The mention of otters making Chase laugh did ease her worry, since these men were strangers to her. The familiar dog, whose tail was wagging like crazy again, also helped assure her they worked for Blackhawk Security and weren’t a danger to her and Mickey. Her mind whirling, she tried to paste on a smile, but didn’t think she was too successful. Her legs started to tremble as the events of the last few minutes bombarded her senses. Mickey. DNA testing. “It—it’s nice to meet you, but what . . . what in the world is going on? I don’t—”
“Let’s go inside, and Chase will explain what he knows when he gets here,” Tuff responded. Before she could argue, he grinned. “I heard your daughter and Meat met the other day at the office. He loves kids.”
Glancing back at Mickey, who was sitting on the front steps watching everything intently, Rylie sighed. Obviously, she wasn’t getting anything more out of these two men, but she did feel better knowing they were on her side at the moment.
“O-okay.”
They let her lead the way to the front door. With each step they took, Mickey’s smile widened. Her delighted gaze was on Meat, who seemed just as happy to see his new friend. She jumped to her feet. “See, Mom, I told you it was Meat!”
“You must be Mickey,” Tuff said with a grin. “Chase told me you and Meat met already. My name’s Jason, but you can call me Tuff. And this is my friend Blane, but his nickname’s Boots. We both work for Chase.”
“Hi, Tuff. Hi, Boots. Those are cool names. Will Meat let me pet him again?”
He glanced at Rylie for permission, and she nodded. “Yes, it’s okay. She really loves dogs. Why don’t we all go inside though?”
Tuff let go of the leash, and Meat lunged toward the little girl, ducking his head down and pushing it into her outstretched hands. She petted him and giggled as he sniffed her loudly.
“Bring him inside, Mickey. If it’s okay with Tuff, you can give him one of the treats we keep for Peanut.”
She and Tuff followed them through the door as Boots declared, “I’ll keep an eye on things out here until the boss shows up.”
As Tuff shut the door behind them, Mickey ran toward the kitchen with Meat on her heels, his nails clicking on the tiled hallway, stopping only when they landed on a short runner. By the time Rylie and Tuff joined them, Mickey had pulled a box of dog treats from the pantry. They occasionally dog-sat Peanut, and he visited often, so they always had some on hand. “Can I give him one, Tuff? Please?”
The big man chuckled. “Sure, but you have to make him obey a command first, and he only responds to them in German. I don’t suppose you know how to speak German, do you?”
Her face fell. “No, I don’t.”
“That’s okay. I’ll teach you.” That brought a smile back to her face in an instant. Tuff glanced at Rylie and gestured to the dinette table. “Do you mind if I take a seat, Ms. Hart?”
“Oh, no, I don’t. I’m sorry. Go right ahead. And, please, call me Rylie.”
“Thanks, Rylie. Okay, Mickey, let’s teach you how to communicate with my boy.”
While Tuff taught her daughter words like sit, down, stay, speak, and good dog in a language Meat would understand, Rylie read through the papers she’d been served. By the time Chase got there about ten minutes later, she still had no idea what was going on.
Chapter Ten
Chase threw his Silverado into park at the curb in front of Rylie’s house and jumped from the driver’s seat. As he stalked toward Boots, his employee held up his two hands in a “calm the fuck down” gesture. “Easy, boss. They’re both fine. Confused about the court order but fine. Take a deep breath before you go in there. You look like you’re ready to kill someone, and you don’t want them to see you like this.”
As much as he wanted to tell Boots to fuck off, the man was right. If he stormed into the house in the state he was currently in, he’d scare the hell out of Rylie and Mickey. Not something he wanted to do.
Inhaling deeply, he forced his anger down a few notches and schooled his features into something a few steps lower than homicidal maniac. “Where’re the rest of you?”
