Unwritten Read online

  Unwritten

  Jenna Hartley

  Contents

  Letter to Reader

  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

  Epilogue

  The Salvation Society

  Acknowledgments

  Books by Jenna Hartley

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2020 by Jenna Hartley.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations embodied in a book review and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental

  Cover Design © 2020 Mignon Mykel of Oh So Novel Premades

  Editing: Lisa A. Hollett

  For Ellen.

  You’re a dear friend, and I so appreciate all your encouragement and support. You came into my life at a time that I’d lost some of my positivity and spark, and you helped me find it again. Thank you for, well, for everything.

  Letter to Reader

  Dear Reader,

  I’m honored and excited to be writing in Corinne Michaels’ Salvation Series. I devoured her books long before I started writing myself, and I loved her protective heroes and feisty heroines. I had so much fun revisiting some of my favorite characters from the Salvation Series, and I hope you’ll enjoy seeing Mark, Liam, Jackson, Catherine, Charlie, Quinn, and Ashton interact with Connor and Olivia in Unwritten.

  Connor and Olivia’s story was so much fun to write—not only because of the ties to Corinne’s world, but also to my Love in LA Series. Olivia’s father is the main character in Unpredictable, and Olivia and Connor’s story continues there as well. I think of all the couples I’ve written, they might be my favorite. And I hope you’ll fall in love with them as much as I have.

  XO,

  Jenna Hartley

  Chapter One

  Olivia

  “Why do you always let her do that?” Alyssa hissed, following me down the hall to my cubicle.

  Someone had jammed the copier again, and I could hear them cursing as telephones rang out around the office. We’d just finished another Monday morning meeting, and I was thankful it was over.

  “Do what?” I glanced at Alyssa over my shoulder, noting the way our male coworker’s eyes followed her, tracking her every move.

  She was gorgeous—small and petite with red hair that flowed around her. I was the giant ogre to her fiery pixie, towering over her by nearly a foot. And where her hair was a vibrant red, mine was a boring brown. Where her eyes were this unusual hazel color, mine were pale green. We couldn’t be more different in both looks and temperament, but we were the best of friends, bonding over our mutual love of books and good food.

  “Steal your ideas,” she said.

  “Shh.” I dragged her inside my cubicle. It wasn’t fully enclosed, but it was at least more private than the hallway. And she needed to keep her mouth shut.

  “What?” She lifted a shoulder. “This isn’t the first time Nicole took credit for your idea, and it won’t be the last.”

  I busied myself with booting up my computer and entering the password. “What does it matter? Everyone wins. Besides, she’s more persuasive than I am.”

  “Bullshit.” I could feel Alyssa’s glare even without looking. “You’re smart. You’re persuasive when you’re passionate about something. Hell, remember when you convinced me to skydive for your twenty-fifth birthday?”

  I laughed, remembering that day all too well. It had been both terrifying and exhilarating. To date, it remained one of the most reckless things I’d ever done. Sometimes, I still couldn’t believe I’d done it.

  “And I swore that I’d never willingly jump out of a plane,” she continued. “That anyone who would was crazy.”

  “Yeah, but you’re my best friend. And you love me.” I batted my eyelashes at her.

  “That’s not why you were able to sway me.” She planted her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes at me. “I just don’t get it. Why won’t you let your voice be heard?”

  “Because it’s enough that my ideas are being implemented. I don’t need a pat on the back.” Why was that so difficult to understand?

  She leaned her hip against the wall of my cubicle. “I heard Adrina’s leaving. If you aren’t careful, Nicole will be the one getting promoted—on your ideas.”

  I waved a hand through the air. “So what? I don’t care about being promoted.”

  “Yeah.” She laughed, taking a seat in the chair in the corner. “Because you’re loaded.”

  “My dad’s loaded—not me,” I corrected.

  “And your mom,” she said.

  I rolled my eyes. “Whatever.” I blew out a breath, my shoulders tightening at the mention of my parents and their wealth. In my experience, money had been the source of more harm than good. And no amount of money could buy happiness or guarantee love.

  “So…you don’t want to make decisions about how to promote new releases or which author events to agree to or—”

  “Yeah. I do,” I admitted grudgingly. “But I also prefer to take more of a behind-the-scenes role.”

  “Because you’re scared.”

  I narrowed my eyes at her and sank into my chair. “I’m not you, okay?”

  “I never said you should be. I just think you need to speak up for yourself now and then.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” I gnashed my teeth and turned to my computer, where a slew of emails was waiting.

  “Have you pitched your sexy soldier program to Seth?” Alyssa asked, referring to our boss.

