Moments later, they were standing in front of a massive door, and Tuff stabbed the button beside it, setting off several deep bongs inside the home. As they waited, he studied his surroundings. Ostentatious was definitely the word he’d use to describe the house and property. At the top of the driveway was a huge marble fountain with a partially naked woman straight out of Greek mythology. The grounds were meticulously groomed with beautiful trees, shrubs, and flowers. The driveway itself wasn’t blacktop or cement. Nope, that wouldn’t have suited them. Instead, the Ashfords had paid a pretty penny to have cobblestone laid down.
The door opened, and, as Tuff had expected, neither of the Ashfords were standing in front of him. The tall, lanky guy, wearing a starched, white, button-down dress shirt, crisp, black pants, and a black bowtie had to be a butler or something along those lines. The man’s disgusted, beady-eyed gaze went from Tuff’s head down his dark-gray T-shirt, black military BDUs to his black boots and then back up again, lingering for a few moments on the inked sleeves and his neck. Yeah, Tuff knew part of the reason Chase had assigned him to this detail was for this reaction alone. He couldn’t wait to be introduced to the former senator and his uptight wife.
When the man’s attention turned to Mickey, his expression didn’t change. He was probably afraid the seven-year-old was going to make a huge mess he and the rest of the staff would have to clean up later. “Is this Miss Mackenzie?”
“Sort of—she prefers to be called Mickey,” Tuff said, removing his sunglasses, so the other man could see the “don’t fuck with me” warning in his eyes. While Butthead the butler was three or four inches taller than Tuff, he wouldn’t stand a chance against the retired Army soldier.
Butthead blanched slightly before nodding. “Of course. And what is your name, sir? So I can announce you.”
Oh, jeez. He hung his glasses from the collar of his shirt. “Tanner.”
The other man nodded, then opened the door wider. “Please come in. Mr. and Mrs. Ashford are waiting in the parlor.”
The parlor? Yeah, Chase was going to owe Tuff some hazard pay for this detail. At the very least, he should receive a paid day or two off.
Splaying a gentle hand on Mickey’s back, Tuff escorted her into the foyer, which was bigger than his and Chet’s bedroom. The art and furnishings were expensive and fragile looking, and Tuff suddenly felt like a bull in a china shop. Mickey’s eyes were wide as she took it all in, obviously afraid to touch anything. He gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze.
Butthead gestured for them to follow him, and, by noting his odd gait, Tuff wondered if the guy had something up his ass. Not that he really wanted to know.
When they entered the parlor, the Ashfords stood from more expensive furniture to greet them when Butthead proclaimed their presence like a town crier. Well, actually, the couple only greeted Mickey. Tuff just got more glares of disgust followed by dismissive tilts of their chins, both of which he had no problem ignoring. He wasn’t there for those people to like him. He was only there to keep Mickey safe. If they wanted to treat him like the hired help, so be it. Tuff was used to blending into the background, being as unobtrusive as possible to those he was protecting.
Wearing a navy-blue dress, more suitable for a social tea than a playdate with her granddaughter, Carol Ashford stepped forward. Tuff was surprised to see a warm and loving look in her eyes, and she seemed to know Mickey needed to ease into this first meeting. “Hello, Mackenzie. I’m your grandmother, and this is your grandfather. It’s so nice to finally meet you.”
Tuff held back a snort. The little girl had lived less than fifteen minutes from them all her life, yet the woman made it sound like continents had separated them all this time.
When Mickey glanced back at him, a touch of insecurity in her eyes, he gave her a nod. “Go ahead, Mouse. It’s all right. I’ll be over here if you need me.” He took a few steps backward, situating himself so he could keep an eye on her and all the doors and windows in the room at the same time.
Relief filled her cute face before she turned back to her grandparents. “It’s nice to meet you too,” she said politely.
Mrs. Ashford’s face lit up with a smile. “Would you like some iced tea?” She gestured toward a crystal pitcher and glasses which sat on a tray atop a coffee table.
