Chapter 8 Georgie
GEORGIE
Icouldn’t breathe.
Partly because the man on top of me was heavy as hell, and partly because he knew my name.
I stared into his face. That hard, rugged face.
And piercing blue eyes.
My lungs locked. “Nathaniel?” My voice was the faintest whisper. My gaze ran over him. “Nash?”
I’d found him.
He released me, and in a swift move, pulled me to my feet. I kept staring at him, a wild mix of emotions storming through me. My throat closed.
In this hardened, tough man I didn’t see any sign of the boy I’d known growing up.
“It’s you,” I whispered. “It’s really you.”
He was staring back like he didn’t know me. “It’s me. I go by Nash all the time now. Nash Oakley.”
He’d changed his name. I suddenly felt cold. I had no idea what to say.
A part of me never truly believed I’d find him.
He reached out and I flinched.
He hesitated, then gently touched my face. A fierce scowl overtook his features. “You have bruises around your eye.”
My hand whipped up. Crap, my makeup must’ve smudged off. I took a step back.
His arm whipped out and he hauled me back. He jostled my ribs and I let out a low cry.
His brows drew together. Then before I knew what he had planned, he pushed the hem of my hoodie up.
“Hey.” I tried to push his hands away.
He hissed in a breath.
I was well-aware that my ribs were still mottled with bruises. It wasn’t pretty.
“Who did this?” His voice cracked like a whip.
I stiffened, the hairs on the back of my neck rising. His tone was dark and filled with things that made my throat go dry.
“Georgie—”
“It’s a long story.”
His face hardened. “Then we’ll go somewhere and you can tell it to me.”
“I—”
He bent his knees, shifted his arms, then lifted me off my feet. I found myself in his arms.
By reflex, I clutched at his broad shoulders and then he was striding down the alley.
“Nash…” I swallowed. “You never came home.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “I had my reasons.”
Which were stronger than the urge to come back. To come back to me.
A ball of hurt spun in my belly. It shouldn’t. We’d been little more than kids. But it did hurt. Thankfully, I’d gotten used to being hurt. I shoved it down low. “Where are you taking me?”
“Somewhere safe.”
Nowhere was safe. I’d learned that lesson.
The monsters didn’t always hide in the dark. They lived in plain sight, and people applauded them for everything they did.
Soon we were out on the busy street. Some people glanced at us, but this was Las Vegas. No doubt they’d seen crazier stuff than a man carrying a woman.
I felt the flex of his hard muscles in his chest. He was so much bigger and harder than I remembered. What had happened to him over the last ten years?
There was no give in him at all.
I wasn’t surprised when he turned into the entrance of the Avernus Casino. Cars were pulling up, uniformed valets rushing out to open the doors.
He nodded at the security guard by the bronze front doors, then strode inside.
“Do you work here?” I asked.
Nash gave a low grunt, which wasn’t really an answer.
He crossed the black and bronze lobby. A classy, modern-looking, bronze Christmas tree sat in the center of the glossy black floor.
He didn’t go near the long check-in desk, and instead headed to an elevator at the back.
It wasn’t in the bank of the main ones for the guests. It was clearly designed for staff.
He juggled me to the side and pressed a hand to a high-tech looking pad. It made a low beep and the doors opened. As soon as we stepped inside, the elevator whizzed downward.
When the doors opened, he carried me down a dark hall, and then shouldered his way into a room. A bare room. The walls were dark gray, and the only things in the room were a table, a few chairs, and a shiny glass window. I assumed it was a one-way mirror.
He sat me gently on the chair, then pulled a cellphone from his pocket. He stabbed at the screen and put it to his ear. “Theo? I need a first aid kit and ice pack in interview one.” He paused. “Yeah. Thanks.”
“I’m fine.” I shifted on the chair. “My injuries are over a week old.”
“That guy hit you in your side. It must have hurt like hell.”
I sighed. “Okay, my ribs are sore, but that won’t kill me.”
He knelt beside me and my pulse went crazy. Warmth exuded from him, along with a crisp, citrus cologne. He wore a black shirt and black leather jacket, but my gaze fixated on the triangle of bronze skin at his neck. I wanted to push my face against his strong neck and breathe him in.
Warmth trickled through my belly, heading lower. I blinked. I hadn’t felt a lick of desire in months. Not since I’d seen the first picture of Viv that Snyder had sent me.
“Who beat you?” Nash asked.
I straightened. “It doesn’t matter—”
“I want to know who did this to you,” he enunciated clearly.
“Nash.” I grasped around for a change of subject. “Why did you change your name?”
“I didn’t want to be found.”
I flinched. So people like me, his past, couldn’t find him. I looked over his shoulder at the bare wall. I shouldn’t feel so hurt by that.
“Who?” The word was sharp, gruff. “I want a name.”
I swallowed. “I left him sedated in that alley.”
“Fuck.” Nash shot to his feet. “You should’ve told me. I could’ve dealt with him.”
I twisted my hands together. I wanted that, but more than anything, I wanted to be the one to deal with Bruno.
“Georgie?” Nash waited until I looked at him. “Who is he?”
I closed my eyes. “One of the men who hurt my sister.”
Nash’s brow creased. “Vivienne?”
I opened my eyes and nodded.
“When I tried to help her, he was ordered to teach me a lesson. He works for the man who abused and killed my sister.”
Nash sucked in a breath, but his face stayed as impassive as ever. “Viv’s dead?”
“Yes.” Hollowness spilled through me, growing like a disease. “Everyone I ever loved is dead.”