Chapter 18
BOBBY
My memories of my time with Ever get me through the rest of my blasted time in San Francisco.
After I bought her a bouquet, we went to the fruit and vegetable stall. Whatever Ever picked up, I had the lady bag. The lady smiled when Ever stomped her foot, insisting she pay. I grasped her chin and kissed her senseless.
That wasn’t me. A motherfucking alien must’ve taken over my body. I don’t do PDA, but that kiss, in front of all the shoppers and vendors, was as public as it got. And I’d do it again.
Fuck me, the way she melted into the kiss, her body lax and pliable to my caresses, and the way her mouth yielded to mine, blood had engorged my cock, and my brain stopped functioning. That was when I knew it was time to ease off.
Everything else I do with Ever past first base is for me only, because I’m one selfish son of a bitch. I don’t want an audience. I have nothing to prove. Ever isn’t Jules. She would never cheat on me.
Yeah, I barely know her, but the way she blushes and stares at me with wonderment and hunger in her eyes when she thinks I’m not looking, it’s enough for me to know she’s mine hook, line, and sinker.
We drove to the flea market afterward. Dark clouds rolled in. Ever doesn’t like being in a car when it rains. Who hurt her? What happened to her that had her clutching her cell phone and checking it when she didn’t think I was watching her?
If push comes to shove, I could call in a favor. Zach owes me for saving his life down range. His specialty is hacking databases and gathering intel. It’d be easy for him to pull up accident reports and hospital admissions.
I would revisit this fear of hers later. Seeing Ever happy, holding her hand as she tugged me from one stall to another, the excitement in her voice when she found something she liked, I couldn’t not look and pay attention to her.
She stole my breath with her excitement. Her smiles had me tripping over my feet. Her arms curled around my bicep had me floating on air. And when she lifted her face to mine and looked at me like I was something special, she made my year.
We stopped at one last stall before heading back to Dumas.
Ever found a painting by a local artist. A shot of happiness grazed my heart when she showed it to me.
It was a painting of the scenic point where we sat on my motorcycle with her small arms around my chest and watched the sun disappear below the horizon.
She insisted on paying for it.
I pulled out a large bill from my pocket while she rummaged in her bag for her card, and I transacted the sale on her behalf before she found it.
A voice comes to me from a distance. I mentally shake away the image of Ever getting inside my truck and not letting go of the painting until I carefully stepped over the plushies in her room and nailed it to the wall across from her bed.
Every morning when she wakes up, that painting will be the first thing she sees.
This woman is getting under my skin with how sweet she is. Oh, fuck. How sweet she is, and damn, her pussy juices were sweet and musky on my tongue when I had her spread on the seat of my truck with her legs falling to the sides.
I hooked her under her thighs, lifted her ass off the seat, and buried my face in her pussy. She squirmed beneath my tongue. Cried out when I sucked on her clit and pumped two fingers, then three, inside her tight, wet cunt.
The best part? The best part was when she locked my head between her legs and came on my face. I ate her up. Ate her out.
Then I picked her up and cradled her to my body.
With satisfaction coursing through my veins that I pleased her so well she was nothing but a ragdoll in my arms, I dropped kisses on every part of Ever’s face and pressed my face to her pulse point above her clavicle.
Her heart beat in time to mine. It was the closest I’d come to being at peace since .
. . I sip my drink. I can’t remember when I ever was.
More guests filter into the ballroom. Grasping the wine flute by the stem, I glance around the grand estate in San Francisco, owned by my host, Roman Lexington.
I’d rather spend time with Ever, talking about the first thing that comes to her mind, than be eye-fucked by a blonde at the open bar and the redhead on the arm of a balding businessman with a belly hanging over his dress trousers.
I nurse my drink and pretend to be interested in the conversation at the table Roman assigned to me. Someone grabs a seat next to me. I recognize “Mad” Maddox Stassi by the air of craziness that follows him.
He’s a nice enough guy for a billionaire, but I wouldn’t want to do anything to piss him off.
Rumor is he castrated the men who allegedly raped his little sis.
I’d do the same if it were Gwen. Except those men, their body parts, and most importantly their cut-off junk would never be found.
And if they were, there wouldn’t be enough of it to identify the perps with.
“Roman said you’re interested in developing a shitty part of Alexandria.”
