Blitz (Emerald City/Black Family Saga Book 1)

by Scully, Felicia X.

  She’s going to kill me. She’s going to jump out of that bed, cracked ribs and all, and strangle me to death.

  I take a step back, prepared to turn around, and my body hits a solid surface.

  “Did she sign it?”

  I look up at Tony. “No,” I say quietly.

  He laughs. “Did you show her?”

  I shake my head.

  “Well now’s a good time,” he replies. “She’s pumped full of morphine, still out of it and ready to drift off any minute. Not to mention,” he adds, holding up one finger at a time. “In a hospital bed. Broken leg. Can’t chase after you.”

  I smirk. He knows her as well as I do.

  “This is going to kill her,” I say, hugging myself. “She loved that job.”

  “If anything, she’s going to kill me. I’m the one who practically chased her out of the club. If it wasn’t for me...”

  I place a hand on his arm. For a solid three weeks, I blamed him too. It was an argument with him that led her here. According to Ronnie, he led her on then kicked her to the curb when some English chick caught them red handed. I’d be pissed too. Probably enough to walk into oncoming traffic, just like Reese did.

  But Tony, the mysterious ex from her past, hasn’t left her side since. He’s been at the hospital every day. He’s paid all her medical bills. He even moved into her building. That last part is a little weird, but I can’t help but admire his dedication.

  “It’s not your fault,” I say with a smile. “She’s lucky to have you. And I’m sure she’ll forgive you.”

  “Well if she can forgive me, you’re good. You know that right?”

  I shrug.

  “Sydney, you’ve been busting your ass for weeks now trying to save her job. You signed the only player she cares about and you’re about to offer her the opportunity of a lifetime. Even if she doesn’t know what’s going on right now, when she wakes up she’ll be showering you with nothing but praise.”

  That’s if I can get away with this. I’ve got the contract, I’ve got the money, all I need to do now is get Ray to keep trusting me.

  “I know. It’s just…none of this is set in stone yet. What if Willie figures out a way to steal the contract? What if Ray doesn’t go for it?”

  “Then you start over. It’s Reese Clarke we’re talking about. You know, the lady that got hit by a Hummer seven weeks ago. The one who woke up with all her memories and functions? She’s a fighter. So are you.”

  I sigh and turn back to the room. “Fine,” I say. “Might as well take the plunge.”

  Reese is staring at the television when I walk in. It’s been locked on ESPN since she got ahold of the remote. She barely notices me sit down in the chair beside the bed. I pull out a pen and the piece of paper that could change our lives forever and clear my throat.

  “Reesey,” I smile sweetly. “How you feeling?”

  “Don’t call me that, Syd. It’s weird.”

  Faculties present. That’s good.

  “Sorry.” I pause working through the speech in my head.

  Reese continues to stare at the screen and I nearly lose my nerve again, prepared to jump up from the chair and run out of the building. But when I glance over my shoulder, Tony is standing there, egging me on with a confident smile.

  “Look, this might be the craziest thing you’ve ever done, but it also might be the smartest. And trust me when I say I’ve tried everything.” I drop the paper in her lap.

  She glances down at it and frowns.

  “The Bucco Agency? What’s this?”

  “I considered a bunch of different names. Bucco and Montenegro. But Tony insisted on being a silent partner. Bucco and Bucco, but I thought that sounded dumb. I thought about Clarke and Associates, but Auntie started going on and on about how disappointing it is that her daughter can’t even be proud of her own name. So, what do you think? It’s a name that leaves itself open to possibilities. That’s what Uncle Bobby says and I think—”

  “What is this?”

  “It’s…um…it’s your business. Our business. I managed to get the capital together and—”

  “How? I don’t understand—”

  “I signed Ray Carlson,” I blurt it out. I don’t want to get into details. So my first instinct is to deflect.

  It works. Reese’s eyes go wide. “You’re serious?”

