Rush
Page 1
FIRST ORIGINAL EDITION, JULY 2020
Copyright © 2020 by Deborah Bladon
All rights reserved. No parts of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without written consent from the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
ISBN: 9798608777264
eBook ISBN: 9781926440590
Book & cover design by Wolf & Eagle Media
www.deborahbladon.com
Also by Deborah Bladon
THE OBSESSED SERIES
THE EXPOSED SERIES
THE PULSE SERIES
THE VAIN SERIES
THE RUIN SERIES
IMPULSE
SOLO
THE GONE SERIES
FUSE
THE TRACE SERIES
CHANCE
THE EMBER SERIES
THE RISE SERIES
HAZE
SHIVER
TORN
THE HEAT SERIES
RISK
MELT
THE TENSE DUET
SWEAT
TROUBLEMAKER
WORTH
HUSH
BARE
WISH
SIN
LACE
THIRST
COMPASS
VERSUS
RUTHLESS
BLOOM
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Epilogue
Preview of CATCH
Thank you
Deborah’s Mailing List
About the Author
Chapter 1
Case
What was I thinking?
My flight landed less than an hour ago, and I’m already itching to get the hell out of here.
Coming back to Manhattan was never part of my plan, even though I still have ties here. The unit I own in this building is one of them.
It’s a two-bedroom apartment on Madison Avenue.
I bought it seven years ago when I was a twenty-two-year-old kid with more money than wisdom. Three months after I moved in, I fucked off to California and never looked back.
“Mr. Abbott, is that you?”
I turn to the left to see one of the doormen headed my way.
Lester. I remember him from back in the day before gray hair was poking out from under the hat on his head.
He introduced me to the best vodka money can buy and expensive cigars.
I gave up both when I moved across the country.
Lester stops just short of me. “Nice suit, sir. Very nice suit.”
I’m learning to appreciate luxury more, including the meticulous care that goes into a custom-tailored suit. I’m the CEO of one of the biggest mobile gaming app companies on the planet, so I need to look the part.
I pull off the disheveled college kid look that other tech giants go for, but I take it up a notch when I know a camera is on me.
I took off from LAX earlier today under the watchful eye of the paparazzi. They weren’t hanging out at departures trying to grab a photo of me, but the ones they did capture will pad their bank accounts for a month or two.
My claim to unwanted fame is that I landed on this year’s list of the nation’s wealthiest thirty under thirty.
Unfortunately, that comes with the bonus of losing the ability to trust anyone I haven’t known since my lean years.
That’s a lesson I’ve learned through trial and error.
“You’re looking good.” I pat Lester on the shoulder. “How’s life been treating you?”
My gaze wanders the lobby. Little has changed since I packed up the bare essentials one Monday morning and left New York City behind.
I thought about selling the apartment back then, but my best friend, Drake Owens, offered me a deal I couldn’t refuse.
He gave up a percentage of his yearly salary as the head of the east coast office of Cabbott Mobile in exchange for living in the apartment for free.
Drake is a good man. He’s always had my back in business and life. It’s my turn to lend him a helping hand.
“I can’t complain.” Lester rubs his glove covered thumb and index finger together. “Retirement is on the horizon, sir. I can almost taste it.”
I have no fucking clue if the hand movement is a signal for me to tip him, but I’ll oblige. He deserves it.
I didn’t realize how much he did for me when I came into a small fortune virtually overnight. Lester watched over me when I needed it the most.
I fish in the inner pocket of my suit jacket for the five one hundred dollar bills that are always there.
I place them in his palm with a grin. “Get yourself a cigar tonight, Lester.”
Closing his hand around the money, he nods. “Thank you, sir. I’ll do just that. Do you have more bags in the car?”
Gripping the handle of my leather laptop bag, I glance down at the rolling suitcase at my side. “This is it. I plan on heading home within the week.”
His blue eyes skim my face. “This used to be home.”
“Now it’s not,” I say matter-of-factly as both of our gazes catch on a deliveryman waving his arm in the air near the double glass doors that lead into the lobby. “It looks like someone needs you more than I do, Lester.”
“I hope you and your friend enjoy your time in the city, sir.” Glancing over my shoulder, he tips the brim of his hat with his fingertip before he takes off.
