Cryptic curse, p.1
Cryptic Curse, page 1
CRYPTIC CURSE
BELLAMY BROTHERS SEVEN
HELEN HARDT
This book is an original publication of Helen Hardt.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not assume any responsibility for third-party websites or their content.
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Copyright © 2025 Helen Hardt, LLC dba Hardt & Sons
Cover Design: Shepard Originals
Edited by Eric J. McConnell
All Rights Reserved
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CONTENTS
Cryptic Curse
Praise for Helen Hardt
Prologue
1. Hawk
2. Daniela
3. Hawk
4. Daniela
5. Hawk
6. Daniela
7. Hawk
8. Daniela
9. Hawk
10. Daniela
11. Hawk
12. Daniela
13. Hawk
14. Daniela
15. Hawk
16. Daniela
17. Hawk
18. Daniela
19. Hawk
20. Daniela
21. Hawk
22. Daniela
23. Hawk
24. Daniela
25. Hawk
26. Daniela
27. Hawk
28. Daniela
29. Hawk
30. Daniela
31. Hawk
32. Daniela
33. Hawk
34. Daniela
35. Hawk
36. Daniela
37. Hawk
38. Daniela
39. Hawk
40. Daniela
41. Hawk
Excerpt from Spades
Acknowledgments
Also by Helen Hardt
About the Author
CRYPTIC CURSE
BELLAMY BROTHERS SEVEN
Helen Hardt
PRAISE FOR HELEN HARDT
“Literally perfection.”
~Read with Aimee on My Heart Still Beats
“Helen Hardt is a master at making you fall for the bad boy.”
~Words We Love By on Savage Sin
“Hardt spins erotic gold…”
~Publishers Weekly on Follow Me Darkly
“22 Best Erotic Novels to Read”
~Marie Claire Magazine on Follow Me Darkly
“Intensely erotic and wildly emotional…”
~New York Times bestselling author Lisa Renee Jones on Follow Me Darkly
“Christian, Gideon, and now…Braden Black.”
~Books, Wine, and Besties on Follow Me Darkly
“This red-hot tale will have readers fanning themselves.”
~Publishers Weekly on Blush
“Scintillating…”
~Publishers Weekly on Bloom
“Helen's intelligent writing style and skills have made this story a must-read.”
~FireSerene Reads on Bloom
“It's hot, it's intense, and the plot starts off thick and had me completely spellbound from page one.”
~The Sassy Nerd Blog on Rebel
“This book was fantastic! It was steamy, funny, romantic, and just about any other emotion you can think of…”
~Steamy Book Mama on Lily and the Duke
“Craving is the jaw-dropping book you need to read!”
~New York Times bestselling author Lisa Renee Jones on Craving
"Completely raw and addictive."
~#1 New York Times bestselling author Meredith Wild on Craving
“Helen Hardt has some kind of skill I don’t have the words to describe. Her writing is addictive. She sucked in my mind and I just don’t want to read anything but her right now!”
~OMGReads Blog
“Helen Hardt…is a master story teller.”
~Small Town Book Nerd
For Eric and Grant
PROLOGUE
HAWK
Fifteen Years Ago…
There is nothing more important than family. Remember that, Hawk.
I swear to God, if my father bludgeons those words into my brain one more time, I’m really going to become unhinged.
But at age twelve, I’ve been trained to say, “Yes, I understand, Dad.”
“It’s important that you always understand—he clears his throat, hiding his mouth—“that what I did was necessary.”
I nod. “Yes, I understand that.”
Even though I don’t.
Even though what he did lacks all understanding. All compassion. All goodness.
I look around my father’s home office in our sprawling house on Bellamy ranch. His massive mahogany desk, his leather reclining chair, his four giant computer monitors. Bookshelves are lined with tomes I’m sure he’s never read but look good. They smell good too. I inhale the crisp scent of parchment and leather.
It does nothing to soothe me.
What happened wasn’t right.
I don’t like when things aren’t right.
My brother Falcon tells me I need to be more realistic and less idealistic. The world is a complicated, messy place.
But why should I sacrifice my own standards? Why should I just accept injustice in the world?
My father drones on. “It was necessary to protect your mother. She could’ve been violated. Or even killed. Same for your sisters.”
I gulp down the lump in my throat. If that’s truly the case—though I don’t believe it is—then I do understand. My twin sisters are only thirteen, a year older than I am. And my mother…
She and I have a complicated relationship. I love her, and I certainly wouldn’t want to see her raped or murdered. The thought of it makes me want to puke.
