Dirty Chase: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (Brooklyn Brotherhood Book 2) (18 page)

He pulls me to him, and I let him. I close my eyes and take in his scent. He smells like
him
, but also the fresh air, the clouds, peace. I normally don't like to be held, especially when I'm in this headspace. But right now, I burrow into him.

"Why? You going to hunt him down and kill him?"

Chase pauses, and I can hear his heart beating inside his chest.

"Yes," he finally says.

That should scare me more than it does, because I believe him. But instead, it makes me feel—safe. Cared for. Loved. Which is so messed up, I know.

I raise a tear-streaked face to Chase. "You're too late. He and my mom got into a fight while driving. At least, that's what the police say. They hit a tree going way too fast. The police said my mom had been driving. That she didn't try to brake."

That's when I start sobbing, and Chase wraps his arms around me. He doesn't run. He doesn't speak. He just lets me cry for…a few minutes? A lifetime?

When I'm all cried out, he takes my hands between his, and looks me in the eye, and says, "Elle, I would've killed him for you. But I'm glad I don't have to. I'd rather—"

He swallows hard. "I'd rather give you a beautiful life, than take someone else's. If anyone ever tries to hurt you again, they're dead. But for the first time in a long time, I'd rather focus on living."

Chase looks out over the horizon, like he's debating if he should say his next words or not. "You act like a butterfly, darlin'. You're beautiful, and everyone watches you as you float around. But I want you to know, you don't have to be all light and carefree with me. I can handle your shadows, darlin.'"

He steadies me as my body involuntarily tries to bolt. I don't talk about this. With anyone. Ever. I don't like how clearly he sees me, sees through me.

It scares me to death.

"You can run," he whispers softly. "But I'd chase you. The dark places in your mind don't scare me. You need to know this. And yeah, I want to fill your life with light and happiness and—fuckin' puppies—but you can get as dark as you need to be with me, Elle. I don't scare easy. With you, I don't scare at all."

And then he kisses me. Hard, furious, angry. But I know his fury isn't directed at me—it's at what I went through. He's angry
for
me. And I feel this weight that was hanging on my heart, a part I didn't even know was frozen inside me, break off and melt and float away.

When we stop kissing I feel…light. And free. Not like I'm
acting
like a butterfly. But like I've actually transformed into something that can fly.

"Come on, let's explore." I take off toward the barn, laughing as Chase follows me. I race him and it feels divine to run, to have my boots pound in the dirt—and to win. I reach the barn just before he does, darting through the open doors, then skidding to a stop once I'm inside.

Chase joins me seconds later, sliding up behind me and wrapping his arms around my middle. I never expected an old wooden building to take my breath away, but I can't stop staring in awe.

"It's so magical," I whisper.

The barn is old and no longer houses animals. That's obvious. Age has faded the wood inside to a beautiful gray patina. The floors are clean and the horse stalls well-swept, though it smells more like hay than anything else. There are bales of it stacked in a back corner, and some tools hanging on the walls.

That's it—except for the bright, golden light streaming in from the setting sun. The roof is full of holes, and the light shines down like—like
magic
. As we walk, dust motes rise in graceful swirls, catching the light, flying higher and higher until the entire room, the whole world, feels otherworldly.

"Floating magic," I whisper. "It's so beautiful."

"Yes. It is," Chase says.

I turn to look at him, and he's staring right at me.

"Chase," I whisper. It's all I can get out, with the way he's looking at me. I'm afraid that if I try saying anything else, the only words I'll be able to form are the three little words I can never say to him.

"Elle," he breathes, holding my face, pulling me toward him. He kisses me with an urgency I match.

Chase lifts me up and walks me over to one of the stalls. He wraps my legs around him and pushes me into the hard wood frame, just his hips and his erection keeping me from falling.

Falling hard.

And then he's on me, kissing me, stealing my breath, my very soul.

"Elle," he groans, lifting my dress. With one hard yank he rips my panties in half, the sound louder than I expect in the quiet, cavernous room. The only other sounds are his scuffling feet, our breathing. My heartbeat like thunder in my ears.

"Chase," I cry as his fingers slip inside me, working me over, making me wet and wet and wetter.

"Fuck, Elle, you drive me crazy," Chase sucks on my neck, then bites me. It's painful, and I love it. I want him to mark me. I want him to claim me.

