Sugar Rush

by Sawyer Bennett

  Something's wrong. I can feel it deep in my gut. It actually makes my bones ache.

  Add on top of that, I haven't heard a peep from JT today, and my trouble radar is going haywire. He should have called by now, as he knows his deadline is looming. I had hoped for the call to come saying he accepted my offer. At the very least, I expected a call from him trying to get me to change my mind. I knew it was a distinct possibility JT wasn't going to just roll over and take what I offered. He's a businessman first and foremost. He would try to negotiate, of that I'm sure. He would try to find leverage over me, and he'd use it to his benefit.

  And now Sela seems to be off the grid, and she would be the biggest source of leverage JT could get his hands on.

  But no.

  That's fucking ridiculous to even think that JT would have Sela. Or that Sela would go near JT. Or that she's anywhere other than the library studying, for some reason forgot to text me, and has her phone off so as not to disturb others.

  The doorbell rings and I nearly jump out of my skin, first thinking it's Sela, then realizing she wouldn't be ringing the doorbell.

  I stride to the door, look through the peephole and confirm it's Caroline and Ally, and then unlatch the lock to let them in. I look first down to Ally, giving her as wide a smile as I can muster, bending down to pick her up. Her little arms go around my neck and she hugs me silently. I look over her shoulder, trying for the same smile at Caroline, but her brow immediately furrows with worry.

  "What's wrong?" she asks me bluntly, because she can just tell.

  I shake my head slightly to her to let her know that I don't want to discuss this in front of Ally. She steps in, brushes past me, and heads into the living room. "Ally...come watch some TV for a few minutes. I need to talk to Uncle Beck privately."

  I follow her in while Caroline expertly navigates the programming guide until she finds Dora the Explorer. I drop Ally down on the couch, ruffle her hair, and whisper, "Be back in a jiff, cutie."

  She smiles at me and then her eyes go to the TV and remain glued there.

  I walk back to my office with Caroline following. She shuts the door behind her and says, "Where's Sela? Did you two get in a fight?"

  I whirl around in surprise. "God, no. We're fine. Perfect. But she's not here and she should be, and I'm worried."

  Caroline's look of concern turns to one of amused exasperation. "Geez, Beck. So she's a few minutes late...no biggie. Although I think it's adorable the way you worry about her."

  "No," I say harshly, and Caroline blinks at me in stunned surprise. "It's not a matter of her being a few minutes late. It's something more than that...I can just tell. There's just some stuff that--"

  I stop, not even sure what I should to say to Caroline. I'm sure she'd understand, but there's still a tiny part of me that's hoping that Sela will be breezing through the door any minute with a sheepish look of apology on her face.

  "Hey," Caroline says softly, stepping toward me with her head tilted. "You're really scared something might be wrong, aren't you?"

  I take a deep breath, scrub my hand through my hair, and then let it out in a frustrated sigh. "Yeah...there's some shit going on that I really can't--"

  "You tell me everything that's going on right this fucking minute, Beckett North," Caroline says with an imperial tone and a look that says she means business. "I'm your sister and I've got your back always. Just like you've had mine, so spill it right now."

  My lips curve upward involuntarily, because my sister is fierce and cute all at the same time. She's also been the only one I've been able to turn to in my life who supports me one hundred percent, no questions asked. And I know I can trust her with my worries and the underlying basis for them.

  "I don't even know where to begin," I say hesitantly, "because really...this story is beyond complex and unbelievable."

  "At the beginning," she says calmly as she takes my hand. Giving me a tug, she leads me to the two guest chairs and pushes me down in one before taking the other one and turning it to face me. She sits down, leans forward, and says, "Spill it."

  I take a deep breath, hold Caroline's eyes with my own in a steady gaze, and start to tell her the story. "A little over ten years ago, Sela was raped by JT. It's why we invited you over tonight. She was going to tell you, so...you know...you would have someone you could talk to if you wanted."

  "What?" Caroline gasps, jerking backward until she's sitting ramrod straight.

  I nod. "He drugged and raped her, along with two other guys. She didn't know it was him at the time, but not long ago identified him by the tattoo on his ribs."

