A Jar of Hearts Read online

  A Jar of Hearts

  PUBLISHED BY:

  Clarissa Cartharn

  Copyright © Text Clarissa Cartharn 2015

  Amazon Edition

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  A JAR OF DREAMS

  Clarissa Cartharn

  Book 2 in the Jar series

  Can be read as a stand alone

  A blind woman caught in the crossfire between an assassin and a gang. A man in a fight for his life and the woman he loves.

  James Connelly is on a mission to assassinate the mayor of San Diego and make it out of The Pacheco gang alive. He thinks he has it all covered until Anne Mullen comes storming back into his life. Now all that matters is keeping her safe. But will she trust him with her heart when she discovers that he is not who he is at all?

  I’ve been blessed with a lot of things in life- a beautiful family, career, and the joy of simply living it. But I have to admit that many of my blessings are owed to people who have given me a piece of their hearts, being there by my side in my quests, only so I can achieve my dreams.

  To my family; my kindred spirit- Cyma Rayne; Alisha Short, my steadfast reliance, who bears me patiently through the many trials in my writings and breakdowns, and Lorena Tucholke, whose faith in me pushes me on to produce better stories for my readers…

  Thank you.

  CONTENTS

  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

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  CHAPTER 33

  CHAPTER 34

  CHAPTER 35

  CHAPTER 36

  COMING SOON!

  THE YEARNING

  A JAR OF DREAMS

  CAPTIVE- VEILED DESIRES

  CAPTIVE- VEILED DESIRES: CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 1

  A knock rapped on his door, freezing Eric in the middle of dressing up. He had just had his shower, and tomorrow, he was going to finally start a new life with Anne. But Kurt Lynch’s death still loomed dark and heavy in his memory.

  It should. He had put a bullet through his vile heart only a few hours ago.

  The knocking rapped again, shorter and quicker, indicative of an emergency.

  “Ricky Prescott? My name is Mark Dane. Can I talk to you?” the man said from the other side of the door.

  Eric scratched his jaw as he glanced over at the balcony doors. Who were they? And why were they looking for him? This didn’t sound too good, and rationality told him to make an escape while he could.

  “Come on, Ricky,” the man insisted. “I just want to talk.”

  If he was a cop, he would have announced his warrant by now, Eric deduced.

  He walked up hesitantly to the door and opened it.

  “Hi, I’m Mark Dane,” the man said as he gave out his hand.

  Eric shook it while he glanced over at the other man by Mark’s side. They were both dressed alike in dark suits. They weren’t politicians, he guessed. Or businessmen. Their roughened hands and strong builds told him they were anything but that.

  “This is my partner, Tim Rice,” Mark said. “Can we come in?”

  Eric narrowed his eyes, gauging them silently. He could take them both if they caused any trouble. He nodded and led them into his room.

  “What is this about?” he asked.

  “We’ll cut to it,” Mark started. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his badge. He flipped it open for Eric to see.

  Eric tensed. The FBI?

  “We know who you are… Eric,” Mark said. “We know everything there is to know about you. Your history, your adopted family, your career as an assassin and your latest squeeze, Anne Mullen.”

  Eric’s temples pulsed nervously. “What do you want?”

  “We need a marksman. Someone with a good eye and highly skilled. Someone like you.”

  “And you don’t have enough of those in the entire agency?” Eric said.

  Mark quieted as if contemplating something. “You’ve got to admit, Eric, there are some things the FBI can’t just do. Plans can go awry and in such case we need someone with a history.”

  “You need me to take the fall.” Eric let out a puff of air. “I think you should leave now.”

  “We will always have your back,” Mark added quickly. “Yes, you might need to take the blame and you would have to deny working with us, but we will do what it takes to give you your freedom.”

  “You should really go now.”

  “Anne…,” Mark said quickly and Eric stilled.

  What had any of this to do with Anne?

  “Does Anne know anything about your time as an assassin? I’m sure she would be very interested, especially if we report your whereabouts to the cops. If you get arrested, you could be looking at life imprisonment- ten to fifteen years for each kill. And believe me, Eric, we have ways of doing that.” Eric paled and Mark continued, “You’d never see Anne again, and I am going to bet she would never want to see you anyway.”

  Eric quieted, weighing his offer. “I need some time to think about this,” he murmured at last.

  Mark nodded. “Of course. We’ll contact you in a week and hopefully then you will be a part of our team.”

  He waited for the men to leave his room patiently. But all that while his mind rapidly sifted through every goddamned possibility for an escape. He closed the door, double-checking its locks. He needed to get away to some place far where they would never be able to reach him. And he needed to take Anne with him. He had to make it look like a new start in a new country so she wouldn’t suspect it. But how could he make it possible? Perhaps a vacation gradually turning into something more permanent? And who could help him do this?