Chase pushes closer to me. He's not inside me, but his jeans are loose, and his erection rests between us, hot and insistent against my stomach. His entire body is a wall of muscle and heat and…anger?

He's not angry with me. I think he's angry with himself.

"I didn't want to do this, Princess." Chase's voice is desperate. "I tried to fucking keep you safe. Keep you away." He kisses me, not gentle. There's nothing gentle about him now, but I can't stop pulling him toward me, twisting my hips.

"You fucking draw me in. From the moment I saw you, I wanted you."

"Yes," I whisper as he sucks my neck and bites my lower lip, drawing blood.

"You're too good for me, Princess. I was born in the gutter. And that's where I work."

"No." I shake my head.

He grabs my chin, forces me to look at him. This is so fucked up, I know it is, but I want him to fuck me, and I want him to tell me the truth, and I want him to love me, and—

"You told me your truth, Elle. I need to tell you mine. I don't just—freelance. I'm a killer, Elle." He stops moving. "And you're too good for me."

I listen to my ragged breathing. We're lost in a snow globe, but what looks like magic in the air is just dirt. Plain and simple mud and dirt.

"I don't kill women. I don't touch children. But I kill men, and I don’t always ask why, and my soul will never be clean of that. And that's the goddamn truth."

I blink, and realize my eyes are wet.

Chase kisses me, fierce, so hard I taste blood. He pulls back, chest heaving.

"It's your last chance. Leave now. Run. And I won't chase you."

The world slows to a stop. I don’t move.

Then I slowly, slowly wrap my arms around his neck.

His eyes widen, just for a second, before he shutters himself. Turns into stone.

"You still want me?" It's the pain in his voice that makes me cry harder.

"Yes," I whisper.

And then he's inside me, his cock parting my folds and slamming home.

We both gasp.

He begins to pummel me, pumping so fast and deep it hurts. But the bliss is there, overpowering the pain.

"Elle," he groans. "Elle, fuck, Elle. You destroy me."

"Yes," I weep. I don't know what I'm saying anymore. "Chase, yes, yes." I throw my head back against the stable wall. Chase pushes into me, deeper and deeper until there's not one molecule of air between us. We're plastered together, his hips twisting in circles instead of pumping.

"You're mine now, Princess," he growls. With one hand he rips my dress down, exposing my breasts. Takes a nipple between his teeth, teasing it with his tongue, driving me wild. His arms are around me, heated, strong as iron. My arms are around him, like we're trying to pull each other into,
through
, the other's body.

"This pussy is mine. You are mine. And if anyone else ever touches you again, I'll fucking kill them."

He lifts my chin again. "Eyes on me, Princess. When you come, eyes on the man who fucking owns you."

I cry out at his twisted words, my orgasm and shock rocketing through me. He doesn't stop, and holds my eyes as he pummels me against the wall.

I cry from joy, from love, from fear, from release. And I watch him the entire time, taking me, holding me, fucking me, claiming me.

Then with a roar, he slams in to the hilt, coming in heated wave after wave inside me.

"You're mine, too," I whisper into his ear. And then, I can't help myself. I make the biggest mistake of my life.

"Chase," I say, hiding my face against his neck. "I love you."

His arms spasm around me, and he freezes. I watch as all around us, the motes fall back to earth.

"Elle." He pulls back, stares at me. "Elle, I've never said that to another living soul." Then he takes a deep breath—

And then his phone fucking rings.

S
he loves me
.

Fuck, fuck—fuck yes. Fuck, no
.

What the hell am I going to do with this woman? She hasn't just ripped out my heart; she's
become
my heart. The only meaningful thing in the world. The only person I want to be with, to protect.

But how the fuck can I claim her when doing so means my enemies, my demons could find her, hurt her, kill her?

I'm still inside her when the emergency ringtone sounds.

"Don't answer it," she says.

I pull out and kiss her. "It's Gray. He's in trouble. I have to. Let's go back to the house."

I pull her dress back up over her breasts. I cover her gently, lovingly. I make sure she can stand.

But I'm a fucking coward, because I don’t say it back to her.

Her hurt eyes try to catch mine. I kiss her cheek and answer the phone.

"It's an emergency. C'mon." I take her hand and she's mute next to me as I hustle out the door.

"Gray," I say into the phone as we hustle up the hill.

That's when I hear gunfire.

