Going Under (The Blackhawk Boys Book 3)

by Lexi Ryan

  Going Under

  The Blackhawk Boys, Book 3

  Lexi Ryan

  Contents

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  About Going Under

  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

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Epilogue

  GOING UNDER Playlist

  Other Books by Lexi Ryan

  About the Author

  Going Under © 2016 by Lexi Ryan

  All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this book. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from the author except by reviewers who may quote brief excerpts in connection with a review. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to institutions or persons, living or dead, is used fictitiously or purely coincidental.

  Cover © 2016 by Sarah Hansen, Okay Creations

  Cover image © 2016 by Sara Eirew

  Created with Vellum

  For Deb

  Acknowledgments

  I need to thank my husband first. If he ever thought me leaving my job as a professor and writing full-time meant I was going to work less, he’s certainly learned and accepted that’s not the case. This man understands what it takes to get a book done to my standards. And when I text him to tell him everything I’ve written is awful and my career is over, he replies, “You’re that far along already, huh?” Because he understands me too, and knows that enormous amounts of doubt are part of my process. The fact that he never doubts helps me push forward until the book finally becomes something I’m proud to share with the world. Thank you for encouraging me, Brian, and for always knowing what to say to make me laugh.

  I’m surrounded by a family who supports me every day. To my kids, Jack and Mary, thank you for making me laugh and giving me a reason to work hard. I am so proud to be your mommy. To my mom, brothers, and sisters, thank you for cheering me on—each in your own way. I’m so grateful to have been born into this crazy crew of seven kids.

  This book is dedicated to my sister Deb. We grew up as sisters and best friends who became two very different young women. She’s not Martina and Martina is not her (thank goodness!), but there was a lot about Martina and Alex’s relationship that I could better understand because of my sister. Deb, if you read this book, you’re gonna cry. I’m sorry. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

  I’m lucky enough to have a life full of amazing friends too. A special shout-out to Mira, who gave me so many pep talks during the drafting of this book that I’m surprised she didn’t quit me. Thanks to my lifting buddy Kylie, my coach Matt, and the entire CrossFit Terre Haute crew. Thank you for teaching me to love picking up heavy things and giving me an outlet I needed more than I ever realized. I’ve been blessed with so many amazing people in my life. You encourage me, you believe in me, and you know how to make me laugh.

  To everyone who provided me feedback on Sebastian and Alexandra’s story along the way—especially Janice Owen, Mira Lyn Kelly, and Samantha Leighton—you’re all awesome. Thank you for helping to make this idea in my head into something worth reading.

  Thank you to the team that helped me package this book and promote it. Sarah Hansen at Okay Creations designed my beautiful cover and did a lovely job branding the series. Sara Eirew took the hot cover photo. Rhonda Stapleton and Lauren McKellar, thank you for the insightful line edits. Thanks to Arran McNicol at Editing720 for proofreading. A shout-out to my assistant Lisa Kuhne for trying to keep me in line. To all of the bloggers and reviewers who help spread the word about my books, I am humbled by the time you take out of your busy lives for my stories. You’re the best.

  To my agent, Dan Mandel, for believing in me and staying by my side through tough career decisions. Thanks to you and Stefanie Diaz for getting my books into the hands of readers all over the world. Thank you for being part of my team.

  To my NWBs—Sawyer Bennett, Lauren Blakely, Violet Duke, Jessie Evans, Melody Grace, Monica Murphy, and Kendall Ryan—y’all rock my world. I watch you all in awe as I plod along on my own career path. Thank you for sharing your wisdom. I’m so proud to call you friends.

  To all my writer friends on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, and my various writer loops—especially to the Fast Draft Club and the All Awesome group—thank you for being my friends, my squad, and my sounding board.

  And last but certainly not least, a big thank-you to my fans. I’ve said it before and I’ll continue to say it every chance I get—you’re the coolest, smartest, best readers in the world. I appreciate each and every one of you. You’re the best!

  ~Lexi

  About Going Under

  If I met Alexandra DeLuca for the first time today, I would only need one word to describe her: MINE.

  She's everything she was when we said goodbye. Beautiful, stubborn, sweet…and off-limits.

  After two years leading separate lives, our worlds have collided. Now that she’s back home working beside me, she’s bound to make me lose my mind.

  She’s all I’ve ever wanted, all I’ve ever dreamed of, and the one thing I can never have.

  Not because she’s my best friend’s sister.

  Not because all four DeLuca brothers would come at me with fists swinging if I hurt her.

  Not even because she’s way better than I will ever deserve.

  I keep my distance because we didn’t meet for the first time today. We met five years ago when I was a different person. When my demons ruled me. Even though I’ve changed—even though I’ve gotten my life together and become a better man—I can’t change the past. And the secrets that haunt me would destroy her.

