he had an eternal future to look forward to with his perfect Elven bride. 

The roar of an engine caught my ear. A car was speeding toward us across the tarmac. I darted a glance at Lad, but he didn’t seem alarmed. In fact, he smiled widely.

The car stopped. An obviously Elven driver got out and opened the back door. And Emmy emerged.

I looked back at Lad, who was beaming at me expectantly. “You knew? How did you…”

“Go on,” he said, nudging me toward my long lost friend.

I ran to Emmy, reaching her and locking her in a death squeeze.

“Ryann? What are you doing here?”

I didn’t bother to answer her question. She obviously didn’t remember seeing me at Reggie’s house. I’d have plenty of time on the airplane to explain. “I’m so happy to see you,” I told her. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you, too,” she said, still looking bewildered. “But I’m kinda bummed out.”

“Why?”

“I got kicked out of the fan pod. Ingrid came into my room a little while ago with this bitchy blonde girl, and they told me to pack.” Her face crumpled into teary disappointment. “My dream is over, Ryann.”

I hugged her again, filled with a mixture of sympathy and sweet relief. “Yeah, but Emmy—your life—” I got choked up and had to start again. “Your life is just beginning.”

Unconvinced, she trudged tiredly up the boarding stairs into the plane. I followed her, but stopped midway, turning back to Lad. His extraordinary green eyes were now level with mine.

“I get why Vancia saved Nox—and you, of course. But why did she help Emmy? Why help me?”

Those eyes were soft and glistening now, staring back at me. “Ryann, there’s so much you don’t know. So much I couldn’t tell you, things I had to keep hidden in my heart.”

My own heart trembled with hope at the look on his face, the tender sound of his voice. “What things?” I whispered.

Lad lifted a finger and stroked my cheek softly. “Let’s go home, and I’ll tell you.”

THE END

Thank you for reading HIDDEN HEART, Book Two of the Hidden Trilogy. If you enjoyed it, please consider leaving a review on
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This is an important part of the book for me because without the people named here, HIDDEN HEART wouldn’t exist.

              First to you, my reader... thank you for giving my books a chance to entertain you and touch your heart.

              Huge thanks go to my lovely editor Judy Roth for her wonderful work and to Cover Your Dreams for another beautiful cover.               

                            I am forever grateful for my amazing critique partner, McCall, for her words of wisdom and huge heart. I’d be nowhere without my brilliant and hilarious Savvy Seven sisters and the Dauntless girls. Love and thanks to the rest of the fabulous Dreamweavers and my Lucky 13 sisters for their support, good advice, virtual Prosecco, cupcakes, and cabana boys. #teamworddomination. 

              I’m blessed to be “doing life” with some amazing friends. Love to Bethany, Chelle, Margie, and the real housewives of Westmoreland Farm. Special thanks to Mary and CM and Bria for all the great book (and life) talks.              

              To my first family for your unconditional love and the gift of roots and wings. And finally to the guys who make it all worthwhile—my husband and sons. And thank you to the rest of my friends and family for your support and for just making life good. 

Amy Patrick grew up in Mississippi (with a few years in Texas thrown in for spicy flavor) and has lived in six states, including Rhode Island, where she now lives with her husband and two sons.

              Amy has been a professional singer, a DJ, a voiceover artist, and always a storyteller, whether it was directing her younger siblings during hours of “pretend” or inventing characters and dialogue while hot-rollering her hair before middle school every day. For many years she was a writer of true crime, medical anomalies, and mayhem, working as a news anchor and health reporter for six different television stations. Then she retired to make up her own stories. Hers have a lot more kissing.

I love to hear from my readers. Feel free to contact me on Twitter
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Chapter One Guardian

Chapter Two Finished

Chapter Three Vanishing Act

Chapter Four Above it All

Chapter Five Deal With The Devil

Chapter Six Up Up and Away

Chapter Seven Dealbreaker

Chapter Eight Fail

Chapter Nine Fangirl Hell

Chapter Ten Losses 

Chapter Eleven Sway

Chapter Twelve Vipers

Chapter Thirteen News From Home

Chapter Fourteen Midnight Snack

Chapter Fifteen First Loves 

Chapter Sixteen The Movie Star

Chapter Seventeen Truth or Dare

Chapter Eighteen Hidden Heritage

Chapter Nineteen Reunion

Chapter Twenty Stronger Than You Know

Chapter Twenty-One Trade

Chapter Twenty-Two Reggie’s House

Chapter Twenty-Three Pool Party

Chapter Twenty-Four Cells

Chapter Twenty-Five A Ride You Can’t Refuse

Chapter Twenty-Six The Dark King 

Epilogue

Afterword

Acknowledgments 

About the Author