  “No. I haven’t. Not yet.” I rolled my eyes when she gave me a look that said “come on.” “And would you please stop referring to it as the ‘sexy soldier’ program?”

  “Why? That’s what it is, right?” She flashed me a devious grin.

  A woman like Alyssa had no problems attracting the notice of a sexy soldier or any man. She was gorgeous, and she had the kind of confidence people took notice of. She was the type of person you couldn’t forget.

  While I…I was the type of girl you could easily ignore. Well, if you could overlook the fact that I towered over most women. Given that I was five foot ten, my height was the one thing that made me stand out. And not in a good way.

  I shook my head, knowing she was teasing me. “That’s not the point of the program.”

  “It’s not? I mean, it’s geared toward current and former military personnel, right? And most of them are—” She fanned herself. “Oh my.”

  “Have you forgotten about all the women who serve?”

  Women like my friend Chloe, who had struggled to reacclimate to civilian life after returning from Afghanistan. Or men like my grandfather, who had served in the air force only to return a different person. It didn’t matter where or when or even how long you served, the effect was profound and impacted families, communities. I wanted to help with that. I wanted to help these brave men and women overcome the horrors of w
ar. I wanted to remind them about love and the beauty of the human spirit.

  “And I’m sure they’re lovely,” she said, interrupting my thoughts. “But I’m in it for the hot guys.”

  “And I’m in it to help these men and women who sacrifice so much for our country.”

  “I’d certainly sacrifice myself—”

  Someone cleared their throat, and I glanced to the opening where our boss, Seth, was currently standing. He had a look of disapproval—nay, a scowl—on his face. But that was nothing new. In the two years I’d been with Igloo, I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen him so much as grin.

  “Ladies.” Seth gave us a pointed look. “Olivia, a word.”

  “Yes. Of course.” Alyssa stood and slipped out. “While you’re here, Olivia has an idea she wants to pitch.”

  While Seth’s back was to me, I glared at her and mouthed, “Traitor.”

  He took a seat in the chair Alyssa had just vacated. “I stopped by to discuss a special project I need your help with.”

  “Great.” I perked up, excited by the prospect. I loved my job, and I couldn’t wait to tell Alyssa she was wrong—Seth had noticed me and my ideas. “What is it?”

  “Well, we’re looking to expand our biography offerings, trying to capture a new market.”

  “Okay,” I said, not entirely sure what this had to do with me. Marketing was my domain, but I focused on fiction.

  “I wondered if you’d, uh—” He tugged at his collar, his eyes darting around my cubicle. “Speak to your father to see if he’d be interested in writing a memoir.”

  My father?

  Of course.

  I tried not to let my disappointment show. I should’ve expected this. In all honesty, I was surprised I’d made it this far into my career without being tapped for a favor.

  My dad had played for the Hollywood Heatwaves for nearly ten years, leading the football team to championship victory six times. He was lauded as one of the greatest players of all time. When people discovered that my father was Harrison Hayes, they usually forgot everything else. It was as if I ceased to exist as an individual and they saw me only for what I could do for them.

  I didn’t realize Seth was still talking until he asked, “So, what do you think?”

  I nodded, selecting my words carefully. I didn’t want to piss off my boss, but there was no way I was asking my dad. I refused to use his celebrity status—or my mother’s—to get ahead.

  So, I resorted to my standard response in such cases, though I was a bit more generous. “I’m sure he’d be happy to consider it. Though, his agent, Talia Winters, usually handles these types of requests. I can get you her contact information.”

  Seth leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I know, but we, um, we thought the idea might be better received if it came from you.”

  I tilted my head back, wondering if my refusal would cost me my job. I didn’t want to outright lie, but I had no intention of asking my dad to write a memoir.

  “I’ll see what I can do.” It was vague enough to give him hope but not overly enthusiastic so as to lead him on.

  “Great.” He clapped his hands together. “Thank you, Olivia. Oh—” He paused, removing his phone from his pocket and glancing at the screen. “Was there something you wanted to talk to me about?”

  I took a deep breath, steeling myself. I needed to do this—for the soldiers, but also for myself. Why was I so afraid to share my ideas? Seth clearly liked them—at least, when they were coming from Nicole. Why was this any different?

  “Yes. I have an idea for a program that would garner a wider audience for our books and—”

  His phone rang. He pressed the button to connect the call and held it to his ear, as if I hadn’t just been talking.

  “Seth Chambers.” He covered the speaker with his hand as he stood. “I have to take this.”

  I deflated, sensing his relief at the interruption. Would he have felt the same if it were Nicole pitching the idea?

  Just when I thought he was gone, he stuck his head back in the opening. “Oh, and I hope you’ll consider signing up for Nicole’s latest genius marketing project. That girl is on fire.”

