Page 48 of Nash

What? Does he not like Loch, his future son-in-law? I don’t know why. He’s perfect, like made-to-order for Alena.

Or is it the “babygirl” nickname?

Yep, that’s it.Because if I’m imagining Loch growling it in Alena’s ear while he pulls her hair and she rides him hard … so is Nash.

Okay, that’s kinda funny.

I found Nash’s Kryptonite. I’ll have to give him hell about it later.

But later, after I have to make up a lie to Alena about why I can’t come back to her new apartment and have a girls’ night together, it’s not funny.

Because I can’t go without Nash’s protection. All the while, Alena’s at risk, and some secret bodyguard is protecting her, too. The whole thing sucks and makes me sick. So sick, I can’t speak. When Nash and I return to my place, I flop on my bed, defeated.

“Since when do you not talk?” he asks, setting his Beretta on my nightstand.

“Since I have to lie to my best friend’s beautiful face.” I stare at the ceiling. “Let’s kick this off. Go ahead. Ways we’re going to break her heart.”

“Her heart won’t break because we’ll never tell her.”

I jolt up. “But I can’t lie to her. I never have.”

He pulls his shirt off, revealing his inked muscles, and yes, I can drool and be pissed at life at the same time.

“You can keep secrets, Vale. Me and you and the pool. You and your orgasm problem I fixed. All the kinks you know about your customers. And the?—”

“Quit listening to me when I don’t want you to.”

“Too late,” he barks. “It all is. We’re in this until it ends.”

“But how does it end?”

“It ends when we find our man unguarded. When we have a chance to strike. Until then, I protect you, and you keep your mouth closed.”

“So once you catch and kill the Bridge Bastard, it’s over?” I pause, my heart heavy as it sinks in. “We’reover?”

He drops his pants, his sexy, black boxer briefs making this worse. “We have to be, and you know it.”

He picks them up, neatly draping them over my loveseat’s arm before sitting beside me on the bed.

But he doesn’t hold me. He keeps a painful distance.

“Did you feel it today, too?” he asks, staring at the floor, not me. “Did you feel great, then sick with guilt about last night? About trying to hide it from Alena?”

“Yes,” I admit. “I hated it.”

“Me, too,” he sighs. “When it was just my work, and she was a child, I felt no guilt about hiding it from her. The lie protected her. But now, she’s an adult, and I’ve made tough decisions she can’t know about, either. And I’ve made peace with it because it’s the right thing to do. She’s safe. She’s happy. But she won’t be if she ever finds out about us.”

“What kind of decisions?”

“Details,” he warns, not looking at me, not telling me the whole truth.

I have that nagging feeling there’s so much Nash isn’t telling me. I get not revealing names, crimes, and incriminating details about their operations.

Honestly, I don’t want to know. But there’s something more. A lot more.

It’s that maddening feeling you get when you walk into a room; everyone knows the secret but you. Everyone is connected but you. You’re on the outside, and they’ll never let you in.

“Your details are real lady-boner killers,” I mumble.

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