Chasing Bliss (30 page)

Bliss frowned, but she held him tighter. “I don’t know what you did, and I don’t really want
to know. You better stop this nonsense though. We can’t change what already happened, but you
damned sure can stop doing whatever it is that you do.”

“It’s not that easy, Bliss.”

Bliss sat up, and he sat up with her. She reached over and flicked on the light. She looked him
in the eye. “Do you love me like you say you do, Chase?”

He frowned. “Of course I do. How could you question that?”

She put her hand on his cheek. “I’m not, baby, but I’ve got a feeling you’ve got a side to you
that I never want to see. What were those chains on your jeans, Chase? Sweetheart, I’m looking at
you now, and sure, you’ve got a pretty good gash in your scalp and a decent-sized wound on your
leg, but Chase…neither one of those injuries justifies all that blood you had on you—neither one
of them.”

He tried to turn his face away, but Bliss wouldn’t let him. He stayed where she kept him, but he
cast his eyes down and wouldn’t look at her.

She remembered the way he’d looked when he came in—all that blood—and she shuddered.
Bliss felt delayed hysteria trying to creep in and pushed it back. “I don’t think you just got in a
fight, Chase.”

He wouldn’t look at her and wouldn’t comment.

“Are the police looking for you? Do they have a reason to?”

“I doubt it,” he said quietly. He looked at her, and his eyes were tremendously sad. “You gonna
walk away now, Bliss?”

Bliss smiled in spite of the horror of the night. “It’s a little late for that. I don’t want to live
without you.”

He smiled. “You still gonna marry me? You promised, you know.”

Bliss smiled back at him. “I don’t have a choice. I’m in love with you…in spite of all this.”

He kissed her with a soft, sweet kiss. “I love you, Bliss.”

“I love you, too, but you’ve got to make me a promise, Chase.”

He kissed her again. “I’ll promise you anything, Bliss.”

She kissed him back, but she looked at him skeptically. “I want you to mean it, Chase.”

He smiled. It wasn’t really a happy smile but was more like a resigned one. “If you haven’t
noticed by now, I mean just about everything I do.”

Bliss shook her head. “Not when it comes to Cyrus. You’re too torn when it comes to him.
Chase,
why
? All this shit is his fault. I know he’s your brother and you love him as such, but you’re
going to have to mean what you said. We have to get away from him. Cyrus is a destroyer, Chase.
One thing I know to be true is that you two don’t get along, yet you’re always doing something
for him. What the hell does Cyrus ever do for you? You’re either always upset after you see him,
or else you’re fighting him.
Leave him alone, baby!
He’s like poison to you. You have to promise me
that you’ll do what you said and step away from him.”

Chase stared at her for a long time that Bliss almost shook him to see if he was still conscious.
He finally sighed heavily and piled the pillows up. Chase leaned back against them and looked at
her. “I promise you, Bliss, but I’ve gotta warn you.” He took her hand and held it tight. “A lot of
things happened tonight—bad, story-at-eleven kinds of things. If there are reprisals, I might not
have a choice but to answer them, and not because of Cyrus or Corey or even my own ego, but
because I have to stay safe.” He looked into her eyes. “Do you understand what I’m sayin’ to you,
Bliss? I
want
to do what I need to do to make you happy, but I need you to know that there are a
lot of extenuating circumstances that might require me to go back on my word. I told you before
that I’ll never lie to you unless it’s an absolute necessity, so I’m letting you know now, just in case
this shit spirals out of control.”

“It’s already out of control, Chase. Look at you! I thought you were
dead
when they brought you
in here.” Her voice was rising, and tears slipped down her cheeks.

Chase pulled her to him and she straddled his lap, facing him. He rubbed her back and whispered
in her ear, “It’s okay, baby. I’m right here…and I’m fine.”

She leaned back and looked at him. “What if you weren’t, Chase?
What am I supposed to do
without you?”

He smiled his boyish smile at her and wiped the tears off her cheeks with her thumbs. “I’ll
do my best to make sure you never find out.” He kissed her, and when he pulled away, he had a
mischievous sparkle in his eyes.

Bliss frowned. “What?”

“Since I gotta keep my promise, you gotta keep yours.”

