Blitz (Emerald City/Black Family Saga Book 1)

by Scully, Felicia X.

  “Avery fucking Chase! Get your drunk ass inside before I make a call you’ll regret.” The waitress’s face pretty much matches the tone of her hair as she stomps across the parking lot in our direction. “You got nothing better to do than get into it with some kid?” She gives him a good kick in the side and he groans stumbling to his feet.

  I help Ray up and stand in front of him, like I could actually do something to protect him. Even though all I’ve done for the last few minutes is gape like an idiot.

  “You have no idea who this kid is, Jill.” Avery wipes a trickle of blood from his bottom lip.

  “I don’t give a shit. I’m tired of this. I swear to god if you don’t get your act together…”

  Avery’s eyes widen and he hurries in Jill’s direction. “I’m sorry. Don’t, okay? I’m sorry.”

  “Get your ass inside,” she hisses.

  It takes several moments for her to gather herself and once she does, she turns back to us gazing up at Ray. “I don’t know who you are or why my jackass of a husband felt the need to get in your face, but he hasn’t been in a good place in a long time. Don’t take it personally. He pretty much hates any pretty young boy that comes rolling through town.” She crosses her arms and gives a little shrug. “Can’t say he’s ever jumped one in a parking lot before, but…look, I hate to say this, but maybe you two better avoid this place. Maybe even avoid this town altogether. There are a few more exciting places than Moscow, Idaho.” She grins. “If it were me I’d be vacationing in San Francisco or Tokyo.” Her gaze flicks between the two of us. “Again, I’m sorry. You two…have a nice night.”

  I reach the damp cloth toward his face. “You’re still bleeding.”

  Ray turns his head. “It’s fine.”

  “But are you okay?”

  He lets out a sigh and leans his back against the sofa, eyes closed. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?” I ask softly.

  “For dragging you out here. For getting into it with some idiot in a strange town. I put you in danger and I’m sorry.”

  “That Avery guy didn’t seem all that dangerous. Crazy maybe.”

  Ray smirks for a split second before his eyes flutter open. “Maybe, but he could have had a gun or something, Syd. He could have gone after you instead of me.”

  I nudge his leg with my knee. “I get the feeling you would have protected me.”

  “In a heartbeat.” His gaze holds mine and I do my best not to squirm.

  “Well, I’m not a pretty young boy, so I guess I was safe all along.” I laugh. “Avery fucking Chase has some issues.”

  “No kidding.”

  I get up on my knees and lean in close. “Now, whether you like it or not and no matter how sorry you are, I’m going to take care of that cut on your eyebrow, then I’ll work on your lip.”

  The smile returns to his face. “Oh yeah?”

  “It looks gross and I hate the sight of blood.”

  I wipe the dried blood off the side of his face and dab the cut on his brow, lightly. He watches me the entire time and by the time I’m finished my throat is so dry I feel like I might choke.

  My gaze drops to his mouth but I can’t bring myself to touch it. To just go ahead and get the doctoring over with. Instead, I focus on his chin, wiping the dried blood away with the warm cloth, one soft stroke at a time.

  When I’m finished cleaning him up, I glance back at his lip. A droplet of blood, pearls at the side and all I can do is stare. His tongue darts out, grazing the cut on the corner of his lip, sending my stomach into a series of flip-flops.

  I can’t help myself. I don’t know what comes over me, or why my little mind thinks it’s a good idea, but I lean even closer to replicate his action. The salty, tangy taste sends a quiver through me and, as I try to pull away, Ray’s arms encircle my waist.

  “Where are you going?”

  I shake my head in response.

  “You promised to work on my lip. I’m going to hold you to that.”

  “Won’t it hurt?” I whisper.

  “Not if you’re gentle.”

  I lift my arm again, the cloth still gripped in my hand, but I’m not even remotely interested in making the move that will put this whole thing to rest. Every thought I’m having right now is sure to send my life into a complicated tailspin.

