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Nathan, predictably, remained mute.
“Let me tell you how this is going to go,” I bit out as I stood before him. I expected him to look up at me, but when he didn’t, I bent down so I could look him in the eye. Because I was giving him one shot at this. Dom or no Dom, I couldn’t help someone who was too stupid to help himself.
“You call the cops and the first thing they’ll do is start digging into every aspect of your life. And considering who you are, I don’t think you want that. Because you know what happens the second even one cop talks to a reporter to confirm Nathan Wilder was attacked in his own home by a gun-wielding fanatic.”
Nathan’s eyes lifted enough so he could look me in the eye, but he still didn’t say anything.
“You really think when the press gets wind of that story, they’re going to have any interest in your political views? You think voters will?”
Nathan finally reacted by looking away. There was a slight hardening of his jaw. God, he was so fucking predictable. Threaten his life and he wanted to argue, threaten his career and he couldn’t shut up fast enough.
“So what, I’m just supposed to go with you?” he finally asked. “I don’t fucking know you, man.”
“You don’t need to know me,” I ground out, hating that my irritation was starting to get the better of me. “All you need to know is that you stay here, you die. You come with me, you might have a chance. That’s assuming I don’t shoot your ass myself for being such a pain in mine.”
Before Nathan could respond, there was a knock at the front door.
“Fuck,” I muttered, because I knew exactly who it was. “One of your worried neighbors coming to check on you, no doubt,” I groused as I left the kitchen and went to the front door to confirm my suspicions. There was a small window next to the door and I could see a man through it, dressed in pajamas, a red bathrobe, and slip-on shoes. Nathan appeared beside me.
“Your choice,” I said. “You’ve got two minutes to either get rid of him or tell him to call the cops. I’m going to go check the rest of the house.”
I pulled my gun from my waistband and began sweeping the rest of the house. Not for the assailant, but for clues. But having seen the guy’s moves and the hardware he’d been carrying, I doubted he’d been careless enough to leave anything behind that would offer up any clue to his identity.
Nathan’s house wasn’t big, so it didn’t take me long to check it out. I heard his muffled voice as he spoke to his neighbor, but had no clue what he was saying. I almost wanted him to choose the cops because then I’d be rid of him.
I tried to reassure myself it was because I hated politicians and everything they stood for, but the sensation of Nathan’s body pressed up against mine for those brief seconds as he’d stumbled was peppering my mind. It wasn’t so much that I was surprised that I was attracted to him, since he was a good-looking guy; it was that the physical stirring I was feeling was driving my thinking.
That just wasn’t acceptable.
People who made decisions based on emotion or lust didn’t survive long in my business. And I hadn’t come this far, put down so many men and even a few women who’d come after me, just to give it all up because I’d liked the way a guy had felt in my arms.
I made my way into what I could only assume was the master bedroom. It wasn’t a huge room, but it was comfortably decorated with neutral colors and masculine furniture and bedding. But there was very little in the house that spoke to the man himself. The pictures on the walls were all generic-looking paintings and art prints. There were no knick-knacks or photos, save one on the nightstand. The light on the nightstand was on, so I moved closer to the bed and picked up the framed picture. It was of Nathan and his brother. They were standing in front of a small lake and there was a little boat behind them. One twin had his arm around the other. My gut was telling me the one putting his arm around the other was Nathan. I didn’t know how I knew, I just did…there was something in his eyes that was just a little bit different than the other boy’s.
Pride, maybe?
The other boy, Brody, was smiling wide and holding up a decent-sized fish. I guessed the twins to be around ten in the picture.
I knew from my research that Nathan was the older twin, and looking at the picture, I could see that. There was a certain protectiveness in the way he held onto his brother. I felt a shimmer of pain go through me. I’d had that once…the weight of an arm around me that said, I’m here for you.