  "What tattoo?" she asks curiously.

  "A red phoenix. Same one I have...I mean had on the back of my shoulder."

  "Was it a fraternity thing?" she asks, as she knows the origin of my phoenix.

  "Not sure," I tell her truthfully, but then try to steer her back to the full story. Because she's only got the very tip of the iceberg. "But she came after JT looking for revenge. Met me instead, and well...you know, things developed. She eventually told me the truth about JT."

  "Jesus," she mutters. "What did you do?"

  "You don't want to know," I say, dropping my gaze to my lap.

  "Uh...yes, I do. Are you in trouble? Is she in trouble?"

  My eyes drag up to hers, miserable with worry. "Sela plans to go to the police. But first we wanted him out of The Sugar Bowl. Wanted to make the break before he gets arrested so the company could be salvaged."

  "And just how did you plan to get him out?" she asks, her voice laced with fear.

  "I had him investigated. Found out he owed a lot of money to a bookie and that he doubled down on a UFC fight. I paid one of the fighters to take a dive and now JT owes more money than he has. I offered to bail him out if he signs over the rights to the company."

  "Goddamn it, Beck," Caroline yells as she surges out of her seat, then immediately lowers her voice after her eyes dart to the door. "That is some serious fucking criminal shit you just did."

  "I know," I say as I sink further into the chair, clasping my hands tight. "But save the lecture right now. I'm worried about Sela because she's supposed to be here and she's not, and she won't answer or return my calls. Something's wrong."

  "You think it has to do with JT?" she whispers.

  "I don't know," I say angrily, standing up from my chair. "I just know that his deadline to pay the money is looming and he should have given me an answer by now. Couple that with Sela being missing, and I don't know what the fuck to think."

  "Okay, calm down," Caroline says as she folds her arms across her chest and starts pacing in front of my desk. "Maybe you should call JT. Just a casual call, ask him if he's made a decision."

  "Maybe," I say, because the thought had crossed my mind. I can't even imagine why Sela would be with him, or his having anything to do with her being missing, but still...that might help ease my mind.

  "Just call him right now," Caroline urges.

  "Okay," I say, and pull my phone from my pocket. Just as I pull up JT's contact and start to select it, the doorknob to my office rattles and starts to turn. Caroline and I immediately face the door, prepared for Ally to nose her way in to see what we're doing.

  Instead, when the door slowly swings open, Sela's standing there.

  Prickles of icy fear sling slide my spine and my heart starts thundering. She's wearing an oversized gray zippered sweatshirt pulled tight around her, one arm held protectively over her stomach. The hood is pulled up over her head and her shoulders are hunched. While much of her face is in shadows, I can see that her eyes are dead and her skin is ghost white.

  "Sela?" I say hesitantly, terrified by her sudden presence and odd clothing.

  She steps into the office, eyes cutting to Caroline before coming back to me with abject misery clouding her blue irises. She slowly shuts the door behind her, takes a step toward me, and lets out a tiny sob.

  "What's happened?" I say as I round the guest chairs and r
ush to her. Her head drops so I'm only staring at the top of the sweatshirt hood, and I can see her body shaking fiercely. My hands go to the sides of her head and I tilt it upward. With my fingers, I peel the hood backward and gasp when I see Sela's face in its entirety.

  Her eyes are bloodshot with tears leaking out and running in rivulets down her face. There's a smear of blood on her jaw and purple marks on her neck.

  "What the fuck?" I curse low and my hands pull the sweatshirt apart at the neckline.

  Caroline gasps behind me when I open the thick gray material wide.

  I stare in utter horror at Sela's white long-sleeved T-shirt that is drenched in blood on the front, most of it dried but with a few patches of shiny wet sticking to her skin. Small spatters spray outward to the shoulders and up her throat, which I can now see is covered in a thick horizontal bruise across the bottom of her throat.

  "Fuck, Sela," I say, feeling my eyes start to water. "How badly are you injured? Where did all this blood come from?"

  Sela shakes her head vigorously from side to side as she pulls her hand away. Her face tilts up and her eyes meet mine with such sadness I think my knees might buckle.