  Jamal. He ran his fingers through his hair. He hated to ask his brother for anything, but Jamal traveled a lot because of his basketball profession. If he bought a ticket to Europe tomorrow, no one would bat an eyelid. There was the chance they were watching his adopted brother’s movements as well, but that was a risk he would have to take. What other possibilities did he have?

  And the more he thought about it, the more it seemed like the best out of all his options. He pulled out his phone and dialed Jamal’s number.

  Murmurings buzzed through the office as its staff busied themselves with their tasks. Mark closed the door of his Chief Supervisor behind him, softening the noise. He pulled up a chair and sat across from the man whom he had worked under for almost twenty years.

  “How’s the matter on Eric Tanner?” Max Crombie asked him.

  “He’s a smart man. He’ll know what’s best for him.”

  Max lifted his brow. “You seem so sure.

  “With a disab
led girlfriend like Anne Mullen?” Mark snorted. “I doubt he would go too far.”

  Urgent knockings rapped on the door, interrupting them. A young officer poked his head into the office. “I’m sorry to bother you but…,” he hesitated, looking directly at Mark. “But Jamal Irvine has bought two tickets to Ecuador.”

  “That sonofabitch,” Mark swore under his breath as he scrambled out of his chair.

  “I thought you had this under control,” Max growled.

  “I have it!” he shouted back.

  “Mark, if Tanner gets to Ecuador, your ass is on the line!”

  “He won’t!”

  He and the young officer rushed together towards his station.

  “Contact Plancke!” he ordered. “Tell him to activate phase 2.”

  Eric glanced about him as he strode quickly over towards Anne’s office. He would surprise her and she would be glad, he knew. But that was not the only reason he needed to get to her as soon as he could. He wanted to be sure she was safe before the FBI got to her. What did they want from him anyway?

  He frowned, skimming through the possibilities. If they wanted him arrested, he would have been nesting in a cell by now. He had risked it and stayed in his hotel room till the morning and the fact that they let him still wander freely proved they wanted more from him. His test of his theory although had him awake all night, anticipating they would burst through his door at any time.

  He stood at the traffic lights and spotted her exit her building foyer. He smiled. She looked radiant in her green shift dress and matching blazer. They reminded him of her eyes, and he had always loved her eyes. He loved everything about her, but it had been her eyes that he had always been fixated with. He reached for his phone in his pocket and dialed her number. He had to let her know he was here before she could catch the next bus heading her way.

  But just then something stabbed him in the back of his thigh and he let out a wince. He looked about him and saw a man pick up his umbrella from the pavement.

  “I’m sorry,” the man mumbled with a little tremble in his voice before rushing off away, blending into the crowd.

  Eric raised his brow suspiciously. He couldn’t possibly be an agent, could he? He rubbed the gnawing pain in his thigh. The man was too ordinary to be an agent. A balding guy with a little bit of belly falling over his belt. He shook his head. He was just being too cautious. He heard Anne’s voice come over into the phone and he raised it up to his ear as he began walking hurriedly through the crossing.

  However, a shrill of skidding wheels caught his attention and he turned abruptly up to look at the source. A truck was heading towards him and it would hit him if he didn’t move. But his legs were growing numb and weak. His heart raced, his mind in a state of panic as he fought desperately to move away from the line of the oncoming vehicle. Finally, when his legs no longer were able to support his weight, he collapsed to the ground, directly in the path of the truck propelling towards him.

  His eyes fluttered as the sounds of the defibrillator filled his ears. The room echoed with the squabbles of two people.

  “You weren’t supposed to kill him, Jason!”

  “I didn’t touch him! I swear I didn’t touch him! He fell before I did!”

  “Then why the fuck isn’t he awake by now? How much of that tranquilizer was shot into his fucking leg?”

  “You’d have to ask Lucas that. He was the one who administered it. I was only supposed to knock him over.”

  “Calm down, Mark,” another said. “He’s coming out of his sedation now. And no, you can’t talk to him yet. Let him recoup a little first.”

  “But doc…”

  “I said not yet, Mark,” the doctor replied sternly. “If you push it, you will lose him. It’s been eight hours. It’s unbelievable that he even came around. That tranquillizer could have put a horse down.”

  Eric’s pupils flickered beneath his heavily sedated eyelids, catching a glimpse of the agent who had visited him in his motel room. He laid his head back on the pillow helplessly. Where was Anne? What had happened to Anne?

  “How are you feeling now?” Doctor Skeritt asked.

  Eric nodded, sitting upright in his hospital bed. “Better.” He glanced about his room, assessing it silently. The odor of sterilization filled the air. Medical equipment graced one corner of his room. The practicality of his room told him that he was indeed in a hospital. But the FBI was involved and he didn’t trust them.