  Ray effortlessly pulls the cloth from my hand and as if I’m the fish and he’s reeling in the bait he says, “I’m not drunk. Not deliriously hungry either. I just really want to kiss you again.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Ray

  I open my eyes then close them, remembering last night and my heart rate speeds up. I’ve never been with a girl like that. I didn’t even know it was possible. The chick in college had been fun. She’d pretty much blown my mind, but it was different. My first time. I thought my insides were going to explode and it hadn’t lasted long—at least not as long as I intended. She left before I even had the chance to say anything. And I never saw her again. Not up close anyway. And things with Kristen never went further than a few pecks and linked fingers.

  But Sydney. All we did was kiss. And it was…it’s all I can think about. I guess that’s what they call magic. And I guess that makes me one corny bastard.

  I sit on the edge of the bed, being careful not to shift it too much, and pull my socks on. It’s already after nine. The pub isn’t open yet and, other than memories of my night with Sydney and the crazy run-in with that drunk from the bar, I’ve got one thing on my mind. Mariah.

  I shrug into my hoodie, and tuck my hair under my baseball cap again. The sun is shining brightly this morning so I’ll wear my shades too. It feels flamboyant, but I can’t handle running into a fan right now. I can’t be bothered to think up polite conversation on the spot. I need to focus on how I’m going to get my sister to talk to me.

  I should have expected she’d be pissed, but instead I got caught up in the moment. In a fantasy that she’d be relieved to see me, that she’d fill me in on the details of her life, maybe even follow me home. Somehow, I doubt that now.

  My town. That’s what she’d called this place. This is her home and I’m invading. Still, if I can just get her to hear me out, to talk to me.

  “Hey.” Sydney is sitting up in the bed, rubbing her eyes. “Where are you going?”

  A smile creeps onto my face and I sit back down on the bed again. I lean in and kiss her sweet lips. “Morning.”

  She grins back, her face flushing slightly. “Good morning, Ray.”

  “I made you eggs.” I point over to the desk. “Just like I promised.”

  “And coffee. Bless you.”

  She stretches an arm toward the tray and I stand up to grab the mug for her.

  “You didn’t answer my question,” she says. She takes a sip, eyes closed.

  “Um, well you were sleeping, so I didn’t want to…I mean I guess you could come if you—”

  “No.” She shakes her head. “I don’t need to. This house is a lot less creepy in the daylight. I was just wondering.”

  “I’m headed over to the Long Farm.”

  She raises and eyebrow.

  “Pete says Mariah lives there with this guy—he’s her band mate, but I think he may be her boyfriend. And I’m certain he’s a dick.”

  Sydney snorts. “Why do you say that?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe not. I mean, the guy didn’t exactly know who I was last night. And I’m not sure if she even told him. Doesn’t matter though.” I rise to my feet. “I’m going over there and I’m going to get her to talk to me.”

  She rests the coffee cup down on the nightstand and swings her legs over the edge of the bed. She’s dressed in nothing but a t-shirt and the way she’s perched on the edge of the bed—the bed she shared with me last night—things look alluringly like something they aren’t.

  “Just don’t force it,” she says. “I’m sure she’ll come to you when she’s ready.”

  She stands up, stretching upwards w
ith big yawn. And I can’t keep my composure anymore. I step forward, fold her into my arms and tilt her head, a finger under chin.

  “Jeez, you even look hot when you wake up.”

  Sydney’s cheeks redden and I bend down to kiss her. She kisses me back for a few seconds, then pulls away abruptly, covering her mouth.

  “My breath smells like ass. And coffee.”

  I laugh. “I don’t mind. I just like the way you feel.” I wrap my arms around her and she presses her forehead to my chest. “I should go,” I whisper in her ear. “But when I get back…”

  She giggles. “I’ll be here.”

  I shut the door to my truck and stand frozen in place for a moment as I survey the property in front of me. It’s eerily similar. Surrounded by fir trees, lost in its own forest. It looks a lot like home, but it’s far from it.

