Blake: A Romantic Suspense (V Mafia Series Book 1)

by Karice Bolton

  Blake

  (V Mafia #1)

  KARICE BOLTON

  Copyright © 2016 Karice Bolton

  ISBN-10:0-9978787-4-6

  ISBN-13:978-0-9978787-4-5

  Edited by V. Clifton

  Cover: AdobeStock: © tverdohlib © efks

  Interior: B&B Formatting

  Adobe Stock: ©beaubelle

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored, or transferred in any printed or electronic form without permission from the author, including storage and sharing on any unauthorized document retrieval system.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, and events either are purely the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Contact the Author

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  BOOKS BY KARICE BOLTON

  LUKE FLETCHER SERIES

  HIDDEN SINS

  BURIED SINS

  REDEMPTION

  MIA

  V MAFIA SERIES

  BLAKE

  DEVIN – Coming January

  JAXSON – Coming Soon

  ISLAND COUNTY SERIES

  FINDING LOVE IN FORGOTTEN COVE

  LOVE REDONE IN HIDDEN HARBOR

  TANLGED LOVE ON PELICAN POINT

  FOREVER LOVE ON FIREWEED ISLAND

  TEMPTING LOVE ON HOLLY LANE

  BEYOND LOVE SERIES

  BEYOND CONTROL

  BEYOND DOUBT

  BEYOND REASON

  BEYOND INTENT

  BEYOND CHANCE

  BEYOND PROMISE

  BEYOND the MISTLETOE

  AFTERWORLD SERIES

  RecruitZ

  AlibiZ

  Zombie UprisingZ

  THE WITCH AVENUE SERIES

  LONELY SOULS

  ALTERED SOULS

  RELEASED SOULS

  SHATTERED SOULS

  THE WATCHERS TRILOGY

  AWAKENING

  LEGIONS

  CATACLYSM

  TAKEN NOVELLA (A Watchers Prequel)

  Dedication

  To my amazing husband, wonderful mom, family, and friends. And thank you to all the readers who have given my stories a chance over the years! It’s been such a fun journey. Thank you!

  Dear Readers,

  Thank you so much for reading the first book in the V Mafia Series. Blake was a blast to write, and I hope you enjoy his story. Blake is not actually the first Volkov brother I wrote about. The first brother that inspired this entire series was Drake in a book released a couple months ago, Mia. As I was writing Mia, I just knew each of these brothers had to have a story of their own. Mia can be read as a standalone, so if you have fun reading this story, you can read all about Drake.

  I really hope you enjoy Blake’s story. I’ve included an exclusive sneak peek of Devin (V Mafia Book 2) at the end. It will be out in January.

  Again, thank you so much for reading Blake. It means a lot that you’ve chosen to read the V Mafia Series.

  Warmest wishes,

  Karice

  Table of Contents

  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

  Devin Excerpt

  Contact the Author

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Blake

  Watching Ava Dalton sleep was purely magnificent. The way her dark hair framed her face next to the pillow and the little puffs of air she breathed in a steady rhythm made me never want to let her go. After all these months, I still craved her, needed her, and I wasn’t sure how I was going to manage without her.

  She made my world right, and I would never let anything happen to her.

  No matter what it meant for us—even if it meant leaving her to protect her—Ava’s safety was my first priority.

  Her pouty lips rested in a smile as she slept peacefully with all of her fears deeply tucked in the recesses of her mind. She’d once told me the only places she ever felt safe were in my arms or in her dreams. Ava’s chest moved up and down as I watched her and the ache of sorrow grew.

  God, it was going to be hard to leave her.

  I closed my eyes and drew in a deep breath, willing myself to follow through with the plan.

  She stirred, and the sheet edged down over her bare breast. My arousal pressed against the mattress, and I adjusted to take the pain away. Ava slid her arms down the sheet, tugging the fabric even lower, and I kept in a growl. I wanted to consume her, and it took everything I had not to wake her up, pin her underneath me, and taste her again.

  Last night was the goodbye. I couldn’t afford the heartache twice, and I had a plane to catch.

  I traced my finger along her collarbone and her eyes fluttered open.

  She let out a little moan as her gaze connected with mine. A sweet smile touched her lips.

  “Feels nice,” she whispered as my fingers moved lower.

  “Does it?” I asked, seeing the desire thrum through her.

  “Do I really need to go to work today?” she groaned, moving her leg in between mine.

  I shrugged, taking in everything about her—the softness of her skin, the flecks of gold in her brown eyes, and the shiny hair framing her porcelain skin. I’d miss it all and think about her often, but I needed to do this. I needed to make her world right and give her the life she deserved.

