Going Under (The Blackhawk Boys Book 3)

by Lexi Ryan

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  He turns away. “I don’t have to, or you don’t want me to?”

  “Logan…” I wait until he looks at me again before continuing. “I like you, and I think there’s a really good chance you’re better for me than this guy from my past. I’ve just never been in this situation before. Ever. Come on, look at me.”

  He drops his gaze to my feet and slowly—so freaking slowly—brings it back up, skimming over my peep-toe wedge sandals to my black jeans and thin red sweater before finally settling on my mouth. “I am looking.”

  * * *

  Sebastian

  After I dropped off Alex, I came home and took a long, hot shower, but it did nothing to get my mind off where she is tonight and who she’s with. The sick irony of this situation isn’t lost on me. Of the two friends I have who can understand why I can’t have Alex, one is her brother and the other is the guy who’s claimed her for himself. If Logan helped me climb out of the darkness to start a new life, Dante helped keep me there.

  When I go out to the living room, Keegan’s sitting on the couch, his back to Bailey as he frowns into a beer. “I don’t know what else to do,” he mutters.

  Bailey’s in the kitchen, draining her wine glass at a record pace. “That’s awful, bud.” Her eyes go big when she sees me, and she gesticulates wildly in Keegan’s direction and mouths, He won’t leave. Do something.

  “Hey, man.” I sit on the couch next to Keegan, positioning myself sideways to I can see both him and Bailey. “What’s going on?”

  “Your sister won’t talk to me. I can deal if she doesn’t want to be with me, but it’s like she doesn’t want me involved with the pregnancy at all.” He sighs heavily and picks at the label on his beer bottle. “What does Chris Montgomery have that I don’t?”

  “Potential to make seven figures next year?” Bailey says from the kitchen, and I shoot her a look, but there isn’t much I can say in Olivia’s defense. Unfortunately, Bailey’s right. Olivia’s interest in Chris was always more about wanting to be an NFL quarterback’s wife than it was about compatibility.

  “Olivia’s gotta figure this out,” I say. “She had an idea of what she wanted her life to look like and she’s been thrown for a loop. Just give her some time.”

  “Like I’m not scared?” he says. “Jesus. I’m terrified. I always wanted kids someday, but I didn’t think that day would come for years.”

  Someone knocks on the door before it opens, and Chris sticks his head in. “We’re here to retrieve that sad drunk.”

  “Thank God,” Bailey mutters. “Take him to a strip club or something. He’s so pathetic.”

  Chris steps into the apartment with Mason on his heels. “Strip clubs aren’t the solution to every problem,” Mason mutters.

  Keegan shrugs. “I mean, it isn’t a terrible idea.”

  Chris rolls his eyes, and I bite back a grin. Keegan might be smitten with my sister, but he’s still Keegan.

  “We’re going to Trent’s,” Mason says. He looks at me. “You want to come?”

  “Hey, aren’t I invited?” Bailey asks.

  “It’s guys’ night,” Mason says unapologetically. “No chicks.”

  “I’m staying in,” I say. “Long fucking day.”

  “I’m not a chick,” Bailey says with a flip of her long blond hair. “I’m one of the guys. I’m so dude-like, I practically have a dick.”

  Mason arches a brow. “Baby, we both know that’s not true.”

  Her cheeks flush red, but either Mason doesn’t care or is determined to act the part. After the guys leave, Bailey stares at the door for a long time.

  “I miss him,” she says, coming around to the couch. “We used to hang out all the time and now, nothing. It’s like he doesn’t like me anymore.”

  “You ever think that maybe it’s just too hard on him?”

  “What? Being my friend? I’m easy.”

  “Bailey.” I wait until she looks at me. “The guy’s been in love with you for as long as I’ve known you two. You want different things. At some point, that makes the friendship fall apart.”

  “Like you and Alex?”

  I swallow hard. I’m not sure why I thought it would be a good idea to move in with someone who can see right through me. “She’s on a date tonight.”

  She nods. “Right. Tonight she dines on apple pie a la mode.”

