Page 60 of Nash

But he never said I couldn’t eavesdrop.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

NASH

Axel locksthe door behind us, and Sire starts clapping.

Slowly.

Loudly.

Sarcastically.

“Well done, Nash.” Sire laughs. “You’ve really picked an easy one.”

“I haven’t picked a fucking thing,” I seethe. “She’snotmy queen.”

“Nope.” Jace plops in his king’s chair. It’s the fifth in a row of seven. “She’s going to be one ofourqueens, and it’s about time. If I have to hear you two fight instead of fuck for another week, I quit.”

“No one’s quitting.” Axel swipes his fingertip over the center platform. It’s new. It’s made of pristine, tufted black leather, but of course, he checks for dust. “But Jasha is right.”

“Jace,” he rumbles his own American name. “Don’t slip up. Not in this house.”

Jasha, aka. Jace is right.

Their real names are their greatest liability.

Sire was born Sergei. Axel was born Aleksi. Grant, Grigori. Jace, Jasha. Nick, Nikifor. And the baby was named Lyov. And all six brothers have the most dangerous last name in Russia—Kholodov.

That’s why they hide under American names and pseudonyms like Michael Cummings and more. And they do it in a city where their father would never think to look for them.

Me? I’m the money man. Of course, I prefer using our numbers. Axel is “One,” I’m “Two,” Sire is “Three,” and so on.

“We’re running out of time,” Axel continues, dropping his dickhead Michael Cummings guise. “Alena’s wedding is soon, and you know what you must do.”

When it’s just us, I get the real him, the man who’s been my best friend since I was eighteen. I met Sire first, but he’s always been a loner, while Axel and I became men together.

“Vows can’t be broken,” Sire adds, “even if the bond breaks you.”

“Fuck you all,” I snarl. “You don’t have a daughter. You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“But I will one day,” Sire adds. “Wren and I want to try next year.”

I shake my head. “That’s like saying you know how it feels to cry when you never have. I’ll never hurt my daughter, so I can’t choose Vale.”

“She can handle us,” Jace argues. “Vale fits right in. Hell, she’s already in. Sort of.”

“She knows too much now,” Axel adds. “You don’t have a choice.”

“The hell I don’t.” My steps eat the ground between us. I stand eye-to-eye with Axel. “We keep the secret. We keep her safe. We find Turner. We kill him, and then Vale’s free. Done, or someone else dies. We clear?”

“We found him,” Axel answers coldly. “More specifically, we know where he’ll be next Wednesday.”

“Where?”

“Our club.” He smirks. “We’re hosting a Vegas-style golf tournament that he can’t resist.”

“Turner is a notorious gambler,” Sire adds, “and a mediocre golf player. We got the word out, invited some pros, and he took the bait. He’s ponied up ten K to play.”

---