Blood Bound (Blackhawk Security Book 2)

by Samantha A. Cole

  Her mind scrambled to recall if her best friend had ever mentioned the name Warren Ashford all those years ago, but there was no tangible memory to latch onto.

  Oh, Emma, this is a hell of a mess! What am I going to do?

  She hadn’t realized she’d said the question aloud until Chase answered her. “You’re going to take this one step at a time—that’s what you’re going to do. There’s still a chance Mickey’s not related to the Ashfords.”

  Rylie frowned at him. “Do you really think they’d be doing all this on the off chance someone they’d never heard of might be their granddaughter? There has to be a reason why they think she’s related to them. I know every guy Emma dated, but we were young back then, and there were the occasional one-night stands neither of us wanted to talk about for one reason or another.”

  Her checks heated when she realized what she’d just confessed to, but Chase grinned and, with a feather-light touch, brushed his fingers over the blush that was plainly visible. “I wasn’t exactly a saint in my twenties or even in my thirties, sweetheart. I had more than my fair share of one-night stands—there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. We’re all human.” Her shoulders sagged in relief as she gave him a small smile, and she was grateful when he changed the subject. “Anyway, my and Ian’s guess is that Emma told Warren she was pregnant, and he and/or his family threatened her, in some way, to not make a stink about it. They could’ve said they’d paint her as an unfit mother and demand custody of the baby if she didn’t agree to never contact them again.”

  Mulling that over, Rylie realized she wouldn’t be surprised if the men were right. Emma had hated confrontation. There’d been many times during their friendship that Rylie had witnessed Emma shy away from an argument or conflict because she didn’t have the nerve or confidence to defend her beliefs. Often, Rylie had stepped up and taken her place in a battle of wit with whomever had challenged her best friend. Maybe she’d done Emma a disservice by doing that instead of encouraging her to stand up for herself. Would it have made a difference if the Ashfords had indeed threatened to claim she was an unfit mother? Rylie didn’t doubt that’s what rich, arrogant people, like the former senator, would have said and done if a single, pregnant woman in her twenties had jeopardized their status quo. In order to go after Warren for child-support, she would’ve needed a lawyer, and that would have cost her money she hadn’t had back then. It could have also meant she would have had to share custody of Mickey with Warren too, something she might have not wanted to do.

  “I’ll be right back,” Chase said as he got to his feet.

  Rylie had so much running through her mind she didn’t pay attention to where he went or how long he was gone. The next thing she knew he was handing her a crystal tumbler, half-filled with a familiar gold-colored liquid. The sweet vanilla aroma teased her nose as she inhaled deeply. As Chase sat next to her on the couch again, she grinned, noting he’d poured himself a glass as well. “Found my bottle of Forty-Three in the freezer, did you?”

  Licor 43, or Cuarenta y Tres, was a Spanish liquor that Rylie favored as an occasional treat after Mickey had gone to bed. Even though she preferred it chilled, which is why she kept it in the freezer, as soon as the mixture of forty-three ingredients hit her stomach, it warmed her from the inside out. Once in a while, she even poured a little of it over a scoop of vanilla ice cream. It was sinfully delicious.

  “I spotted it the other night when you were pulling stuff out for the pizza. It’s a little too sweet for my tastes, but, for now, it’ll do.”

  “What do you normally drink?” she asked before taking a sip and savoring the taste of vanilla, citrus, herbs, and spices when they hit her tongue. While they’d talked a lot during the times they’d spent together, there was still so much she didn’t know about the man. And, at the moment, she needed something to take her mind off the test tomorrow. There was nothing she could do until the results were in. That would take a few days, at the very least, which gave her time to formulate a defense. But, for now, for just one night, she wanted to forget about her worries and focus on this man who did wicked things to her body just by giving her a heated stare.

  “Glenlivet scotch or Jack Daniels whiskey are my occasional vices, but I wouldn’t turn down a tall glass of Guinness either.”