I look behind me to find a pretty blonde on the approach with her eyes glued to me.
I can see why Lester might have mistaken her for a companion of mine, but I travel light in every possible way.
Just as the blonde closes in on me, I sidestep her. “Excuse me.”
A night with her could have been fun, but I’m not here for a good time. I have work to do so I can get the hell out of this city as soon as possible.
***
High-pitched singing, combined with the muffled sound of running water, hits me when I unlock the door to my apartment.
I don’t have a chance to process that before my gaze lands on a multi-colored laptop bag and a matching suitcase in the middle of my living room floor.
It’s opened to reveal what looks like women’s clothing.
That matches up with the voice streaming down the hallway.
“What the hell, Drake?” I seethe as I fish in the front pocket of my pants for my phone.
I pull up his number so I can give him shit about whoever the fuck is in my apartment.
We touched base this morning. He was about to board a flight headed to greener pastures. He’s eloping with the love of his life.
If his bride-to-be is with him, who the hell is singing their heart out in my shower?
The call goes straight to voicemail. Cursing, I hang up and try again. His voicemail picks up for a second time. I leave a message that’s simple and to the point.
“Call me back, now, Drake, or you’re fired.”
He told me he stopped juggling multiple women six months ago, but if that were the case, I wouldn’t be listening to someone trying to hit the high notes of a song I’ve never heard before.
Or she’s butchering it so badly that I don’t recognize it.
I don’t give a fuck that she can’t sing on key. I’m pissed that she’s made herself at home in my apartment.
This is classic Drake. We shared a rental house in Rhode Island when we were in college. He used to offer a key to our place and his bed to any woman he fucked who needed a place to crash for a few days whenever he flew back home to Seattle to visit his folks.
I shrug out of my suit jacket, roll up the sleeves of my button-down shirt, and head down the hallway with my phone in hand.
I don’t give a shit if the woman in the shower is important to Drake or not. He’s getting married. His fiancée will surely appreciate what I’m about to do.
The NYPD can take care of this woman since she’s trespassing on private property that belongs to me.
Chapter 2
Emma
There’s nothing like a hot shower to wash away a full day of travel. I had a missed connection and spent the last part of my cross-country journey sitting next to a toddler with a queasy stomach.
As soon as I got to my brother’s apartment in Manhattan, I grabbed a change of clothes out of my suitcase and came into the bathroom.
Excess doesn’t even begin to describe this place.
Drake has lived here for years. I’ve visited him twice before, but I’ll never get used to how breathtaking his apartment is.
Coming here is like staying in a five-star hotel.
It’s a perfect temporary escape since my life turned upside down. A few days away from Seattle will give me the clarity I need before I head home to face my new reality.
A loud rap on the bathroom door startles me enough that the bottle of body wash in my hand hits the stone shower floor with a thud.
Dammit.
Drake shouldn’t be home from work yet. I thought I had time to get ready and order his favorite pizza before he arrived.
He has no idea that I’m in New York. The last time I visited, he gave me a set of keys so I could come and go as I pleased while he was at work. When I was leaving to fly back home, he insisted I keep the keys in case I ever wanted a place to hide out for a few days. I laughed it off at the time, but now I’m doing just that.
He knocks again, so I turn off the water and grab one of the fluffy white towels hanging on the heated towel bar.
Wrapping it around me, I hold it in place while my shoulder-length brown hair drips down my back.
“Surprise!” I call out when I hear him knock again. “Guess who came to visit you?”
The door flies open.
My jaw drops.
The man standing in the doorway is definitely not Drake.
“Who are you?” I screech while I search the granite countertop for anything I can use to defend myself.
My fingers curl around the handle of my hairbrush.
“Who the fuck are you?” The man barks at me. “What the hell are you doing in my apartment?”
I wave the hairbrush in the air toward him. “Your apartment? This is not your apartment.”
The stranger rakes me from head-to-toe. “It sure as hell is. I’m calling the police.”
“Do it,” I challenge. “They’ll arrest you for breaking and entering. My brother owns this apartment.”
My words come out in a breathless rush because my heart is beating so hard in my chest that I’m sure it’s about to break free.
His gaze drops to his phone before it levels on my face. “Your brother? Who is your brother?”
“Drake Owens,” I say without thinking.
Why did I give up that information so fast?