  The Long Farm has a certain charm that all farms do, rustic, authentic, with a telltale aroma. I remove my hat and run my fingers through my hair. I might be able to use my face to my advantage. I hope.

  I walk down the otherwise empty driveway, up a narrow walkway and mount the wooden steps. They’re off to the side, instead of the front like most houses and as I glance behind me, I’m secretly glad I’ve chosen to come here in broad daylight. Not that anyone could hear my calls for help or see a struggle anyway. From where I stand, I can no longer see the road.

  The moment I arrived, I sent Sydney a text.

  Long Farm. Joyce Road.

  She probably thinks I’m a wimp now, especially after that throw down with the old guy last night. I’m pissed he got in so many hits, but I’d been so shocked when he’d punched me, it took a few moments to catch up. Wimp or not after a run I like that, I’d rather let her know where I am. Just in case.

  I step onto the porch and walk past the first set of vertical windows. They are wide open, which means someone must be home. Inside is a space so large and empty it looks like a banquet all. A stone fireplace off to the right, shiny hardwood floors, a chair, a sofa, and a coffee table that’s positioned so far away from both, I wonder what it’s purpose is. Inside, the house is even less like home. No trinkets, no photos. Just plants and furniture.

  I press the doorbell and clasp my hands in front of me. After several moments there is no answer, so I rap on the door, ensuring my knock is loud and pronounced.

  I hear footsteps a few seconds later.

  The door opens and my first instinct is to turn around and give up. I was hoping to be met by an older woman or maybe even a man, a long-term football fan—they’re easier to charm. But instead, on the other side of the threshold, stands the guy from last night. Jake. His longish blond hair is frazzled, falling in all different directions. He wears a ribbed white tank top and holds a bottle of beer in one hand and cell phone in the other.

  “I need to speak with Mariah Carlson,” I say.

  “Thanks,” he mutters into the phone, then hangs up.

  He shoves the phone into the back pocket of his torn jeans and takes a swig of his beer.

  “Kind of early, isn’t it?” I should keep my mouth closed, but he’s already pissing me off. I peer past him into the house.

  Jake steps out onto the porch and shuts the door.

  “Is she here?” I ask.

  “There’s no one here by that name.”

  I scoff. “I know for a fact there is. Jake is it? Look, I just need to talk to her. I’d tell you about what, but I don’t really see how that’s your business.”

  He smirks and tips his bottle again. “Names, Jeremy. Now I’m going to ask nicely. Leave.”

  “That’s nicely?” I clench my teeth, glaring back at the guy.

  My sister is in there. I know it. So why does he feel the need to hide it?

  “Look,” I say. “I know Mariah’s here. I was told she lives here and I really need to speak with her.”

  He closes his arms over his chest, takes another step forward and narrows his eyes.

  I almost want to laugh, but I doubt it will help, so I just keep peering back. Expression neutral. He’s about a head shorter than me and probably fifty pounds lighter. If it comes down to it, I can take him. Fighting isn’t my first option. Last night I’d only been defending myself. In fact, picking a fight is usually last thing I’d ever do. Playing a contact sport for a living eases the desire to take it off the field, but this guy is really starting to piss me off.

  I open my mouth to tell him as much, but he steps back, reaching for the doorknob.

  “Jake or Jeremy, whoever you are, this is important. I wouldn’t be here if you it weren’t.” I say, hoping to stall him.

  I tilt my face forward, hoping to spark some kind of recognition, but all I get is another scowl.

  “You’re that blogger aren’t you?”

  “No. Please,” I say. “I just want to talk to her. I’m—”

  “I thought I made it clear over the phone. Mariah’s not interested in talking to anyone about anything. Not now, not ever. Now get off my property before I call the police.”

  “Wait,” I call. But the door slams in my face.