  Rylie wrinkled her nose. “I’ll pass on all three. Wine, champagne, Forty-Three, and Bud Light are more my speed. But don’t think I’m a heavy drinker. If I have more than a glass of any alcohol in a single week, that’s a lot.”

  He chuckled. “Not an alcoholic. Check. What other vices can I cross off the no-go list?”

  “I don’t smoke. I hate taking anything stronger than aspirin or ibuprofen. I don’t gamble, unless it’s a pocket-book bingo night—”

  “What, pray-tell, is pocket-book bingo?”

  Her eyes widened, but then she remembered he’s a single guy, so it was highly unlikely he’d ever heard of it before now. “It’s usually done as a school fundraiser. They get donated or clearance high-end purses and wallets—like Coach, Kate Spade, Chanel, Louis Vuitton, etcetera—and those are the prizes if you get bingo. They’re huge events—a hundred or so attendees, or more. Everyone usually grabs ten of their friends to get their own table, and they can bring wine, soda, snacks, whatever. It’s always a fun night out. Obviously, these events are mostly attended by women, but it raises money for the extracurricular activities at the school. And it’s a chance to win something I probably would never splurge on because, when I do splurge, it’s on something for Mickey.”

  As she was going through her explanation, she thought he had a lightbulb moment because he nodded in understanding. “I think Shannon mentioned going to one of these things a few weeks ago for her granddaughter.”

  “Shannon? Oh, that’s your receptionist, right?”

  “Administrative assistant. Call her a receptionist or secretary, and she’ll be pissed for weeks. She’s been with me for many years, and if she wants her title to be an AA, then I’m not going to argue with her. I just hope she doesn’t retire before I do, because I’ll never find someone who could come close to filling her shoes.”

  She liked how his eyes warmed with obvious affection for his long-time employee, who he probably also considered a close friend. “She’s really nice, and it sounds like you’re lucky to have her.”

  “That I am.”

  “Tell me about your family. I remember you mentioned a sister. Is it just the two of you?”

  Before he answered, Chase shifted on the couch and leaned back against a pillow where the two sections of the L-shaped piece met. He kicked off his sneakers, spread his legs, and crooked a finger at her then pointed at the cushion between his muscular, jean-covered thighs. “Come here and get comfortable. I want to snuggle while we talk.”

  His smoldering gaze told her he wanted to do more than just snuggle and talk, but that was what they’d start with. There was only a moment of hesitation before Rylie gave him her back and scooted into position, resting her forearms on his knees. Cupping her shoulder, he gently urged her to relax against his broad chest. She could feel his heart beating against her back. Reaching over, he set his half-filled glass down on the coffee table. After he settled in again, his hands went to her neck and shoulders and began to knead the tautness they found there. “Okay, where were we? You asked about my family, right?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Mm-hmm.” Rylie didn’t care what Chase talked about as long as he said something, so she could feel the words rumble from his chest against her back, and kept massaging her aching muscles. She almost purred when he found a particularly tense spot.

  “Well, my two sisters, Ava and Sarah, and I were raised in St. Pete’s. They both moved after college. Ava, who was born fourteen months after me, owns a pet supply store and bakery, in York, Pennsylvania—yes, she bakes treats for dogs—and is involved with a pit bull rescue. She’s married to Danny Cox, an Air Marshal, and they have two daughters and one son. Sarah is t
he baby of the family—five years younger than me. She’s divorced with two boys and is a fragrance chemist in Atlanta.”

  “A fragrance chemist? Does that mean she makes the scents for perfumes?”

  “Yup, and also for shampoo, body wash, lotions, and other stuff. Don’t ask me how she got interested in that, but she loves her job, and it pays really well. Which is great because her ex is an ass about getting his child support to her on time. One of these days, I may have to ignore a direct order from Sarah and go beat the shit out of him.”

  She was surprised he hadn’t already. Chase seemed to be a fierce protector of his family and friends, especially the females.

  “Anyway, my mom, Janet, lives in Boca Raton now, where she hangs out with her bridge club four days a week and plays golf the other three, unless she’s off visiting family or friends. She’s seventy-two, looks twenty years younger, and has been a catalogue model for about ten or twelve years for stores like Sears and Dillard’s and a few others.”