"Fuck, Gray, where are you?"

There's static, and the reception is for shit, but I hear enough. They went to the brothels, got into it with Solonik. Which devolved into a full-on firefight—and then the Feds showed up. A week early. Gray and Declan are bunkered down, gunfire all around, and at least one literal fire.

"Hold tight. I'll be there in three hours. Maybe less."

I hang up the phone and Elle looks at me, questioning.

I should tell her I love her. I do love her.

Fucking hell, I love her.

"Elle, what you said—"

"It doesn't matter!" She waves me away and rushes in the back door, straight into the farmhouse kitchen.

I chase her, grab her waist, hold her.

"I love you, Elle Sinclair."

Her eyes widen, and she's never looked more beautiful.

"You…do?"

I nod. "Fuck. I do."

"Well, don't sound so surprised now." She laughs. She's relieved. Shit, she thought I didn't. Because I behaved like an asshole. Of course, now I have to leave her.

"I have to go back to the city."

"Now? What happened?"

She follows me as I start packing my shit, grabbing the clothes we left strewn all over the house. "Gray and the crew have been working to stop sex trafficking in brothels that Solonik, the syndicate's leader, owns."

She gasps, but bites her lip and doesn't say anything. Brave girl, trying to put on a brave face.

"Fuck. This is why I didn't want you to know about this shit."

Elle puts her small hand on my arm. "Chase, I don't like any of this. And—and I can't say I
want
this life. For you or for me. For—for us. But I want to know everything about you. So keep talking."

"Gray did something insane. Something a syndicate member would never do—but Solonik's truly evil. And he's kidnapping women and selling them to the highest bidder. So Gray decided to sell Solonik to the F.B.I."

Elle's eyes are huge. "Does Kat know?"

I don't want to talk about Kat.

"But you can't trust the fucking F.B.I. any more than you can a mobster, because some Fed got his panties in a bunch and wanted to make a name for himself. So while Gray was at the brothels, trying to gather intel, the Feds fucking raided it a week early. Solonik and one of his loyal generals are missing. People are dead. The place is on fire, literally." I finish throwing shit into my bag, grab my gun and car keys.

Then I grab her. "I love you, Elle." I kiss her, and she melts into me, instantly. "Stay here, where it's safe. No one—
no one
—knows where you are. I'll send Dacko for you as soon as I can. You lock the doors and you wait until he shows up."

I'm out the front door and running to the car before I look back.

"Chase!" Elle's standing on the porch, holding tight to the railing. "Chase, just be careful, okay?"

I throw on a cocky grin, but for once, I have trouble holding it. "Always am, darlin'."

As I barrel down the highway toward New York, I realize for the first time that I'm going into a bloody situation totally distracted. What a fucking twist of fate: to finally have someone give a shit whether I lived or died.

And I'm running away from her and straight into a hell of my own making.

I
go
to call Kat as soon as Chase leaves and realize I still can't find my damn phone. I must've left it at the apartment, and there's no landline. So all I can do is pack and pace and pray while I wait for my ride to show up.

Which doesn't happen until seven p.m. the next night.

When I finally see Dacko, I'm ready to curse him out. But I just end up cursing, period.

"What the hell happened to your arm!" I shriek. His left arm is bleeding so much there's a trail of blood all over the porch.

"Slight delay," Dacko says. "Flesh wound."

I force him inside, find a first-aid kit, and bandage what looks to be a
flipping bullet hole
.

Is this what life with Chase will be like?

"What happened?" I demand stiffly.

Dacko just shakes his head. "We don't talk about that stuff with the wives, ma'am."

I ignore all the layers of
just plain wrong
in that statement, because all I want to do is get back to New York, and make sure that Chase and Gray and Kat are all alive and well.

Jesus, I'd just settle for
alive
.

All Dacko will say is that Chase and Gray are fine, and that they're settling things with the F.B.I. When I ask for his phone to call Kat, he tells me he can't get reception up here.

When we finally make it back to the city, Dacko drops me off at Chase's apartment. He stumbles as he follows me up the stairs, and I realize the man took a bullet, drove six hours round-trip, and still hasn't seen a doctor.

The building security is on it, though. Within ten minutes of our arrival, an old man with a doctor's bag shows up. He marches in with one of the guys from downstairs, and Chase's kitchen becomes an impromptu operating room.