“Tuff’s inside with Meat.” He pointed to the comm-unit in his ear. “From the sound of it, he’s teaching Mickey German, so the beast can earn some treats. Like Gordo doesn’t spoil him enough as it is. Dusty and Reaper are following the dick process server.” Dustin “Dusty” Gibson and Vinnie “Reaper” Burke were two more BHS operatives Irv had assigned to watch the Hart house. “While he was preoccupied with Tuff and Meat, I stuck a tracker under the trunk of his ride.”
“Good. Call Irv and have him replace Dusty and Reaper here.”
“Already done.”
Chase should’ve known his employees were on top of things. He had intelligent and well-trained people working for him, and it was rare he had to fire anyone, since they were all completely vetted before he ever offered them a job.
Cuffing Boots on the shoulder in a silent thanks, Chase strode up the front steps and through the door. Before he could announce himself, there were a flurry of clicks, shuffles, and barks seconds before Meat appeared in the doorway to the kitchen with Tuff right behind him. The dog had come a long way since he’d first been rescued by Tuff’s woman. Chet had started Meat’s rehabilitation, and then Kat Michaelson, who was married to Boomer, one of Trident’s operatives, had taken on the task of introducing protective-K9 training to the dog. She was contracted by not only Trident, but the Florida State Police and several local law enforcement agencies to train their K9s.
Tuff didn’t need to give Meat the commands to quiet and stand-down because, as soon as the dog spotted Chase, he ran toward him in search of an ear scratch. Chase obliged as he continued into the kitchen. A sigh of relief escaped him when he finally saw with his own eyes that Mickey and Rylie were, indeed, unharmed.
“Chase!” Mickey rushed to him and threw her arms around his waist in a quick hug. “Come see what I learned how to do!”
Without waiting for a response, she let go of him, did a pirouette, and grabbed a dog treat from a small pile on the table. The piece might be the perfect size for little Peanut next door, but for Meat, it was more like a mouse’s portion.
Mickey stood before the dog and showed him the treat. Meat’s tail thumped on the floor as he licked his chops in anticipation. “Meat, fuss!”
The dog’s butt whipped around as he did a textbook “heel,” placing his huge body snuggly against Mickey’s thigh and hip. He stared up adoringly at the girl, his tongue lolling as he waited for his reward.
“Bravo Hund!” Mickey praised before glancing at Tuff. “Right?”
“Close,” he said with a smile. “It’s Braver Hund.”
“Braver Hund.” She gave Meat his treat, then looked up at Chase. “That means ‘good dog’.”
He ruffled her hair as he eyed Rylie leaning against the kitchen island, worry and anger pinching her face. He knew without a doubt that some of that anger was aimed at him, but she wouldn’t unleash on him with Mickey present. “You did great, kiddo. Why don’t you and Tuff take Meat into the backyard and practice a little more. Your mom and I will be out in a few minutes.”
Chase shifted his gaze to Tuff and tilted his head toward the door. His employee nodded in understanding and grabbed a handful of the dog treats. “C’mon, Mickey, I’ll show you how Meat can stop short on command.”
“Okay.” Skipping, she led the way out with man and beast following her.
Once the door shut behind them, Rylie spun on Chase, her eyes blazing. “Do you want to tell me how your men happened to be in my neighborhood and came to my rescue at just the right time?”
He took a seat at the table and set his ankle atop the opposite knee. “Will you tell me why someone wants Mickey’s DNA?”
Glaring at him, she shook the papers she was holding. “How the hell should I know? And what kind of answer is that to my question, Chase? Tell me what the hell is going on. Now!”
Letting out a heavy sigh, he pushed
the empty chair next to him toward her. “Please sit and try to calm down. I’ll tell you what I know, which isn’t much. Hopefully, you can fill in the blanks.”
With a huff, she sat and crossed her arms. “Start talking.”
So much for calming down, but it was a start. “When we were at the ice cream place the other night, I spotted someone watching us and taking pictures. It was that car you saw take off in a hurry. I thought it was related to my business—not to you and definitely not Mickey. However, I had my intel division track down the license plate. The guy is a two-bit private investigator. He says he was hired to follow you and get photos of you, Mickey, and anyone who seemed close to you. Until I could figure out what was going on, I had some of my operatives watching you and Mickey to make sure you were safe.”