Over the next half hour, Mrs. Ashford slowly gained ground in earning Mickey’s trust. The girl was more relaxed, now sitting on the sofa next to the older woman and answering questions posed to her. Meanwhile, Mr. Ashford sat as far away as he could from the two, his annoyed gaze often settling on Tuff. The man hadn’t said a word to either of them since their arrival. However, he had taken several phone calls, all of which had seem to be golf or politically related, even though he was no longer in the senate.
“Would you like to see some pictures of your father?”
The question had Tuff eyeing Mickey to see if she was okay. He was happy to see her nod, albeit tentatively. Mrs. Ashford retrieved a photo album from the end table closest to her, then scooted closer to Mickey, so they could both see the images. “You look so much like him.”
Her soft, reverent tone reminded Tuff she’d lost her only child a few months ago. A part of him felt sympathy toward her—at least she now had a chance to get to know her granddaughter, even though she had no hope of recovering the relationship she could’ve already had with Mickey. Seven plus years was a long time not to have acknowledged she was related to them. Tuff hoped, for Mickey’s sake, they did their best to make up for it.
Across the room, Mr. Ashford rolled his eyes, then got on his phone again. Well, maybe Mrs. Ashford would do her best. Her husband? It was doubtful.
Even though he was on full alert, Tuff’s mind wandered to the appointment he’d had with a local jeweler yesterday. After their shift watching Mickey was over, he and Boots had spent the afternoon looking at diamonds, learning all about their cut, clarity, and color. Once Tuff had finally settled on a stunning one-and-a-half carat stone, another hour had gone by before he’d selected the perfect setting for Chet’s engagement ring. He sure hoped she loved it, even though his good friend and partner had assured him she would. Chet didn’t know it was coming. Well, actually, they’d talked about marriage and kids several times and knew each other was the one, but she wasn’t expecting him to propose anytime soon. He’d already called her mother in Venice, Florida, and gotten her permission to ask for Chet’s hand in marriage. Mariana Suarez had squealed so loudly before saying yes, it had resonated in Tuff’s ear for about an hour afterward. Now that he had the ring ordered, he just had to figure out how he was going to pop the question.
Inside his pocket, Tuff’s phone vibrated. He pulled it out to see a text.
Chase: Everything okay?
Tuff: I haven’t had to threaten anyone or bury any bodies yet, but the visit isn’t over.
Chase: LOL Keep me posted.
Tuff: Will do. BTW Mrs. and Mouse seem to be getting along fine. Mr. looks like he’d rather be anywhere else.
Chase: Thanks.
His attention was drawn to Carol Ashford when she stood and held out a hand to Mickey. “Would you like to see the rest of the house, Mackenzie?”
Her shoulders almost touched her ears before dropping again. “Sure.”
When she took Mrs. Ashford’s hand, Tuff stepped forward, intent on trailing behind as they took a tour. Mr. Ashford frowned at him. “I don’t think it’s necessary for you to follow them around the house. In fact, I’d rather you waited outside during her visit.”
Tuff’s eyes narrowed. “I’m her bodyguard. Where she goes, I go. That was in the agreement made between your lawyers and Ms. Hart’s.”
His gaze raked over Tuff. “Dixon couldn’t hire anyone more appropriate for this detail?”
Keeping in mind that Mickey was watching and listening, Tuff curbed the language of his response. “I don’t give a hoot about being appropriate—it only stands in the way of me doing my job, which is keeping Mickey safe.”
“My staff can do that.”
“Would you trust your wife’s safety to someone you didn’t know, Ashford? Because Ms. Hart is not entrusting Mickey’s safety to anyone she doesn’t know. If you have a problem with me being here, contact your lawyers and have them contact Ms. Hart’s lawyers. Until I’m told otherwise by my boss and Ms. Hart, I’m sticking to Mickey like glue, so get over yourself.” Gentling his tone, he shifted his focus to the man’s wife. “Mrs. Ashford, I won’t interfere with your visit with Mickey, but I also will not let her out of my sight. I’d think, as a mother and grandmother, you’d understand that Mickey’s well-being and safety are Ms. Hart’s number-one concern.”
While her stare at him was cool, she appeared to mellow a little at his words and nodded. “Of course, I understand.”