  “Wow, really?”

  “Uh-huh. Mom’s a knockout, as my dad used to say.”

  The sadness in his voice caught her attention. “He’s gone?”

  His hands slid to where her shoulders met her upper arms as he continued to search for knots. “Yeah—six years ago after a second battle with cancer. He fought the good fight, but it just wasn’t enough. Dad was the greatest man I ever knew. Would give you the shirt off his back if you needed it, and never did anything but support his family in whatever they wanted to do. At my high school graduation and then, again, at my Marine Corps boot camp graduation, he was yelling louder than any other parent there. Whenever he introduced me and my two younger sisters to anyone, you could always hear the pride in his voice. I don’t think I’d be the man I am today if I’d had anyone other than him as my dad.”

  Chase’s father wasn’t the only one who talked about his family with pride in his voice. Rylie could feel the love and admiration he had for the man who’d raised him in every word he spoke. “What did he do for a living?”

  “He worked for the sanitation department for about forty years after a brief stint in the Army.” He let out a wry huff. “You know, when I was around nine or ten, some kids at school were teasing me because my dad hauled trash for a living. I got embarrassed and took it out on him one night, yelling at him for not having a better job, or, at least, a more glamorous one, I guess. That Saturday, he took me to work with him. I rode around with him and two other guys all day. There was this one house they stopped at, and all three of them got out to walk up the driveway. Inside the open garage door, there was a kid, about a year or two younger than me, sitting in a wheelchair. His mom was with him. He had cerebral palsy, but when he saw my dad and his coworkers, he got the biggest smile on his face. They high fived him and chatted with him for a few minutes and totally made his day. I couldn’t believe it. Here was this disabled kid and the only thing he wanted to be when he grew up was a sanitation man because my dad and his friends stopped at his house to say hello to him twice a week. The next day I apologized to my dad, and, for the rest of his life, I made sure he knew I looked up to him.”

  Rylie shifted until she was facing him, still wedged between his legs. Chase reached up and brushed her cheek. It was then she realized she was crying.

  “What’s this?” Chase asked, his concerned gaze searching her face.

  She shrugged as her face warmed in embarrassment. “That was such a beautiful story. Sorry, but I cry at stuff like that all the time. Sad movies or heartwarming stories on the news. Hell, I can’t even watch those commercials trying to get you to donate to the ASPCA because I start bawling at all those poor, abused animals. I cry if I get a sappy card too.”

  He chuckled. “I’ll have to remember that. No sappy cards.”

  “Oh, I love getting them, but there will be tears.”

  “Duly noted.”

  They sat there for a moment and studied each other. Chase’s gaze roamed her face before settling on her mouth. She subconsciously licked her lips, causing him to growl. “God, you’re beautiful.”

  His hands plunged into her hair, and his mouth crashed down on hers, taking possession. He leaned back, bringing her with him until she was splayed over his hard body. Their tongues rubbed against each other’s—tasting, teasing, and tantalizing. Chase ran his hands down her back with short strokes that got longer with each pass until he was cupping her ass. Rylie could feel his erection, long and stiff against her abdomen. It caused a stirring in her core she hadn’t felt in an awfully long time.

  Spreading her legs, she straddled him and abraded her clit along his shaft, through their clothes. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and all thoughts of what was going on in her life fled from her mind. In that moment, right there and then, she gave into her desires. Rylie had been dreaming of Chase since the night after she’d first met him, but her imagination had never gotten this good. He masterfully played her body, evoking responses older than time.

  His hands dipped under her shirt, his calloused fingers lighting up the nerves just below her skin. For long minutes they just kissed. Rylie could feel Chase holding back, and she appreciated his tact. While she was enjoying it—really enjoying it—it’d been a long time since she’d been with a man—battery-operated Bob in her nightstand notwithstanding. That was the only sexual pleasure she’d gotten since before the day Mickey had come to live with her. Regardless of how attracted she was to Chase, she’d told him the truth when she’d said she wanted to take things between them slowly. She needed time to process everything that had happened since she’d met him. Rylie was no longer the carefree woman who didn’t have the responsibility of raising a child. The only time she ever wished she weren’t a mother was when she was missing Emma. She’d give anything to have her best friend back with them, watching Mickey grow into a beautiful young lady. However, that wasn’t possible, and raising Mickey was now Rylie’s main role in life—one she wouldn’t give up for anything.

