Stolen hearts, p.1
Stolen Hearts, page 1
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Stolen Hearts
Black Heart Security
Book 5
Copyright Em Petrova 2025
Ebook Edition
Electronic book publication 2025
Cover Art by Bookin’ It Designs
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Black Heart Security
GUARDED HEARTS
PROTECTED HEARTS
SHIELDED HEARTS
RESCUED HEARTS
STOLEN HEARTS
HUNTED HEARTS
A wounded SEAL. The one who got away. And a secret that makes her a target.
After years of high-stakes missions, Navy SEAL Denver Malone returns to his family’s Wyoming ranch hoping to find peace and time to heal from the aftereffects of an injury—but instead, he finds Rhae Rivers, the one real regret in his life.
Now a therapist working with veterans on the Black Heart Ranch, Rhae never expected Denver to walk back into her life, let alone reignite the fire they once shared.
As old wounds resurface and sparks fly, Denver must confront the ghosts of his past —and the future he never saw coming. Because Rhae’s been keeping a life-altering surprise—one with eyes just like his. And someone else knows the truth.
When a shadow from Rhae’s past begins stalking her every move, Denver steps onto a new kind of battlefield—one where protecting the woman he loves means risking it all, including his heart.
Steamy military protector romance collides with rugged ranch life in this heart-pounding second chance love story! Packed with small-town charm, edge-of-your-seat suspense, and a swoon-worthy HEA, this is your next must-read. 1-CLICK now and BINGE the Black Heart Security series—you won’t be able to stop!
STOLEN
HEARTS
by
Em Petrova
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Prologue
New York City, USA
18 months ago
The room was a cocoon, insulated from the world, where time had stretched and blurred over the past three days.
Denver Malone lay on his back, one arm draped over his eyes, the other resting on the curve of Rhae’s hip. Her head nestled against his chest, fingers tracing idle patterns on his skin.
The ceiling fan rotated lazily above, its rhythmic creak the only sound accompanying the dim glow of the city lights filtering through the curtains. The silence between them was comfortable, yet charged, like the calm before a storm.
“Three days,” Rhae murmured, her voice muffled against his chest.
“Mm-hmm.” Denver’s was a low rumble.
“We said one night.”
He chuckled, but it was a sound devoid of humor. With Rhae, he existed in a different world than the one he walked in normally. The minute he stepped out that hotel room door, he returned to his SEAL team and became a ghost.
A dead man walking.
The moments he’d stolen with her were even riskier than they would be with a nameless woman picked up at a random bar.
It sure as hell would be less of an entanglement.
He smirked down at her. “Plans change.”
“Do they?” She lifted her head to look at him, her pale blue eyes—the color of a misty morning—searching his face in a way that made him take more notice.
He met her gaze, the weight of unspoken words hanging between them. “They did.”
They were dancing around each other. As always. What choice did they have when everything about these meetups was forbidden? Not only was he breaking the rules of his team, SEAL Team Blackout Charlie, by having a connection in his personal life…but Rhae was his therapist.
Or had been in the beginning. He was forced to see her five times after a mission went sideways. He thought it was going to be the worst experience ever, but after he fulfilled orders, he found ways to facilitate accidental meetups…that turned into dates…
That turned into three days spent in a hotel room.
Rhae sat up and slipped out of bed. She donned a silky robe and crossed the room to the window, peering out at the city that never slept. Her sexy silhouette was illuminated by the neon lights below, casting her in a surreal glow, accentuating the blonde streaks in her hair that gave her a forever sun-kissed look that intruded on his dreams, and those pale blue eyes that had a way of piercing him far too deep.
And Christ, her long, toned legs had him aching hard for her all over again.
Denver sat up, the sheet pooling around his waist. “I should probably leave.”
She turned her head to face him, a sad smile on her lips as if she already knew what would happen. What always happened.
“You should probably stay.” Then she shook herself. “Never mind. That’s not how this works.”
He stood, crossing the room to her. “Why not?”
“Because we agreed. One night. No strings.”
“And yet, here we are, three days later.”
Three days and a lot of secrets neither could share. They danced around their personal lives more than they did the samba in the sheets.
She looked away, her hands slipping into the pockets of the robe. Rhae was the therapist, but he recognized the gesture for what it was —a shield against vulnerability.
“Rhae…”
“Don’t,” she interrupted, her voice trembling. “Don’t make this harder than it already is.”
He reached out, gently turning her to face him. “I’m not trying to make it harder. I just…I don’t want to let you go.”
Tears welled in her eyes, threatening to spill over. “Then don’t.”
He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. “I have to.”
She nodded, a single tear escaping down her cheek. “I know.”
They stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms.