  "Not mine," she says, her voice raspy and filled with pain I'm guessing is from that bruise on her throat.

  My eyes cut to Caroline, who stands there with her hand over her mouth, eyes drowning with intense worry. When I look back to Sela, she gives a cough and says, "JT. The blood is JT's."

  My stomach bottoms out, and even as horrified as I am by what she's just said to me, I'm filled with so much relief that she's safe that I pull her into my arms, not caring about the blood all over her.

  Resting my chin on top of her head as my arms hold her gently, I whisper to no one in particular and expecting no answer in return, "Oh, Sela. What have you done?"

  Sela and Beck's dark, riveting love story reaches its epic conclusion in the final chapter of Sawyer Bennett's Sugar Bowl trilogy that began with the novels Sugar Daddy and Sugar Rush. Look for Sugar Free, coming soon.

  Thank you Sue, Gina, and Matt for taking a chance on me and continuing to make me a better author with each book we put out.

  By Sawyer Bennett

  COLD FURY HOCKEY SERIES

  Alex

  Garrett

  Zack

  Ryker

  Hawke

  Max (coming soon)

  SUGAR BOWL

  Sugar Daddy Sugar Rush Sugar Free

  THE WICKED HORSE SERIES

  Wicked Fall Wicked Lust Wicked Need Wicked Ride Wicked Bond

  THE OFF SERIES

  Off Sides Off Limits Off the Record Off Course Off Chance Off Season Off Duty

  THE LAST CALL SERIES

  On the Rocks Make It a Double Sugar on the Edge With a Twist Shaken, Not Stirred

  THE LEGAL AFFAIRS SERIES

  Legal Affairs Confessions of a Litigation God Friction Clash

  Grind

  Yield

  STANDALONE TITLES

  If I Return Uncivilized Love: Uncivilized

  PHOTO: MARIE KILLEN

  Since the release of her debut contemporary romance novel, Off Sides, in January 2013, Sawyer Bennett has released more than thirty books and has been featured on both the USA Today and New York Times bestseller lists on multiple occasions.

  A reformed trial lawyer from North Carolina, Sawyer uses real-life experience to create relatable, sexy stories that appeal to a wide array of readers. From new adult to erotic contemporary romance, Sawyer writes something for just about everyone.

  Sawyer likes her Bloody Marys strong, her martinis dirty, and her heroes a combination of the two. When not bringing fictional romance to life, Sawyer is a chauffeur, stylist, chef, maid, and personal assistant to a very active toddler, as well as full-time servant to two adorably naughty dogs. She believes in the goodness of others and that a bad day can be cured with a great workout, cake, or a combination of the two.

  sawyerbennett.com

  Facebook.com/ bennettbooks

  @bennettbooks

  Read on for an excerpt from

  Max

  A Cold Fury Hockey Novel

  by Sawyer Bennett

  Coming soon from Loveswept

  I stick the nozzle in my gas tank, depress the handle, and flip the catch down to hold it in place. Letting the gas flow on its own, I head across the nearly empty parking lot to the gas station, which is lit up like a bright beacon out here on Possum Track Road. I'm starved and I know my fridge is empty at home, so I'm going to break down and buy some junk food for my dinner. I just won't tell Vale about it, as I don't feel like listening to her bitch at me.

  Vale Campbell...pretty as hell and nice to look at, but I dread having to hang out with her. That's because she's one of the assistant athletic trainers for the Cold Fury, and most important, working with me on my strength and conditioning. She would most certainly say Snickers, Cheez-Its, and root beer are not on my approved list, and then she'd have me doing burpees, mountain climbers, and box jumps until I puked.

  Pulling the door open, I immediately see two guys at the cooler checking out the stock of beer. Both wearing wifebeaters stained with grease and faded ball caps. I, myself, pull my own hat down farther to hide my face, as I don't feel like getting recognized tonight. It's late, I want to get my junk food and get gone. We've got an early morning practice tomorrow.

  I turn right down the first aisle, which houses the chips and other such snacks, slightly aware the other two customers are heading to the counter to check out. I keep my back to them just to be safe and peruse the options.

