Chasing Bliss
Nights in Bliss, Colorado Book 7
Lexi Blake
writing as
Sophie Oak
Chasing Bliss
Nights in Bliss, Colorado Book 7
Published by DLZ Entertainment LLC
Copyright 2019 DLZ Entertainment LLC
Edited by Chloe Vale
ISBN: 978-1-942297-13-0
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or establishments is solely coincidental.
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Table of Contents
Dedication
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
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Author’s Note
Siren Unleashed, coming May 21, 2019!
About Lexi Blake
Other Books by Lexi Blake
Dedication 2012
For new friends, old friends, and friends we have yet to meet.
Dedication 2019
The dedication above holds true in any year, but I feel like I find something new each time I revisit these books. Bliss has always been a town for misfits and no one is more of a misfit than Gemma Wells. I don’t always see until years later, but each of these books holds a piece of me. Gemma is the me who wore a business suit to high school. It was one I found at a deep-discount store, the type where they sell clothes with defects. I remember it was a vivid blue and I wore it because I didn’t want anyone to see me as that kid who didn’t have a dime, the one who was homeless for a while. I wanted to be the smartest of the smart, the one with a future, and at the time I thought that meant getting everyone to take me seriously. What I was really trying to do was rise above my beginnings. It’s funny now. We’re so very rigid and judgmental in our youth. We see things in black and white, never understanding the beautiful potential in the grays. So this is dedicated to my sixteen-year-old self. You will not become the journalist you think you want to be. You will not conquer the world. You will not be rich beyond your wildest dreams. What you will find is so much more. You will find love. You will have three beautiful and complicated children. You will be afraid and anxious at times, but you will not be alone. You will find people who fill your soul.
You will find bliss.
Prologue
New York City
Gemma took a deep breath as she slid the key into the door. It had taken way less time to get the motions done and filed than she’d originally thought. They were now up to date on the case, and Patrick would be able to dazzle the partners. She’d told Patrick she would be gone all night. Now she could surprise him with both a brilliant presentation—guaranteed to get her the promotion she’d deserved for the last two years—and her own dark desires. She was going to talk to him, make him understand what she wanted to try.
Hey, a guy should like a little kink in his future bride, right?
She, Gemma Wells, was freaky, and she was tired of hiding it. She needed to walk up to Patrick and find out if this thing would honestly work.
“Pat?” She set down her briefcase, a Chanel bag she’d scrimped and saved for. It was big enough to carry everything. Her laptop. The files she needed. The two thumb drives she kept on her at all times because she had to download Patrick’s work or he lost it. That bag was a gateway to her future, which was bright, so bright. It had to be. She was trying to follow the old “look successful, be successful” law. “I’m home, babe.”
She turned on the light, illuminating the tiny, perfectly decorated living room. For Manhattan it was livable, but she’d been raised by hippies who spent way too much time at outdoor concerts. She was pretty sure she’d been conceived to a Phish song. The place felt cramped. Sometimes she felt like she couldn’t breathe, but this was the place to be, so she was here.
Gemma stretched and thought about taking off the silk shirt she was wearing. It was confining and she was always worried she would wrinkle it, but it was designer and appearances were everything. Patrick had taught her that.
She sighed. Was he already asleep? He tended to be a night owl. Maybe she should have gone back to her place, but Patrick’s was damn near perfect. She should know. She’d been the one to work with the designer. She’d hitched her wagon to Patrick’s three years before, and she hadn’t let up. Not when he’d been promoted over her. Not when he’d taken credit for her work. They were a team. She would get her reward in the end.
The only trouble was she was starting to wonder if she should marry him.
She kicked off her Jimmy Choos. The shoes were gorgeous, but god, they hurt after twelve hours. Even as tired as she was, her heart was pounding a bit. She needed to know.
Patrick would either be in or she would have some serious thinking to do.
She walked to his bedroom door, building her courage. Up until now, their sex life had been harried and a bit circumspect. She wasn’t entirely sure what he would say when she told him what she wanted.
There was a large mirror on the wall outside the bedroom door. She caught a glimpse of herself. She wasn’t unattractive. She was fashionably slender, with a chic blonde bob she’d paid a fortune for. Sure, she’d always preferred her hair longer and less platinum, but this was truly professional looking. And her makeup was flawless. She was a designer version of the girl who had grown up eating tofu and listening to lectures on being cruelty free. There was no such thing. The world was cruel, and it paid to understand that fact of life.
Smoothing down her hair, she made sure she looked cosmetically perfect. It was hard to forget that Patrick had mentioned only two days ago that a lot of women her age were already getting Botox. It wasn’t bad. Not yet. Just a few lines. Shit. Maybe she should get a bit. Just in between her eyes.