  My stomach clenched, his statement making me realize just how right Alyssa had been. My boss really had no idea I was the one behind any of the brilliant ideas he loved. And I hadn’t realized just how sick of it I was until now.

  “Actually—”

  He shook his head and mouthed “We’ll talk later” before returning to his phone conversation.

  I folded my arms on my desk and rested my head on them with a heavy sigh. I was tired of being ignored. I was tired of being overlooked. I was tired of everyone seeing me as the daughter of Harrison Hayes or Camille Howard. For once, I just wanted to be appreciated for who I was and what I had to offer.

  “Uh oh.” Alyssa’s voice interrupted my mini internal rant. “That bad, huh?”

  My response was muffled by arms. “If you came to gloat, don’t bother.”

  Her cubicle was nearby, and I wondered if she—like the rest of my coworkers—had overheard most of my conversation with Seth. Which only made it that much worse.

  The cushion of the chair hissed, and I glanced up. “You were right.”

  “About…?”

  “Everything.” I slumped in my chair and gave her a quick recap of the conversation. She winced when I mentioned the part about “Nicole’s” brilliant new initiative.

  “That’s it.” She stood, ready to defend me. But that was the problem; I always let everyone else do the talking for me.

  I grabbed her wrist. “Sit back down.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “This is wrong. Seth, everyone, deserves to know that it was your idea.”

  I slumped. “It doesn’t matter now. And if I try to take credit for the idea, I’ll look pathetic.”

  “Then focus on your pitch for Spines for Soldiers. Make it so amazing, he won’t be able to refuse.” She gave me an encouraging smile.

  I nodded, knowing she was right. But still…I hesitated.

  “If you can not only jump out of a plane, but convince me to do it, you can do this.”

  In many ways, jumping out of a plane seemed so much easier. All you had to do was fall, fly. But putting my ideas, myself, out there felt like an even bigger risk.

  But then I remembered why I was doing it. I remembered my grandfather and Chloe and all the men and women who served our country. If they could put their lives on the line day in and day out, I could pitch a simple book idea that might somehow benefit soldiers like them. If they could fight for my freedom, I could stand up for myself and my ideas.

  Chapter Two

  Connor

  “Cujo.”

  I stopped midstride—more like mid-hobble—at the sound of Mark’s voice. He ran the Virginia office of Cole Security Forces. He was a formidable man and a well-respected one. I liked him, was proud to work with him. But his more formal tone gave me pause, considering he was usually more of a clown.

  “My office.”

  My roommate, Decker, elbowed me with a look that said, “You’re in deep shit.” But I rolled my eyes as he continued down the hall.

  “Sure.” I turned and shuffled toward Mark, more than ready to ditch this damn cane.

  A few of the guys were getting ready for an upcoming assignment, but I’d be sitting this one out. Again. After I’d been injured a few weeks back, I was still struggling to get around, still forced to attend daily rehab sessions while recovering from surgery.

  “Shut the door,” Mark said, taking a seat behind his desk.

  Liam—his second-in-command—was already occupying one of the seats across the desk. Where Mark had blond hair and a surfer vibe, always the life of the party, Liam was more serious, taller too.

  I tried not to wince as I sank into the chair. My knee fucking hurt today, but I didn’t want to let them see my pain as weakness. I just wanted to get back out there.

  “How’s the kne
e?” Mark asked.

  “Fine.”

  “How’s the head?” Liam asked.

  “I got some pretty good head last week, thanks.” I smirked, though neither of them laughed.

  He rolled his eyes. “Not what I meant, asshole.”

  I sobered, sensing they meant business and no amount of joking would get me out of it. “My head is fine.”

  “That last mission—” Mark blew out a breath. “It was a fuckup from start to finish.”

  We’d done a formal debrief, but I’d been waiting for something like this. I’d been anticipating this conversation for weeks. I figured they were just waiting until I was well enough post op to return to work full time.

  I nodded. “It was fucked up.”

  “Not just it, but you,” Liam cut in. “You fucked up, Cujo. You assaulted our client’s son, George. The ambassador’s son and sole heir.”

  I clenched my fists, my blood boiling with anger. “And that somehow excuses his behavior? The piece of shit was abusing his wife, his daughter.”

  “No, but you put this company and other men’s lives at stake. Hell, you got injured yourself, and you’re damn lucky it wasn’t worse.”

  And I’d do it all again if it meant protecting them from that monster.

  “What was I supposed to do?” I threw my arms up, feeling as if it was a no-win situation.

  “We were hired to protect their family.” Liam let out a deep sigh. “And we were going to help them.”

  “When?” I glared at him, demanding answers. “After it was already too late?”