Sacred Ground: Savage Cinderella Novella Series, #3

By PJ Sharon

Kidnap survivor turned rookie cop, Brianna Hathaway, and friends Justin, Cody, and Dani embark on a quest to search for a missing Marine, believed dead after having disappeared from his unit in Afghanistan. When he’s reportedly seen at a protest in Wyoming, where Native Americans are at odds with a mining company bent on destroying what could be a sacred burial ground, it’s up to Brinn to discover the truth and help the local tribe.

But life becomes complicated when Brinn and the two men vying for her affections are forced to face off with the corrupt mine developer and his hired guns—one of whom could be their missing Marine. Can they take on the powerful industrial complex to save sacred tribal lands from certain destruction?

What will be the cost to this band of brothers? And who will Brinn choose to be by her side through it all?

• Language: English
• Publisher: PJ Sharon
• Release date: Feb 22, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386185604

PJ Sharon

In addition to her day job as a Massage Therapist, Personal Trainer, and Yoga Instructor, PJ Sharon is an award-winning author of young adult books, including PIECES of LOVE, HEAVEN is for HEROES, ON THIN ICE, and Holt Medallion winner SAVAGE CINDERELLA. Follow the Savage Cinderella Novella Series with FINDING HOPE, LOST BOYS, and SACRED GROUND. HEALING WATERS completes her YA dystopian trilogy, The Chronicles of Lily Carmichael, which RT Book Reviews calls “An action-packed read with a strong female lead.” Her debut non-fiction title Overcome Your Sedentary Lifestyle (A Practical Guide to Improving Health, Fitness, and Well-being for Desk Dwellers and Couch Potatoes) is a holistic living, self-help guide packed with easy to implement tips sure to motivate today’s sedentary masses toward a more balanced and active lifestyle. For more info on PJ’s books and updates on new releases, sign up for her newsletter or visit her website.

Book preview

Chapter One

Iblasted off eight rounds in a row, tightening my grip with each pop. When I counted the last shot, I lowered the weapon, released the empty magazine, and followed the target as it sped toward me on the rail.

Cody pulled the square sheet down and studied the unmarred orange and black bull's-eye. At least you landed a couple of shots on the paper this time. A sandy brow lifted along with one corner of his mouth, revealing slightly crooked canines and accentuating a faded scar on his upper lip.

A lot of good that will do when I have to take my firearms test again next month. I had completed my training at the police academy and passed every test—except for marksmanship—and despite daily practice, my shooting was still what my friend and new roomie, Detective Daniella Hernandez, would call, pathetic.

"You just have to get past the flinch factor, said Cody, loading a new target and sending it zinging twenty-five feet down the indoor range—still an entry-level distance.

No matter how many times I fired the .40 caliber Glock—standard issue for the Atlanta PD—the anticipation of the discharge made my hand falter. I set up for another try, loading a fresh magazine and chambering a round. I readied my stance and released the safety, but before I took aim, Cody came around behind me, sending a jolt to my heart as if the gun had already gone off. For all I'd been through, I should have been threatened by his proximity. Instead, an odd and confusing attraction kept me rooted.

He took control of the gun—laying his hands over mine around the grip—and raised it toward the new target. With my back pressed against his large, solid body, and his arms locking me into place in front of him, my pulse sped to a ferocious flutter in my ear. The scent of him, a mix of spearmint gum and some earthy soap that sparked a flood of heat to my cheeks, made it impossible to concentrate on anything.

I'm not sure this is helping. The words caught in my throat.

Relax, Brinn, he said, a smile in his voice. Loosen your grip. Create only enough push-and-pull tension between your hands to steady your aim. Focus.

I complied, but the distraction of his proximity and his warm breath so close, rose the hair on the nape of my neck to full attention. What Justin would think if he could see us sent a renewed shard of guilt through me. The friendship between the two men was fraught with more than enough challenges without me being confused and caught in the middle. Moving out of Justin's apartment and into a flat with Dani was enough to have sent a strong message I was less ready for a long-term commitment than I'd thought. But the amount of time Cody and I were spending together recently was a source of tension that was only complicating my already ridiculously complicated life.

Now, with both eyes open, see past the front sight to the target and squeeze the trigger slowly until you feel the edge. I pressed steadily until a slight click of the trigger mechanism sounded. Take a breath, hold it, and release it slowly as you complete the pull. I followed his instructions, sighting down range at the center mass of the target. Releasing the held breath, I squeezed. Even with ear and eye protection, the bang made my insides jump. But with Cody at my back and his steady hands on mine, the bullet hit its mark dead center. I fired again and again until the magazine was empty, then eyed the obliterated center of the target with both frustration and a renewed sense of empowerment. I hit the safety, lowered the gun, and holstered the weapon, creating some distance from the Marine turned FBI agent who stood grinning down at me.

With short, spiky blond hair and green eyes the color of the sea, Cody Hansen dwarfed my lean, five-foot-seven-inch frame. He flipped a switch and the target zipped toward us. I studied the tight grouping and smiled.

Maybe one of these days, I'll be able to hit the target on my own. If I wanted to graduate from the police academy, that day needed to come sooner rather than later. They'd given me a break due to my history—allowed me to retake my firearms test sometime in the next month, but my future as a police officer depended on me mastering the skill. If not, I'd be stuck on desk duty and answering phones forever.

