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Nash wraps his arm behind my back, his hands rubbing up and down my arms, as if he’s trying to rid my body of the chill I feel like I’ll have every second, for the rest of my life.
Not much is said as Angel drives, and before long, we’re pulling up to a small house. In the darkness I can tell that we aren’t in the best neighborhood, but we’re not met with any noise as we climb out of the truck.
“Thank you,” I tell Angel instead of arguing and insisting that he drive me to Alani in Lindell.
Angel grunts in return as we climb out of the truck, leaving us standing on the sidewalk as he drives away.
“Let’s get inside,” Nash urges, walking toward a dark house.
I move a little faster when I hear the screech of an angry cat down the block.
I’m second-guessing my choices when the man bends and pulls a key from under the tattered doormat on the porch.
“Why are we here?” I ask once we step inside.
Nash flips a light switch. The single bulb in the middle of the room doesn’t reveal much.
The house is tiny, the kitchen flowing into the small living room that houses a love seat, a single side table and a console table with an outdated television on it. Two doors on the far side must lead to a bathroom and a bedroom. The back door is no more than twenty feet from the front door.
“We both need showers. We need to eat and get some rest. We’ll head to Lindell first thing in the morning.”
I shake my head, disagreeing with his plan from the first word that leaves his mouth.
“I want to go to my sister.”
“Angel sent someone to look after her. She’s safe. I assure you.”
“Nash,” I argue, trying to swallow down the fear when he inches closer.
“Your lips are blue from the river. You’ve barely slept.” He brushes his fingers over my cheek. “You’re going to have to have a very long, very upsetting conversation with your sister. You need more strength than you have for that. I’ll grab the first shower.”
Without another word, he turns around, carrying the overnight bag into the door to the right.
I don’t know if he’s giving me the chance to run or what.
I make sure the front door is locked, moving the love seat in front of it before moving the tiny kitchen table in front of the back door. I’m well aware that all I’m doing is creating a false sense of security, but it does calm my nerves a little.
While he’s in the bathroom, I explore the other room.
A small dresser, an empty closet, and a queen-sized bed are all that complete the room. The linens on the bed look clean, but there are no personal affects to be found.
Nash finds me standing in the bedroom doorway when he’s done with his shower.
As much as I want to go to Alani, I know he’s right about getting clean and getting some rest.
My shower is quick, the masculine scent of the bodywash and shampoo making my stomach turn. It’s all we were offered back at the compound. I know it’s a petty thing to concentrate on while there are so many other things that need my focus.
For all the house is lacking, there are actually two towels hanging on the towel rack. I use the one Nash didn’t use to dry myself, before pulling the baggy clothes Cerberus provided out of the overnight bag.
When I’m dressed, I find Nash already in the bed.
“Don’t overthink it,” he says, holding the blanket open for me to climb in with him.
I don’t waste a second climbing under the covers.
Chapter 32
Nash
Despite wanting to say something about the way her fingers are drumming on her thighs, I keep my mouth shut. She told me she doesn’t do well with promises, and I know exactly where she’s coming from. Promises require trust in the person making them, and that’s something I’ve never bothered to waste my time on.
My phone rings, the sound echoing through the vehicle from the connected Bluetooth.
I don’t recognize the number, but I press the button to connect it anyway.
“Yes,” I say.
“Where the fuck are you?”
“On our way,” I say, recognizing the angry growl of Donavan’s voice.
“You were supposed to be here hours ago,” he says.
“We got a late start,” is all I offer in explanation.
“I’m going to fucking kill you,” an unfamiliar masculine voice says from his side of the line.
“Who the hell is that?” I snap, sensing Ayla tense up in the passenger seat.
“A complication.”
“Donavan,” I hiss. “What the fuck is going on?”
“Nothing for you to worry about. I’m sending you an address.”
“Piece of shit! Let us go!”
“Donavan,” I growl again.
“I haven’t hurt anything but these sissy bitches’ prides,” Donavan snaps.
“Sissy bitch? I’m a fucking United States Marine,” a guy in the background yells.