I take a sip of the expensive wine and force myself to swallow. I’d rather have bitter ale any day than this show of expensive taste, but props to Roman for his choice of wines. This one went down smooth. No forcing necessary.
“What’d he tell you?” I ask.
“That you have deep pockets and are willing to pay the right person to oversee the project.”
Maddox is a real estate developer. He’s not into high-end shit like luxury condos and fancy storefronts that name brands are clamoring to pay high rent for.
Maddox’s specialty is using brute force and persuasion along with his reputation and billionaire status to breathe life into crime-ridden, gang-controlled wastelands like East Alexandria.
“What else?”
Roman hadn’t planned on putting Maddox on the guest list. Then I spilled my plan, needing a sounding board and, in a way, a second opinion to confirm that it was feasible and not a waste of time and resources.
There will be a fight on our hands when the big machinery rolls in and bulldozes and tears down buildings.
Roman said he knew exactly who could fight the battle for me.
I didn’t need someone to fight my battles with me except for Slate. We’ve been downrange together long enough that we could anticipate each other’s next moves. Nah, I don’t need another soldier.
What I need Maddox for is his knack for making a vision come alive on paper. Or a computer screen. I suck at design and layout. Maddox is great at navigating the latest design software. I tell him what I want. He designs and then builds it. It’s a win-win.
Maddox gestures for a server. “He mentioned a gang controls that part of the city. Any idea which one?”
“None. I was hoping you could use your connection to Cillian McCabe. Maybe he does.” The McCabes are rumored to be Irish mobsters.
“Not going there.” He grabs a wine glass from the server’s tray. “I’m already in deep shit for encroaching on his territory with my next project.”
I loosen my tie that is suddenly too tight. I’m running out of options. Fuck me if I’ll use my last favor and ask Zach, the hacker, to work his magic and find out which gang controls East Alexandria.
I haven’t set foot there since Carlos bit that bullet for me. I can’t relive seeing his lifeless body and vacant stare. The nightmares have finally eased up.
“What I can do is set up meetings. We can go over your vision, and I’ll put together drafts.
Once you see something you like, we’ll draw up a contract, strategize how we’ll get city hall’s buy-in, discuss funding, and outline a timeline that starts with obtaining permits and posting notices, all the way through to the ribbon-cutting ceremony. Does that work for you?”
“Splendidly.”
A commotion at the entrance of the ballroom snags our attention.
A beautiful, thin, and petite woman with long black hair, dressed in a golden satin dress that clings to her body like a second skin, and white satin gloves up her arms, walks in with her head held high.
Her gaze catches mine from across the room, and her lips tip up slightly.
“Excuse me.” I push back my chair and make my way to the reclusive Blaise Lexington.
She puts out her gloved hand in front of me. I stare at her small, delicate fingers, ignore her hand, and tip my head. “Blaise.”
She drops her hand with a quizzical expression before her eyes widen and light up. “You found someone, didn’t you?”
My distant cousin knows me well. Roman is into genealogy, a passion passed on to him by his grandfather, Sir Arthur Lexington.
He traced his family back several generations and discovered that my mother’s side of the family had migrated from England to San Francisco, then settled in Delridge.
Mom moved to McMillan to live with an aunt and caught Branson’s eye. The rest, as they say, is history.
“Something like that,” I say dryly, not ready to share about Ever.
“How’s Alexandria treating you? How’s Crimson? Did you know I was there a few weeks ago?”
“And you didn’t visit?”
A server comes up to us with a tray of drinks and hors d’oeuvres. Blaise shakes her head. I grab a napkin with two crackers with cheese and smoked salmon.
“I would’ve after the fundraising gala, but I promised my friend Syn that I would make it to our friend Dare’s pool party. His place is by Dumas University. Syn goes there. Dare doesn’t.”
I know that. What I didn’t know was that Blaise was in Dare’s place, and the motherfucker hadn’t said a word about it.
Same with Midnight. I mean, come on, the reserved Blaise Lexington, whom paparazzi adore, comes over, and they say jack shit?
It would’ve been big news on campus too.
Unless everyone at the party signed NDAs.
Gwen would run her mouth off about the visit. Then I’d hear about it and wonder at what point in my life would I tell my little sis that I’m related to Blaise? Gwen would be awestruck. Then, bam, I’d be her favorite brother.