“He’ll be home from work any minute, and you’re no match for him,” I continue stringing random words together that make sense in my head.
This man is taller than Drake and more muscular. I doubt if Drake could win an arm wrestle against this guy.
“You’re Drake’s sister?” His green eyes narrow. “I’m his boss; his best friend.”
My hand tightens on the towel. “You’re Case Abbott?”
He turns his back to me. “Jesus, yes. I’m him. I wouldn’t have barged in if I knew it was you. I’m sorry, Whitney.”
Ouch.
Do I look eighteen to him?
Should I take it as a compliment that he mistook me for my younger sister?
“I’m Emma.” I sigh. “Drake’s other sister.”
Raking a hand through his brown hair, he repeats my name. “Emma. You’re Emma.”
I nod even though he can’t see me. “I’m here to surprise Drake for his birthday.”
Taking a step forward, Case walks out of the bathroom before he turns to face me again. “I’ve got my own surprise to spring on your brother.”
What does that mean? As tempted as I am to ask, I don’t because I’m feeling way too exposed to continue this conversation. “I should get dressed.”
“Do that, and then we need to talk.”
With that, he closes the door behind him.
What the hell just happened, and more importantly, how did I not realize that my brother’s best friend is drop-dead gorgeous?
***
By the time I’ve run the brush through my hair and gotten myself dressed in the jeans and black sweater I brought into the bathroom with me, I’ve tried to call Drake seven times.
Seven times.
He didn’t answer.
I left six panicked messages asking where he is.
Case said that he has a surprise for Drake. I’m terrified that I might have cost my brother his job. It’s clear that he doesn’t own this apartment even though he told me he did. He told Whitney and our parents the same thing. We were all thrilled that he was successful enough to afford a place like this.
Is Case Abbott the type of man who would fire his best friend over a little white lie? Or a big lie about a very expensive piece of property?
I already know the answer to that. Drake has called me a few times over the past two years complaining about Case firing people. Some of those ex-employees had been with Cabbott Mobile from the beginning.
Since my makeup bag is in my suitcase, I have no choice but to leave the bathroom barefaced.
Case already thinks I look like a college freshman, so what do I have to lose?
Sucking in a deep breath, I steel myself so I can fight for Drake’s job. I owe him that after everything he’s ever done for me.
I swing open the bathroom door and head out to face the man who holds my brother’s future in the palm of his hand.
Chapter 3
Case
Emma Owens.
I have no fucking idea what she’s doing here. She seems to be under the impression that Drake is about to
walk through the door.
My door.
I can’t say I’m surprised that he passed this place off as his own. Impressing his family was always important to Drake. He told me how thrilled his parents were when he was accepted into the computer science program at Brown University.
That’s where we met.
I was already on the path to my future. I was programming anything I could think of that would garner me a shot at my own company straight out of the gate after graduation.
Drake’s goal was to land an entry-level position with one of the corporations based in Silicon Valley.
That changed when I sold my first company when I was twenty-one. It was a payment app that’s since been buried by more streamline innovations. The money I made on that deal was enough to propel me forward.
I brought Drake on board my newly formed company because he wanted a job, and I needed his skills. Cabbott Mobile was launched, and we’ve never looked back.
I glance down at Emma’s suitcase.
I want that out of sight within the hour because I’m expecting someone. I need Drake’s sister out of here for that very same reason.
The sound of her clearing her throat behind me turns me around.
I mistook her for her younger sister earlier, but now that I’m getting a better look, I can see that she’s not Whitney.
The picture that Drake sent me months ago that was taken at a party for his parents’ anniversary didn’t include Emma. Come to think of it, I’ve never seen an image of her.
She stands at least a foot shorter than me. My guess is around five foot two.
Her dark brown hair is damp. The ends are curling around her shoulders. Her thickly lashed brown eyes are focused on my face. A sprinkle of freckles dots her nose and cheeks.
She’s stunning.
“I tried to call Drake, but he’s not answering.” She steps closer to me on bare feet. “Do you know if he’s in a meeting? It’s not like him to ignore my calls.”
How the hell am I supposed to answer that?
Drake didn’t hesitate when he told me that he was taking some time off so he could elope. I assumed everyone in his inner circle knew, but maybe that’s a smaller group than I realized.