After noticing Mickey’s worried look at the exchange that had just taken place between the adults, Tuff gave her a wink, which earned him a smile. Yeah, the kiddo had wormed her way into his heart and had him thinking about what his and Chet’s children would be like.
Trailing behind Mrs. Ashford and Mickey as they headed out of the parlor, Tuff, once again, tried to come up with the perfect proposal.
Chase had hoped the monthly softball game between Blackhawk and Trident would take Rylie’s mind off worrying about Mickey, but it was clear her thoughts weren’t completely in the “here and now.” Not that he’d expected her to forget what Mickey was going through at the moment. Chase hoped the time would fly for both mother and daughter.
Instead of taking part in today’s game, Chase chose to sit in the bleachers with Rylie and a bunch of others who’d come to cheer on the Blackhawk team. There were enough employees at both companies so they could each rotate players, which was good since the roster changed each month depending on current assignments. For instance, Tuff usually played third base if he wasn’t on a detail like today. When Chase had told his operative about Mickey’s court-ordered visit, he hadn’t been surprised when Tuff had volunteered to go as her bodyguard. The head of BHS knew the operatives assigned to the little pipsqueak had all fallen in love with her and would do anything to see to her safety and happiness, just as he would. She’d burrowed into all their hearts.
Boots’s wife, Dianna, and a few of the other operative’s wives and girlfriends had welcomed Rylie into their fold and were obviously trying to keep her worrying at bay too. Although she was doing her best to be friendly and responsive to everyone, her anxiety was still evident. She did take a few deep, cleansing breaths, and some of the tension eased from her shoulders and back when Chase had shown her his text exchange with Tuff, letting her know Mickey was doing fine with Mrs. Ashford.
At the moment, Rylie was cooing at Boots and Dianna’s infant son, Jonah, as she held him in her arms, while his four-year-old brother, Joey, sat next to her, showing off his new Transformer toy. Chase was glad to hear the younger rug rat had finally gotten over a bad case of colic and was letting his folks sleep through the night. Boots was no longer showing up to work looking like a zombie.
Chase still couldn’t get over how quickly he’d fallen for Rylie. His thoughts were wandering a lot lately to images of him, her, and Mickey being a family, of making love to Rylie all day long, to wanting to see them all the time. He enjoyed Mickey’s chatter at dinner, helping her with her homework, then hanging out with Rylie after the little girl went to bed. Mundane things he’d always done without conscious thought were now an adventure with Mickey and Rylie by his side. Hell, even washing the dinner dishes was fun. And as much as he wanted to have Rylie in his bed, making love to her, he also liked cuddling on the couch with her, talking about how their days had gone and watching mindless shows. He’d seen more animated films and adult comedies and dramas in the last week or so than he could ever remember viewing during the last twenty years.
They spent the next hour and a half cheering on the Blackhawk team. While Rylie tried to get into the spirit, she must have glanced at her watch a few dozen times. When the game was finally over, BHS had beaten Trident, six to five, which meant Ian and his gang had to buy the pizza and beer this time. Chase wasn’t surprised when Rylie discreetly asked him if they could skip the after-game gathering. They said their goodbyes and told everyone to have fun without them. The large group all seemed to understand she just wasn’t up to socializing any further today—not until Mickey was back by her side—but they did tell her they hoped she’d join them for next month’s game.
By the time they’d arrived back at Rylie’s house, they still had another full hour before Tuff and Mickey were due back. Without a word, Chase led Rylie to her bedroom, closed the door, sat down on the bed, and pulled her onto his lap. As soon as her head was buried against his neck, the onslaught of tears burst forth. Chase laid down, taking her with him, and held her shuddering body until they finally heard Tuff’s truck pull into the driveway. While Rylie took a quick detour into the en suite bathroom to wash her face, Chase headed out to welcome Mickey home and get updates from both her and Tuff. He just prayed the visit with her grandparents wasn’t as traumatic for the seven-year-old as it had been for her mother.
Chapter Twenty
Ten days later . . .
