"Don't even think about it," Lena said, lifting a tote bag. "I brought his food."
When everyone was seated, Nash announced he would pray for their meal. Lena expected a "Thank you, God, for our food. Amen" prayer. But after he gave thanks for the food before them, she nearly cried when he started praying for her, and for Cassidy, and for their safety. Her chin trembled. Tears welled behind her closed eyes.
Then, she almost fell out of her chair when he prayed for Emil and Delphine, and the poor guy they'd seen on the rocks that day, and Ed Chester. He prayed for God's protection over them as well, and for their hearts to be turned. The prayer wasn't formal or stuffy. He prayed to Jesus like he was sitting in the room with them.
Her whole world tilted.
Over the past few days, she hadn't grasped how completely her trust in Nash had developed. Until now.
As the fact settled over her, she realized the combination of integrity, godly humility, and protectiveness in Nash Stone won her complete respect.
And maybe her heart.
They all echoed "Amen," and enjoyed a wonderful meal together. They joked and laughed and asked her about herself. They told embarrassing stories about each other she wasn't sure were completely true, but she enjoyed the camaraderie.
Nash's deep laughter rumbled next to her. She hadn't seen him this relaxed before. His easy laugh and wide, genuine smile warmed her to her core.
She was glad he could relax. She wondered how he did it. Terrifying memories from the past twenty-four hours tightened a snarling mess of anxious knots in her chest that she had no idea how to unravel.
But Nash could sit back, tell stories, and joke with his friends. His nerves weren't twisted in a chaos of worry. A few glances her way held an easy warmth. His calm was contagious.
Over the course of their meal—gradually, tentatively—a few of her confounding knots of stress tugged loose.
After dinner, Nash escorted Lena back to her room.
She wondered—and worried—about what she should say when they were alone again. Thankfully, after she unlocked her door, he said he needed to get back to Jason and Knox as soon as possible to debrief and make plans for tomorrow. Relief assuaged her muddled brain. A conversation with Nash wasn't ideal at that moment. She was exhausted and didn't trust her emotions. She said, "Good night," and led Nutmeg into the hotel room.
She walked to the glass balcony doors and stood in awe of the full moon illuminating the nighttime waves. "Well, Nutmeg, this isn't the worst way to spend an evening." He hopped up on the bed and settled himself in the middle of the half-dozen pillows at the head of the bed. She laughed. "Please do make yourself comfortable."
She looked back at the ocean. Her gratitude for the safety of The Mandeville, and for everything about Nash, rivaled her anxiety about Cassidy. All her thoughts—warm and sweet, cold and terrifying—swirled and drained her energy. She looked at Nutmeg, content and comfy on his mountain of pillows, and decided he had a pretty good idea.
"Nash, I'm sorry," Jason said when Nash reentered the room. "If I'd anticipated Ruben would hire a guy like that, we would have kept a closer eye on him and could have given you a heads-up." Regret rang sharp in his tone. "Hightower mentioned Ruben might hire somebody since they didn't agree that Emil took the jewels. But Hightower and WhiteRock both wrongly assumed he would hire a legit private investigator, not the mercenary type that showed up today."
Nash retook his seat and popped a french fry in his mouth. "It's okay, Jason. Did you get a name?"
"Yeah," said Knox, his fingers flying over the keys of his laptop. "Ronan ID'd the guy. He just sent some stuff over." He squinted at the screen. "Guy's name is Tanner Wilkes. He's more of a fixer than a private investigator. An off-the-books guy that gets things done by any means necessary."
Nash grunted. "With a strong moral code, no doubt."
Knox snagged one of Nash's fries. "Well, he's out of the way for now. Drakos's security will sit on him for a couple of days."
"Thanks." He pushed his remaining fries toward Knox and rubbed his temples. "For tomorrow night, I think we stick to the plan—Lena and I attend the party using our covers, make contact with Cassidy, and go from there." He looked at Jason. "It's your call. But given everything that's happened in the last forty-eight hours, I think it'd be best if all three of you were stationed nearby."
Jason set down his water bottle with a firm nod. "Agreed."
They finalized a few more details and wrapped up. Nash was glad the meeting didn't go on too long. He was anxious to check on Lena, give her an update, and explain what to expect tomorrow. There were also other things he needed to explain—before he lost his nerve.
He knocked softly on her door, hoping she hadn't gone to bed early. A moment later, Lena opened the door wearing a comfy-looking, light-pink loungewear outfit. Damp hair, no make-up. Beautiful, innocent, weary, and worried.
"Hey. I just want to give you a heads-up about tomorrow."
"Oh yeah, sure. Of course. Come on in."
He entered her room and noted Nutmeg perched on a pile of pillows. The furball didn't even raise his head at Nash's entrance. "Not much of a guard dog tonight, is he?"
Lena's mouth curved up. "I think he just knew it was you."
He shook his head in mock-disappointment. "Maybe."