  I nod vigorously. “It wasn’t easy but I got him. He’ll be your first client if—”

  “What do you mean my first? I have eleven clients on my roster, Syd.” Reese shuts off the television and lies back in her bed, her dark hair spilling out over the starched sheets.

  “Not anymore,” I say slowly. “After your accident, Willie Mahr…he…”

  “What did that bastard do?” She yawns, her eyelids drooping.

  “Reese?”

  She mumbles something, but I can’t quite make it out.

  “Reese can you just sign this? It’s important. I’ll explain it all to you in the morning.”

  Her eyes flutter open and she stares at me. I hand her the pen and after a few moments she takes it.

  “It’s going to be okay,” I say as I watch her scribble on the paper, my nerves on high alert. “I’ll take care of everything and once you get out of here, it’ll all be okay.”

  She barely finishes writing, when the pen drops from her hand. I pick it up, my gut twisting. Tony better be right. But, most of all, Ray better come through.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Ray

  I close the door quietly, even though everything inside me wants to slam it. Then I walk straight toward the stairs. It’s after nine. She’s in bed, but I don’t care. She’s got a lot of explaining to do. Everything I need to say, I have to get it out before my dad gets up. Before he can neutralize the situation, before I lose my nerve.

  I knock on the door. Three pronounced raps. Less than a minute later, Mom stands on the other side, wrapped in a robe squinting through the light from the hallway.

  “Raymond. You’re home.”

  “We need to talk,” I say. “Now.” Then I turn around and walk back down the stairs.

  She meets me in the kitchen ten minutes later. She’s spent most of the time so far, preparing tea and avoiding my gaze. Mariah was right. My sister’s words ring clear in my head.

  When are you going to wake up, Ray?

  Today. Today I am wide awake.

  “It was you, wasn’t it?”

  Her body goes rigid, but she doesn’t turn around.

  “Ray, you have to understand…”

  “How could you do something like that? Do you have any idea how this has affected us? Both of us? Mariah’s life…it’s not like ours. She deserves more. She wanted more. And now…she has nothing. We need to fix this.”

  “And we will,” she says, finally turning to face me. She rests her cup and saucer down on the table then reaches forward to cup my face.

  I lean back. “So you admit it. It was you.”

  “What choice did I have? I had two kids to take care of. Practically teenagers and she was just so much trouble. I wanted to do right by your mom. I did. I tried so hard, but I couldn’t handle it. It’s almost like Karma was slapping me in the face. Paying me back for every stupid decision I’d ever made. It wasn’t supposed to be this way.” She blinks away a few stray tears. “I was supposed to fall madly in love, get married have a few kids of my own. Not find my soul mate and leave him behind to do the right thing. But that’s what I had to do. It’s what I’ve always tried to do where you kids are concerned.”

  “So this is our fault?”

  “No, honey. It’s not your fault. I am blessed. I feel blessed. That’s all I’m trying to say and I wanted to protect what we had, to keep my promise. I had to make things better.”

  “How on Earth does this make things better?” I stand up, knocking the chair backwards.

  I wanted to believe she wouldn’t do this, that she wasn’t this vindictive. But Mariah was right. She is. She�
�s standing there admitting to everything.

  “Ray, I think you need to calm down.” Her tone is stern and what would usually have me bowing my head and apologizing just makes me angrier.

  “Why should I?” I spit. “How could you?” I ask, my voice breaking.

  “Things were tough. I’d spent everything cent of our savings paying for your sister’s lawyers, paying back the people she stole from, then college for you. I was desperate, I didn’t know what else to do.”

  “So you sold us out? Your own family? For money? It was ours to begin with! It was left for us. So you had to spend it on legal fees and tuition. So what? I didn’t think you were that petty.” I take a step forward and she shrinks back. “How much did they pay you? Was it worth it? To tell all our secrets?”

  She frowns. “Pay me? Ray, what are you talking about? What secrets?”

  “The article. The one that’s all over the—everywhere. Everyone knows. About our father. About Mariah. You should see the things they wrote about our mother—like she was no one, like she was worth nothing.”

