Dirty Chase: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (Brooklyn Brotherhood Book 2) (19 page)

T
wo days
. Kat's been gone for two days.

Chase has apologized two hundred times. I can tell he's not used to doing that. His first hundred attempts were shitty. The next hundred were better…but I can't forgive him.

Not if she's dead.

Chase has barely been home, barely slept. I spend my days trapped inside his home, cooking for the army Gray is slowly gathering, all to find his woman. And Chase is in charge of a large portion of those men. He's spending every waking moment trying to find Kat, as though he loves her as much as I do.

Or he loves me so much he'd do anything to make things right.

But I don't know if things can ever be right again.

I go shopping, with guards, and come home and make sandwiches for all the young guys in the lower apartments. They thank me, but don't look me in the eye. Is this what life with Chase would be like?

Death and fear and feeding young men who might go off to die? Or kill someone else?

I can't stand being locked in that apartment one more hour. I made Chase take me to Gray, to tell the man in person that he's going to be a father.

If she's alive
.

And then, miracle of miracles, while I was in Gray's office,
Kat called him
. She was alive, and being held captive, and the kidnapper wanted Gray to come find them. Trade his life for hers.

Gray had left gladly. So had Chase and Declan and their entire army, racing north to save her.

That was seven hours ago.

I'd insisted on being taken to Kat and Gray's apartment. Chase's apartment didn’t feel like home anymore. And I wanted to be here if—no,
when
—Kat came home. She's the closest thing I have to family, to a sister.

And then, my phone rings.

"Chase?" I gasp.

"We've got her. She's fine. She's good. Gray was shot, but he'll live." His voice sounds exhausted, pained. "I'm bringing Kat home now."

I start to sob, but muffle the sound with my hand. "Thank you," I whisper. "Thank God. Thank you."

"I love you, Elle," he says.

I try to say it back. I really do. But what comes out is, "I'll see you soon."

But the first person I see, when they finally return hours later, is Kat. And she's a bloody, bruised mess.

"Elle!" she cries, holding her arms open. And then she takes a few steps and stumbles to the ground.

I gather her in my arms and realize she's just exhausted and emotionally spent. We cry together while she tells me about the madman who kidnapped her—who wanted to kill Gray—and how she, of all people, ended up killing the madman instead.

When Kat finally falls asleep, I sit next to her and stroke her hair. Her face is mottled on one side, a fresh bruise that's still purple. But I know it will change to green soon, as it heals. Just like my mother's always did.

But right now, she's covered in bruises and cuts. And those are just the flesh wounds. How can she do this? How can
I
? I fell for Chase, and she fell for Gray, but we didn't know what that really meant.

We didn't have a clue about their violent world.

And how if you accepted the man, you accepted that violence.

I feel his presence and look up. Chase leans against the doorframe, watching me. "Princess, it's time to go home," he says.

I look back at my friend, but see my mother. I've already survived one violent world. I can't do this again.

I look up at him and know I'll never go home with him again.

F
ive months and two days
. That's how long it's been since I've spoken to Chase Masters.

Summer turned to fall, and the leaves fell along with my tears. I went back to work. Gray got me a "safe" apartment in Brooklyn Heights, and though I didn't ask for it, whenever I leave for work or shopping or
anything
, there's always a man in black, trailing me.

Watching me.

Guarding me.

Over Thanksgiving dinner, I asked Kat if Gray had arranged for my ever-present companions, and if they could go away. Kat had blushed prettily—she was fully healed and a glowing pregnant woman—and said that Gray wasn't the one responsible for my bodyguards. It was all Chase.

Of course.

After I refused to go home with him, he never begged me to stay. He hadn't stopped me from leaving. He'd turned to stone, given me one long, burning gaze—and then disappeared.

Only once—two months after I'd moved out—had he shown up, drunk, outside my door.

"Princess, you're still mine," he'd said. He hadn’t touched me, but God, I had wanted to touch him. How easy it would have been to invite him in. To gloss it all over. To point out that he hadn't meant for Kat to get hurt, that he was only following orders.

That she was alright in the end, wasn't she?

My heart made a million excuses for him. My body wanted him back, inside my apartment and inside me. But then I'd close my eyes, and see Kat's broken and bruised face—just like my mother's.

I always thought my mother didn't love me—not enough to save me, not enough to stay alive. But maybe that car crash, maybe that
was
her way of saving me…and herself. I used to think she was weak, but now I know how strong she was.