"Clean shot, through and through," the old man says approvingly. Dacko nods like it happens every day and downs another gulp of Chase's whiskey.

I keep asking if Chase and Gray are okay, but the men don't seem to know. There's no landline, so then I ask the guys to borrow a cell phone. I need to try and reach Chase. I want to check on Kat. More and more men are filing up to the apartment to see the doctor, and I'm becoming more and more frantic.

"Ma'am, Chase is fine. He told me to tell you he'll be home tomorrow, and you're to stay here until that time," says a young man who just arrived.

I'm still in shock when the doctor announces he's done, and suddenly they're all leaving. Dacko pauses—I see him reach out to touch my shoulder, but then he pulls away. I'm beginning to see that, since I'm considered to be Chase's woman, I'm treated with a degree of respect—but also separation. No one touches me. Everyone speaks politely but tells me nothing.

I don't know if I can handle this.

"Ma'am, we've got ten men downstairs, and two on each floor. If you need anything, just open your door and ask. You're safe."

"Thank you," I whisper.

I pace the apartment for another hour and finally give up. I haven’t slept in three days. I down a shot of whiskey, and then search through the medicine cabinet. There it is—the little gift I'd bought for Chase.

Melatonin. They sell it at health-food stores, and my teacher-friends who have kids—or nanny during the summers—swear by it. You aren't supposed to use it every night, but once in a while, or when on vacation, it's a natural-remedy way to help your kids fall asleep.

Chase hasn't used it often, but when he does, he passes out immediately.

I pop the lid and shake out one tiny, snow-white tablet onto my palm. Five milligrams, take twenty minutes before bed. I down it, then do a shot of whiskey for good measure.

I lay down in Chase's bed, surrounded by his scent, my head as twisted as the sheets. I think I'll never pass out, but then…

The next thing I know, it's morning. I open my eyes, and for a minute I don’t know where I am. And then it all comes flooding back. I reach out my hand to the other side of the bed—Chase still isn't home.

And then I hear his low voice. It sounds like he's been through a forest fire. "Mornin', Princess."

I sit up and there he is, standing in the doorway, fresh from the shower. I scream and launch myself at him.

"Chase! You bastard! Oh my God, Chase!"

He takes a step toward me and I attack him, pulling him toward me. We tumble onto the bed.

"I was so worried—why didn't you call? I couldn't call you. I can't find my phone!" I can't stop talking or kissing him: his cheeks, his beard, his chin, his forehead. His lips.

"You beautiful bastard. If you make me worry like that again, I'll kill you myself!" I pull back, a huge smile on my face—and that's when I see his ashen face.

"What?" I say. He's silent. "Oh my God, is Gray okay?
What
,
Chase
?"

He opens his mouth. Closes it. "Elle—I'm sorry. I lied to you."

I sit back on my heels. "What are you talking about?"

He gets up, starts getting dressed. Jeans, T-shirt, his uniform. Layer after layer, like the layers I feel building between us. "Gray's fine. The Feds closed down the brothels. We saved the women, and shut down the Russian syndicate. But."

He stops, stares at me. I'm having trouble breathing.

"Solonik and his general, his right-hand man, got away. And they kidnapped Kat."

I scream, then clap my hands over my mouth. Then I scream again.

Chase rushes over to me, grabs me, holds me. His arms feel so good. I lean into him, in shock.

And then he says, quietly but clearly: "I stole your phone."

I push away from him. "What the hell did you just say?"

Chase's face is pained. "Gray thought Kat was leaving him. He—he found her passport and some hidden money. He lost his mind. He was afraid she was running from him—that she might run to you. He wanted to give her space to make up her own mind. It doesn't make sense, but he was hurting, enraged. He told me to hide your phone and—"

"You idiot." I stand up. "You both are idiots. Kat wasn't leaving Gray! Yes, she thought about it when she was first forced to marry him. But she wasn't planning to anymore. She had just found out she was
pregnant
!"

Chase's face loses all color.

"And now she's kidnapped?
Kidnapped
?" I stand there, frozen, realizing: this is Chase's world. And now I'm in it.

And now they've taken my best friend. She could die. And if he hadn't lied to me, if he had trusted me, maybe I could have saved her.

I whirl on him, my mind made up. "Kat wasn't leaving Gray. But let me tell you something:
I'm leaving you
."