  “Ray—”

  “I can’t believe you’d do it. I didn’t think you did. In the back of my mind, I was sure you didn’t. I can’t…” I groan and cover my face. “And all this time he’s been alive.”

  “Who?”

  “Our father. The one you’ve refused to talk about all these years. You never said anything. You kept the truth to yourself all this time.”

  “Ray, I don’t know what you’ve heard—”

  “The truth. That’s what. Tell me, now that it’s out in the open, what’s he going to do? Now that everyone knows. Did he pay us to go away? Is that it? Now what?” I laugh bitterly and stare hard at her. “Is he going come asking for it all back?”

  “Of course not. Luke would never do that. This is all so complicated. If you’d just sit down we can—”

  “You made me think he was dead.”

  “I never said—”

  “But you made me think it.”

  She lowers herself into the chair and gazes down at her tea. “What article?” she asks, quietly.

  I look down at her. Her head is still bowed, her hands shaking.

  “You don’t know about the article?”

  “No,” she whispers.

  “Well, what did you think the information was…?” My stomach tightens as I register her expression. Her eyes are misty, her brows creased in the center. She’s worried. Maybe even scared. “You didn’t sell the information,” I say.

  “But I have a very good idea who did.”

  “No,” I say. “Mariah wouldn’t. You should have seen her. She was—she was hurt and…so angry. She has a life and it’s ruined now. Her records were sealed. No one was ever supposed to know about the things she’d done. She was young and struggling and…now everyone just thinks she’s a bad knock-off of our father.”

  Aunt Sheila closes her eyes and presses her lips together. “I believe you.” Her lids flutter open and she holds my gaze. “I warned you, Ray. There are certain people who are only in it for the money. Not your best interest. Not your success. Your family has your back. That girl…” She sighs. “Reese Clarke may have been the best option, at the time. But things change. And you trusted the wrong person. Sydney Bucco is not a sports agent, she’s a girl looking to make a quick buck.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Ray

  I sit in the same booth, staring at the empty space beside me. Just a few nights ago, she sat there, staring at me all innocent and wide eyed. And I’d fallen straight into her trap. Like an idiot.

  I down another shot of tequila, my throat barely registering the burn, my body not giving me so much as a tingle. I’ve left my car at home, along with my dignity. I rub my eyes before slamming my fist against the table.

  The waitress walking by jumps, but she’s gone before I can apologize. It’s for the best. I can barely form a sentence right now. Just thoughts. Angry, humiliating thoughts.

  Sydney is the only explanation. One I was too idiotic or too whipped to come up with on my own. I don’t want to believe it, but it makes sense. She’s the one who helped me find Mariah. And I gave her all the information to put the pieces together. Then she sold me out. I guess I can’t really blame her. She needed the money.

  I reach for the last shot glass. But that didn’t give her the right.

  She pulled me in then, the second we got close, pushed me away.

  My cell phone vibrates and I pick it up, shoving it into my back pocket. I leave a few bills on the table then make my way toward the exit and waiting cab.

  “117 18th.” I rest my head against the back of the seat.

  The cabbie nods. He peers at me through the review mirror, but doesn’t seem to recognize me. Not a football fan or doesn’t care. Either one is fine with me. I’m not in the mood tonight.

  I yank the folded up paper from my jacket pocket and stare down at my father’s face. I never cried for him. I barely knew him. I don’t remember much about my parents before they both disappeared forever. The only real memory I have is my mom’s face. Blue eyes like my own and a soft voice that’s stuck in my mind even after all these years.

  By the time the cab pulls up to Sydney’s building, the memories of Dad and my assumptions of what she’s done are brewing inside me like the perfect storm. I hand the cabbie some cash and stumble across the street.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Sydney

  Fumbling for my robe, I wrap it around my half-naked body and stumble toward the door.

  Who the hell?