  But I’m not the only one with secrets, and when the truth comes out, I don’t know where to turn. What do you do when your world washes away beneath your feet and you feel like you’re drowning? What do you do when the woman you promised yourself you’d never touch is the only thing that can keep you from going under?

  GOING UNDER is a standalone novel and the third in the world of the Blackhawk Boys.

  Football. Secrets.
Lies. Passion. These boys don’t play fair. Which Blackhawk Boy will steal your heart?

  Book 1 - SPINNING OUT (Arrow’s story)

  Book 2 - RUSHING IN (Christopher’s story)

  Book 3 - GOING UNDER (Sebastian’s story)

  Book 4 – FALLING HARD (Keegan’s story – coming summer 2017)

  More Blackhawk Boys titles to be announced in 2017!

  Prologue

  Two years ago…

  Alexandra

  Are you awake? I’m at your front door.

  The text message catches me off guard. It’s just after midnight, and the house is quiet. My parents and brothers are asleep, and I should be too. We leave for the airport at oh-dark-thirty, but I’m too anxious to close my eyes. And now a text message from Sebastian Crowe?

  I could count on one hand the number of times Sebastian has texted me in the last three years, but every other time it was about school or my brother.

  I turn off the TV and flip on a hallway light as I go up front to answer the door.

  And now I can add another mind-fogging emotion to my anxiety, because Sebastian’s standing on my front porch. I stare at him through the window by the door. His hands are tucked into his pockets, and he’s shifting uneasily, his gaze drifting to the second story, where my bedroom is. I pause for a minute just to take him in—his broad shoulders and muscular arms, the well-trimmed beard that makes him look older than his nineteen years, the dark eyes with thick lashes girls would kill for.

  Swallowing hard, I open the door. “Hey. What are you doing here?”

  He looks me over, taking in my black yoga pants and the tank top that reveals more of my scars than I’ve ever shown at school. “I don’t…really know.” His chest rises on his deep inhale.

  My pounding heart feels too wild for my chest. When you’ve had a crush on a boy for three years and he shows up on your doorstep in the middle of the night, I suppose it’s normal for your heart to go off the rails.

  Playing it cool, I lean against the doorway and survey him. “Are you ready for this?” I ask, not sure what else to say.

  “Which part?”

  “College? Leaving your family?” Shrugging, I lick my dry lips. “Goodbye?”

  He leaves tomorrow too. While I’m boarding a plane for Colorado, he’ll be moving his things into the dorms in Lafayette and begin playing for the Purdue Boilermakers. Is he as nervous about his new life as I am about mine?

  I can’t imagine Sebastian being nervous about anything. He’s always so composed, so strong. After the fire, when my family was simultaneously falling apart and treating me like I was made of glass, Sebastian was a rock, solid and steady. He never said much during his visits to my hospital room, but that was what I needed—someone to be close without needing me to speak.

  “I shouldn’t be here.” His voice is low, his features twisted with worry.

  “Why not?”

  His gaze skims over me again, and this time the skim of his eyes is so hot that I almost expect my clothes to start smoking. But no. That can’t be right. This is Sebastian. Sebastian, who wants to be my friend and nothing more. Sebastian, who sees me as the sweet little girl who likes to work on cars with her brothers. Sebastian, whom I’ve wanted to look at me like this since day one, but who’s kept me at arm’s length.

  “I’ll miss you.” I’m not sure if I say it to fill the silence or because it’s so painfully true.

  “Don’t.” He lifts his eyes to meet mine and shakes his head. “Don’t give me another thought.”

  I back into the foyer and fold my arms to cover my chest. “That’s why you came here? To tell me not to think about you?” I’m afraid he’ll see how I feel in my eyes, but I can’t look away.

  “What do you want me to say?” Stepping into the house, he reaches for me but drops his hand before making contact.

  I want to imagine I’m seeing so much in his eyes—lust, affection, heartache—but it’s all in my head. It’s late, and I’m worried about leaving my family and starting a new life. I’m seeing what I want to see. And if I stand here any longer, I’m going to make a fool of myself by telling him exactly how I feel. “Good night, Sebastian. I hope you have a good life.” I start up the stairs, leaving the door ajar and Sebastian standing in the foyer. He can see himself out and close the door on his way.

  I ascend into the dark second story. When I reach the top of the stairs, I focus on putting one foot in front of the other and moving in the direction of my bedroom. I’m second-guessing everything. I shouldn’t have left him. I should have told him how I feel.

  Was that click the front door? Is he gone? When will I see him again? Never?

  “Alex.”

  The sound of Sebastian’s voice is like a lasso around my heart, tugging me backward.