  I frown and imagine Bailey getting play-by-play texts about the date. I’m not sure if I want to know more or stop her while she’s ahead. “She told you what they were eating?”

  “No. Apple pie is… Never mind. I ran into Logan at the gym this morning.”

  I arch a brow. “You go to the gym? Like, to work out?”

  “Um, yeah? You think this ass comes free?” She shakes her head. “Anyway, Logan and I chatted a little.” She drains the rest of her wine and puts her glass down on the coffee table with a soft thunk. “I know more of your secrets than you realize. And I get why you think you can’t be with her.”

  I can’t decide if I want to shut down this conversation or pour myself a very large glass of that sickly sweet wine she likes so much. “What did he say to you?”

  “Enough.” With a heavy sigh, her shoulders sag. “You forget I dated Nic, and Nic knew everyone who was dealing in this town. Logan just filled in some blanks about you and Martina.”

  I stare at her, both shocked and horrified as I try to process her words. One of my few comforts about my dark past is that I stayed in the shadows, and when I pulled myself out of that world, I could do so more or less anonymously. When I told Logan about my history with Martina, it was in confidence, and I’m a little pissed that he shared it without my permission.

  “I’m not going to tell anyone that you and Martina screwed around. I’m just saying that I get it, and when everyone else sees the way you look at Alex and is confused about why you won’t do anything, I’m not confused. Not anymore. But Martina made her own choices, and you can’t torture yourself for her sins just because she’s not here to take the punishment.”

  * * *

  Martina’s Journal

  Sebastian Crowe came over to see me tonight. That’s right. This time he came to me. I kind of wish Alex had been around to see it.

  He’s worried about me, he said. “I know you’re dealing, and I saw you talking to Dad last week.” He shook his head, all big-brother worried. “He’s not going to look out for you like I do.” He looked over his shoulder as if he thought someone might be watching us. “Guys like him, they’re not just out for the deal, Martina. This is their life and they’ll do anything to get a leg up. My dad is dangerous.”

  I grinned. “No, your dad is hot, Sebastian.”

  You should have seen his horrified face. What Sebastian doesn’t know is that I don’t need him to look out for me. I’ve got all the protection I need. A man who gives me red roses and fucks like a god. Sebastian might think he knows my life, but he doesn’t know about me and Mr. Bedroom Eyes—MBE is far too private to let anyone know about our relationship. He said it’s for my own protection, and I get that, but sometimes I get a little jealous and think maybe he doesn’t take me around because he’s never going to leave his wife.

  When I asked him if he was embarrassed by how young I am, he laughed at me. “I don’t get embarrassed. I get what I want.” I told him about Sebastian coming by, and he laughed. “Dangerous? He has no idea what he’s talking about.” Then he hiked up my skirt, pushed me against the wall, and fucked me hard and rough, his hand at my throat as he whispered that I was his and no one else’s. So fucking hot.

  When I got home, Alex asked about the bruise on my neck. I told her it was a hickey and laughed when she didn’t believe me. She’s pissed at me for skipping all the time. She’s asked where I go. I’ve evaded.

  She broke up with her little boyfriend. I wonder if Sebastian will make a move on her when he finds out. Not that it matters. He’s old news.

  Chapter Thirty />
  Sebastian

  “Are you fucking kidding me right now?” I’ve never seen so many drugs. Not even when I was dealing and making thousands a day. Not even when we were cooking our own meth and moving heroin, X, and everything else under the sun.

  “Lower your voice,” Dad says. He looks over his shoulder, as paranoid as the junkies who buy this shit.

  I found him in the storage shed behind Grandma’s trailer. I’ve been driving all over town looking for him today because I needed to talk to him. Bailey said I’m punishing myself for Martina’s sins, and maybe she’s right, and if Alex isn’t going to read the journal, it’s time for me to tell her myself. When the drugs and the fire were part of our past, I could imagine doing that, but finding him here with all this inventory brings the past screaming back into the present like a runaway train.