Suffice it to say that I’m pretty sure I’m her least favorite child of the five of us. Her favorite is my younger brother Eagle, the baby. Followed by Raven, my sister who is the most like her. The other, Robin, prefers to hang out with my brothers and me, doing boy stuff.
“It was necessary to keep you and your brothers from being killed in your sleep,” Dad says.
I nod for the third time. And I repeat myself. “Yes, Dad, I understand.”
My father threads his fingers through his blond hair. It’s beginning to gray—just a touch of silver around his temples. Then he looks at me with those blue eyes that are so like my own. I’m the only one of five who inherited them. My brothers and sisters all have dark-brown eyes, like our mother. We all share her darker skin from her Mexican heritage.
So as I stand, looking at my fair-skinned father, I focus on his eyes. The eyes he gave me.
Only me.
And I try to find something in common with him other than the one feature we share.
Something.
Anything.
But I can’t.
How could he do what he did?
Though I’ve repeated the mantra—Yes, Dad, I understand—I don’t understand. No rational person could.
“I’m sorry, Hawk,” he finally says.
My eyes go wide.
Did I truly hear the words?
I’m sorry, Hawk.
I didn’t know Austin Bellamy was ever sorry about anything.
Of course, when you shoot one of your own children, you probably should be fucking sorry.
1
HAWK
Present Day…
“What’s up, Fal?” I say into my phone.
“Hawk. Thank God you answered,” my older brother, Falcon, says.
My brothers and sisters always give me shit about not answering my phone. Texting is easier for me, and it’s the method I prefer. That way I can answer at my leisure.
“It finally happened,” Falcon says. “Dad’s awake.”
His words rattle around my head like loose ping-pong balls before they register.
I should probably feel happy about the news. Our father has been in a coma for the past several months after a botched suicide attempt.
The whole thing makes no sense. Austin Bellamy is a great shot. If he’d truly wanted to kill himself, he probably could have. But he only grazed his skull, which doesn’t explain the coma.
The doctors can’t find any medical explanation for it, and though I hate myself for thinking it, I’ve wondered if he could be faking.
Austin Bellamy couldn’t fake a coma by himself, of course. But he could with help. Someone could easily be on the inside at the hospital dosing him up with drugs to keep him unconscious.
Why would he fucking do that?
Why would he try to kill himself in the first place?
And why would he botch it so badly?
I have no answers, but when it comes to my father, nothing should surprise me.
I hold back a scoff. My relationship with my parents is fucked up to the nth degree. I’m actually closer to my father than I am to my mother.
I’ll get there as soon as I can,” I say to Falcon.
“Great. Thank God. This is such awesome news.”
“Yeah, sure is.” I end the call.
I walk outside, get into my truck, put it in gear, and start the drive to the hospital that has been my father’s home since his suicide attempt.
I hate the guilt that nags me. It scratches the back of my neck like a stray cat clawing at me.
I haven’t visited Dad much. Mom goes every day, of course, and spends a few hours with him. Falcon and Savannah, his fiancé, go often as well. I’ve probably been there more often than Eagle, though. My younger brother always has his own agenda.
When I reach the hospital, I bypass the valet parking—even though I have fortune enough for ten lifetimes, I’m never ostentatious—and park in the lot. I get out of the truck, lock it with my key fob, and then walk into the hospital, my boots clicking on the marble tile.
I stroll to the elevator, press number four, and head up to my father’s room.
When was I last here?
Last week, I think. I sat next to my mother for about an hour, saying nothing to her or to my comatose father. When a spam text hit my phone, I told my mother it was important and I had to go.
She didn’t ask me to elaborate.
If she had, I would have made something up.
But part of me knew she wouldn’t. She and I are kind of like oil and water. I have no doubt that she loves me just as much as she loves my brothers and sisters, but yeah. We don’t really mix.
When I was little, I wondered if it was because I was the only one who didn’t get her eyes.
Now I realize that we’re just different. We look at life in opposite ways. She likes to tell me I look at things in absolutes—what’s right and what’s wrong. In her eyes, nothing is truly wrong or truly right.
Frankly, I think that’s bullshit.
But she is who she is, and I am who I am.
I walk through the hallway leading to my father’s room.
“Hey, Hawk,” one of the nurses says to me.
I give her a friendly wave and smile. “Hi, Grace.”
“Such amazing news about your dad.” Grace’s eyes shine.