She smiled at him coyly, knowing exactly what he was talking about, but deciding to play
dumb. “Yeah? What promise is that, Chase?”

Chase ran his hands up her thighs and let them come to rest on her hips.

Bliss raised an eyebrow and smiled. She had no idea what was in that last shot Tasha gave him
or how bad his head was still hurting, but she knew neither one of them had any effect on his libido.
She didn’t think he should be thinking about making love under the influence of injury and all that
medication, and she didn’t want him hurt any more than he already was, but when she tried to get
up, he held her where she was.

Chase smiled at her. “Where you goin’, Bliss? I was talkin’ to you.”

“I’m listening, baby, but I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to get too physical just yet.”

Chase laughed and moved against her, causing a ripple of goose bumps to break out on her skin
as he put his arms lovingly around her neck “I ain’t too hurt for that.”

Bliss giggled and kissed him quick. She was so glad he was okay. “I do love you.”

“I know you do, and I hope you know how much I love you.” He paused just long enough to slip
his pants down and get in. Bliss sighed and started to move with him, and Chase smiled. “I could
spend the rest of my life right here, Bliss—right here, just loving you. Would you mind? Would
you let me?”

Bliss loved the feel of him. “You know I would. I love you, Chase. I can’t help myself.”

He laughed lewdly. “Why would you want to? You feel this?
This
is bliss, baby.”

Bliss blushed and closed her eyes. When she opened them, Chase was looking at her as serious
as she’d ever seen him look.

“I can’t help myself either. Keep your promise, Bliss. Marry me.”

There was no fight left in her. She was done dodging him and evading the issue. “When?”

“Saturday after next. We’ll go away and get married somewhere almost as pretty as you.”

Bliss nodded. She didn’t care where they made their vows. Wherever it was, she’d be there with
him by her side, and she’d be ecstatic. “Okay, Chase.”

He kissed her and turned her over on her back. “I’m serious, Bliss. Saturday after next,
somewhere nice. Don’t say okay. Say
yes
.”

Bliss wrapped her legs around him as he wore down the absolute last of her reservations. How
could she possibly go through the rest of her life without ever being with Chase? It was too much
to ask. It was impossible. Her body started to hum. “Yes. Yes I’ll be there. I’ll be your wife. I will.
I promise, Chase!”

Chase was sliding into her deliciously. “Good. We’ll get your ring day after tomorrow.” He
covered her mouth with his, and they came together. It was sweet and tender, full of love and
passion. Chase held her close and whispered words of love in her ear, and both of them fell asleep
in each other’s arms, not thinking of the horrors of the night, but of the promise of love in their
future.

Chapter 17

C
yrus couldn’t believe the shit had gone down like that. It was a fucking disaster, and it was
all over the fucking news—even in the goddamned paper! He’d managed to dodge them so
far, but the cops were looking for him hard because he owned the club where all hell broke loose.
Cyrus smirked and swirled his Hennessey. The irony of having ultimately named the club Eternal
wasn’t lost on him. He should have named that shit Five Fuckin’ Minutes since that was as long as
it lasted. He sipped his Hennessey slow. It was hair of the dog. He was so hung over, he felt like
there was a tiny man with a hammer inside of his head. The Hennessey was helping a little, but he
still felt sick.

Cyrus looked over at Khalid. He knew he didn’t really have a choice than to be where they
were. They had to go somewhere out of the heat, so they were currently at Khalid’s sister’s house
in Staten Island. Khalid was sprawled on the couch, looking like he was getting sick from that shot
to the shoulder.

His sister Khadijah was trying to clean the wound. It wasn’t bleeding like it had been, but it still looked nasty.
She bandaged it and stood up. “That’s the best I can do. There’s a bullet in there, and I’m not ‘bout to dig my
fingers in there to find it. It’ll do more harm than good. When the hell is your friend gonna get here?”

Cyrus shrugged. “Hopefully soon.”

He’d sent one of his boys to fetch a dude named Monty, who’d served in Iraq as a medic and
was pretty good at picking bullets out of niggas. They’d used him many times before with no
casualties.

Khadijah sucked her teeth. “You don’t seem too concerned.”