“Hired? By whom?”
He gestured to the papers she’d dropped onto the table. “My guess is whoever managed to get a court order for a DNA test for Mickey. The only people who would be interested in that are blood relatives.”
“But she doesn’t have any, Chase.” She shook her head vehemently. “Emma’s parents are both dead, and she had no siblings or first cousins.”
“On her maternal side. What about the biological father?”
Rylie gasped as the blood drained from her face. “I-I don’t know who that is. Emma said he was a one-night stand, and she never saw him again.”
She’d already mentioned that to him once before, and from the stunned expression on her face, she’d told him the truth. Rylie had no clue who Mickey’s father was and never had a reason to suspect her friend, and distant cousin, had lied to her about it, which was a very strong possibility considering the events of the last few days. However, Chase knew he had to be cautious with any accusations.
Dropping his foot to the floor, he leaned forward and took one of Rylie’s hands in both of his. “We have to consider the possibility that Mickey’s biological father found out about her and wants to be part of her life.”
“No!” Rylie ripped her hand from his and stood up so quickly, the chair she’d been sitting on went flying backward and tipped over. She ignored it, pacing back and forth in short, frantic movements. “No. That’s impossible. If Emma didn’t know who he was, how would he have found out about Mickey?”
Standing, Chase flipped the fallen chair upright, then stepped in front of Rylie and grasped her upper arms. “Easy, sweetheart. I don’t have an answer for you yet, but I have my operatives working on it.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about this the other night? I had a right to know, Chase. When it comes to Mickey’s safety, I damn well have a right to know!”
He was glad to see her anger was back, overriding any fears she had about Mickey and the DNA test—at least for the moment. “You’re right, Rylie. I’m sorry. My only defense is that I didn’t want to frighten you until I had some more facts.”
She glared at him. “That wasn’t your decision to make. As soon as you knew that man was following us, you should have told me.”
“You’re right,” he conceded again, holding one hand up in the air. “I swear it won’t happen again. As soon as I get more information about what’s going on, I’ll tell you. For now, the private investigator was told to upload all the pictures and other info to a Dropbox file—he doesn’t know who hired him and was paid in cash. I have my computer forensics team trying to find out who accessed the file after it was sent. Can I see the order?”
She handed him the papers, and Chase scanned the pages. It was just the court order for the test issued through the Pinellas County court system. There was no indication who the other party was—only their initials had been used, and they obviously meant nothing to Rylie.
Chase checked the signature at the end of the court order and cursed to himself. Judge Harold Bernstein. Wonderful. There wasn’t a judge in the Tampa, St. Petersburg, or surrounding jurisdictions who didn’t hate Chase more than Bernstein did. The resentment went back twenty-five years to when the guy’s daughter had accused Chase, a star quarterback, of getting her pregnant their senior year in high school, despite the fact he’d never slept with her. Hell, he’d barely spoken to her during their time together in the same school, having had very few classes or mutual friends with her. With close to four-hundred classmates, there’d been a lot he’d barely known. Her claim was that, after he’d demanded she get an abortion, she’d miscarried because she’d been so upset. His family and most of the senior class had suspected the story was bullshit and that girl had never even been pregnant, but her father—just a lawyer at the time—still believed his precious princess, regardless of the lack of proof. He’d tried, unsuccessfully, to get Chase expelled from school and had even tried to derail his enlistment with the Marines. To this day, the judge despised Chase.
“What’s wrong?” Rylie asked. Apparently, he hadn’t hidden his disappointment as well as he thought he had.
“Let’s just say this judge and I aren’t exactly friends. I’ll have to see if I can find someone to ask on my behalf without letting him know it’s for me. I could go through my lawyers, but they’d probably have to file paperwork and try to get on the judge’s schedule for a hearing. It’ll be faster if someone has a contact in the records department.”