  “You’re in the medic wing of a FBI base,” Doctor Skeritt said, studying him carefully. “But I suppose you had guessed that already.”

  “What am I doing here?”

  “I can answer that for you,” Mark interrupted, strolling into the room casually. “Is it okay if I talk to him now?” he asked the doctor who had his brow raised disapprovingly at him.

  “You’re definitely eager.” The doctor shook his head. He gave one last pitiful glance at Eric and then began walking out of the room. “Go easy on him, Mark. His body is still pulling through that dose.”

  “So,” Mark said with a tired sigh as he pulled up a chair to sit beside him. “Why did you do it, Eric?”

  “Do what?”

  Mark swiped a hand over his face. “Let’s just stop with the games, okay? We know your brother, Jamal, bought two tickets to Ecuador on your behalf. You were intending to escape there with your girlfriend.”

  “Jamal bought two tickets to Ecuador?” Eric lifted his brow amusedly. The least he could do was enjoy this. As for an escape, he would have to figure that one out later.

  “We know they were meant for you, Eric. You are well aware that Ecuador has a loopholed extradition treaty with the United States. And if there is one place you could have successfully remained safe and hidden, it would have been Ecuador.”

  “Thanks. Now I know.” Eric smiled.

  “Why don’t you just help us, Eric? We don’t need to do this. Fuck, I didn’t need to shoot you down like a rampant elephant if you hadn’t tried to run.”

  “I am done with this business. All I want to do is go back home.”

  “Ahh right… the girlfriend, Anne Mullen.” Mark sat back in his chair lazily. “You must be curious about her. How she is… what she is doing… waiting for you perhaps?”

  Eric tensed. Those questions had definitely hounded him, but he had been too determined to show Mark that Anne didn’t matter to him as much as she really did.

  Mark leaned towards Eric. “She thinks you’re dead. She’s mourning for your loss.”

  Eric stared at him with disbelief. “What are you talking about?”

  “We staged your death. Both she and your family are preparing for your funeral.”

  “That’s not possible. I am alive.”

  “I know that. Doctor Skeritt does, and a few others. But not the rest of the world.”

  “But my body at the funeral… surely, they would know.”

  “You don’t really know how we work, do you?” Mark clicked his tongue. “They are burying a substitute.”

  “How… I wasn’t hurt at the accident…” Eric was blubbering, trying to make sense of what Mark was telling him.

  “No one knows that.”

  “There were people…”

  “Who? The people who witnessed your so-called accident? Do any of them know you personally?”

  Eric fidgeted on his bed, his temples pulsating rapidly. And if his blurring memory could be trusted, it was the very same truck driver from his accident who had been arguing with Mark last night.

  “So whose body is it?” He tried to sound as nonchalant as possible.

  “Some John Doe.”Mark shrugged. “An unclaimed body. We played with the face a little so it couldn’t be recognizable. As far as your family is concerned, you’re as dead as a door post.”

  “And what if I walk out of here and tell them I’m not?” Eric lifted his eyes, staring straight into the other man’s, daring him.

  “If you walk out of here without our consent, you wal
k straight into prison,” Mark whispered threateningly. “And you never see your family again. Furthermore, you will spend a good portion of that time in solitary confinement regretting why you didn’t take this opportunity when it was given to you.”

  Eric clenched his fists under his blanket. The bastard had cornered him well. “What is it you want me to do?”

  He saw the man’s lips curl into a grin and he wanted to bash it out of him. But if there was anyone who would break the news of his seedy past to Anne, it would be he, himself. And if that meant bending to the whims of a sonofabitch like Mark Dane, then so be it.

  Eric sat in a discussion room while Mark dimmed its lights. He watched the man maneuver his way to the front of the room and play with his computer.

  “We need you to undertake a covert operation,” Mark started, his eyes still keenly glued on the contents of his presentation. “What you will be dealing with is one of the worst gangs in the United States- The Pachecos. And that is why we would require you to refrain from any further contacts with your family or Anne Mullen.”

  Eric stiffened. He didn’t like the sounds of this at all. Perhaps, he should risk prison life after all.

  “It would be better if you stayed dead for your family, Eric,” Mark said, studying him carefully. “It’s the only way to ensure they will be safe. Even the cops won’t touch these guys. They govern their territory fiercely and they don’t take too kindly to treachery. And this could possibly mean the death of those you love. You would be worried about them and that in turn could hamper our operation.”

  Eric felt his rage bottling inside him. The truth was this man cared nothing for his family. Eric knew he was being made a pawn in this game, and when the time came he would be tossed aside for the queen, whatever that was. His jaw tightened. He needed a diversion or he would explode and that wouldn’t fare well with him at all. “Tell me about The Pachecos.”