As if on cue with that grim thought, Cody's cell phone rang, interrupting the moment. He looked at the incoming number and his expression melted to one of curiosity and then shifted to concern.

I need to take this, he said as he exited the range. I watched through the glass window as he removed his ear and eye protection and answered the call. Trying not to appear nosy, I kept one eye on him while I cleaned up the shell casings and packed away my weapon, extra magazines, and an ammo loader into a case. He hung up as I came through the second gray door. I set the bag with our equipment on the table in the meeting room and met his gaze, a sudden wave of apprehension washing over me. His tanned face was pale.

What is it? I asked.

He reached for a chair and lowered himself into it. That was my half sister, India.

I'd only learned of a sister a few months before. When I asked Justin about her, he told me how Cody's father had abandoned him and his mom when he was young only to show up in his life fifteen years later, widowed and with a teenaged daughter in tow, asking for another chance. Justin figured it was the main reason Cody joined the Marines after graduation and one of the things Justin and Cody shared—a deep resentment for their fathers. I wasn't clear as to where Cody and India's relationship stood.

What did she want? I touched his arm to pull him out of the trance that had him staring blankly at his phone.

She said she saw...Steve.

Steve? The name didn't register at first, but as it dawned, I felt my face drain too. As in Justin's brother Steve?

Cody's head shook in disbelief, but his words confirmed it. Yeah...that Steve. The one who went missing in Afghanistan two years ago. His jaw tightened and a look of realization dawned. If it is him...that means he...likely deserted his post.

I settled into the chair beside him. It also means he let you and everyone else think he was dead. The thought of Justin's response to such a notion sent my head spinning. If it was true, Justin would be ecstatic to know his brother was alive, but he would be furious at the deception. Justin hated secrets and lies. He'd lived with too many growing up. He wouldn't stop searching until he found Steve and discovered the whole truth. I glanced up at Cody, whose brows were drawn together, his lips pressed tight.

But what if he really is alive? I said, bringing him out of his dark thoughts. Don't you think he deserves a chance to explain? My gaze met his with what I hoped was a sense of calm and reason showing through. I knew from experience that things weren't always what they appeared to be. Jumping to conclusions won't help anyone, I finished. The struggle behind his eyes made my heart ache. Cody not only felt responsible for Steve enlisting, he blamed himself for his friend's disappearance as well. Justin holding Cody accountable hadn't helped. If Steve was alive, that would change...everything.

He wouldn't just walk away. Something must have happened to make him leave his post. Cody studied a scratch on the metal table, rubbing the groove with a forefinger.

Our gazes met. Expression softening, a hint of a smile curved his lips. His jawline lost its edge, and I considered what he must have looked like as a boy. His hand covered mine, sending a rush of warmth up my arm.

I hate it when you're right. His smile brought tiny crinkles to the corner of his eyes, the green turning to hazel against the background of his dark blue T-shirt. Which you are most of the time, he added wryly, squeezing my hand and releasing it as he stood. Uncomfortable heat rose, and I turned away to gather the gear bag.

We should go. I'm supposed to meet Justin at his place for dinner. He needs to know about...

Brinn, wait.

I stopped in the doorway and turned to face him. Cody's expression and tone changed to one of urgency. You can't tell Justin. Not yet...not until we know for sure.

I gave him a long look, considering his plea and understanding his hesitation. But knowing Justin, I thought better of trying to hide the information from him—even if India was wrong.

I won't lie, and I won't keep Justin in the dark...not about this.

Chapter Two

W hat are you saying ? Justin stared at Cody, his chestnut brown eyes unusually dark.

I didn't want to say anything until I was sure, but Brinn convinced me we should tell you. Cody shot me a glance across the breakfast counter.

Justin's apartment, a neatly kept one bedroom with a galley kitchen and a combination dining/living room, looked out over the city of Atlanta. It was a far cry from my tiny dilapidated cabin in the hills where I'd spent most of my life, but I'd moved out to establish some independence in a world I was newly discovering. Justin and I were still trying to find our place in each other's lives with all the changes.

Justin stared blindly at Cody. Although in the middle of cooking a delicious smelling chili, he abruptly turned off the burner and put a lid on the pot.

How can he be...? Where did she see him? Did she talk to him?

Cody raised a hand to stop the onslaught of questions and relayed his sister's message, filling in what few details he knew. His sister reported spotting Steve in the middle of a protest outside the State Capitol building in Cheyenne, Wyoming and again at a mining company in a little town outside Rock Springs. India was with the protestors camped out across the street from the property. She couldn't get close enough to get a picture, but she was certain it was him. You know India. She's kind of...flaky, he concluded.

Flaky, maybe, but not someone who would make this up. Justin rounded the counter and reached for his cell phone on the table.

Who are you calling? Cody asked, alarm sounding in his voice.

I'm calling my dad. He's got connections in the State Department. If anyone can sort this out, he can. Besides...he'd want to know. Justin's relationship with his father, a recovering alcoholic, was more than complicated. But ever since Cal Spencer—at his son's request—had stepped in and orchestrated the rescue that saved me and Cody from a Columbian cartel only months before, the two had been working on reconciliation.

You can't! Cody grabbed Justin's hand, and a silent tension ran through the room as their eyes met.

Justin pulled his arm free. The hell I can't.