  Chase’s mouth left hers and lowered to her jaw and then her neck. His warm breath heated her skin as his lips and tongue explored. “Take your shirt off, sweetheart,” he whispered, sending delicious chills down her spine. Goose bumps peppered her from head to toe. When she hesitated, he added, “No sex. I just want to see your beautiful breasts and give you pleasure.”

  Rylie wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed by the “no sex” comment. She wanted him so badly but rushing things—whatever it was between them—wasn’t a good idea. However, taking things a little further than they already had wasn’t exactly a bad idea.

  Pushing off his chest, she sat up, his thick erection nestled under the juncture of her thighs. She reached for the hem of her shirt then slowly drew it up her body, wanting to tease the man who was staring at her face with hooded, lust-filled eyes. His hands were now on her bare waist, but he didn’t make another move until after she’d lifted the shirt off and tossed it onto the back of the couch. Chase’s gaze slid downward as his hands skimmed up her sides. His thumbs caressed the bottom swell of her breasts, and Rylie wished she’d put on a prettier bra than the plain white one she was currently wearing.

  Chase sat up and latched his mouth onto one breast, warming it through the thin fabric. Rylie gasped as her head fell backward and her back arched, thrusting her flesh toward his eager mouth. His tongue flicked her nipple, and she almost cried out at the erotic sensation that shot to her now-throbbing clit.

  His fingers deftly pulled the cups of her bra down until they settled under her breasts. She wanted to remove it altogether, but if Mickey woke up, something she rarely did, Rylie wanted to be able to right her clothing as quickly as possible. She suspected that was why Chase didn’t reach behind her to unclasp the bra either.

  When his mouth settled over her flesh again, the heat it produced was ten-fold. Rylie had never come from a man just playing with her breasts, but she was dangerously close to doing so then. Chase kissed his way across her sternum befor
e giving her other nipple the same attention as the first, sucking and licking until Rylie couldn’t catch the moan that escaped her.

  Suddenly, her world spun, and it took a moment for her to realize she was now on her back, with Chase perched above her. She wrapped her legs around his hips, linking her ankles just below his ass. His hips flexed, grinding his pelvis against hers. His mouth had returned to its earlier task, adoring one nipple while his fingers plucked the other one. Rylie couldn’t believe her body was racing toward an orgasm while she still had most of her clothes on.

  Chase kissed his way up to her ear and whispered, “That’s it, sweetheart. Hump me.”

  She hadn’t realized that was exactly what she was doing, lifting her hips and rasping her clit against his cock while seeking a climax. In turn, Chase moved his hips in time with hers as he nuzzled her neck. “God, I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.”

  Rylie wasn’t sure if it was his words or the reverence in his tone, but either way, it turned her on even more. Her hands pushed his T-shirt up until he lifted his upper torso, reached back, and grabbed the material before dragging the garment over his head. When the bare skin of his chest and abdomen met hers, it scorched her. Her fingers explored the hard muscles of his shoulders and back as she squirmed beneath him.

  Leaning to the side, Chase gave his hand room to drop down to the elastic waistband of the gray, chino skort she was wearing. His fingers dipped tentatively beneath the material and caressed the bare skin there. “Let me touch you and make you come, sweetheart. Just a taste of pleasure. Nothing more.”

  Nothing more? Despite her brain wanting to agree with that, her body definitely wanted more. But, again, he was right. Slow. Steady. Ease into the relationship. No need to rush things. Now, if she could only get her body and mind in sync. She was certain if Chase pushed her, he’d be buried deep inside her within minutes—something she wanted with every breath she took. But the man seemed to have much more control than she did.