  My throat went dry with regret as she rolled over and stared into my eyes, looping her arms around my neck and bringing me toward her.

  “Take me,” she whispered.

  My body betrayed me as I let myself experience one last time with the woman I loved more than life itself.

  Chapter Two

  Ava

  ~Four Months Earlier~

  “I smell money in the air.”

  I turned my attention to the man who spoke, Abram Vasiliev. My best friend, Sarina, was engaged to him, and I still wasn’t sold on the guy. There was something shady about him, and his comment didn’t help shake that feeling. Although, his addiction to the green stuff had landed us here, so I couldn’t complain too much.

  “Really? I smell hot dogs.” I smiled, shaking away the unease.

  “Oh, Ava.” Sarina giggled and circled her arm through Abram’s as we sat on the field at a MLS playoff game in Seattle, and I mean on the field.

  Somehow, Abram arranged for a group of us to dine and watch the game from the
sidelines, complete with white tablecloths, servers, and unlimited alcohol.

  I wasn’t a soccer fan, but I didn’t need to be to enjoy an evening like this. It was a wonderful way to finish my Seattle trip. The last three days, I’d attended a grueling conference for Contextual Behavioral Science and desperately needed to unwind. I still wasn’t sure I was buying their practice theory, but I thought it was good to expose myself.

  I turned my attention back to the field as two players slid face first toward us on the turf.

  I stood up to get a better look.

  There was no doubt about it. Most of these players had it going on, or maybe it was the fourth apricot ale that made me think that.

  Regardless, it was hard not to appreciate the sleek definition of the men as they stood back up and glared at one another.

  I took another sip of my beer, and the blond player lunged at the dark-haired player. My eyes widened in horror as I watched the blond knee the player in front of me, but before any damage had occurred, team members pulled them apart.

  The referee held up a yellow card, and the stadium thundered to life with boos and jeers as the players continued their stare-off. Fans wrapped from head to toe in blue and green yelled and threw their fists into the air.

  “I thought soccer was a gentle sport.” I chuckled and Sarina shook her head.

  “Not in the least bit.” She popped a calamari ring in her mouth, and I looked around our little area.

  “What’s up with the yellow card?” I asked her.

  “It’s a caution for unsporting behavior. Two, and the player will get thrown out of the game.”

  “So the crowd is pissed even though he deserved it?” I asked.

  She held up her finger to her lips and giggled. “Don’t say that too loudly or you’ll get mobbed.”

  I rolled my eyes and noticed Abram glaring at the players only yards away.

  “So what makes you think you smell money?” I shouted at Abram over the cheering crowd behind us.

  “Just the bet I placed before the game.” He shrugged.

  I knew Abram owned a successful staffing agency, but it was hard to imagine it did this well. Maybe with the current IT frenzy in Seattle, his timing had been perfect, but something told me otherwise.

  “Who’s that guy?” I asked Sarina, pointing at the dark-haired player. “Number 11?”

  “Cute, huh?” Her blonde hair bounced as she nodded.

  “That’s an understatement.” I wiggled my brows just as he turned around, and his striking blue eyes connected with mine, sending a sudden jolt right through me. He winked before jogging back onto the field, and I literally felt my feet lift off the ground.

  “Did he just wink at you?” Sarina gushed.

  “No way. Not even.” I glanced behind my shoulder to see if there was a woman standing behind me, but it was clear. “You think he might have?”

  Sarina giggled as Abram stood up, and I let myself imagine my first one-night stand. I suppose a professional athlete would make for an exciting story for my first time loving and leaving ‘em.

  As soon as the idea crept in, I shoved it right out.

  I’d made it this far in life without a one-night stand. I certainly wasn’t going to screw up now. I didn’t spend ten years bathing myself in psychology courses to fall into those trappings.

  No siree.

  “Are you serious?”

  My eyes snapped to Sarina’s. “What?” I asked sheepishly.

  “That’s what I thought.” She smiled and shook her head. “You weren’t listening to a word I said. Did you want to go grab the pretzel and cheese dip you’ve been talking about all day? If we go before the break, we’ll bypass most of the crowds.”

  “Works for me.” I slid off the chair as Abram draped his arm around Sarina’s shoulders, guiding her through his personal party. I followed quickly behind, noticing how much he was relishing the thanks from all the people he invited to this event.

  As we exited the field through a corridor, I thought back to Player 11. He wasn’t a Seattle player. He played for whomever Seattle was playing against, and I suddenly realized I didn’t even know what team that was.

  What a horrible fan I’d be . . . or a one-night stand. I wouldn’t even know his name or be able to gush about his team when luring him in. I held in a chuckle and picked up the ticket looped around my neck. North Carolina Hurricanes. I’d always thought it would be fun to visit there, but not necessarily during a hurricane.

