Page 62 of Nash

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

VALE

I fallinto Nash’s arms, and his grip is vicious. With gritted teeth, his eyes blaze, furious.

This can go a hundred ways, so I might as well make it go mine.

“Let’s not make this weird.” I find my footing. “Yes, I was listening, and yes, I’m playing in that tournament with you next week.”

“Over my dead body,” Nash growls.

“Well, that sounds like a real possibility, and I’d really hate it because you’ve grown on me like a yeast infection, so let me help.”

“We need a motion sensor alert outside that door.” I hear Michael Cummings snarl.

Scratch that: Axel. He’s snarling and pissed about me snooping, and he can kiss my ass.

All’s fair in mafia and sex shops.

I shuffle, my arms still held by Nash’s hands. Hands that probably itch to strangle me, but let’s save the kink for later.

“Jace is right,” I say. “I’m in. I know who you are, what you do, and I know the plan, and I’m part of it. I can play any man under the table on that course, so let me. Let me control the game while you get what you want.”

“It’s not a bad idea,” Jace adds. “She’s a champion player and a champion’s daughter. It’ll distract him.”

I glance around the angry wall of Nash to try and get a glimpse of the room, andoh, my Bratva beast sex den, do I.

Black ceiling and walls with the gilded wall trim painted gold. Tall, golden candelabras. Gold velvet curtains framing the windows to the sunny courtyard below. Seven black king’s chairs. Seven white queen’s chairs. A large, low leather platform, like a bed, between them.

It’s elegant. Eerie. Enticing. The setting drips with opulence and orgasms. The implications of the arrangement erotic beyond my wildest fantasies.

Please tell me they do what I think they do in here.

Please tell me Nash won’t do it again.

Jace stands beside his brothers. They tower with muscles and tattoos.Damn, that’s a helluva hot DNA pool.

Clearly, my eyes work, but my heart and body belong to one man.

He’s the one holding me, ripping my curious stare back to his as he fumes, “You and I are going to have alongtalk.”

“Is it about the birds and the bees?”

I hear Jace snort behind him, but Nash tightens his grip. “No, poison. It’s about bruises and bullets.”

He whips his glare around, barking at Jace, “I’m taking her home, and you’re covering for her. Tell her sister she’s going to get her dress fitted.”

“For the record,” I hear Sire add, “I vote yes. Test her and see if she wants to join us.”

I don’t get time to enthusiastically second his vote because Nash manhandles me. He practically lifts me by the arms and carries me out of the room.

The door slams behind us. The customers and Blair can be heard downstairs, but I can only focus on Nash and what I did.

“I’m sorry that I’mnotsorry,” I press. “It’s like you said, we’re in this together, so let me be the Bonnie to your Clyde.”

“They were killed in an ambush; you know that, right?” He seethes, his voice low, “And that’s exactly what can happen to us. At any moment or on that golf course, we can be ambushed. I can protect you from one, two, maybe three men, but not a half dozen or more with you in their sights.”

“But someone in there said it’s covered. That you can secure the club and course.”

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