Page 208 of Things We Hide from the Light
“And you’re sexy as hell when you’re investigating in lingerie.”
He tossed his phone on the counter and took a step toward me, a dangerous, determined gleam in his eyes.
I held up my hands and started to back away. “Hang on. We just had a break. Shouldn’t we wait to see what Lucian says?”
“No one says we have to wait with our clothes on,” he said as he kept coming.
I pulled out a dining chair and put it between us.
“But there’s work to do,” I reminded him.
“And there will still be work to do once I get you out of that outfit,” he said devilishly.
With a squeal, I turned to run, but he was faster than me. And I didn’t mind it one bit when he tossed me over his shoulder and marched us into the bedroom.
The poundingwoke us both out of a dead sleep. Sometime after falling into a post-sex coma, I’d actually crawled on top of Nash, which was embarrassing to say the least. But there wasn’t any time to wallow in it with an extremely insistent middle of the night knocker.
Nash reacted more quickly than I did. He dragged on a pair of sweats and hauled ass to the door while I was still rubbing the sleep out of my eyes and hoping I hadn’t drooled on his chest.
I managed to stumble after him, barely avoiding stepping on the anxious Piper, who was growling and trembling at the same time.
“It’s three in the fucking morning. Someone better be bleeding,” Nash said, swinging the door open.
Nolan prowled inside in pajama pants, running shoes, and, well, that was it.
“I think this was meant for you,” Nolan said, handing me a freezer bag with a large rock and a piece of paper inside.
“Me?”
Nash snatched the bag out of his hand but not before I read the note.
Back off, Bitch.
“Where the hell did you find this?” Nash demanded.
“Mixed in with a nice shard of glass salad on her dining room floor,” Nolan reported.
“What?” I squinted at him, processing.
He looked to the heavens when I didn’t pick up what he was putting down fast enough. “They threw it through the damn window about two minutes ago.”
Nash sprang into action and bolted barefoot through the door.
“Damn it,” I muttered.
“Nice nightie,” Nolan said, throwing me a smirk and a salute before jogging after him. “There’s no one out there. They peeled out about five seconds after they broke the window,” he called after Nash.
I ran back to the bedroom, pulled on my shoes, a sports bra, and Nash’s sweatshirt over the nightgown, then sprinted after them.
The night air was damp and cold. The streetlights bathed the eerily silent street in golden yellow light that pooled in the thickening fog. I spotted tire marks in front of the building.
“Get back inside,” Nash growled at me when I caught up to them in the middle of the street.
“It was meant for me—”
“Which makes you the goddamn target. So get your ass off the street,now,” he barked.
“Now who’s the one overemphasizing words?” I muttered under my breath as I marched back inside.