  Anger brews away inside my chest, as I march down the gravel driveway, threatening to bubble over. I can’t blame him for acting the way he does. Being protective. But he doesn’t know the truth. He doesn’t know who I am. He doesn’t know that’s my job. That I’m the one who she’s supposed to count on. I’m the one who’s supposed to protect her. Not them.

  Or maybe he knows exactly who I am, I think, as I settle back into the driver’s seat. Maybe my sister really is done with me.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Sydney

  I stare at myself in the bathroom mirror. I really am glowing, I decide. There really is such a thing as the Morning After Glow. Reese and Ronnie used to go on about it for days. A look you only got after great sex. I always thought they were idiots, but there isn’t enough makeup in the world to make me look this good. We didn’t quite get that far, but as I trail my finger over the beard burn just beneath my lower lip, I realize we probably could have. Now that I think of it, most guys would have. But Ray Carlson clearly isn’t most guys.

  I close my eyes trying to recall the softness of his lips, the tender way his fingers travelled across every area of my body—except for the obvious ones—and still made me quiver. The first kiss was impulsive and a little bit fuzzy if I’m being honest. The second was unexpected and ended humiliation for us both. The third barely moved up the scale from there. But drowning in the fourth, fifth and the hundredth all in the same night is something I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to describe.

  Staring at myself in the mirror again I fluff my hair and offer my reflection a wink. Turning on my heel I head out the door. Ray should be back soon and I have no idea what this day holds.

  When I get back…

  It was both obscure and obvious. Does he really intend to keep me in that bed, kissing me all day long until I fall asleep, wake up and do it all over again? I didn’t want to assume so I took a shower and made the bed. Now I stand here in the living room pacing, nervously.

  I pick up my phone from the table beside the sofa to find several missed calls.

  Uncle Bobby.

  I dial him back right away, pacing as the phone rings out. His voicemail picks up, so I hang up and dial right back. Still no answer. So, I send him a quick text message asking him to call me.

  All of a sudden I’m queasy. I hold the phone in front of me, unsure of what move to make next. It’s about Reese. It has to be. My family’s been calling me like crazy while I’ve been…

  What have I done? My skin heats up and I lower myself into the sofa.

  I just had an intense make out session with Ray Carlson. Reese leaves me to my own devices for a few weeks and I blow it all to hell.

  “Oh, my God. Sydney, you idiot.” I bury my face in my hands. “He’s a client. A fucking client. You don’t mess around with clients.”

  I can imagine Reese’s reaction. One of the first t
hings I’d been curious about was how she worked so closely with so many hot guys and didn’t date any of them.

  Never get involved with a client, she’d said. It’s the one rule I had and I should have stuck to it.

  Especially after everything that happened with her and her ex-fiancé. Once upon a time, Neil was a client too. And falling for him meant losing a lot of money. At the time, it was worth. For…love or whatever. But now? Now she’s in a hospital bed about to lose everything all because of one night spent trying to forget how he humiliated her.

  Shit. What is wrong with me? I can’t believe I almost slept with a guy because he showed me a little bit of interest. Okay, so he’s insanely hot too, but so what? This is an epic blunder. And all I feel like doing is punishing myself.

  This complicates everything. What if he doesn’t sign the contract, like he promised? What if getting me in bed was his way to make me do his bidding…for free?

  Way to break through the glass ceiling, Syd.

  I’m disgusting. My skin is crawling and my insides swirling.

  But instead of falling apart, I bolt up from the chair and let out a sharp sigh. I won’t back down. So we had a little bit of fun. It didn’t have to mean anything. We’re adults and we have a deal. I find his sister, which I already have, and he signs the contract.

  I unzip the side of my bag and pull out the paper. When I decided to bring it with me yesterday it had been a security measure and I’m so relieved. It’s the one impulsive thing I’ve done in the past twenty-four hours I won’t regret.

  My phone chimes and I jump as Ray’s number flashes across the screen. I drop the phone on the sofa next to me. How am I going to explain to him that what we just did, we can never do again? How is he going to react? Can I just cut him off and still get him to take me seriously? To sign that damn contract.