  “Isn’t it odd to name your team after a natural disaster?” I asked Sarina.

  She tilted her head and studied me as if my question were insane.

  “The Hurricanes aren’t the only team like that,” Abram informed me as we stood in line.

  “Yeah? What’s the other? Tropical Storm Georgia or Oklahoma Tornadoes?”

  “San Jose Earthquakes, actually.” He nodded, tipping back on his heels.

  I shuddered. “I’d never want to be in an earthquake.”

  “You’ve never felt one?” Sarina asked. “It’s quite a ride.”

  “Nope, and I’d like to keep it that way.” I smiled and glanced at Abram. “When you said you had tickets to the game, I didn’t think you meant on the field, so thank you for including me. It’s definitely an amazing way to experience my first soccer game and my last night in Seattle.”

  “Absolutely.” Abram nodded and walked up to the cashier, ordering a slice of pizza.

  Never mind that we had a table full of delicacies waiting for us. Apparently, we all craved the junk food and stale beer stadiums offered in addition to the calamari and steak salad waiting for us.

  “So is this a day in the life of Sarina?” I whispered.

  “It is now.” She stuck out her tongue and I chuckled. She was exactly the Sarina I knew and loved from college.

  Even though distance made our relationship change from constant companion to mostly phone calls and texts, I still counted her as one of my closest friends.

  The cashier motioned for me, and I quickly made my way up to the steel counter and ordered a pretzel with extra cheese and their domestic beer.

  But then the worst thing happened just as I stepped away from the counter with everything falling from my hands.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I muttered, quickly setting my beer down on the counter as Sarina and Abram jumped back in unison to avoid the cheese sauce and pretzel I’d just dumped on the concrete stadium floor.

  “I’ve never seen a pretzel do a front aerial flip before,” Abram said, laughing right before he took a bite of his pizza.

  They both moved out of the way so the cashier could help the next person in line while I bent over and tried to clean up the yellow goo that resembled liquid plastic more than cheese.

  “I’ve never known a man to know gymnastic moves that well, but I bet it’s the last time you two take me anywhere when I’m in town.”

  “Not even in the slightest.” Sarina patted my shoulder as I rolled my napkin and lifted the pretzel out of the yellow goop.

  “Can you grab my beer off the counter so I can toss this out?” I waved my pretzel at her and she nodded.

  “As long as I don’t have to touch that mess, I’ll do anything. Do you want me to get you another one?”

  “After seeing how this coagulated, I’d say no.” I chuckled, making my way to the trash, which luckily was right by the restroom. “I’ll be right back. I want to wash my hands and then I’ll swear we’ll get back to the game . . . or is it called a match?”

  “It all works.” Abram winked. “We’ll be waiting.”

  I quickly rinsed my hands and turned to see a group of giggling women make their way to the stalls opposite me.

  “If Blake Volkov lifts his shirt one more time to wipe the sweat off his face, I swear I’m going to jump over the wall and do it for him,” the bubbly brunette said, walking into a stall and locking it behind her.

  “I’d fight you for him. Can you imagine what he’s like
—” another one began.

  “I do imagine it. Every. Single. Night,” the brunette cut her off. “I’m about to lose it just thinking about it.”

  I held in a chuckle and dried off my hands.

  I had a funny suspicion they were referring to the blue-eyed wonder on the field.

  So it wasn’t just me who he’d cast a spell on.

  By the time I reached Sarina and Abram, I must have had an incredibly goofy look on my face because Sarina rolled her eyes and shoved my beer back into my hands.

  “What’s that about?” Sarina asked.

  “Is number 11 by any chance Blake Volkov?”

  “Oh, now you take an interest in players’ names.” She giggled as we worked our way through the crowd.

  “So is it?” I asked again.

  “Yeah, that’s him.” She laced her fingers through Abram’s as we showed our credentials to the ushers and walked back onto the field.

  The bright lights of the stadium made me squint slightly, and a chill ran through me so I tugged on my newly purchased blue and green scarf.

  “He’s a complete showboat,” Abram informed me, but a wicked smile spread across his lips. “But that’ll all change soon enough.”

  The way he said it sent a deeply unsettling thought into me.

  “How come?” I asked, winding through the tables.

  I glanced at the field and saw a couple of players sprinting toward the keeper at our end.

  Abram shoved his mouth into a pucker as he sat down. “No particular reason other than the cocky midfielder will age out soon.” He coughed as I sat down. “If an injury doesn’t boot him out quicker.”

  “That’s what Blake is? A midfielder?” I asked, noticing Abram’s demeanor changing rapidly. He looked agitated and glanced at the field clock before locking his eyes on mine.