Page 150 of Wicked and Claimed

“Abort,” he muttered to Kane and Ethan as he leapt from his seat.

He had to get out of here, had to reach Haisley and find a way off this island before someone else came for her.

“Shit,” Ethan muttered, stumbling to his feet and following.

Kane was right behind him. “Too late!”

Their goddamn plan was falling apart. Nash tried not to panic.

Halfway up the aisle, the spotlight surrounded him. He froze. Now what the fuck should he do?

“Leaving so soon, Mr. King? Or should I say, Nash Scott?”

Fuck. He was outnumbered, and given the slew of armed guards lining Midnight Sanctuary now pointing their weapons at him, he was also outgunned. How the hell was he supposed to get out of this?

Kane’s voice crackled through his earpiece. “Now!”

Suddenly, an explosion rocked the compound. The concussive force slammed through Nash’s chest like a physical blow. Glass shattered somewhere in the distance, and the acrid smell of cordite filled his nostrils. The ground shook beneath his feet as secondary explosions triggered in rapid succession. Outside, screams erupted. Inside, pandemonium hit as the lights flickered, then went out, plunging the room into complete darkness. In the chaos that followed, Nash had only one thought.

Haisley.

He had to get to her before Mila’s goons did.

Because if Black Velvet knew his real identity, then she knew exactly how to hurt him most.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

With a huff of frustration, Haisley smashed the button on the remote to turn off the TV and jumped up from the sofa. Chewing absently on a ragged fingernail, she paced.

It felt as if Nash had been gone forever. It felt like the longest three hours of her life. She was losing her mind, wondering what was happening at the auction, if the raid to take down the Velvet Cove was going down as planned. If Nash would come back to her safe and unharmed.

The alternative was too awful to contemplate, but no matter how much she told herself to stay calm, she couldn’t get that pit of dread out of her stomach. Couldn’t stop picturing all the terrifying things that could go wrong.

Absently, she thought about opening that drawer in which Nash had shoved the little bit of clothing she’d been given and the potential devices she might need to survive. She’d gotten used to being naked nearly all the time, and when Nash was in the room, she felt fine. Safe. Desired and adored. Now that he was across the compound and potentially in danger? She felt vulnerable and exposed. Like a sitting duck. The feeling wasn’t rational. A slip of a dress, a gun, and a phone wouldn’t do much if Gray and his minions marched in…but she still felt compelled to be as prepared as possible, just in case.

But the minute she withdrew those devices, security would know she was armed. Surely, they’d perceive that as a threat and come running. Then what?

Haisley was still trying to decide if the precaution was worth the risk when an explosion rocked the island—and their suite.

She gasped. Froze. Nash hadn’t mentioned explosions. Had something gone wrong? She’d expected pandemonium while they took down the scum running this island, but…so early in the evening? Nash hadn’t shared plans of the raid with her, but she’d gotten the impression it would go down after the auction, somewhere near dawn—not in the middle of it.

Her windows rattled. Crystal glasses tumbled from the bar cart. Haisley stumbled as she raced to the window. She braced on the adjoining seat as another blast followed, closer this time. Her heart slammed against her ribs.

Something had gone wrong. She felt it in her bones.

Acrid smoke drifted up and past the windows. Beyond the glass, fires raged on the east side of the island, licking at the supply docks. People ran across the grounds, their shouts muffled by distance and thick, hurricane-proof windows. Red emergency lights began flashing in the hallway, visible through the crack beneath the door.

Nash.

Her chest constricted with fear. The two years she’d spent without him had been hell, but at least she’d known he was alive somewhere out there. The thought of losing him completely, of existing in a world where he didn’t… She couldn’t bear it. She’d been fooling herself in Cali, pretending she was just fine without him. But she’d been lying. She had never stopped loving him. She knew now she never would.

Would she ever see him again?

The power flickered, then died, plunging the suite into darkness broken only by moonlight and those hellish red emergency strobes. Down the hall, doors slammed. Boots thundered against marble floors, growing closer.

They were coming. For her?

She pressed a protective hand to her still-flat belly. Hopefully, Nash was out there, fighting the good fight, and he’d come back to her and their baby. He wasn’t here to save them. He couldn’t be. She was going to have to do it herself.

---