  Funyuns.

  Potato chips.

  Doritos.

  Corn nuts.

  Reaching for a bag of salt-and-vinegar potato chips, I hear one of the guys drawl in a typical North Carolina redneck accent, "Hey, sweet thang. How 'bout a pack of Marlboro Reds and how 'bout handing me that there box of condoms. The extra large size."

  The redneck's companion snickers, and then snorts. I turn slightly to see them both shoot conspiratorial grins at each other, and one guy nudges the other guy to egg him on. While the clerk turns to get the condoms, the redneck leans across the counter and stares blatantly at the woman's ass. The other guy says loud enough that I hear, so I know the woman hears, "Mmmmm...that is a fine ass."

  Turning my body full so I face the counter, I see the woman's back stiffen and she turns her face to the left to look at a closed doorway beside the rack that holds all of the cigarettes. I'm wondering if perhaps a manager or another employee is in there, and she's hoping for some help.

  But she doesn't wait and turns to face the two assholes, squaring her shoulders.

  And god damn...she's breathtaking. Looking past the red and gold polyester vest she wears with a name tag--clearly a uniform--I see her face is flawless. Creamy skin that glows, high cheekbones, a straight nose that tilts slightly at the end, and full lips that look sexily puffed even though they are flattened in a grimace. Her hair is not blond, but not brown. I'd describe it as caramel with honey streaks and it's pulled back from her face in a ponytail with a low fall of bangs falling from left to right across her forehead.

  While she faces the two men resolutely, I can see wariness in her eyes as she sets the cigarettes and condoms on the counter in front of them. "Will that be all?"

  Her voice has a southern accent but it's subtle. She looks back and forth between the two men, refusing to lower her gaze.

  Redneck number one nods to the twelve-pack of beer he had placed on the counter and says, "That was the last of the Coors. You got any in your storage room?"

  "Nope, that's it," she says firmly, and I can tell it's a lie.

  "Are ya sure?" he asks, leaning his elbows on the counter and leering at her. "Maybe you could check...I could help you if you want, and we could make use of them condoms there."

  I'd roll my eyes over the absurdity of that attempt to woo a girl who is way out of his league, but I'm too tense over the prospect that this could
be more than just some harmless goofing by some drunk rednecks.

  "What do you say, sweet thang?" he says in what he tries to pass as a suave voice but comes off as trailer trash.

  "I say there's no more beer back there," she grits out, gives a look over her shoulder to the closed door, and then back to the men.

  And that was a worried look.

  A very worried look, so I decide that this isn't going any further. Grabbing the closest bag of chips my hand makes contact with, I stalk up the aisle toward the counter as I pull my hat off with my other hand. I tuck it in my back pocket, and when I'm just a few feet from the men, the woman's eyes flick to me, relief evident in her gaze. I smile at her reassuringly and flick my eyes down to her name tag.

  Julianne.

  Pretty name for a really pretty girl.

  The sound of my footsteps finally penetrates and both men straighten to their full heights, which are still a few inches below mine, and turn my way. My eyes go to the first man, then move slowly to the other, leveling them both with an ice-cold glare. With the power of my gaze, I dare both of them to say something else to the beauty behind the counter.

  Because I suspect the only sports these guys watch are bass fishing tournaments and NASCAR, I'm not surprised neither one recognizes me as the Carolina Cold Fury's starting goalie. Clearly the lovely Julianne doesn't either, but that's also fine by me.

  The sound of Julianne's fingers tapping on the register catches everyone's attention and the two men turn back to her. "That will be $19.86."

  One of the guys pulls a wallet from the back pocket of his saggy jeans and pulls out a twenty, handing it to her wordlessly. Now that they know there's an audience, neither one seems intent on continuing the crass game they were playing. At least I think that was a game, but I'm just glad I was here in case their intentions were more nefarious.

  Julianne hands the guy his change and they gather their purchases and leave without a word.

  As soon as the door closes, her shoulders drop and she lets out a sigh of relief. Giving me a weak smile, she looks at the bag in my hand and says, "Is that all?"