Blitz (Emerald City/Black Family Saga Book 1)

by Scully, Felicia X.

  He receives my affection hungrily, backing me up toward the wall. In one swift movement, he tears my robe off, exposing me. I gasp, but I don’t protest. I want this too. It’s all I’ve been able to think about since that night in Moscow. Hell, before that even. As Ray pulls his own shirt off, I slip out of my shorts, standing there almost completely naked, in a thong. Ray stands back, his gaze never leaving my body and steps out of his jeans. Just as I’m about to make my way toward the futon, he hoists me up, slamming me backwards.

  The coolness of the wall shocks me more than the force, and I tangle my legs around his waist for leverage. Our lips meet again and I can taste the alcohol on his tongue. It’s the hard stuff, the stuff he vowed to stay away from and it’s changed the way he touches me completely. I pull back, but he pulls me closer.

  “Ray—”

  He silences me with rough kisses. His fingers slide my thong to the side as he caresses my center. I close my eyes, reveling in the feeling of his fingers skating across my dampness. A feeling that blows my own efforts out of the water.

  I tighten my thighs’ grip around his waist and lean my head back against the wall when his warm tongue traces my nipples. I gasp and moan, digging my nails into his skin. My body goes limp when his fingers slip inside me.

  “Ray,” I moan. It only makes him more eager. He makes his way to the futon, dropping me down on my back.

  He hovers over me, eyes shining as he takes in the view of my body.

  “Wait,” I say between breaths. “You’re drunk and—”

  “I don’t care.”

  He moves toward me again and I push him away, scooting back. “Well, I do.”

  His eyes narrow and he shakes his head.

  “It’s not that I don’t want to,” I say.

  “Don’t bother,” he snaps, turning his back. “I get it. I was just a means to an end right?”

  “That’s not true and you know it.” I get up from the futon and make my way over to where my robe lies in a heap on the floor.

  “I’m sorry about the article. But I’m not going sleep with you to make you feel better.”

  “Then do it because you want to. Because it’s inevitable.”

  Coming from anyone else I’d probably laugh. Then eventually kick his ass out, with plans to never speak to him again. But he’s right. I do want him. A lot more than I probably should.

  “What can I do?” I ask, wrapping my robe around me. “How can I help?”

  He stands there, still in his boxers. Arms crossed as he peers down at me. “Do you actually want to? Or is this just your way of stringing me along?”

  “Wouldn’t I have opened my legs for you if I wanted string you along?” I raise an eyebrow.

  Both of his shoot up and he chuckles. “I guess you’re right.” He bends to pick up his clothes and turns back to face me, his cheeks slightly red. “I’m—”

  “Don’t be.” I smile. “I’m not entirely pissed off that you find some kind of comfort in me. It’s kind of nice. I just want—I don’t want to be with you just to make you feel better. I want to be with you because you just want me.”

  Ray lets out a heavy sigh and lowers himself onto the chair. He hasn’t bothered to get dressed and I can’t say I’m disappointed. I sit on the arm of the chair, resting a hand on his bare, hard shoulder.

  “I really am sorry about that article. What does it…mean? For your family? For everything?”

  “Everything about Mariah is out there. Every arrest. Every mistake. And then there’s the fact that for all these years I’ve had a father and an uncle who never once bothered to see how I was doing. And an aunt who lied through her teeth every day of my life. It kind of stings to be honest.”

  I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. I shake my head slightly and Ray takes my hand.

  “You didn’t read the whole thing. My dad’s alive. Apparently he just never wanted anything to do with me. So he stayed as far away as possible. I have an uncle too, his brother. I never told you this, but they were in a pretty popular band in the nineties. They were huge for a couple of years, until around the time my mom died. Around the same time there was an accident, but I never really knew the details. Just that my dad was gone. By the time I was old enough to ask, we lived out in Sagle far enough away from anyone who knew the real truth and my aunt just let me believe he was dead.”

  “But he’s not.” I still can’t believe it. It almost doesn’t even make sense.

  “The accident was his fault. Sent him to jail. I don’t know how long and I don’t know what happened after. All I know is he’s alive and, when he got out, he never bothered to look me up.”

  I rub his arm and before I can even react, he snakes the opposite one around my waist and pulls me into his lap. I rest my head on his shoulder, as he squeezes me to him.

  This I don’t mind. I close my eyes. Not one bit.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I guess I need to find him. Not to mention I need to figure out a way to help my sister. She was going on and on about how the article ruined her life, how she’s going to have to find another place to live. But she refuses to come home. I don’t know what her deal is. Then there’s the draft. I need to be in New York in couple weeks. Everyone thinks I’m staying in Seattle but what if that doesn’t happen? What if they don’t want me?”

  “Of course they do.” I tilt my head. “Everyone does.”

  “That’s even worse. What if I end up somewhere I don’t really want to be?” He groans. “Sydney,” he murmurs into my hair. “I need you. Will you help me?”

  I close my eyes, reveling in his breath against my scalp, listening to the sound of his heart.