Cyrus sipped his drink and looked out the window. “Everything’s gonna be fine. You think I
could get somethin’ to eat?”

She sucked her teeth again. “If you want something delivered, be my guest, but I ain’t cookin’
for you, Cyrus. I’d rather die.”

He looked over his shoulder at her. “No need for all that. Mind your manners, Khadijah.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “You’re in
my
house. I think you need to mind
yours
.”

Cyrus watched her walk out of the room, mad like it was all
his
fault. He turned his drink up and
finished it. It
wasn’t
his fault!
It’s fuckin’ Chase’s fault!
All of it!This is just one more thing to hate his ass
for!
If his hard-headed ass had only greased Wolf when he told him to, none of this shit would have
happened. This was becoming common with Chase, instead of doing what he was
supposed
to, that
nigga had done what he
wanted
to and let enough time pass for Wolf to come after Cyrus. Did he
kill him then?
No.
That clown killed Mooch and Post. Of course, it was for get-back, but all he’d
succeeded in doing by taking out them niggas was making the situation worse.

The killing spree at the club last night was worse still. That was Wolf’s brother with his guts
splashed across that alley, and that was one of his top enforcers with his wrists split. Cyrus frowned
and scratched his chin. He was
still
trying to figure out how Chase had managed that one. He heard
through the grapevine that nigga looked like he’d committed suicide.

The doorbell rang, and Khalid opened his eyes. “Who the fuck is that?” he whispered gruffly,
reaching down in the cushions for his gun.

Cyrus put a hand on his arm to restrain him. “Chill, man. It’s probably Monty…or maybe it’s
Corey.” He’d left Corey’s tired ass a voicemail telling him where to find him, even though he
didn’t seem to give enough of a fuck about him to look for him in the first place. When Cyrus had
asked him where
he
was, Corey had shucked and jived him at first, then admitted he was at Chase’s
place, holed up with him. “Fuck them both,” Cyrus had said. “Fuck ‘em hard for not even comin’
to see about me.” Cyrus smiled. He knew how to lay it on extra thick when he had to. He could
slather on more guilt than a Jewish grandmother, and he always managed to make Corey’s ass fold
right up. Chase used to fold pretty easy himself, but now he refused to bend, and that was the main
problem that was causing all this shit.

Khadijah walked back into the room with Corey and—surprise, surprise!—J.T. and Chase.
“Your little brothers are here to pull your fat out of the fire…again,” she said sternly.

Cyrus looked at her sharply. “I’m tired of tellin’ you about that mouth of yours, Khadijah.”

Khalid sat up painfully. “Leave her alone, Cy. She didn’t have to let us in here.”

Cyrus looked at Corey, singling him out on purpose. “Nice of you to come, Corey. ‘Course, if
I’d been shot, I’d probably be dead by now waitin’ on your sorry black ass.”

Corey looked at the floor, but J.T. rubbed his chin thoughtfully and sat down next to Khalid. “I
don’t know about that, Cyrus.” He looked Khalid up and down comically. “This nigger’s shot, and
he’s still livin’. How long do you think he might stay that way with no doctor, huh?”

Cyrus looked at J.T. darkly. He hated J.T. with a passion.

J.T. stared back just as dark because he hated Cyrus just as much, if not more. “You gonna let
him get septic shock and die just because you care too much about your own ass to save your boy?
That’s some fucked-up, selfish, shit, Cyrus.”

“Well…we didn’t take Chase to the hospital,” Corey chimed in quietly.

Cyrus’s eyebrow went up.
Didn’t take him to the hospital?
He bit back a smile.
Did Chase—the
almighty Smoke—almost get his wings clipped?
He looked over at Chase, whose actual appearance
hadn’t sunk in yet. Chase was standing very quietly in the corner with his arms folded across his
chest, dressed in his “work clothes,” black from head to toe. He was even sporting a black Yankees
cap and a really nice, really dark pair of shades.

“What happened to you?”

Chase took off his shades and his cap. There was blood in the white of one eye and a nice little
line of stitches in his scalp. “I got hit in the head.”