  I swing it open and step back, unable to deny the relief I feel. I’ve been thinking about him all night. Wanting him more than I should. Touching myself in all the right places. Wishing it was him. And now he’s standing here in my doorway, hopefully wanting me too.

  “I’ve been thinking,” I say, as he brushes past me, not waiting for an invitation. “About what I said back in Moscow. I…wait, are you drunk?”

  He grunts an affirmative and I close the door behind me.

  “What’s going on?”

  “You don’t watch television? I know you must have been online today.” He doesn’t look at me when he speaks and there’s a hardness in his voice.

  “No,” I say. “I’ve had a busy day.”

  “I’ll bet you have.”

  “Are you okay?” I ask and sit down on the futon.

  He paces, slowly back and forth in front of me, his hands clasped, index fingers resting on his lips. He looks down at me, but doesn’t say anything.

  I raise my eyebrows. “Hello?”

  Ray drops a sheet of paper in my lap and turns his back.

  “What’s this?” I ask, skimming it over.

  He scoffs. “Like you don’t know? Tell me something, Sydney. Are you an agent? No, I guess not. You’re not exactly qualified are you? You’re an assistant, but that’s just a front, huh? A means to a bigger pay day.”

  I hold the paper in front of me. “Ray, I don’t—”

  “Don’t.” He turns a glare on me, and I shrink back. “Just stop talking. You did this. You may not be a licensed private investigator but that doesn’t mean you’re not a good one. When did you first figure it out?”

  “What?” I ask quietly.

  “This!” He knocks the paper out of my hand. “My fucking life story!”

  I jump to my feet, my hands clenched at my sides. “Get out,” I say calmly.

  “I’m not going anywhere. Not until you explain—”

  “Get the fuck out of my apartment,” I scream so loud it grates my throat.

  Ray freezes and stares at me for a few moments before bending to pick up the fallen sheet. “Why’d you do it, Sydney? Why would you…?” His voice breaks.

  Something inside me goes soft. Even though I’m pissed at him for speaking to me like that, there’s another, smaller part of me that actually feels bad. “I didn’t do anything,” I say quietly. “I don’t even know what you’re tal
king about.”

  Ray silently hands me the paper and sludges toward the door.

  I take care reading it this time, focusing first on the title.

  Roscoe Gold makes a comeback (and it’s not what you think)

  The first part of the article goes into detail about a legendary guitarist who landed in jail after a car accident.

  “Luke Black?” My words stop him in his tracks. “What does this have to do with you?” But as the name comes back to my memory, I look up to meet his gaze. “Your dad? This guy is your dad.”

  Ray doesn’t answer. Instead, his shoulders drop. And he lets out a sigh so heavy I feel it from where I stand. I step forward, the paper fluttering to the floor again, as I meet him at his side.

  “Ray…” I touch his arm and he looks down at me.

  His blue eyes glisten and the expression on his face practically breaks me in two.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  I don’t know what I’m apologizing for. His dead father? There’s more to it than that. But I don’t know what to ask. If I keep reading, I’ll have a clue, but all I want to do is make him feel better.

  “I just don’t…why? When I’m with you, you make me feel like everything’s normal. Like I can handle all the unpredictable stuff. Why would you take that from me?”

  “I swear to you I didn’t do anything,” I say. “I wish I…could make it all go away. Whatever it is.”

  “You can, Sydney,” he says “You did.”

  I don’t know what else to do, so I wrap my arms around his waist and lean my head on his chest. “Just tell me what to do,” I say.

  For several moments, he just stands there, letting me hug him. His heart is beating a mile a minute and his breaths are coming hard and fast. Then he finally hugs me back, holding me so close to him I couldn’t pull away if I wanted to. After a while, when his breathing has calmed, he holds my head between his hands and pulls back.

  “I think I’m falling in with love you, Sydney.”

  I don’t respond. I’m pretty sure I don’t feel the same way, but then again, I’ve never been in love. Maybe I have no idea what it feels like. Instead, I stand on my tiptoes, close my eyes, and kiss him.