Her fingers bit into his chest, clinging to him like he was the last steady thing in her world. His hands slid up her back, pressing her against him. It would be so easy to say the words he kept locked behind his teeth, to confess that she wasn’t just some passing fling, that these three days had unraveled him in ways he couldn’t have predicted.
But he didn’t.
Because saying it would make it real, and making it real would make it impossible to walk away. And Denver Malone knew how to walk away. It was part of the job, part of survival.
But damn, it felt like he was leaving half his soul behind.
Outside, the city hummed with life, indifferent to their shared heartbreak. Inside, it felt like the world had narrowed to just the two of them, suspended in time, teetering on the edge of something that could have been everything.
“You should probably leave,” she whispered again, voice breaking.
Denver pressed his forehead to hers, inhaling the scent of her—jasmine and something uniquely Rhae. “I know.”
He lingered, his lips grazing hers, like a memory he was desperate to burn into his soul.
Finally, he stepped back, letting her slip from his grasp, watching as she retreated to the window once more, arms wrapped around herself like she could hold in all the things she wasn’t saying.
Fuck.
Denver reached for her. With a gasp that sounded like a woman who’d been holding her breath, Rhae spun toward him, throwing herself into his arms.
He lifted her automatically and whirled for the bed. In five steps, they fell to the mattress with her sleek body pressed underneath him. Her legs parted, the robe falling away to give him total access. In one swift thrust, his stiff cock tunneled inside her.
Rhae cried out, fingertips digging into his shoulders, anchoring herself to him as their mouths collided with a desperation neither could ever admit to.
It was over fast—too fast. They lay entwined for long minutes, neither one of them speaking. What was there to say? If he was smart, this would be the last time he saw her.
The thought of her moving on with her life—without him—sent a sharp knife straight to his chest. He stared at the ceiling, fighting emotions he shouldn’t, couldn’t have.
There’s no future in it.
Within minutes, he noticed how her body went lax with sleep and her breathing turned slow and rhythmic.
Denver slipped out of bed and found his jeans, pulling them on methodically, like each move was a nail sealing up his chest. He grabbed his shirt from the chair, drawing it over his shoulders before reaching for his boots.
His hands hesitated on the laces.
He could stay. He could forget everything else. It was just one choice. One decision.
But then he tied the knot, standing and straightening as if it took every ounce of strength he had left.
He looked at her one last time. Asleep on the bed in a pool of early morning sunlight. If this was the last he ever saw of Rhae, it was a damn good vision to etch into his memory.
He swallowed hard.
One last look. One final breath.
Then he walked out.
And didn’t come back.
Chapter One
Rhae glanced at the clock on her desk. Almost her infant daughter Navy’s naptime.
The morning had been slow, a rarity around here. The veteran therapy and recovery program was situated on a busy, working ranch in the mountains of Wyoming. Nothing ever slowed down here…until her office door closed and one of the vets she worked with took a seat.
No one ever made an appointment, but somehow, it all worked. When she was hired, she never planned to make her door a revolving one, but the on-demand therapy seemed to be working.
There was no conflict, no chaos. Just a steady beat to life like the hum of the wind over the fields of the Black Heart Ranch where the program was situated.
The main building was a sprawling log structure with thick timber beams and floor-to-ceiling windows. It boasted all the modern amenities anybody could ask for even as it offered down-home charm.
A wide front porch stretched across the front with rocking chairs and thick wool blankets folded neatly over the backs. At most times of the day, Rhae could look out and see a vet or two out there, staring out at the cattle grazing in the nearby field or listening to a ball game on the radio.
Her young daughter enjoyed being outdoors as much as the men, and Rhae took her out every chance she could.
Through the window beside her desk, she could see a few guys tossing hay bales onto a flatbed truck. As part of their therapy, they could pitch in as much or as little as they liked. No pressure around the Black Heart was one of her favorite things about living here too.
The men moved in sync, their movements practiced and efficient. Therapy didn’t always look like talking.
Sometimes it was mending fences, running cattle or just standing at the fence rail while the sun sank behind the mountains.
Navy’s coo broke the silence, and Rhae smiled. Her daughter was nestled in the playpen beside her desk, chubby fists wrapped around a stuffed lion that had seen better days. Rhae pushed away from her desk and walked over, scooping the little girl into her arms. Navy squealed with delight, her tiny hands reaching for Rhae’s necklace.
“Almost time for your nap, sweet pea,” Rhae whispered, brushing a short sprig of hair away from Navy’s forehead.
A shadow moved in front of the doorway.
She smiled and glanced at the clock, even though she already knew what time it was. Like clockwork, every day, Kyle showed up. It was one of the only routines that held steady around her office.
