She tried to kiss him, melting herself against him. He managed to avoid her lips and set her aside.
“I have to go. Sorry.” He headed for the front door like his ass was on fire. “Goodbye, Ms. Bryant.”
Chase didn’t wait for her response, just jabbed the elevator buttons until the door slid open then jammed them again to get the damned thing to close once he’d boarded. It wasn’t until he’d reached the lobby once more that he realized he’d left his belt behind in her condo, but by that point he didn’t care. If Mr. Bryant found it and fired him, so be it.
He should’ve known this job was too good to be true.
Guys like him didn’t get second chances.
Guys like him didn’t deserve them.
* * *
By seven-thirty that night, Chase had worked himself into a fine snit. As he sat on the sofa in the living room of Blake’s two-story modern home in the upscale suburb of Summerlin, staring at the muted TV, images from the local news flickered by. He’d racked his brain for hours thinking of a way to explain his earlier behavior at Katherine Bryant’s condo to Blake.
There was no way in hell she hadn’t reported the incident to Rockford Security by now, and he’d sure as shit be looking for a new job come morning. Didn’t matter he hadn’t done anything wrong. Didn’t matter she’d probably lied and told Blake he’d assaulted her and tried to rape her in the bedroom. Didn’t matter this had been his best, last shot at normal.
All that mattered in this world was power and prestige and money.
Chase had learned that the hard way.
A key scraped in the lock on the front door and Chase’s posture stiffened, his chest tight and his throat dry. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, his fight or flight instincts fully engaged. He might be on the loser backend of this busted ride, but that didn’t mean he would go down without a fight.
Soon, Blake stepped around the corner from the foyer into the living room and Chase shot to his feet, rushing into his explanation before his boss could say a word.
“Look, man. I’m really sorry about what happened earlier. I know I should’ve reacted differently.” He stopped, faltered, scowled. “No, actually. I don’t really have any idea how I should’ve reacted in that situation. But I know it’s your name and your company on the line, and I—”
Blake held up a hand and shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. It’s fine.”
“What?” Chase took a step back and scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Fine? Really? You mean you want me to sleep with Katherine Bryant?”
“Huh?” Blake looked as stunned as Chase felt. “What? No! Wait, don’t tell me you had sex with her. What the hell, Chase?”
“Fuck no, man.” He rubbed his eyes. “I mean, she put the moves on me, but I said no and got the hell out of there, man. I haven’t slept with anyone.”
“Good. Then you haven’t ruined your chances.”
“Chances for what?”
“Chances that I can place you with the right—” Blake glanced from Chase to the tv then grabbed the remote from the coffee table and turned up the volume. On screen a reporter stood outside the Lucky Ace Casino while red and blue lights flashed in the background.
"Tragedy struck tonight at the Lucky Ace Casino when Owner Warren Bryant was found dead in his office ... a victim of an apparent homicide ..."
Chase's anxiety went into overdrive. Warren Bryant, the client whose body he was supposed to be guarding was dead? He slumped back down on the sofa while Blake took a seat next to him.
Onscreen, the reporter's mouth was still moving, but Chase wasn't listening. He was too busy berating himself. He should have been there. It was his job to protect the family and he'd screwed up. He'd been embarrassed about running out after his confrontation with Katherine, but that was one thing. No one had gotten hurt. But this was serious. Way more serious. A man was dead on his watch.
The tv flipped from the talking head to a video clip. Chase recognized the dimly lit interior of the hallway where he had bolted from the private elevator hours before, hell bent on escaping Katherine Bryant and her erotic overtures. The door to Warren Bryant’s office lurked near the edge of the frame, his name twinkling in gold metallic letters against the wood like a cheerful obituary.
Chase sucked in a breath as an all-too-familiar figure darted out of the elevator then out of frame, never once revealing their face to the camera. Per the reporter, the clip was time stamped only moments before Bryant’s body was discovered.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Talk about being in the wrong place at the wrong ass time.
Chase's stomach lurched as he realized what the video meant. A few minutes ago he'd been worried about getting fired and losing Blake's trust over fleeing Katherine Bryant's advances, but now his hasty retreat had resulted in something much worse. Because, by the way the reporter on tv was talking, he was now the number one suspect in Warren Bryant's murder.
* * *
Blake sighed and hung his head. “Please tell me that isn’t you.”
Chase exhaled long and slow, his attention focused on his stockinged feet. “I swear to God I didn’t kill anyone.”
“I know that.”
Chase rushed into an explanation. "I was running away from Katherine! She came onto me and I just had to get out of there. And now it's my fault Warren Bryant is dead."
"It's not your fault because you didn't kill him," Blake said. "I can't blame you for running out, Katherine's a viper."
"But if I had kept my head and stayed at my post, I might have prevented his murder." Chase's shoulders slumped. Blake had trusted him with this bodyguard assignment and he'd screwed up the first day.
Silence loomed between them as the newscast moved on to an upcoming concert by local gal turned worldwide country superstar, Jan Winters. Chase felt as useless as tits on a bull, but he needed to know, needed to plan for a future that grew darker by the second. “I’m fired, aren’t I?”