Deep breath. She would walk in and wake him up in a very sexy way, and then she would say… Fuck. What would she say?
“Patrick, I want you to see a sex therapist with me. I’ve been reading a lot about the power exchange in the bedroom, and I think we should explore it. I found a therapist who is kink friendly, and I’m going to make an appointment for us.” There. That was perfectly reasonable. And when he asked what she meant? “I would like for you to take command of me in the bedroom.”
Since everyone thinks you have command of me professionally, when we both know I tell you what to do, say, and wear. Since we both damn well know that you couldn’t get your head out of your own hot ass long enough to have an actual professional thought, it might be nice for you to take charge somewhere.
Yeah. She wasn’t going to say that last part. She wouldn’t say it out loud, but it was definitely implied.
She unbuttoned the top two buttons of her Marc Jacobs blouse. If this worked out, maybe she could move in. He’d said he wanted to wait for the wedding, but that was old fashioned. And impractical. It was time they behaved like the two-income, upwardly mobile couple they were. And she wouldn’t mind leaving her craptastic, roach motel studio behind.
She was going to be successful. She was going to get what she wanted because she had worked her ass off and gone to the right schools and made all the right moves. She’d picked the right man to marry because he had a plan, too. Eventually, after their careers were fully set, they would have perfectly planned children. Yes. Willpower was all that was needed.
She put a hand on the door and then heard a squeak.
And a moan. And that huffing noise Patrick made when he was either working out or having sex. And Patrick didn’t like to work out. She had to force him to get on the high-tech treadmill they’d bought together but kept at his place, as they did with almost every expensive purchase.
So if he wasn’t exercising, he better be masturbating.
Gemma opened the door and felt her blood pressure go straight through the roof. The hallway was dark enough that neither of the two figures on the bed seemed to notice they were no longer alone. Patrick groaned and his naked ass clenched as he came and then immediately rolled off his partner.
“That was nice.” He was using his sex voice, a low growl that reminded her of a house cat with a head cold. “You’re quite good, Christina.”
Christina? Christina Schiller? The dumbass, just-out-of-law-school brunette with the overblown fake tits and the faker brain? She’d graduated from some Podunk college on the West Coast more known for churning out film editors than lawyers. She’d gotten hired because the partners thought she was hot and her dad was loaded. Everyone knew that.
“That’s junior partner Christina to you,” she purred. There was a slight pause and a rustling of sheets. “Have you told her yet? I want to make the announcement soon.”
Patrick groaned, though this one had nothing to do with sex. It was the sound he made when someone wanted him to do something he didn’t want to do. “Babe, you know I need a day or two. We have the presentation on the Tremon Industries trial coming up. I need her to do all that research shit for me. And you know no one writes an opening argument like Gemma.”
Yep. That was what she’d been doing. She’d been up all night working while he was fucking Christina Big Tits, and apparently promising her Gemma’s job. There was an odd thumping in her chest and she realized it was her freaking heart. She could actually feel it pounding. She knew she should move, but her feet felt stuck to the floor. This couldn’t be happening. She’d worked her ass off. She was smarter than either one of the people in that bed.
A self-satisfied laugh came from Christina’s throat. “Well, luckily my father has more money than god. As soon as I get that junior partnership, Giles and Knoxbury gets the representation contract for Daddy’s film company. And you get me.”
“Yeah. Maybe you should tell her,” Patrick said nervously. “She’s already like put down money for the wedding and stuff. I put her off as long as I could, but she put down ten grand to reserve some hotel for the wedding.”
Nonrefundable. That deposit was nonrefundable, as was the designer wedding dress she’d nearly killed two women over at a bridal gown sale. She still had a scar on her forearm over that dress.
Her stomach took a nosedive. She’d been an idiot. She’d worked ninety-hour weeks, slaving over reports and evidence and filing briefs. And her promotion was going to a woman who spent more time on her nails than her work.
“I’m allowing you to head Daddy’s legal team. You can get rid of the idiot blonde.” Christina let out a long sigh. “And I want her fired. I don’t want to have to look at your ex-fiancée every day.”
Patrick’s voice came out on a whine. She hated that whine. “Babe, I can’t fire her. She’s done nothing to get herself fired. She’s smart as hell. Do you think she couldn’t come up with a lawsuit? She was top of her class at Harvard. She’s honestly kind of slumming here.”
She wasn’t slumming. She was where she wanted to be. She’d decided long ago that she would conquer Manhattan.
Except she wasn’t conquering anything. She’d been chasing some fucking dream she’d had at the age of eight, and all she had to show for it was a going-nowhere job and a lying weasel of a fiancé.