Rhae turned, spotting the former Marine in the doorway. His hair was messy, probably from wrestling with the horses earlier, and his T-shirt sporting the Black Heart Ranch logo was dusty.
She smiled. “Hi, Kyle. You’re early.”
“Miss Rhae.” He dipped his head in greeting. “Figured I was in the area. Thought I’d help.” He stepped into the office, no invitation necessary. His boots thumped lightly on the gleaming wood floors as he crossed the room, arms already reaching out to take the baby.
Navy spotted him and leaned forward, chubby legs kicking in excitement.
Kyle was hardened to steel, and over the past year he’d spent on the ranch, the sun had etched weathered lines around his eyes to mix with the lines of strain he received in battle. But he’d been here long enough that he was part of the ranch, just as solid and safe.
She passed Navy into his arms, and he tucked the child close, smiling down at her. One of Navy’s hands splatted on his bearded cheek, and he chuckled.
“She doesn’t look very tired.” He moved to the long sofa to sit, positioning Navy in his lap, cradling her like she was much more fragile than she was.
Navy gurgled, tiny hands patting at his chest. Kyle chuckled, grabbing the bottle already set out in the warmer on the desk. He gave it a quick, practiced shake, tested it on his wrist, then offered it to Navy.
She latched on immediately, her eyes already drifting closed even as she sucked contentedly.
Rhae glided to the armchair opposite the sofa and sat down with a smile.
Kyle eyed her. “She wore you out already?” His big hand spread over Navy’s small back, and the baby’s soft sucking noises filled the room with a quiet comfort.
“It was a slow morning. I think Navy was as bored as I was.”
He tipped his head back, eyes fixed on the ceiling as if counting the wooden beams. “Slow’s good. Means everyone’s…managing.”
Managing. It wasn’t healing. It wasn’t whole. But it was something. A step. She’d take it.
“What did you work on this morning?” Her question got him talking about things she’d heard plenty of times before—mucking out stalls, feeding cattle and finally, inspecting ditches that carried runoff water from the mountain to ensure the fields weren’t flooded.
Navy gave a contented sigh, and Kyle chuckled. “I think she’s out.”
“Of course she is. I swear you’ve got magic hands.”
Suddenly, a loud, metallic clang rattled the window. Rhae froze, her gaze shooting to her daughter sleeping in the big Marine’s lap, then darted to Kyle’s face.
He was staring into space, expression harder than it had been when looking down at the baby.
Deep down, Rhae knew Kyle would never harm her child, but the first few months on the ranch, she had concerns about the men around Navy. Soon, she realized her fears were unfounded. Not one of the men in the program would harm a fine brown hair on Navy’s head.
The farm equipment outside clanked again. Rhae picked up her notepad and pen and wrote some notes about Kyle’s behavior to add to his file. The man had heavy trauma and an official diagnosis of PTSD. Loud noises were triggers, but he was far more relaxed than she’d ever seen him after a noise set him on edge.
He gently ran his fingers over Navy’s back. “You know, I’m an uncle.”
She tilted her head. “You never told me that.”
He nodded. “I missed out on this stage. By the time I got off the street and…reconnected with my family… Well, when you can’t even play with your nephew, then it’s time to admit you may need some extra support.”
“It took a lot of strength to reach out for that support. You should be proud that you took that step.”
“I tried the VA first.”
Kyle’s injuries weren’t visible. He had all his limbs, but he was still broken in ways that she could help with.
“They gave me drugs,” he went on. “I took them for a while before I realized I didn’t want to walk around in a haze. The Black Heart is a much better place for me.” He suddenly met her gaze directly, something he didn’t always do or hold it for very long. His glance drifted back down to Navy in his lap, her lips pursed around the bottle nipple, giving an occasional suck in her sleep.
“And I get to hang out with two pretty ladies. The best medicine ever.”
Navy’s body went totally slack in sleep. Kyle’s lips quirked at one corner. “My work here is done.”
Rhae knew the drill. She glided to her feet and moved over to take the baby from the vet. She offered him a kind smile of gratitude for putting her child down for her nap so easily.
As soon as she scooped the baby out of his arms, he stood, tugging the brim of the cowboy hat he wore. “I’ll be back tomorrow, Miss Rhae.”
She faced him, the baby curled up in her arms. “We’ll be here.”
His boot steps faded down the hall. When she eased Navy into her playpen for her nap, she heard a new step at the door. Straightening, she saw a woman standing there.
The tall woman could be a model for her beauty and poise. And the wide smile on her face was so genuine that Rhae couldn’t help but smile in return.
Willow Malone co-owned and ran the Black Heart Ranch with her brothers. Over the past months since Rhae came to work on the ranch, she’d come to think of Willow as a friend.
