Chased by Heather Ashley
"This is fine,"I mutter to myself, like hearing it out loud will make it true. I'm in Ronin's guestroom, taking a second to catch my breath. It feels like I haven't been able to breathe for a solid day. I honestly don't even know what I'm thinking, going through with this whole keep dating and find a baby daddy-slash-maybe husband plan while someone's trying to steal me from my life and do fuck knows what kind of unspeakable horrors to me.
A shudder runs through my body, and I think about canceling the date I'm due for in—I glance down at my phone—an hour. I can't hide away. It's not my style. I've already wasted so much of my prime dating years working instead of putting myself out there and locking down a guy worthy of my time, that now I have this weight like there's a clock hanging over my head counting down the days, months, minutes, and seconds until having a baby isn’t an option anymore.
In case it wasn’t clear—I blame my brother for this ridiculous pressure, the bastard. I take my phone out and find a company that sends glitter bombs anonymously and order five next day shipping to Damon’s house. The grin that takes over my face probably looks unhinged, but at least I feel a bit better. Yes, I’m a petty bitch. Maybe I should send a couple to my mom and step dad, too...
In case I wasn't clear, it's kids I want. Kids and a guy who wants them as much as I do, but that second thing isn’t necessary. A pang of sadness hits me that pisses me off because, for whatever reason, the perfect guy for the job wants nothing to do with me. So, I'm pulling on my big girl Agent Provocateur panties and finding someone else. I’m giving myself three months, and if there’s no guy, I’m moving on to plan B—or plan S for sperm bank. No more waiting around, no more putting it off, and no more excuses.
There's a perfectly hot guy who's said all the right things in the messages we've exchanged over the Mixer app, so I'm actually excited about meeting him tonight. Sure, this could be a total Catfish situation, but with a bodyguard along, at least I don't have to worry about him slipping something into my drink and dragging me off to his lair.
Though, if he's hot enough, I could be persuaded to explore that kink, minus the drugging part. A lair could be fun, especially if it includes some sexy toys.
I've done all I can to highlight my best features with makeup and hair products and hide the things no one wants their date to see until they've reached the stage where they like you for your personality and not just your looks. At this point, all I'm doing is stalling by hiding out in this room. We need to leave soon with traffic, and I can't decide if I'm relieved or disappointed that Ronin's insisting on coming along.
On the one hand, I know he'll have my back no matter what happens. Plus, it could be fun to really play up the flirting with the guy I'm meeting. His name's Dallas, and I have high hopes, but if it goes south, making Ronin jealous as hell might be a way to entertain myself. Maybe I can even push him hard enough to see that iron will of his crumble.
The idea of that has me jumping up and grabbing my purse, ready to get this party started. I've been so up in my own head I didn't even notice the progressively rising male voices coming from the direction of the living room. I'm going to say it's safe to assume Indy's back. I wonder if he'll be coming along with us tonight.
I grab my purse and look inside to make sure I have everything I'm going to need. It's not like I'm planning to sleep with Dallas on this first date if it goes well, but then my mind wanders to what might happen if I did. I'm disturbed to realize that instead of picturing the sexy times with my date, all I can seem to imagine is how Ronin might react.
I'm also sort of feeling like I should be kicking my own ass for not being more freaked out about the whole crazed psychopath thing, but then I've got Indy and Ronin with me all the time, and something about that makes me feel like I don't have to worry. They'll handle it, and that just leaves me to go about my life as normally as I can.
Sure, I could curl up in a corner, throw a blanket over my head and drink wine straight from the bottle while I curse the world and my bad luck to have this shit happening to me. If I thought it'd help, I'd totally do it, too. Who doesn't love a good pity party?
But, if I give up and crumble under the gravity of everything that's happening, that sort of feels like the crazy guy's winning, and I can't have that. It's not in my nature to lose, which is what’s pissing me off so much about this whole Damon situation. He’s beating me as always at the whole our parents’ love thing.
With one last mental pep talk, I brace myself and head into the lion's den. Sure enough, when I step into the room, Indy and Ronin's heated discussion ends abruptly while they swing their gazes my way. I'm locked onto Ronin's immediately like I can't help myself because, well, I can't. He draws me in, and as much as it pisses me off and turns me on, there's nothing I can do about it but give in.