Grace has been my dad’s day nurse since he got here. She’s taken great care of him, and a few times I’ve thought about asking her out for coffee.
She’s really pretty—blond hair, blue eyes, killer body—but something has always stopped me.
“Yeah, thanks.” I give her a smile. “Is my mom in there?”
“Yeah, and Falcon and Savannah too.”
“I’m sure my sisters and brother will be here soon.”
“Anyway…” Grace bites her lip.
“Yeah?”
She sighs. “I need to see your ID.”
I raise an eyebrow. “What? You know who I am.”
“I know. But your brother—”
“Falcon?”
“Yeah. He says we need to ID everyone who goes into your dad’s room now.”
I narrow my eyes. “Uh…why, exactly?”
She shrugs. “You can ask him, I guess. He’s arranged for an armed security guard to stand outside the room.”
“What the…?”
Grace sighs. “He insists. Claims the security team says no exceptions, not even for family.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
She shrugs. “It seems a little excessive, but I just work here. The guard should get here soon. In the meantime…”
I shake my head, pull my wallet out of my pocket, and flash her my driver’s license. “There you go.”
“Great photo!” She smiles. “I look like a caterpillar in mine.”
“How could you look like a caterpillar?” I ask. “I’m not even sure what that means.”
“I’m totally serious.” Grace reaches behind the nurse’s station and grabs her purse. She takes out her wallet and hands me her license.
Oh my God. She does look like a caterpillar. Her eyes are half-lidded, her mouth is scrunched into this awkward uncertain line, and her hair is slicked back so tightly she could pass for a larva mid-transformation.
I glance at her and then back at the photo. “Were you…molting?”
Grace snorts and snatches the license out of my hand. “It was raining. I had the flu. And I was running late, okay?”
“Still adorable,” I say, grinning.
She rolls her eyes, but I catch the blush creeping up her neck. “Shut up.”
“Never.” I smile again and then walk the few more steps to my father’s room, where the door is slightly ajar.
“Hey,” I say as I enter.
My father is sitting up in bed, his eyes open. His face is gaunt. He’s lost some weight. I suppose living solely on IV fluids and a food tube will do that to you.
“Hawk,” my mother says. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
Her voice is even. Artificially so. Is she really glad I’m here, or is that just what a mother is supposed to say when she sees her son?
She’s in a chair at my father’s bedside, holding his hand. I walk over, lean down, and give her a kiss on the cheek. Falcon and Savannah are standing at the foot of his bed. I nod to them.
Then I go around to the other side of the bed. “Dad, how are you?”
“I’m… The fence is good,” Dad says. Then he blinks his eyes.
“He hasn’t been making a lot of sense,” Falcon says. “The doc says he may have some aphasia.”
“Meaning…?” I ask.
“Meaning he knows what he wants to say,” Mom says, “but it doesn’t come out quite right.”
I frown. “I see. Does that mean he suffered a stroke?”
“We don’t know yet,” Mom says. “The doctor seems to think it could resolve on its own. But he’s going down for an MRI soon so they can take a look at his brain.”
“I see.” I squeeze Dad’s shoulder. “It’s great to have you back, Dad.”
“Hawk is the door,” Dad says.
I guess that means he recognizes me.
“Raven and Vinnie are on their way,” Savannah says. “And Robin too.”
“I’ll go out into the hallway and wait for them,” I say. “I don’t want Dad to get overwhelmed.”
Mom nods. “All right, Hawk. I’m glad you’re here. Thank you for coming.”
I nod back at her. She doesn’t need to thank me for coming, and she knows it. He’s my father. Of course I would come.
Dad and I have a somewhat troubled history, but he’s my father. Plus, he gave me my blue eyes that have made me a chick magnet since I hit puberty. Something about the combination of tan skin, dark hair, and piercing blue eyes gets the women going like nothing else.
I pull Falcon aside for a minute. “What’s this ID requirement thing? Isn’t that overkill? Dad’s been here at the hospital for months already.”
“Not my idea,” Falcon says. “It was our attorney’s. And the security team backed him up.”
“Why, exactly?”
“Hell if I know.” He runs his hands through his hair. “Apparently now that Dad’s awake, things are different. Legal liability, inheritance, media vultures—they’re all circling.”
I narrow my eyes. “What does that have to do with checking my ID?”
Falcon leans in, his voice low. “Because if something happens to Dad now—anything—it’s going to blow back hard. They’re covering every base. Every person who steps foot in that room is logged.”