When she didn’t say anything else, Chase studied her for a moment. The worry had replaced her anger once more. Her eyes were brimming with tears, and she looked completely lost and alone—not things he ever wanted her to feel. Reaching out, he pulled her into a hug and was relieved when she didn’t fight him. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close and giving her his full support. “It’ll be okay, sweetheart.”
“How do you know? If the person behind this is related by blood to Mickey, they’ll probably want to fight me for custody of her. I’m not giving her up without a fight, Chase. Hell, I’m not giving her up ever! I’ll take her and hide if I have to.”
He kissed her temple. “It’s not going to come down to that. Let’s find out who’s behind this and what their intentions are first. Then we’ll go from there, okay?”
Nodding against his chest, she sighed. “Okay.”
“Now, I know it’s the last thing you want to do, but I think you should have the DNA test done.”
“Why—”
She’d tried to pull away from him, but he held her tightly. He’d known she’d object, but he was looking at this from all sides. His evaluation of the situation wasn’t being prejudiced by deep-seated emotions. “Because if Mikey’s not a match to whomever thinks they’re related to her, this will be the fastest and easiest way to find out. Then they’ll have no leg to stand on concerning her.”
A few seconds ticked by as Rylie considered that before she sniffled. “And if she is a match?”
“Then I’ll stand by you and fight like hell for Mickey to stay with you.”
This time, when she pushed lightly on his chest, he let her go. She shook her head. “This isn’t your fight, Chase.”
“Yes, it is.” He cupped her chin and lifted it until their gazes met. He made sure she could see the conviction in his eyes. “The moment that little girl threw her arms around me and thanked me for donating my bone marrow to save her life, she became mine to protect. We’re bound by blood, and I’ll never not be there for her, understand?”
Chapter Eleven
As he reclined on his back, sweat pouring off him, soaking his sleeveless shirt, Chase pushed up against the weight of the barbell. His arms shook and the blood-filled veins in his temples and biceps bulged during the last three lifts of his third set. A strangled growl forced the air out of his lungs and gave him the final momentum he needed to fully extend his arms. Acting as his spotter, Tuff grabbed the bar and helped him set it in the cradle above his head. Chase let his aching arms drop as he sat up. While he could still lift the same weight he could five years ago, it was starting to take its toll on him.
Getting to his feet, he picked up a spray bottle of disinfectant and used a paper towe
l to wipe down the bench for the next person. Tuff had already selected a thirty-pound barbell from a rack along the wall to start on his own upper body workout as Meat snored loudly in a nearby corner, occasionally opening an eye when someone new walked into the full-sized gym at BHS headquarters. Chase had made sure there wasn’t anything lacking in the state-of-the-art facility for his employees. There were free weights, Nautilus machines, treadmills, stair climbers, cycles, ellipticals, a sparring ring, and plenty of other equipment for various strength and stamina building exercises. After a workout, his employees could also take advantage of a whirlpool and sauna before showering in the men’s or women’s locker rooms. Up on the roof of the five-story building, there was also a swimming pool they could do laps in. Occasionally, they had parties up there too, with barbecues, a tiki-bar, and a few spirited games of water polo or volleyball.
Chase grabbed a white, cotton towel from a nearby stack and wiped his face and arms. He kept the place well-stocked and a cleaning crew came in every night at ten, so it was in pristine condition for the next day. It was now five thirty in the morning and there were about a dozen of his employees taking advantage of the early hour and the available equipment on the second floor of the building.
Hanging on one long wall, there was a row of TVs in view from the aerobic machines. Each one was tuned to a major news or sports channel. Chase strode over to one of the treadmills and was about to climb on when an overhead speaker sparked to life. “Boss, need you in the war-room.”
Apparently, Gordo was in early today too, and since the security camera feeds were displayed on monitors in the war-room, she would know he was already in the building.
Blood Bound (Blackhawk Security Book 2) Page 7