She wasn’t sure how it happened. One minute she was standing there, listening to them talk about how easily she’d been fooled, with Patrick arguing that they should use her a little longer, and the next she was being arrested by New York’s finest and hauled out of one of Midtown’s nicer apartment buildings, a good-sized chunk of Christina Big Tits’ stylish brown hair still clutched in her palm.
“Sweetheart, you’re going to have to get in the car now.” The cop gave her a sympathetic nod toward the squad car.
Her vision still seemed hazy. Red. Everything had been red for a while. Reality rushed in on her. She was being arrested and her future was gone. And all she could think of was her damn bag. She wanted her bag.
“My purse?”
The cop’s partner, a solid woman, held up the bag. “I have it, honey. I’ll take care of it until you go through processing. Do you have someone you could call?”
They had been sympathetic after they’d managed to pull her off Christina and had the whole story. Cops, it seemed, sometimes got the shaft, too.
Who could she call? God. She couldn’t call anyone at the law firm. Everyone hated her. She’d been kind of a bitch because it was the only way to get taken seriously. She had no friends. She had no fiancé. She only had one person in the entire world who might care that she was in trouble.
“My mom.” Tears started to fall. How was she going to tell her mother she’d ruined everything?
* * * *
Tallahassee, Florida
Jesse McCann looked over the map. They had days of open road ahead of them. No one but him and Cade. Normally he would be looking forward to the trip. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d jumped on the backs of their custom-built bikes and spent weeks exploring the country and picking up women.
They wouldn’t be doing that this time.
This trip wasn’t about fun times with the man he thought of as his brother. This trip was about revenge.
Cade strode in, stuffing a gun into his backpack. They had spent the last year learning what they needed to know. They’d learned how to track a man, and they’d damn straight learned how to kill one.
“You ready?” Cade glanced up, a dark look in his eyes. Guilt weighed heavily on his face. Jesse would never forget the dark hole Cade slipped into when they’d learned how their foster mother had died. Cade had been with their mother the longest. Jesse had only had five years with Nancy Gibbs. Cade had come to their foster mother when he’d been barely nine. Cade lived with her longer than his own mom.
Maybe if Jesse had spent more time with Nancy Gibbs, he wouldn’t have a juvenile rap sheet a mile long.
He hoped he didn’t get an actual adult arrest when they finally took down the man who had caused his foster mother’s death. It didn’t matter. One way or another, Christian Grady would pay for what he’d done.
“I’m ready.” Jesse had been ready from the moment he realized that Christian Grady was responsible for Nancy Gibbs’s misery and her eventual death. Grady had bilked an elderly lady out of her life savings and left her to die in a rat-infested nursing home. Guilt burned in his gut. He’d been partying with Cade while she was dying. He’d called every other day, but he should have visited. He should have made sure. He should have fucking stayed at home and taken care of her.
And his heartache was nothing compared to what Cade must be feeling. Cade didn’t know it, but Jesse had figured out his foster brother’s past long ago. He
’d heard Cade’s nightmares. He’d put together the puzzle. What had happened to Nancy Gibbs differed vastly from the way Cade’s parents and sister had died, but the guilt would feel the same. Cade’s face was bleak as he pulled his gloves on.
“Stop it.” Cade stared at him, a frown on his face. “I know what you’re thinking. We didn’t kill her. Grady did, and Hope McLean is going to lead us straight to him.”
Cade nodded but didn’t reply. It wasn’t anything they hadn’t gone over a hundred times. He hoped Cade actually listened to logic this time. They needed to concentrate on the plan. Christian Grady wasn’t dead, though he wanted the world to believe he was. They knew damn well he was alive, and he couldn’t be allowed to get away with what he’d done. They would use the man’s wife to lead them to him. Eventually Grady would figure out Hope McLean was living in Bliss, Colorado, so Bliss, Colorado, was going to be their home for a while.
They had jobs. They had a place to live. They had a plan.
He climbed on the back of his bike and slid a long look at his best friend. He couldn’t imagine what he would have done if he hadn’t met Cade Sinclair. Died, he suspected. Gone to jail. Something bad. Cade might be fucked-up beyond all recognition, but Jesse meant to stand beside him. Cade had taught him that there was something more important than himself. Family. Family was everything. Not blood. Blood didn’t make a family. Commitment did. Love did. Cade was his brother.
“What do we do after this?” Jesse asked.
Cade sighed, the sound deep and low in his chest. “I don’t know, man. I guess we come back to Florida and try to start our lives.”
Jesse nodded and gunned the engine. He wasn’t sure where the hell his life was going, but he knew one thing. Wherever the road took him, it was going to go through Bliss.
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