That doesn't mean I have to act on the urge to wrap myself around him and go for a ride. I'm a motherfucking lady, damnit—or at least I like to pretend to be. I've gotta make him work for it, and Ronin's made it clear he's not up to the task, hence tonight's date.
"Whatcha doin'?" I drawl, wishing I had a lollipop to really add to the casual I'm living for this chaos right now vibe I've got going on, while I plop down on the overstuffed sectional and dangle my feet like a little kid.
"Trying to convince this guy to let me be the one who goes with you tonight," Indy says with a scowl and then mutters under his breath, "so he doesn't kill anyone." I don't think he meant for me to hear it, but I did, and I'm not really sure what to do with the info.
It's not like Ronin has any right at all to feel any sort of jealousy over me dating other guys. He's had plenty of time to step up and ask me out himself if he's interested, but he hasn't. Sometimes, he looks at me like he thinks I'm hot, but I can't really fault the guy because even I think I'm hot. It doesn't mean anything.
"I think Indy should take me," I say, and I sound a lot more confident of my decision than I feel. I want Ronin to come along because, with him, I feel safest, but Indy's no slouch, and if Ronin can't keep himself in check, I'm good without the drama.
New boyfriends always scare off so easily, and there's nothing worse than dragging old sort-of crush drama into a first date with a new guy.
No way am I signing up for that, no matter how safe Ronin makes me feel.
But then he doesn't really leave the choice up to me.
"I'm coming, and that's fucking final," Ronin growls with a seriously impressive glower at me and then at Indy. I can see him daring Indy to challenge him on this, and I think it's actually pretty smart of Indy to keep his mouth shut. Ronin has a scary eye thing going on that looks like maybe he'd be okay with doing that whole murder situation Indy wanted to avoid.
"Well, okay then. Guess that means you're hanging here?" I turn toward Indy with a tiny smile as he huffs out a breath.
"Guess so. If you need help hiding the body, you've got my number," Indy says to Ronin entirely seriously, like that's fully what he expects to go down tonight. I don't know whether to roll my eyes at their ridiculousness or clench my thighs because the idea of Ronin with blood on his hands is somehow turning me on. Apparently, there’s something wrong with me.
"Well, I don't want to keep my date waiting, so what d'ya say, big guy? Ready to get out of here?" I jump up and cross the room toward the front door, patting Ronin right on the chest while I walk by him. Damn, there's some hard muscle under that form-fitting black t-shirt he's got on, and I wish I could rub my hand all over him, maybe up under the fabric…
But, no. His whole body is tense under my palm, so I lift it up like his skin is on fire, shaking it out like some kind of weird-o before I get to the front door. I'm pulling it open because I sort of want to escape the situation and take a breath out in the hall, but I honestly should've known better.
There's no escaping this, and there's no escaping Ronin.
His massive form surrounds me, and it's like he's sucking all the air and sound out of the space around where I stand until all that's left is him. The strongly corded muscles in his forearm flex as he reaches in front of me and puts his hand on the door, stopping me from opening it.
Ladies, there is some serious forearm porn going on right now, and don’t try to tell me that’s not a thing because it totally is.
"You aren't stepping out of here first, Spitfire, no matter how excited you are for your date." He spits that last word, and I bite my lip to keep my smile in check since I don't think he'd take it very well if I grin up at him like I want to. He's definitely acting territorial, and it makes my heart happy in a way nothing has in a long time.
"Well, maybe if you moved faster, I wouldn't have to go first. I hate being late."
"You're always late," he argues, and I fold my arms across my chest and lean back against the door.
"And? I didn't say I'm never late, just that I hate being late."
"God, you're fucking infuriating. You know that?" He growls the words, and Indy's not even trying to hide his laughter anymore as it carries over to us from across the room.
"I do, and I also know you're the one holding us up right now, so go, Big Bad Bodyguard. Check the hall so we can go."
He grabs the fabric of my dress and yanks me back behind him so fast I stumble over my heels, but I recover like the graceful fucking angel that I am. I pretend the way he just used his strength to move me out of the way like it was nothing doesn't have desire flooding through me like a damn tidal wave.
"Make sure she stays there," Ronin barks over my head in the general direction of Indy, who salutes him in the most mocking way I've ever seen. I giggle and then snort and then slap my hand over my mouth while my cheeks flame. I can't even believe I did either of those completely un-sexy and very un-mature adult woman things.