Because leaving Chase—for good—feels impossible.

I'm still in love with him. I think about him all the time.

And I know Chase is not my stepfather, and that he would never hurt me, or any woman. He would never force any woman to do anything against her will.

But he kills people. And the men in his world—they'll kill anyone. A pregnant, innocent young girl like Kat. It could be me next.

I can't stay silent and live with him like this. I can't be like my mother, making a hundred-thousand excuses and eventually winding up dead.

I let the tears fall down my face as I tell Chase it will never work. That our worlds are too different.

I hope that he'll say, "I'll quit it all for you, Elle." I'm weak like that. If he said he'd leave it all behind—I'd run into his arms.

But he doesn't say that. He just says, "I'll keep you safe."

And then he leaves, but he's not
gone
. His men follow me, keep tabs on me. And he's in my mind, and my heart, all the damn time.

I remember Chase saying he'd do just that—chase me to the ends of the Earth if I left him. I'm beginning to think that's exactly where I'll have to go, if I stand a chance in hell of ever being truly free.

I
try to avoid Gray
, as well, but he pulls me in and charms me with his secret plan: to throw a surprise wedding for Kat. Since their first wedding was pretty much a shotgun, married-to-the-mob debacle, he wants a redo.

How can I say no? We plan a surprise ceremony, and then a reception at the bar. Everyone Kat has ever known and loved is here. There are white tulle and candles—and alcohol—everywhere. And one super-pregnant, super-happy glowing bride.

"Elle, how did you pull this off?" Kat runs up to me and pulls me into an enormous hug.

I tear up. I'm going to miss her so much.

She pulls back and sees my face. "Oh my God, what's the matter?"

"Nothing," I lie.

I can't tell her that I'm fleeing Brooklyn as soon as she leaves for her honeymoon.

"I'm just so happy for you, is all," I say.

Kat's pretty, freckled face breaks out in the biggest smile I've ever seen.

"Oh, Elle—thank you so much. This is the most perfect wedding in the entire world!" Her face falls suddenly, and I turn around to see what's made her sad.

Standing on the other side of the old Irish bar, across the wide-planked wood floors, is the man of my dreams.

And my wet dreams.

And my nightmares.

"Chase." Just saying his name gives me shivers.

He looks good. The same dark good looks and cocky stance. Those same damn blue eyes, staring at me like there's no one else in the room.

My stomach's in knots, I've got that lightheaded sense of anticipation, and all I can think about is Chase's penchant for running his huge, rough, calloused hands up the backs of my naked thighs after he's taken me.

Hard.

On my hands and knees.

Like, three times in a row.

This is why I'm leaving town.

I scowl at the tall, dark, handsome and bearded bastard.

Those fucking perfect, crazy-blue eyes glower right back.

I cross my arms and turn away from him, paying total attention to the lovely bride.

"Elle, sweetie, don't you think you could just go talk to him?" Kat watches Chase from across the room. "He's miserable. He's driving himself crazy. He's so sorry."

"No. Screw him," I whisper.

I immediately feel guilty. I shouldn't talk like this, not on Kat's big day. Not at her wedding reception. Not when she's hugely pregnant.

Kat runs her hand over her huge, adorable stomach. "
I've
forgiven Chase. And it was Gray who asked him to lie to you. But really, Elle, even if you'd had your phone, what difference would it have made? You couldn't have saved me, sweetie."

"But maybe we would've been together. At Chase's apartment. And then that psycho bastard never would have found you." I've replayed the scenario over and over in my mind.

"And maybe we would've been together at
my
apartment, and he would have found both of us, and he would have hurt you. And I never would've forgiven myself." Kat puts her hands on my shoulders and squeezes. "I forgave Gray. And Chase. And I'm not saying you have to ever talk to Chase again. But I don't want your—forgive me—your fear or your pride to get in the way of your happiness."

"What is that supposed to mean?" I stammer. My pride?

Then a group of revelers sweeps by, calling out for the bride. Kat kisses my cheek. "I just want you to be happy, is all. And Chase is a good man. We'll talk later."

I force a smile. "Text me from your honeymoon. I can't believe you're going to spend Christmas on a private tropical island!" My phone begins to ring, and I glance down at the name on the screen.

