She couldn't quite articulate why, but yes, she trusted him. "Yes."
"Good. And I trust you."
She couldn't find her voice.
Nutmeg did not share her struggle. He looked right at Nash and barked.
Nash's mouth quirked up. "Wasn't talking to you, furball." He scratched Nutmeg behind the ears. "Jury's still out on you."
Nutmeg barked again.
Lena giggled. "Aw, you hurt his feelings."
"I did not. He just wants us to get out of the car or start driving again." Nash started the engine and Nutmeg leaped to his preferred spot—paws on the windowsill, back legs on Lena.
Nash slipped his sunglasses back on. "See?"
Lena had to laugh. And it felt good.
Her whole body felt lighter. Nash trusted her. She trusted him. She wasn't sure which fact amazed her the most.
They spent the rest of the day running errands in Morghana City, with a brief stop at a city park for Nutmeg's benefit. Lena took advantage of the Wi-Fi in the city to text several pictures to Victoria, assuring her that Nutmeg was happy, safe, and receiving plenty of attention.
Every now and then, for a minute or so, Lena would forget her stresses and simply enjoy Nash's company. The vibe between them was easy. Comfortable.
Sparks doused? Nope.
Something simmered there. Didn't prove anything, though.
Keep your head on straight, girl. Just be grateful God sent you someone you can trust to help you find Cassidy. She's the reason you're here—the only reason you're here.
After hours away from Emil's estate, running errands with Lena, Nash had hoped his cameras would've picked up something interesting while they were gone. He waited until Lena returned to the main house for the evening before diving into the camera recordings.
And he found hours and hours ofnothing.
Delphine came and went, keeping to her normal schedule. And Ed Chester showed up, but he walked in the front door like a legitimate business manager and didn't climb through a window like a cat burglar. So, not necessarily suspicious.
The only other activity was a delivery of two crates of wine. But Delphine mentioned expecting that delivery, so again, nothing particularly shady.
Frustrated and exhausted, Nash crawled into bed and fell asleep almost immediately. He slept hard.
Until fierce banging on his door jerked him from a deep sleep.
Chapter 10
For a second, he thought he was dreaming.
No. Not dreaming. Front door. Someone was trying to beat it down.
He grabbed his sidearm and hustled through the dark apartment. Squinting through the kitchen window, he identified the figure illuminated by the porch light—Lena. With little Nutmeg flopping around in the crook of her arm.
She was calling his name. And panic-banging the door. The terror in her voice jolted adrenaline into his system. He gripped his weapon and flung open the door.
She fell into the apartment, then popped back onto her feet, cuddling Nutmeg, who looked frazzled but uninjured.
Nash kept his weapon raised toward the porch, half-expecting to see an armed pursuer. No one materialized, but he kicked the door shut in case someone was en route.
"What happened?" he asked.