Finally, I lower my hand and decide the best course of action here is to pretend it never happened. Indy's looking at me like he's about to lose it laughing, and Ronin has turned and yanked the door open, so yep, I'm going with pretending.
"For real, though, if he gets to be too much tonight, text me, and I'll force him to switch," Indy murmurs from where he's moved a whole lot closer to me so Ronin doesn't hear him.
The mental picture of him and Ronin fighting it out makes me queasy. This date could be with exactly the guy I've been searching for. The last thing I want to do is scare him off with some macho bullshit. Plus, I don't think Indy could take Ronin all by himself. It would at least be one hell of a fight.
"How would you do that?" I ask because I'm legitimately curious. Plus, I've got time to kill while I wait for Captain Overprotective out in the hall. It's not like my stalker knows where Ronin lives or would think to look for me here, right?
He smirks. "Asher has been dying for a chance to spar with Ronin, but he keeps shutting him down because Ash fights dirty. Don't get me wrong, Ronin does, too, but Asher's a whole different beast. I'd call him in, and we'd take care of it."
"Hmm," I say. The sound doesn't really mean anything, but I'm playing out all sorts of scenarios in my head, wondering how that whole thing would go. Is it wrong of me to kind of want it to happen tonight just to see what would happen?
Bad, Montana. So very bad.
Eh, being good's never been all that much fun.
"Let's go," Ro grunts when he pushes back through the door. While I waited for him, I've decided he's Ro from now on, even if he hates it. It feels nice in my brain—and probably on my tongue—so it's sticking.
I follow him out with one last look back over my shoulder at Indy, who's wearing an expression filled with absolute fucking glee. I don't know how exactly he's picturing tonight going, but I do know that he's hoping it devolves into chaos.
Turning forward to watch where I'm going, I study the tight lines of Ro's shoulders, how the muscles are stiff and bunched. It strikes me then the weight my bodyguard carries on his shoulders, and a little bit of the mischief melts out of me. It's got to be such a mindfuck being responsible for someone's life, holding it in your hands, and protecting it with yours. I don't think I could do what he does every day, and I'm finding myself in awe of the man keeping me safe.
I wonder for a second if I should cut him some slack, but I don't think I have it in me to do that. It's too much fun stirring shit up and dancing barefoot and naked in the pandemonium.
"I can feel you staring," he growls out, and I roll my eyes.
"Uh, yeah. Last I checked, you're walking in front of me down a hall. Where the hell am I supposed to look?" I swear the guy fires me up by existing. He brings the insolent bitch in me out to play.
"You could walk beside me."
Damn him and his unbreakable logic. "Fine," I huff, hurrying to catch up. It's a good thing I'm an old pro at strutting my stuff in wicked heels because Ro's long-ass legs are eating up the ground. If I wasn't an expert, I'd have for sure fallen on my face by now or maybe broken an ankle or two.
"Happy?" I snark when I'm walking at his side, close enough that our arms brush every second or so. My nipples tighten with the punch of energy I get every time our skin touches. It's really getting ridiculous. I need Dallas to be sexy tonight. So damn sexy I forget all about Ro and his stupid rejection.
Alright, so he hasn't outright rejected me, but he doesn't seem all that interested—smoldering looks and intense bouts of maybe-jealousy aside—and I've decided not to go there anyway, so it's a moot point.
Moot.
A giggle slips out and Ro glares down at me, so I roll my eyes and press my lips together.
Dallas checks all the boxes. Early thirties, wants to settle down, so he's looking for serious. He's got a steady job doing something boring I didn't pay all that much attention to, since I make plenty and don't need a man for his financial contributions to the partnership. Nope, I'm looking for someone to love and share my life and the experiences we'll have together. Well, that and his sperm. That’s a deal breaker.
Besides, his profile picture makes me think he spends a lot of time in the gym, so he might just give Mr. Eight-Pack over here a run for his money. A girl can hope. With dimples and dirty blonde curls, I think he'll do nicely, provided he doesn't have a micropenis or isn't a massive racist or homophobe or something.
A girl can also never be too careful with intolerant dudes.