  “I had an opportunity to turn a quick profit. This is temporary. I’m not using. I know better.” His face is calm. He’s really fucking serious right now.

  I point my finger at Dad and jab him in the chest. “You are the one who told me we could be better than this. You are the one who stood by my side as we escaped it. We started over. And now what? All that shit you said about family first and valuing what we can get honestly, that means nothing now? You wanted a little extra money and so fuck everything and everyone else?”

  He grabs my wrist and squeezes hard. “I have lived a hard life and I’m not going back there. I just want to give your mom all I can while she’s healthy. We got a second chance. Do you have any idea what it’s like to see the woman you love hurting and not be able to do anything about it?”

  Oh, sweet fucking irony. “Yeah. I’m pretty familiar with that. If you can recall, I watched Alex suffer through burns on a third of her body because of an explosion this shit caused. Don’t you fucking get it? Let’s forget about the fact that you’re breaking the law for a minute. Let’s forget about the horrible, life-ending addictions you’re enabling.” I yank my arm from his grasp. “What about your family? What about our lives?” I point to Grandma’s trailer. “You literally brought this shit into her backyard.”

  “Sebastian, this will be over soon.” His voice is low, calm. He was always so good at rationalizing everything. If I started feeling bad about what we were doing, a short chat with Dad would fix me right up. “I ran into an old associate a few months ago and the opportunity fell into my lap. Trust me. It’s not like we can count on your football career. I’m doing this for all of us.”

  I back away, shaking my head. “You’re doing this for yourself.”

  * * *

  I can’t even start to wrap my brain around what I learned tonight, or what the hell I’m supposed to do about it. Do I call the cops on my own father? Do I put him away for a crime I was guilty of myself not long ago? Do I look the other way? Do I warn Mom what’s coming and then make the call? I’m so fucking confused that I’m choking on it. So I play hard at practice. When Chris hands off the ball, I break tackles and push downfield like my life depends on it. I’m simultaneously numb and on fire. As if I’m watching the world from a distance and at the same time trying to punch my way out of a box without air.

  As soon as practice is over, I take a quick shower, dress, and rush out to my truck through the pouring rain, but when I pull out of the lot, I don’t head toward Mom’s or my apartment. I know a bunch of them are hanging at Trent’s tonight. Tomorrow’s a home game, and I should be spending the evening with the team or resting for the game. But the only thing that sounds worse than having everyone ask what’s wrong is being alone. I’m not even sure where I’m planning to go until I park in front of the house where Alex has been housesitting.

  I don’t know why I came to her. Maybe because I’m drowning. Maybe coming to the girl I can’t have is the same as letting the water into your lungs before you reach the surface—because every instinct demands that you try to breathe.

  * * *

  Alexandra

  Note to self: When rich, do not buy home in subdivision. Find land. With no neighbors.

  The doorbell rings a second time. With a sigh, I rub in the last of my moisturizer and head out front to answer it. I got out of the shower fifteen minutes ago, and I just finished drying my hair. I’m in my pink cotton robe and have approximately fifteen minutes to get dressed before I need to leave to meet Logan. He’s going to show me around the Lemon Rind tonight, then they’ll do a soft opening in a week and the grand opening the weekend after that.

  The marble floor in the foyer is cold under my bare feet, and I take a deep breath, contemplating ignoring the bell altogether. The kids in this neighborhood always seem to be selling something—candy bars, magazines, trash bags—and when I tell them I don’t have any money, they give me that face that says, “Yeah, right, lady. Look where you’re living.” Whoever’s at my door right now must be seriously devoted to his cause, because it’s raining cats and dogs out there.

  I’ve adopted a new strategy of pretending I’m selling them something. I’m mentally rehearsing my sales pitch for jock itch ointment when I pull open the door, only to find myself face to face with Sebastian Crowe.

  His shoulders seem to fill the doorway, and his eyes feel like they’re trying to take in every inch of me all at once. Behind him, the wind blows rain onto the porch. It’s one of those autumn storms that saturates the piles of leaves and turns them to sludge. The air is cool, and Sebastian is soaked.