“What?” Blake gave him an annoyed look. “No. Of course not. I would never do that to you. But maybe we should, you know, wait a bit for this whole thing to die down before I send you on another assignment. Have you lay low while the cops find the real killer and all.”
“Right.” Chase flopped back against the sofa cushions and scrubbed his hands over his face. “Pretty sure that’s just a fancy way of saying I’m off the payroll. I don't blame you. I’ll call my parole officer tonight and move to the halfway house tomorrow. Thanks for letting me crash here for the past couple of nights anyway. It was worth a shot, right?”
He pushed to his feet and headed toward the bathroom.
“Dammit, Chase. Since when did you give up so easily, huh?”
Blake’s words halted him in his tracks. Back in prison, someone calling him a coward would’ve landed them in traction. But Blake was his friend. The guy had put his ass and his company name on the line to give him a shot at a better life. Not to mention the fact that Blake was right. Chase was running away and admitting it to himself damned near killed him.
He wasn’t a quitter. He didn’t run from his problems, he solved them.
Blake stood and walked over to him. “Listen. You can still work for me, just in a different capacity, okay? We’ll find something for you to do in the office. My sister Olivia’s always complaining about needing help with all the paperwork. With your law background, that should be right up your alley.”
Chase held back a defeated sigh through sheer force of will. Pushing mountains of forms and files would be even worse than playing caretaker to the rich and spoiled. Even in law school, all the paperwork had been his least favorite part. Honestly, it would be a fate worse than prison. Still, it would guarantee him steady work while he figured out what the hell to do with the rest of his godforsaken life.
“Fine,” he agreed at last, his tone dejected and his shoulders stooped.
“Good.” Blake slapped him on the back and handed him a credit card then headed upstairs. “Ord
er some pizza while I take a shower. I’m starving.”
Chase stared at the plastic in his hand before shuffling back into the living room and picking up the phone and a nearby menu. Blake’s switch in his job duties might not be ideal, but the fact the guy had handed him a credit card with a limit most likely higher than the national budget of Switzerland without blinking an eye meant Blake trusted him.
And trust was a precious commodity in Chase’s world these days.
He vowed then and there to do whatever was necessary to keep it.
Three
Chase had lain awake all night waiting for the police to come and arrest him, but they never did. Maybe they'd gotten a lead on the real killer and this nightmare would soon be over. He could only hope. In the morning, he dressed and went to his new assignment at Rockford Security.
His small desk was situated in one corner of the large, open-concept Rockford Security offices. He sat there now, staring at a mound of paperwork waiting for him to sort and file. His white button-down shirt pulled at the shoulders, his tie felt too tight, and the loafers he’d borrowed from Blake pinched his toes. For one brief moment he considered chucking it all and heading straight for the halfway house where he belonged.
Then he remembered all the support Blake had shown him since he’d walked out of the prison, a few days prior. No one else had given a shit about him or his future, except Blake Rockford. He owed the guy, even if it meant feeling like a tricked out baboon’s ass stuck in cubicle hell.
“I expected to find you at the Lucky Ace today.”
Chase looked up to find Laura Rockford, Blake’s youngest sister, leaning one hip against the side of his desk. From her narrowed hazel eyes and knowing expression, she had a pretty good idea something was up with him. And given the fact she was a journalist with Las Vegas’s largest newspaper, he wasn’t about to spill any more details than necessary. He’d learned just how brutal and conniving the press could be during his trial. Not that he cast the same shadow over Laura, but he couldn’t be too careful these days. “Yeah. There was… a problem.”
Laura lifted her chin in a slight nod. “Problem, huh? That’s kind of why I expected you there. You know, to clear your name and all?”
“Blake told you about the footage.” It wasn’t a question. He looked up at her through his lashes, steeling himself against the condemnation he was sure to find in her gaze. Instead, he only found intense interest—and something more. Something he’d never expected to see again. Not in this lifetime anyway.
Compassion.
Chase shook his head and remained silent.
Laura pushed a stack of files aside and settled atop the corner of his desk. “So there’s DNA evidence too, huh?”
“What?”
“I just came from the police station and one of my friend’s on the force said they collected some of your hairs from the bedroom in the Bryant’s condo. What's up with that?” She pursed her lips and tapped her index finger against her bottom lip, appearing to think deeply about this though her tone said it was all an act. “Were you and Katherine uh…” Laura made a gesture with her hands. “Doing the horizontal tango.”
“What? No!” Chase pushed his chair back from the desk and crossed his arms. Memories of Katherine snagging her claws in his hair surfaced. She must have pulled some out. “I did not sleep with that woman. No way.”
“Hmm.” She assessed him with a suspicious gaze. “Seems odd that a bodyguard would be needed in his client’s bedroom. Troy, my detective friend, said they even found a few on the bed itself, on the pillows.” She shrugged then studied her fingernails. “Then there’s the belt, of course.”
Shit.