"So, you're really going to stick with this whole brooding alpha male thing you've got going on the entire dinner, huh, Ro?" I ask him when we're halfway to the restaurant, and he hasn't said a word to me for the entire drive.
The atmosphere in this car is awkward as fuck right now, and I'm already nervous enough for this date. I've put a massive amount of pressure and expectations on poor Dallas before even meeting him. While I know that's a surefire way to be let down, I'm crossing my fingers.
"Ro?" he asks, taking his eyes off the road long enough to scowl at me.
"Yep. I've decided that's your new name."
"No, it’s not."
"I'd like to see you try and stop me from using it." I fold my arms over my chest and cross my right leg over my left for good measure. It's not my fault it makes my dress ride up my thighs, and it's also not my fault that I'm leaning in his direction, so he has a pretty good shot to almost see my black lace panties. I don't even know how it happened, really. It's like my body responds to him all on its own without any say-so from me.
Yep, that's the defense I'm going with.
I'm really not trying to push his buttons or rile him up, I swear. I'm also a big fat liar, but hey, at least I can admit it to myself.
"You have no idea what I could do to you, Spitfire. Keep pushing, and you might just find out," he says, and it's this mix between a purr and a growl that's all low and husky, and my thighs press together at the sudden heat pooling between them. Shit, I'm glad I wore a little black dress because if he makes me any wetter with that seductive voice of his, I'm going to soak right through my sheer panties.
"Is that a promise?" I ask right back, barely recognizing the sex goddess quality of my voice, and I don't quite know what's happening between us right now. I watch in the red glow from the light we're stopped at as his gaze drips over me and the heat in it sends a shiver down my spine. There's something erotic about the red glow and how dark his eyes are, and I find my fingers running slowly up the smooth skin of my thigh and under the hem of my skirt.
His shadowy gaze tracks the movements like a predator stalking his prey, and my nipples tighten. Right as my fingers brush my clit, green light replaces the red, and the mood shifts. Ronin's jaw is tight as he focuses back on the road, and I put my hand back in my lap like it never happened. I've been doing a lot of pretending lately when it comes to him, so what's once more?
I can pretend that didn't happen and go on with my night, even if I really hate that green light right now. I'm off in my own head living out lots of fantasies I shouldn't, so I don't realize the car's stopped, and Ro's gotten out until my door opens and the cool night air brushes my overheated skin.
I stand up as gracefully as I can manage and straighten out my dress and smooth my hair down, hoping I look more steady and put together than I feel. My insides feel like they were run through a blender, and I don't know which way is up at the moment. "Thanks, Ro."
"Don't call me Ro."
"You'll get used to it," I say, stepping around him and heading toward the restaurant. I'm not really a picky eater, and I like trying new places, so I let Dallas decide where we'd have our first date.
"This place is ridiculous. The whole point of Southern food is that it's comfortable and home-cooked," Ro unhelpfully chimes in from where he's walking beside me with his head on a swivel.
"Have you ever eaten here?" I ask in my most innocent voice.
"No."
"Well, how could you possibly know it's ridiculous then? Maybe the food's incredible."
"You're pushing my buttons tonight on purpose, aren't you, Spitfire?" he murmurs since he’s leaned down close enough to my ear that his breath brushes across my neck.
"You like it," I tell him, completely sure that he does, in fact, like this game we play.
I might've pushed him too far, though, because he stops talking to me all together. As usual, I'm late, but it's only ten minutes, so not too bad. My phone vibrates in my purse, and I pull it out, quickly typing out a response to Dallas, letting him know I'm just outside. While I've got the phone out, I decide to send a message to my girl's group chat about the date. I'll give them all the deets at our next brunch, but a head's up is enough for now.
"For the love of… Isn't there someone waiting for you inside? Or did you want to stand out here on your phone all night, in plain sight of anyone who could be trying to abduct you?" Ronin's pissy tone makes me smile. I can't help it. An irritated Ro gives me all the warm fuzzies.
"I'm done; we can go," I say as sweetly as I can manage, and he looks at me like he doesn't know what to do with me when I'm not being difficult. That's all part of the fun of keeping him on his toes.
He holds the door open for me as we walk inside, and the host greets me. I give him Dallas's name, and he leads us to a table toward the back of the restaurant by the windows. Suga, this Southern fine-dining restaurant, overlooks the ocean, and the moonlight reflecting off the inky waves catches my attention on the walk back to the table.