  “Sebastian. Come on in.” I step back, but instead of going around me into the foyer, he comes right to me, backing me into the wall and kicking the door closed with his foot.

  My heart races. He’s so close, his eyes so intent on me. “Is everything okay?”

  “No.” He takes another step forward, closing what’s left of the distance between us.

  I’m trying not to overthink this, not to assume this is something it’s not. But he’s so close I can feel the heat radiating off his body, and I’m all too aware that we’re alone in this big house. “What happened?”

  “Shit day.” His gaze drops to my mouth and his lips part.

  I can hardly breathe. “Can I help?”

  “Yes,” he whispers. Then his mouth is against mine and his hands are in my hair, and it’s so unexpected and everything all at once that when he positions his knee between my legs, I only shift to allow him closer. I’m trapped between the wall at my back and the hot wall of his chest, and it feels amazing.

  His kiss is long and deep and steals my breath. His hands knot in my hair, and he’s pressing so close that the slightest shift of my hips and I’m rubbing against his thigh, gasping against his mouth.

  He tugs on my hair to tilt my head to the side and he whispers in my ear, “I need you.” He shifts his thigh, and I instinctively cling to him and rock against him. “Fuck, that’s right. Rub against me.” Then his mouth is on my neck, all lips and teeth and tongue sliding and kissing and nipping. I couldn’t stop my hips from moving if I wanted to.

  Somewhere in the back of my mind, questions are stacking one on top of the other. What happened? Why did he come here? Why is he kissing me now when he promised he’d never do it again? But the questions are muffled by pleasure and too many years of wanting something I never thought I could have.

  I tunnel my hands into his hair and lead his mouth back to mine. This time when he kisses me, he shifts again, only to sink lower and grab the backs of my legs. He lifts me up until my robe falls open below the tie at my waist and the hard length of him is nestled between my thighs. I wrap my legs around his waist and hook my feet at the ankles. His hands slide up my thighs and into my underwear to cup my ass.

  “Let me feel you, Alex.” His mouth against my ear. His demands release in hot puffs of air. “I need to feel you move.”

  Each time I rock my hips, something builds inside me like a wave out at sea. This isn’t like what I felt in the pool. This is so big and intense that I’m as scared of it as I am scared that it might disappear.

  T
he questions nudge again. Why this? Why now? Will this be something else for him to regret? But then he tucks his head and skims his mouth against my breasts, his teeth grazing over the thin cotton of my robe, and the questions sink deeper into the ocean as the wave rolls again, gaining strength and hurtling forward.

  He shakes his head and inches back, lightening the friction and making me whimper. “I have to feel you. Please let me feel you.” He slowly guides me back to standing on my own two feet, and my legs nearly buckle. His eyes lock on mine as he slides his hand between my legs and grazes his knuckles along the center of my panties.

  I sway toward him, making needy sounds I don’t recognize.

  “Let me feel you,” he repeats.

  “Please,” I whisper, closing my eyes.

  “Fuck no, Alex. Look at me.” His voice is as rough as the rocky sand, and I do as he asks. There’s something different in his eyes tonight, or maybe it’s just that he’s never looked at me this way. Hungry. Determined. Half crazed.

  I love it. And when I force my eyes to stay open, I’m rewarded with the rough pads of his fingers skimming down over my panties then sliding between my legs and underneath.

  I gasp at the feel of his fingers finding me, but I have to grip his shoulders to hold myself up.

  “Christ.” He brushes his fingers over my wet clit then slides two inside me. My eyes water with the sudden stretch even as my muscles squeeze around him. He rotates his hand and presses my clit with his palm as he moves his fingers, loving me with his hand. He dips his head to whisper in my ear. “So good… So fucking beautiful… Lost in this… Love the sounds you make…Alex.”

  His words coax the rolling waves, making them stronger, calling them closer to the shore, until finally everything inside me feels like it’s bound up in one tight coil and it all releases at once. And I’m not the waves or the water anymore. I’m nothing but the salty sea air. Everywhere and nowhere. Nothing and everything.