Page 17 of Nash

No, apparently, he’s brutal and menacing and covered in black ink…

And his eyes?

Call it.

The time of death on my resistance to him is right now. Because without his glasses on, which I guess are fake, I can see Nash’s conflicted soul.

He’s staring back at me, studying me like never before, and my cheeks blush. Something I’ve buried deep inside remembers him—the only man I’ve trusted—and desire licks at my sex. Because I swear, he can read my filthy mind, too.

It makes his teeth snare his bottom lip as he stares at mine. So, I force myself to speak. “What’s our situation?”

He draws a long breath before answering, “Understand I can’t give you details. It’s for your safety. And understand that Alena doesn’t know; she canneverknow, and it’s for her safety, too.”

My pulse triples. “Is she safe?”

“Yes. She has a guard.”

“She does?” I’ve never seen one.

“Someone is secretly protecting her. I made sure of it. She’s fine.”

If it were anyone else, I wouldn’t trust it. I’d risk my life to make sure Alena is safe. She’s always been too sweet, and I’ve always been the bitch who protected her. When really? She saved me, too. I’d never trust anyone with her life except her father.

I know Nash was a deadbeat dad when she was born. He was sixteen, and so was Alena’s mom. They were never really a couple and struggled as teen parents. Then, Nash got sent to juvie, leaving Alena’s mom, Lainey, alone to raise her.

If it weren’t for their landlord, Ms. Faye, Alena would’ve ended up in the foster system. Lainey’s mom threw her out. She had no other family, so Ms. Faye helped her. She’s like Alena’s grandmother now.

But when Nash got out of juvie, he got his shit together as a dad and got involved. He worked his way through college while Lainey joined the Army. When she was deployed, Nash was the full-time parent until Alena turned ten and Lainey was killed in Iraq.

Then Nash became her only parent.

A year later, I met Alena. She had lost her mom. She was grieving and quiet, and middle school was cruel. She was bullied, and I was a bitch who hated the bitches bullying her even more. So, my twin, Blair, and I took her under our wing, and we’ve been together ever since.

And as infuriating as I found her over-protective father to be—he never let Alena sleep at my house, so I always slept at theirs—Mr. Allen gave me funny feelings. I didn’t understand them at thirteen.

Later, I realized precisely what they’re called, and I’ve been scared ever since.

So, here goes my mouth again. She’s aiming.

“What do we do now?” I ask. “Meet in the back room of a pizzeria and smoke cigars with a dozen made men and your Don? Wait. Are you a consigliere? Shouldn’t you be fat and bald?”

“No one’s Italian.”

“Damn.” My shoulders sag. “I love pizza.”

His lips curl up. “I can work on the fat and bald part if you like.”

“Since when is what I like part of this kidnapping?”

“You’re not being kidnapped.”

“You don’t own a dictionary.”

“I know what protection means.”

“Oh, I get it. You’re oldandlosing your hearing so let’s press rewind on our convo. Quote…” I drop my voice, growling, “You’re mine now.”

Again, humor hitches his lips, but his nostrils flare, fighting it.

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