The guy at the table, who must be Dallas, sees us approaching and stands up. He's tall and fills out his suit well. He's not wearing a tie, and the top couple of buttons are undone, showing off lightly tanned skin, and the way his clothes fit screams tailoring and expensive taste. His hair's been left in messy curls that look like he just crawled out of bed but in that stupid-hot way guys manage where it also looks perfect and gives you a preview of what it could look like if you spent hours gripping it in your fingers while he's between your thighs.
He smiles at me with dimples, and his eyes are a warm brown that's really inviting. The guy just looks nice, the kind of guy who's friends with everyone. So far, I like what I see, but despite all of that, I still feel the heat of Ro's body against my back.
As if my thinking about him caught Dallas's attention, he shifts his gaze over my shoulder and raises an eyebrow. "Did you bring a friend?" he asks, but that friendly look is back, and he holds out his hand for me to shake.
"It's great to finally meet you, Montana. I'm Dallas. You look incredible." I laugh and lean forward, letting go of his hand and pulling him into a hug. What can I say? I want to preview the goods. His arms go around me, and I think I hear a growl back in the direction of Ro, but Dallas lets me go, and then I'm sure I imagined it.
"Hey, man. I'm Dallas," he says, directing his attention again at Ro and holding out his hand.
"Ronin," he clips, taking Dallas's hand but doing it angrily if that's a thing. Like he wants to do that bullshit where they see who can squeeze each other's hand harder, but thankfully the waiter comes over and hands me a wine list, interrupting the stifling masculinity on display.
"Sorry about the caveman, but Ronin's my bodyguard. I know the timing isn't great, but I've had some stuff going on that requires me to keep him with me at all times," I explain, dropping my gaze to the list as Dallas pulls out the chair for me and I sit down, hoping I don’t have to elaborate on said stuff.
Dallas starts to take the seat across from me but Ro butts in. "You can't stay at this table."
I huff. "What's wrong with the table? It has a great view."
"Yeah, a great view that anyone outside in the dark can see straight inside and watch you while you eat."
Shit, I didn't think about that. Still, how likely is it my dickhead stalker-slash-kidnapper is down on the rocky cliffside with a set of binoculars? "I'm sure it's fine," I say, gesturing for Dallas to sit, but he's frowning and looking outside with what I can only describe as a pensive look on his face.
"Montana, if Ronin says we should move, we probably should. Isn't that why he's here?" I bristle a little because, seriously, this is our first date, and he's taking Ronin's side?
"Fine, we'll move," I say as I stand up. If anyone's counting, that's the second fine out of my mouth in the last thirty seconds, and as all women know, that doesn't bode well for what's coming next.
Dallas heads off to get the waiter, and I stand there super awkwardly with Ronin pulling me away from the window and shadowing me with his body. This whole night already has me annoyed, and I haven't even eaten yet. Between the sexual tension in the car on the ride over, which I wasn't sure I'd even get a chance to resolve tonight considering I'm staying at Ronin's, to his overbearing presence that blocks out everything else, and the fact I can't even do anything about it, I'm seriously tempted to pick up my phone and call Indy in for a rescue.
I'll chalk the whole night up to one big fail, but it's nothing a bubble bath and a glass of wine won't fix. That and my Eva vibe from Dame. Bath time is sounding better and better. Before I can pull out my phone, Dallas is back with the waiter, and we're weaving through the other tables to a place right in the middle. It's louder and less private, and the whole situation is made even better when Ro pulls up a chair and plops down right between Dallas and me.
His stern glare is fixed straight on Dallas like he expects him to jump across the table and knife me instead of sharing a meal and some slightly awkward first date conversation. As it is, this meal is going to be uncomfortable as fuck.
"Can't you watch us from over there?" I ask Ro, pointing to a spot by the wall about twenty feet away.
"Nope," he says in such an unapologetic tone I kick his shin under the table. Pain flares from the contact up into my toes, and I think I hurt myself more than I hurt him since he didn't even react. I should’ve used the heel.
"So, Dallas, have you eaten here before?" I ask, trying to ignore my hulking shadow sucking up all the energy at the table. Not my, I mean the.
"Yeah, a couple of times. I know the head chef, and the food is unreal."