"Go, mingle," I tell Kat, kissing her cheek. "I've got to take this anyway."

I wave Kat off as another group of people crowd around and congratulate her. Then I bring the phone up to my ear.

"One second," I say. It's too loud in the bar, so I make my way toward the back and down the ancient stairwell to the basement. Gray's office is down there, at the end of the hall. I don't dare go in, in case someone catches me. Instead, I walk into the shadows of the old hallway. Then I lean against the wall and wonder for the millionth time what I've done to my life.

"Hello, Principal Barnes," I say.

The older man's voice is frantic on the other end of the line. "Miss Sinclair? Can you hear me?"

"Yes, sorry. I'm at my friend's wedding reception." He knows this, because two weeks ago—when he cornered me in my classroom after school and surprised the hell out of me with another job offer—I told him I couldn't accept it until after her wedding.

It turns out the alum in Paris—Mr. Dumont, widower and apparently wealthy-as-hell government scientist—still needed someone to watch his daughter for the holidays. The nanny he'd hired had quit suddenly, and the little girl Celeste was having trouble. It was going to be her first Christmas without her mother.

Principal Barnes said he wouldn't have asked me again, except that I'd looked so troubled of late. And he'd heard rumors I'd had a bad breakup. And he thought perhaps a change of scenery might help heal my wounded heart.

Not to mention the insanely generous salary Mr. Dumont was offering.

Despite the fog of heartbreak and grief I was sloshing through at the time, I remember still being shocked by the offer. "We're halfway through the year," I'd said. "I can't just leave. I'd never work again!"

Principal Barnes had assured me he would write me a stellar recommendation letter, and there would be no blowback from what was usually a career-ending move: quitting a job in the middle of the school year. He would take care of all of it; he already had a local teacher who could fill in for me.

And all I could think was: Paris. That sounds nice. The Eiffel Tower, croissants…and being a thousand miles away from Chase Masters.

Maybe I could finally get over him, if I just left town.

And so I did it. I took the job. I'd packed my bags and said goodbye to my students. I'll be in Paris a couple of weeks before Christmas.

I haven't told Kat yet, even though it's killing me. I'm planning on calling her when she gets back from the islands, and probably sending twenty pounds of French chocolate to try and make it up to her. I just didn't want to cause drama before her wedding. Or upset her, since she's hugely pregnant and all.

I also didn't tell her because then she'd tell Gray, and
he'd
tell Chase, and…I just can't imagine what Chase might do then.

He still has men following me, "protecting" me.

I think sometimes Chase himself follows me.

And I shouldn't get a thrill from that.

I just need a clean break. I'll never get over Chase if I'm constantly reminded of him. If I imagine him watching me. If I remember him pressing into me. If I can't forget how fast his heart beats inside his chest, how he presses his forehead to mine and all is right with the world…

"Are you excited for Paris?" Principal Barnes' nervous voice brings me back to reality.

"Packed and ready to go," I say. There's an awkward silence. "I appreciate you setting all this up for me. Is everything okay?" I finally say.

"No—yes. Of course. Everything's fine," Principal Barnes says. "I just wanted to make sure you're all right for tomorrow. Do you need a car service? Any help getting to the airport?"

How odd. "Um, I'm all set. But thank you."

"Well—it was a pleasure speaking with you, Miss Sinclair. And a pleasure working with you."

I wrinkle my nose. "Thank you, sir. Thank you for the opportunity. But I'm sure I'll be back in Brooklyn…someday."

"Yes—well, happy holidays." Principal Barnes' voice wavers for a moment. "I just wanted to say goodbye. And, good luck." He sounds mournful. Like he regrets ever getting me the job.

Maybe that's just my imagination, since I'm kind of regretting taking it. But I can't back out now.

I thank him and hang up. That was weird. This whole night—this entire year—has been weird.

I just want to go home, take a million melatonin, and pass out. Ever since I left Chase, it's like his sleep problems became contagious. I can't fall asleep now without help. A few melatonin. A glass of wine. Crying my eyes out in the shower for twenty minutes. You know, the usual.

I know I won't be able to sleep tonight. Not with the trip tomorrow.

And the memory of Chase's hungry eyes, devouring me from across the room.

I just need to forget I ever saw him. Forget about everything. By tomorrow night I'll be in Paris.

And I'll be able to start my new life.

Then I turn around, take two steps, and slam right into the man I'm running from.