Cyrus had very rarely seen Chase hurt, so he was understandably a little shocked. But he also
found it hilarious. It was all he could do to keep from laughing with satisfaction. Good for his ass.
“I know whoever did that paid for that shit.”

Chase smiled a cold little grin. “He bled out.”

Cyrus poured himself another drink. “I believe you.” He took a sip of his drink and looked at
Chase with that same dark look he’d given J.T. “Anyway, I’m not supposed to be talkin’ to you.
What the
fuck
could you possibly want? Did you come here to try and kick my ass again?”

Chase laughed dangerously, but his eyes refused to smile. “I didn’t
try
to kick your ass, Cyrus.
I
did
kick your ass. For the record, I really don’t want see to your helpless wannabe gangster ass,
either.”

Cyrus’s mouth flew open, and he started spewing venom.
Who did this nigga think he was fuckin’
with?
“Wannabe gangster? You ungrateful little shit! Who you raisin’ up to? If it wasn’t for me,
who knows what would have happened to your crazy ass! What do I get from you? Disrespect
and insubordination. I shoulda smothered your ass while you were still in your fuckin’ crib! All
you’ve ever given me has been grief and more grief—for your whole damn life. You’ve
always
been difficult. You never just fell in line. All this shit is your fault! You call me helpless? Well, I
guess I am, ‘cause I don’t get any damn help from
you
, do I? Look at the fuckin’ mess you made,
you worthless son of a bitch!”

Chase was looking down with his lips tucked in. Cyrus knew he’d hurt him, because he refused
to make eye contact.
Go ahead and cry, you little bitch.

Corey stepped in front of Cyrus and put his hand on his arm. “Hey, Cyrus, don’t do this. Chase
came to help you.”

Cyrus sneered and swigged down the rest of his drink. “Help me? He ain’t
been
helpin’ me.
You want to help me
now
? After all this shit? Well, fuck you, Smoke! Take your help and go fuck
yourself.”

“Wait a minute, Cy,” Khalid said from the couch.

“Fuck him. We don’t need his ass.”

“Cyrus, stop,” Corey said.

“I ain’t gotta kiss his high-handed ass, Corey, and I can say whatever I want. I was damned
near grown when you niggas
met
me. What you gonna do, Smoke? Pull your razor out on me? Go
ahead, ‘cause if you ever step to me again, I’m gonna put a bullet in your goddamned forehead.”

Chase’s head popped up, and his eyes twinkled. He was smiling.

Corey’s eyes pleaded with his brother. “Cut it out, Cyrus. You must be drunk. Stop this shit.”

Cyrus noticed that J.T. had retreated to stand at Chase’s elbow. Yeah, maybe he
was
a little
drunk, but he had a fucking reason to be. He was furious at Chase for letting that shit get out of
hand. He looked at Chase with his glittering eyes and icy grin, and then he put his glass down and
pulled his gun out of his waistband. “I meant what I said, Smoke. You can stand there and glitter
and shine all you like, but you come at me to kick my ass and I ain’t fightin’ your crazy ass. I’m
puttin’ a hole in you.”

Chase didn’t move a muscle, but he never stopped smiling.

“Put the gun away, Cyrus,” J.T. said in a low voice.

“
Please
put the gun away,” Corey echoed.

Cyrus looked at Khalid, who was watching him like he was holding his breath and cautiously
shaking his head slowly from left to right. Cyrus touched his nose; that shit would never be the
same, thanks to Chase. He hated his punk ass. He always had, and there was no need to pretend
it was something it wasn’t. He didn’t put his gun away but held it with the business end pointed
toward the floor and poured himself another drink. He sipped it and looked back at his little brother.
“So what do you want, Chase?” Cyrus was far from stupid. Chase was so angry at him that he was
almost shaking. That smile had become quivery, but he hadn’t moved an inch. Cyrus smiled. Chase
was showing amazing self-control. If he hadn’t been, Cyrus would have been on the floor trying to
keep his blood in his body from the first moment he started talking shit. A frown had replaced the
glittery look in his eyes, though, and he seemed to be looking everywhere at once. Chase flexed his
hands, and Cyrus raised his gun, knowing he was fucking up bad.
Nobody
pulled a gun on Chase;
that was the very reason he’d killed Herc Mercer.