  “Of course. Anything you need.” I get up from his lap and reach my hand toward him. “Come on. You should probably sleep this off.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Ray

  I awake to the buzzing of my phone. It takes a few minutes for me to locate it somewhere on the floor. By the time I do it stops, but quickly starts up again a few seconds later. I don’t recognize the number.

  “Hello?”

  There’s a sniffling on the other end. “Ray?”

  “This is Ray.” I glance over at Sydney. There’s not another girl I know with my number. And it isn’t my mom. “Who’s this?”

  She sniffs again. “It’s me. Mariah.”

  I bolt up out of the bed and tiptoe into the kitchen.

  “You called. How did you get my number? Are you okay?”

  She clears her throat. “Pete gave it to me. Nosey bastard. And I’m terrible. Thanks for asking.”

  “What happened?” I do my best to keep my voice low but panic is beginning to rise.

  “You did. My life is ruined. I’m…” Her breaths are uneven and I swear she stifles a whimper. “I have to get out of town because of you. Why did you have to come here? How did you even find me? I was happy, Ray. Perfectly fine without any of you. And then you waltz in and ruin everything. For what? Your own ego? Trying to fix your life before the world finds out what kind of family we really have?”

  “Em, I’m sorry. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I’ve been worried about you all this time. So I asked Sydney to help track you down.”

  “Your girlfriend?”

  “She’s not my girlfriend. She’s…she works with the agent I’m signing with, but she’s also a private investigator.” I sigh. “I’m sorry. I really am. I didn’t mean to cause you any trouble. I swear.”

  “Well that doesn’t matter now, does it? They all hate me.” She hiccups. “I had it good too. I was happy. This was my home. Now I don’t have a choice but to leave.” She laughs a little. “The Chase’s are practically throwing a party. They never wanted me here.”

  “Avery Chase?” My heart is beating me up from the inside now.

  “How do you know Avery Chase?”

  “I don’t…we had an altercation when I was in town but…what did he do?”

  “Not
hing illegal, but that family has never made me feel welcome. Not that I can blame them.” She scoffs. “The things I’ve learned about our special little family.”

  “Things like what?”

  “Like our drug dealing grandfather who killed one of their relatives a while back.”

  “What? What are you talking about? Grandpa? Are you kidding?”

  “Not that one, Ray. The darker side of the family.” She snorts. “The Blacks.”

  I suck in a breath. “What did they do to you?”

  “It doesn’t matter. Nothing does anymore.” She sighs. “This world sucks. It’s like every time I get a little bit happy something comes and takes it all away. Maybe I’m cursed. Maybe we all are. I just can’t believe people make money off other people’s pain. It’s not fair.”

  “It’s not.” The back of my neck prickles and I suddenly feel sick to my stomach. “It’s not right at all.”

  “I have to go,” she says quietly.

  “Wait. Where? What are you going to do?”

  “Don’t know,” she says more faintly. “But I’ll figure it out. I always do.”

  She hangs up before I can respond, so I dial the number back right away. But when the automated voice on the other end of the line reveals it doesn’t take incoming calls, my heart breaks for my sister just a little bit more. And the anger I feel toward someone else quickly resurfaces.

  I splash warm water on my face and shut off the tap. Then I turn my head before I catch full view of my traitorous reflection in the bathroom mirror. I take silent steps back out the living room, my gaze immediately falling on Sydney.

  What was I thinking? How could I be so weak?

  I scan the room for the rest of my clothes, finding my jeans and shirt crumpled in the corner near the door. Right next to the article that’s about to make my life a living hell. It already has.

  I clench my teeth, my foot resting right on top of the picture of my dad, as I bend over to retrieve my clothing.

  Last night I told her I needed her and maybe some part of me does, but that doesn’t change things. The story about my family was leaked and there’s only one person who had access to the tools to connect the dots. But what would she gain from it? I’m officially her client now? How does that help her?

  If she got paid for the information, like my mom said, I guess that’s enough of a benefit. Maybe some kind of insurance in case things don’t go well.

  I shake my head. I need to get out of here. Then, some how, figure the rest of this out. Mom called a press conference, which I think is a little pompous. I’m not anybody yet. Why feed the drama? I think it’s better to lay low, ride this thing out and deal with the details in private. But based on her phone message, she’s convinced the vultures will only keep digging, putting my career at stake. ‘What team is going to want a player who comes wrapped in scandal?’ I personally don’t think they’ll care, long as I play my heart out, but I’m also not going to argue with her.

  I’ve got a splitting headache and I can still feel the liquor coursing through my veins. After everything they’ve all just read about my sister and my father, the last thing I need is to flash my hung-over face in front of a bunch of cameras.

  I consider the voicemail I left her and can’t help but feel bad about it. What the hell is going on with me? Why am I so drawn to her?

  I’m feeling things I’ve never experienced. An admiration for a near total stranger, that borders on obsession. But I can fight it. It’s not like she feels the same and this is exactly how things should end. Besides, I’m not the guilty one.