"Is it now," Ro chimes in, and I lift the glass of wine the waiter just finished pouring and take a healthy swig. Ugh, this first date could've gone so well. Dallas is cute and seems sweet, but fuck me, there's no goddamn spark, and being here with Ro like this is just so uncomfortable I know I'm not putting out any romantic or seductive vibes. If anything, Dallas probably thinks I'm some paranoid lush who swigs her wine and pays dark and mysterious guys to follow me around.
"Yeah, you'll see," Dallas says, unfazed, but my mood is sinking fast. This night is not at all what I hoped it'd be.
Dallas, the poor guy, tries to keep up a steady flow of conversation throughout the meal, but it's really hopeless. Between Ro and me, we're not batting the ball back, and by the time we're done, I'm not surprised when he says a polite goodnight with a kiss on the cheek that the guy's sister would've found tame and bolts for the valet.
I'm practically vibrating with how angry I am. The storm is building, and if I don't get home and into a space where I can blow off some steam in the next few minutes, I'm going to erupt, and it's not going to be pretty.
There's a reason for the red-heads-have-a-temper stereotype.
"Good date? Think he'll ask you out again?" Ro says entirely too happily from beside me, and I cut my eyes in his direction, pressing my lips shut to keep from spewing all my anger his way. When I say nothing, he keeps going. "He looked really into you there at the end, with that kiss on the cheek."
I reach my limit and stop walking in the middle of the parking lot. Why the fuck Ro didn't do valet, I don't know, but here we are. This parking lot has about two lights, so I can barely make out his features, and his entire face is cast in shadow. That doesn't stop me from jabbing my finger into his chest.
"That clusterfuck was entirely your fault," I yell, letting the rage loose as adrenaline rushes through me. "You and your stupid perfect face and all the muscles. Why do you always have to be everywhere? You're driving me insane, and that," I yell, breathing hard and using my other hand to point at the restaurant as if to prove my point, "was my chance to find someone who actually wants me, you asshole!"
Ro's fingers tighten on the finger still lodged in his chest, and he tugs me closer, so I stumble into his body, and before my next breath, his arms are wrapped around me, and I let out a whimper as his lips collide with mine. He ravages my mouth like he's been drowning, and I'm his first breath of air. His tongue seeks out mine, and his whole body wraps around me like he's still trying to dominate me and keep me safe at the same time.
His hard body's pressed up against mine, and one of his hands tangles in my hair as he pulls me closer. He tastes like the bananas foster we had for dessert, and the smoky caramel notes on his tongue are the best thing I've ever tasted.
Ro pulls back long enough to rest his forehead against mine while we try and catch our breath. "You're wrong, Spitfire. I've never wanted anyone more than I want you."
His confession comes out on a breath, murmured against my lips like he’s afraid to admit it out loud. As I lean forward to kiss him again, to sink into Ro and lose myself completely, a loud, metallic thud rings out across the quiet lot, and his body crumples to the ground. I'm so shocked, I let out a little scream and drop down right beside him, barely paying attention to the figure in a black hood running into one of the many dark spots in the parking lot.
I curse and dig my phone out of my purse with trembling hands, taking way too long to find Indy's number before hitting call.
"Need a rescue, Red?" he drawls, sounding far too amused.
"Indy-"
"Shit, what happened?" He must've picked up on my tone.
"Someone hit Ro, and he's down. I don't know if he's okay and he's too big for me to move. Should I call the police?"
"Fuck, no. Call into the restaurant and get someone to come stand outside with you as soon as we hang up. Did you see who hit him?”
“I don’t know, I didn’t get a good look and then he ran away.” My whole body is trembling as I shift Ronin’s head off the pavement and into my lap.
“Is he bleeding?" Indy asks, and I can hear shuffling in the background that makes me think he's moving.
"A little," I say, running my hand over the back of his head and coming away with sticky fingers coated in red.
"If he doesn't wake up in the next two minutes, call an ambulance. Otherwise, I'll be there as fast as I can. Call the restaurant, Red." He hangs up, and I note the time on my phone before calling the host and asking them to send someone out. Sitting in the dark, I'm in too much shock right now to wonder why the guy who hit Ro took off, instead of grabbing me if that was his goal.
All I know is Ronin's head is bleeding into my lap, and for the second time tonight, I'm glad I wore the black dress.