Rylie didn’t know when the nightmare would end. In a few minutes, they were due in family court to argue their case against granting the Ashfords primary custody of Mickey. Chase’s lawyers had explained this was only a preliminary hearing and Mickey hadn’t needed to miss school to be there, but the judge might require her presence so he could interview her at a later date. She was old enough to have her voice heard, yet it wouldn’t weigh heavily in anyone’s favor what her answers were.
Last week, Rylie and Mickey had met with a court-appointed child psychologist, who had declared Mickey to be a well-adjusted seven-year-old, despite the hardships of her past. Rylie had learned the judge had no say in which psychologist was chosen as they randomly rotated who was assigned. Child Protective Services had made a visit the following day. The middle-aged woman had approved of Mickey’s environment and had documented that she’d seen nothing to indicate Rylie was an unfit mother. Rylie hoped those two reports, and the copy of Emma’s will, would help sway the judge’s ruling in her favor, but after what Chase had told her about Judge Bernstein, she knew she might be grasping at straws.
Thankfully, Chase had cleared his schedule and was able to come with her today. While Rylie had put up a small protest, knowing he had a large and important company to run, she was glad when he’d immediately shot down her suggestion that she didn’t need him there. Not that she’d expected anything else from him. The man had done everything he could over the past two weeks to ensure Mickey was safe and happy and Rylie’s anxiety didn’t get the best of her.
As for Rylie’s business, her staff had, once again, come to her rescue, filling in when needed, just like they had when Mickey had been sick. Once again, Rylie was amazed at the circumstances that had brought Chase into her and Mickey’s lives. He was such a wonderful man, having stepped up to help them, more than once, when many other men wouldn’t have wanted to deal with the major drama.
Her thoughts went to last night when she’d tucked Mickey into bed. The girl had seemed pensive and when Rylie questioned her, she’d blurted out, “Are you and Chase going to get married?”
Rylie had been stunned silent for a moment but then realized it wasn’t a strange question from an almost eight-year-old’s point of view this early in a romantic relationship. She’d spent a half hour bumbling through an explanation of how she and Chase were still getting to know each other, and it was too soon to tell if their relationship would go that far. It was evident Mickey was as taken with Chase as he was with her. While he managed to find time to be alone with Rylie, and take full advantage of it, the man adored Mickey and included her in conversations and activities whenever he could. Rylie’s fear that any man she dated wouldn’t want to be bothered with her daughter had been completely dispelled by Chase. He’d easily and willin
gly stepped into the role of a father-figure to Mickey before any of them had even realized it. Rylie often caught him staring at Mickey as if he couldn’t believe the girl had wrapped him around her finger in just a few short weeks. Rylie just hoped she wasn’t making a mistake by falling in love with him. If things didn’t work out between them, Mickey would be as heartbroken as her mother would be.
Standing outside the hearing room they were assigned to, Rylie ignored the Ashfords’ presence, along with their lawyers’, further down the hallway. They were richly dressed, just as they’d been the first time she’d met them. Pushing them from her mind, she paced back and forth in front of Chase, who was leaning against the wall, with one eye on her and the other on everything happening around them. His lawyer, Ken Ferguson, was a few feet away, talking softly on his cell phone. They were all waiting for the court officer to open the door and let them in. Apparently, theirs was the first case after the judge’s lunch break.
“Rylie!”
She turned to see Aubrey approaching them. Her friend hurried over and threw her arms around Rylie, who hadn’t expected to see her there. “What are you doing here?”
Aubrey pulled back and frowned. “Where else would I be when you need me? That’s the great thing about owning your own photography business. You can work around almost any schedule. When I saw Tuff and Boots taking Mickey to school this morning, they mentioned today was the court date, which you should have told me about, so I could be here to support you. You and Mickey mean so much to me.” Her eyes got watery. “I don’t know what I can do other than be an extra shoulder, but whatever you need, I’m here.”
Pulling the other woman back into a hug, Rylie was grateful for her being there—she could use all the support she could get. Aubrey and Emma had never met—Rylie and Mickey had moved into their house almost a year after Emma’s death—but their personalities were so similar, she’d bet they would’ve been good friends too. “Thank you.”
Blood Bound (Blackhawk Security Book 2) Page 14