  I pull my shirt over my head and dust my fingers through my hair. It’s time to face the music. I’ll grab a coffee on the way, a shower at the gym and get my change of clothes from my mom. Then I’ll put on the best performance of my life. Whether or not it’ll fill the gaping hole in my gut remains to be seen.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Sydney

  Stretching my legs forward and my arms backwards, I let out a growl of a yawn, then recoil, covering my face with my hands. I’m not alone. I quickly wipe the drool from my face and do my best to fix the mop on my head. At least I haven’t completely let loose.

  I pray for the few extra moments to watch him sleep. To freely allow myself to enjoy the comfort of my head on his chest. The memories of last night tease me with burning inner thighs and stiff hamstrings. If he’s got me that worn out after a just a quick tease, I can only imagine what the real thing will do.

  I press my lips together then slowly roll over, then prop myself up on my elbows when I realize he’s not there.

  “Ray?”

  My gaze darts around the room, then falls on the paper on the floor by the door. I climb out of bed and bend to retrieve it. As I do, I notice his shoes are gone. I glance behind me. His clothes too.

  My gut twists in knots as I take reluctant steps toward the bathroom. I know before I get there it will be empty, so I stop in my tracks, paper still in hand and sink to the floor.

  I lean my head back against the wall and close my eyes, just as my phone chimes.

  It’s a text message from Ray that simply says:

  Check your messages.

  So I do. I have to listen to it three times before I’m finally convinced it means what it so obviously does. But it doesn’t make sense. Especially after last night.

  I play it one more time, closing my eyes—mostly to hold back the tears.

  “I trusted you and I guess I shouldn’t have. They warned me, but I gave you the benefit of the doubt because I saw something in you that reminded you of me. That reminded me of everything I lost, everything I never thought I’d find again. It’s not like I was in love but I think I could have been and that’s the saddest part of all. I wish you luck, Sydney. I’m going to do what I have to do now and I truly am sorry if it leaves you somewhere you don’t want to be.”

  I clench my jaw, as tears spill onto my cheeks. I’m more angry than sad, but the two emotions simmer together, boiling into a ragged cry that fills the room and humiliates me completely.

  I press my forehead to my knees, pain washing over me in waves.

  What the hell is wrong with me? Why does it even matter? So he thinks he’s got it all figured out. So what? He doesn’t. I haven’t done anything wrong.

  Except convince Reese everything would be okay and now it’s anything but.

  But it’s not just that. It’s him too. He’s perfect. Perfect enough that I could probably love him too. Even though I didn’t know it until now.

  I shake my head and wipe my face.

  “You’re better than this, Sydney,” I whisper. “He’s just a stupid guy. You can’t fall in love with someone you barely know.”

  I get up from the floor and trail over to the bed again. Plopping down on the mattress, I smooth the paper on my lap and pick up where I left off last night. By the time I am finished, I am shaking with anger. But this time it isn’t directed at Ray.

  I seize my phone and prepare to scroll through it. That’s when I see it. Another text from Ray.

  But it isn’t personal like I hope—an apology or a request to see me one last time—it’s a memo, clearly sent to several people. Strictly business.

  I open just as quickly anyway.

  A press conference at noon.

  He’s decided. And if I’m finding out about his announcement in a mass text, he’s probably leaving me in the cold.

  I suddenly feel so much worse than before. He just left. He really doesn’t give a damn what happens to me. And for what? A misunderstanding.

  I force a sharp breath through my nose and scroll back to my contact list. I tap the phone with a little more force than necessary and hold it to my ear.

  “Syd, hey.”

  “Where are you?” I ask.

  “Where else would I be at ten o’clock in the morning?”

  “Don’t move. I’m coming over.”

  How haven’t I realized just how good Brandon Marx has it? We’v
e been friends for a long time and he never seems to be down on his luck. Always has money for the next rent check, always dressed well, so he can sit on his sofa and play the newest video game, on the most expensive console. I should have known better.

  The door opens and he stands there, cell phone plastered to the side of his face, an obnoxious arch of the eyebrow.

  “Welcome to Oz,” he says.

  I step inside and, the moment the door shuts behind me, I grab ahold of his collar and slam him hard against the wall. Despite the one-foot height difference, I’ve got enough leverage that if I wanted to, I could give him a good jab to the gut.

  “What the hell is your problem?” Marx’s brown eyes go wide and he holds an arm in front of his face.

  “You sold that information?” I stand on my tiptoes, in my best effort to level with him. “It was private. You’re such an asshole. If this ruins my life, I swear to god I’ll ruin yours. I’ll tell the whole world who you really are—write my own expose.”

  “Sydney…”

  I let go of him, shoving him backwards. Then I march inside the apartment, taking in my surroundings. There’s a leather sectional, still reeking of newness in the corner and just behind it is a pool table. Both of which weren’t here the last time I was. I turn my glare on my former friend.

  “Looks like you’re doing well for yourself.”

  Marx picks up his cell phone. Then with a grin he scratches his head. “Life’s been good.”

  I cross my arms and shake my head. “I’ve been good to you. Why?”

  “Nothing personal,” he says with a shrug. “You couldn’t expect me to sit on that. You know me.”

  “Do I? Because I thought you were just a guy who helps people. Not a creep who sells sensitive information to make a quick buck!”

  “It was worth fifty grand. Fifty grand! You wanted me to give that up?”