  Slowly, I turn toward him and rest my shoulder against the doorjamb. He climbs the final stairs and treads silently forward. The only light in the hallway comes from my bedroom, but it’s enough to confuse me when I make out the hurt on his face.

  He slides his hand up my arm. It’s not the first time he’s touched me. We’ve spent the last three years in school together, so occasional contact is inevitable—a fist bump, the squeeze of an upper arm. And when he found me at Martina’s grave months after her death, he pulled me into his arms. He was the first person to hold me after the fire. Everyone else was too afraid. But tonight, something about his touch is different, and it sends an electrified shiver along my skin.

  He’s still for a moment, his warm fingers unmoving while my heart pounds so hard I’m sure he can hear it. Then, in one smooth motion, he spins me into my bedroom and backs me against the wall. He’s close. Close enough that his heat becomes my own—a warm rush that follows the electric shiver and settles in my belly. His eyes drop to my mouth, and his lips part.

  I’m afraid to breathe. Afraid to blink. I don’t want to ruin this moment or do anything that might wake me from this dream.

  His broad chest rises on a long inhale, and his dark eyes stay glued to my lips. I’m faintly aware of the tick of the second hand from the grandfather clock in the hallway and the soft hum of the ceiling fan in my bedroom. With every second that passes, the netting around my heart draws tighter. Mustering all of my courage, I lift my chin and tilt my face ever so slightly toward his.

  He squeezes his eyes shut, and I think he lowers his head, but the movement is so slight that I can’t be sure. When he exhales, his breath brushes across my lips. It’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever felt.

  The moment I’m convinced he’s going to kiss me is the same moment he backs away. “I suck at goodbyes.”

  I want to lift my hand to my mouth, to run my fingertips across lips that feel wounded by his rejection. I keep my hands at my sides and my chin up, refusing to let him see what he just did to me.

  I shouldn’t have bothered. He’s turning away, leaving my room, my house, and my life. I have no idea when I’ll see him again, but my heart is firmly in his careless hands.

  Chapter One

  Sebastian

  It’s not every day you get to work and are confronted with your own personal wet dream, but when I step into Dad’s body shop, I’m greeted by the sight of a white ’65 Shelby GT350 restored to its former glory. The car is freshly waxed and shined, and even with an unsightly dent in the passenger door, it makes my mouth water.

  The car alone might be enough to do me in, but it’s nothing compared to the ass of the woman under the hood. It’s a fucking perfect ass, molded into a tight pair of jeans that are almost indecent in the way they cradle her curves.

  There are lots of guys who love cars, and lots of guys who’d say there’s nothing hotter than a sexy woman lying on the hood of one. Me? I prefer the woman who knows what to do under the hood, and trust me when I say that’s not some dirty sex metaphor. I’d choose the girl who isn’t afraid to get her hands dirty over one who thinks she’s a hood ornament every time.

  Since she and I are the only ones in this service
bay, I take my time to appreciate the view. Maybe this makes me a creep of the highest order, or maybe it just makes me a red-blooded male who’s got a thing for beautiful cars and sexy women. Either way, I take a breath and slowly run my gaze from the curve of her hips down to her black tennis shoes. I put everything from my mind but the fantasy of her.

  As she works, she sings along to the pop song playing on the stereo overhead and sways her ass just the slightest bit to the beat. The rich, sultry tone of her voice isn’t helping my attraction. Those legs. That voice. That car. Something like déjà vu niggles at me, and then the realization smacks me in the face—I’m not standing here attracted to a strange woman in Dad’s body shop. I’m standing here getting turned on by the fantasy that Alexandra DeLuca is back in town. She’s the only girl I’ve ever known to love cars more than I do. The only girl who’s ever kept me up at night aching for things I shouldn’t want and can’t have.

  Maybe it’s been too long since I’ve gotten laid, because my imagination is damn near running away with possibilities. Fantasies where Alex isn’t just back in town and within arm’s reach, but in my arms—her ass propped on the hood of the car, her legs wrapped around my waist. Fantasies where she’s humming for altogether different reasons.

  It can’t be her, of course. Alex moved to Colorado two years ago and only comes home at Christmas—not that I ever see her on those brief visits. Last I knew, she was still angry with me for what happened the night before she left. So it’s both good and bad that the woman whose ass I’ve been ogling for the last two minutes isn’t who I want her to be. Good, because Alex is a temptation I don’t need in my life right now. Bad, because two years later, I still think about that night and am gut-punched with a cocktail of need, regret, and relief, and that’s not the kind of cocktail you want to indulge in too often. It’s the kind that mixes sweet shit and hard liquor and promises to leave you with one hell of a hangover the next day.