Chase pressed his fingers into his now pounding temples and closed his eyes. With his past sins, he shouldn’t be surprised no one believed him, but that didn’t make the accusations hurt any less. Then again, it didn’t really matter what the truth was once you’d been painted with the felony brush. All that constitutional innocent-until-proven-guilty jargon he’d studied in law school was nothing but a crock of shit. “Listen, I swear I didn’t have sex with her. She came on to me. After I declined her offer, I got the hell out of there. That’s when the cameras near the elevators caught me on tape. End of story.”
He’d done his best to keep his voice down, but from the way the other employees were eyeballing him and Laura, he’d failed miserably.
Laura leaned closer and whispered, “What about the rumpled bed and vaginal fluid they found on the sheets?”
“What? That wasn't from me!” He held her gaze despite the fact his heart felt like it would beat out of his chest. How did the sheets get rumpled? Did Katherine have another guy waiting in the wings or ... “Wait a minute. What if she was trying to use me as an alibi. If she had something to do with Warren's death she'd want to have an alibi for the time of death.”
“Now you’re thinking properly.” Laura gave him a slight wink. “If Katherine is involved, she probably arranged for someone to do it for her. She doesn’t exactly seem the type to enjoy blood on her freshly manicured hands.”
“Wow.” Chase couldn’t suppress a small, impressed smile. “You’re pretty good at your job.”
“Damn straight.” Pride flashed across her pretty face. “I’m the one who broke the huge story about the serial killer framing Mike McQuade.”
“Who?” Chase gave her a confused stare, nose scrunched. “Sorry. I’ve been out of the loop for a while.”
“He owns a gaming company called M Cubed. Guess it all started after you were convicted.”
Right. Still hard to grasp sometimes that the world had carried on without him while he’d been locked away behind bars. So much had changed, so much was gone. He tamped down the familiar ache of loneliness and regret in his chest. Wouldn’t do any good to dwell on the past. Not anymore. What was done was done. Time to move the hell on.
Laura straightened and adjusted the messenger bag slung across her body. “Anyway. I'm trying to get the assignment from the Chronicle for Bryant’s murder story, so I wanted to stop by and let you know I’ll do what I can to deflect the heat off of you.”
Stunned, he slumped back in his chair. “You’d do that for me?”
“Of course. Blake told me what you did for him on that security job, how you saved his life. We Rockfords owe you. Besides, now that you’re working here that makes you practically one of us. And we take care of our own.”
The Rockfords might be a bit flakey when it came to family, but hell if they weren’t a loyal bunch. The fact that, other than Blake, they hardly knew him at all wasn’t lost on Chase. In fact, it made their seeming acceptance and defense of him all that more astonishing.
“Thank you.” He swallowed against the sudden pressure in his throat.
“No problem.” She stood and headed for the exit. “I’ll be in touch.”
Chase watched her leave, a thought popping into his head. He pushed to his feet. “Hey, Laura.”
“Yeah?” She walked back to him.
“If the police got my DNA from the hair, won’t they want to question me?”
“Probably. But they’ll have to get through Blake first. I’d say you’ve got a couple of hours before they bring you into the station.”
Dread choked his breath and his pulse drummed loud in his ears. The last time the cops had dragged him into the station, he hadn’t been a free man again for five years. Going back to prison now, after he’d just tasted life on the outside again, would kill him. Especially for another crime he didn’t commit.
He couldn’t do it. Not again. Not ever.
His inner turmoil must’ve shown on his face because Laura placed a comforting hand on his arm. “Don’t worry. My friend Troy’s assigned to the case. He’s fair and open-minded, though a bit slow on the uptake sometimes.” She laughed. “But he’s an okay guy. He won’t hold your record against you. Plus, there’s a good chance the lead detective handling the murder is still tied up with Owen over at the casino. He’
s stalling her with a bogus search for the footage they need, but he can’t hold her off forever.”
“I was supposed to meet with Owen yesterday.” He exhaled. “Before Katherine waylaid me.”
“He’s cool. He’s got your back. We all do.” Laura squeezed his arm before heading out of the offices once more.
Overwhelmed, Chase sank back into his chair and toyed with his burgundy tie—another one of Blake’s—while he considered his options. Having people stick their necks out to help him the way the Rockfords were, was completely foreign. Up until now, he’d been on his own. Even when it came to his brother, Shane.
Especially when it came to Shane.
Where the hell was his brother anyway? Shane still hadn’t contacted him since he’d gotten out, despite the numerous texts and voicemails he’d left. He was starting to worry. His brother had never been the responsible type or a good judge of character. But still, if anything happened to him…
No. Chase pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. He couldn’t think like that. He had to focus on his most pressing issues now.
Clearing his name. Proving to the Rockfords he was worthy of their loyalty.
Then he could focus on Shane and all their history together.
A quick check of his watch showed it was close to eleven a.m. If Laura was right, he should have until mid-afternoon to do some digging on his own before the police showed up to haul him in for questioning. He grabbed his denim jacket off the back of his chair and shrugged it on, his nose wrinkling at the flowery scent of fabric softener. Blake had washed all his stuff—all meaning the one outfit he currently owned—along with his own stuff the other night. Once he got back on his feet again, he definitely needed to go shopping for some new duds.
Treacherous Seduction (The Rockford Security Series Book 3) Page 2