The Fall and Rise of Kade Hart: A Hart Brothers Novel by A.M. Hargrove Page A

tattered scarecrow
in my worn, out of fashion, clothing that’s too large for me and my
uneven, straggly haircut. The last time I had my hair done by a
professional was when I was still in college. That’s a sad
testament to my life.
    “What kind of stone is this?”
    “Hang on a minute.” I go to my coat and
rummage through my pocket until I land on my calendar. Hidden under
the plastic flap is the note I found on the necklace as well as my
father’s notes. I hand them to Kade and let him read them. He
recites the first one out loud.
    “‘To the keeper: wear at all times. Let not
it fall into false hands lest ye face universal destruction.’ Have
you ever exposed this to heat, cold, darkness and light?”
    “At first I exposed it to sunlight and it
changed colors. After that, I just put it around my neck and wore
it all the time. It frightened me so I was afraid to do anything
else.”
    “This is what they’re after,” Kade says.
    “That was my thought, but why not just knock
me down and take it? They have to know I have it. They could search
me and find it in a matter of seconds.”
    “Good question. You just blew my
theory.”
    “And what the heck is it anyway?”
    “Not sure. But it may have been important
enough for your family to die over.”
    This conversation addles me too much to sit.
I hop to my feet and pace. The first place I land is at the window.
Then a thought strikes me. “We need to look out the front. I bet
there are footprints there, too.”
    Kade moves like a panther, smooth and with
stealth. His shirt clings to his muscle clad body and my own body
responds. I hate myself at this moment. I shouldn’t be thinking of
this right now. I just put his life in danger by telling him about
me. I need to focus. He’s booted up with a jacket on and out the
front door. In scant minutes he’s back inside, depositing his
outerwear and heading to his office. I follow him.
    His hands speed across the keyboard, almost
as fast as mine would and I ask myself if there’s anything he’s
incapable of. Yes. Preventing my imminent death.
    “Same as in the back. Footprints but no
evidence of anyone producing them.”
    “I’m not surprised.”
    “Emmalia, this makes no sense.”
    “I really hate that name.”
    “Emmalia?”
    “Yeah. When I came up with the idea to join
the convent, I needed to change my name, so I came up with Emmalia.
Emmalia Bradford. I found some skeezy dude in Chicago to create
fake ID’s for me. A birth certificate and passport. He even had a
way of getting me a bona fide social security number. Then I had
him forge a baptismal certificate for me. He said that was the
first time he’d ever been asked to do that, but I needed it to get
into the convent. So now I even have a legal Colorado ID under that
name. Juliette doesn’t exist at all anymore. Of course, her
existence was wiped away when they wiped away my family. And it
kills me because I feel like I’m fading away.”
    He’s sitting in the chair at his desk and he
grabs and pulls me into his lap. He holds me tight as he says,
“You’re not fading away. I know you’re here. Ethel knows you’re
here. The people at the animal shelter know you’re here and all the
other places where you spend hours volunteering. Even at the
convent.”
    His arms are comforting and I take solace in
them for the moment. I’ve been alone for so long that for this
brief period I allow myself to forget my horrid past.
    My voice is muffled, my mouth pressed
against his chest when I answer, “I’m tired of being Emmalia. And
I’m tired of being scared. Sometimes when I go to bed, I pray that
I don’t wake up.”
    Hands grip my shoulders and give them a firm
shake. “Don’t say that. Ever! Life is precious, Juliette. Savor
every minute. Do you think your family would want you to feel this
way?”
    I lift my head and our mouths are mere
inches apart. What would it feel like for his lips to press against
mine? His eyes are so clear. A