Rogues – Her Heart’s Tomb Excerpt by Jennifer Kacey

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This is an anthology of 15 stories!

Rogues! Even the word conjures a special sort of hero–a playful bad boywith a heart of gold–at least when it comes to his lady love. This volume is filled with the Jack Sparrows of old–pirates sailing the high seas, Regency-era highway men, modern day jewel thieves, like Cary Grant in To Catch a Thief–men doing bad things, bending or breaking the law, but in a very sexy way. With thirteen stories sure to satisfy the reader who craves that ultimate bad boy, prepare to have your heart stolen!

My story is Her Heart’s Tomb – – –

When an international tomb raider finds herself trapped with the enemy, she unearths her most precious discovery in the only man she’s ever loved.

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Her Heart’s Tomb Excerpt

Excerpt –

The ground rumbled beneath Sonya’s feet and she held her breath. Nearly half a mile in the side of a burial chamber, with her arm poised in the air, her finger on the trigger of an aerosol can, the last thing she needed was a freaking earth quake to take her out.

Several seconds later the warm tomb quieted and all she could hear was the thump thump of her heartbeat. Losing her focus in front of an empty room shouldn’t have kicked her heart into overdrive but she’d bet her bounty that the room wasn’t empty at all.

Depressing the knob on the can of body spray, she smiled.

Three feet in front of her lit up with a complex grid of seemingly invisible threads. Empty room her ass. Then the scent hit her. His scent, nearly taking her to her knees.

Jack.

“Fuck,” she whispered to her broken heart.

Shrugging off her pack along with the nostalgia, she set the can on the ground at her feet. She slipped as many of her things she might need into the pockets of her cargo pants, and faced the room again.

Thankfully open spaces at the top of the rock cavern allowed enough light in to illuminate the area she needed to work. Infiltrate? Break into? Whatever. Some people worked in an office space or a clothing store. She wasn’t most people.

Tucking her long dark braid into the back of her tank top, she readjusted her firearm holster and palmed the butt of her custom made handgun. The one Jack made for her.

Equal parts lust and hurt filled her chest.

She choked it off and bent to snatch the deodorant spray off the rock floor. One of the only reminders she had of him. One of the two things he’d left in their apartment before he’d bugged out. The other thing he’d left? A note in his halting scrawl saying he had to leave. He loved her, needed her but he couldn’t stay and couldn’t explain why.

Spraying the area in front of her, trying to forget that it reminded her of him, she moved with a purpose. Not slow, not quick. Didn’t rush as she weaved through the mesh of trip wires. Hurrying through a booby trap would turn her into nothing more than one of the skeletons she’d seen crumpled along the way. Lesser men had fallen before her.

Good riddance.

A woman was smaller, lither, and could get in and out of more spaces and circumstances than a man ever could.

Trusting wasn’t something she did easily. But she’d trusted Jack. Trusted him enough, loved him enough to teach him what she knew. Stealing for the highest bidder wasn’t a particularly noble position but it’s what she knew. Her parents were the international jewel thieves of Taipei.

Spraying upward again, she maneuvered through the last section of filaments and then pocketed the can of spray.

Jewels.

So limiting.

She’d branched out as soon as she was on her own. Art work, statues, vehicles, artifacts. One of a kind treasures, like she was after on her current trek, were her favorite. She’d steal anything but three things. Drugs, arms or people. She wouldn’t touch those jobs.

Around a corner she wiped her brow, thankful for no draft or Jack’s spray wouldn’t have done her any good before. Checking her watch, she calculated how much longer she’d have of daylight. An hour and thirty minutes at the most then she had to get out. Getting trapped in the tomb, with no light, and plummeting temperatures would seal the deal on a shitty month.

Quietly moving along the corridor, her mind wandered back to the man who’d left her. Early in the morning he’d woken her. Her favorite way. Rolling her onto her stomach and moving between her thighs. Fucking her slow, deep. Hard.

His deep voice in her ear, whispering for her to come for him. To come on his cock.

Across their moon lit loft back in the States sat a freestanding mirror, reflecting their love-making. Her much darker skin tone thanks to her Egyptian ancestry, beneath his much lighter European complexion. The visual they made together stole her breath.

For the first few strokes she’d always wonder if she were dreaming. Because no man felt that good inside her, and not just her pussy. He was inside her, part of her, and they’d been together for almost a year.

Then—in the dark—is when he sneaked inside her heart. When all of her defenses were down and he’d asked her about her dreams and wishes. Things she’d never shared with anyone.

The one and only man she’d ever said “I love you” to.

He’d said it back. And that was supposed to mean something, right?