Chapter 20 #2
He tilted my chin up. I saw the hard edges to his face. “Yeah, you are.” His hand rested on my thigh and squeezed. I felt his calluses on my skin and goosebumps shivered over me.
“When you didn’t come home for Elliot’s funeral, I knew you were never coming back,” I whispered.
His arms tightened on me. “Fuck, I miss him. He was the best of us. Good, solid, dependable.” Nash chuckled. “That makes him sound like a golden retriever. He’d hate that.”
He would. “I miss him too.”
“I thought of you so much. Once, I was in a bad place. I’d carried out a mission, I was on the run and being hunted.
” His chest shuddered. “I was hiding in the attic of this barn in a village in a country I will never tell you about.” He drew in a breath.
“I imagined holding your hand, pulling you into my arms, kissing you. Just the memory of your smile kept me going.”
Oh, God. The air lodged in my chest. I shifted on his lap and felt the hard bulge growing beneath me.
“Nash.” It was a needy whisper.
His hand gripped my thigh, his thumb rubbing in maddening circles.
“You’re still hurt. Nothing is happening between us until your bruises are gone and you’re fully healed.”
“Nash, I’m fine—”
He shook his head, then set me on my feet.
“How about a stroll through the casino?”
I huffed out a breath. A stroll wasn’t what I wanted. “Fine.”
He thanked the restaurant staff, then led me to the elevators.
As we walked into the casino, he held my hand in his. He led me past a wide corridor filled with high-end stores. I glanced at the beautiful clothes in the window. I hadn’t bought any nice clothes in so long. I hadn’t needed them.
There were more classy, bronze Christmas decorations strung up everywhere. My heart squeezed.
“Viv loved Christmas.” My first Christmas without her. My first where I’d be alone.
“Can’t say I’ve celebrated Christmas much,” Nash said.
No, I guess badass retired assassins didn’t care much about Christmas.
I shoved all thoughts of the holiday out of my head. We walked through a wide doorway and onto the main casino floor.
Nash led me through the maze of tables. People were playing cards, throwing dice, shrieking in delight as they won, or groaning in disappointment as they lost. I realized that Nash wasn’t watching the gambling the way I was.
He was alert and assessing the security.
He nodded at a man in a suit with an earpiece, who had to be staff.
We wandered on.
“You want to try some blackjack?” he asked.
I laughed. “No. Not my thing.”
“Roulette?”
I shook my head. “Do you gamble?”
“Not really. I occasionally get together with Bastian and the others to play poker. Bastian always cleans us out.”
We strolled on and a broad-shouldered man with blond hair at a table caught my attention. I froze. Oh my God. It was Sam Alden. Snyder’s thug. There was a dark-haired man beside him. Zanotti. Alden bumped a shoulder against Zanotti, the men laughing and slugging back their drinks.
All the blood drained from my face.
“Georgie? Georgie?”
All I could see in my head was these two men hurting Viv.
“Georgie.”
I blinked and looked at Nash.
He cupped my cheeks. “What’s wrong?”
“Snyder’s men,” I whispered. “Alden and Zanotti.”
Nash pulled me against his chest, his big hand cupping the back of my head. His lips brushed my ear. “Zanotti’s dead. I killed him.”
I clung to him and remembered. I’d seen Zanotti go down. I lifted my head and looked at the blond man playing blackjack.
It wasn’t Alden.
I released a shuddering breath.
Nash ran a soothing hand up and down my back. “You okay?”
I nodded. “I’m sorry.”
He tilted my chin up. “You have nothing be sorry for.”
“Nash, I can’t wait much longer. I have to stop Snyder and the others before they hurt another woman.”
His face turned serious. “I know.”
Suddenly, a man’s raised voice cut across the floor. A woman screamed.
I turned and saw Nash’s head whip up, like a dog catching a scent.
Two men were pushing and shoving. A woman in a tiny, blue dress was scrambling out of the way.
“You cheated!” one man bellowed. “You stole my chips.”
“Fuck off,” the other man said. “I didn’t touch anything.”
“Don’t speak to me like that, asshole.”
It was clear they’d both been drinking.
“Stay here.” Nash shoved forward.
There was no way I was staying there. I followed him. Before we reached them, one man swung a fist and connected with the other man’s jaw. The victim shouted.
A scuffle broke out. A dealer stepped in, trying to de-escalate the situation, but they knocked into him and sent the man sprawling to the floor.
The pair swung around, still hitting each other, and stumbled into a trio of young women. The ladies fell in a tangle, knocking over chairs.
I watched as Nash charged in.
He grabbed one man by the back of his shirt. “Cool it.”
“Screw you! Let me at him.”
I watched, mesmerized, as Nash swept the man’s legs out from under him. It was a fast, simple move. The man collapsed and hit the floor with an oof.
The second man was still riled. He rushed at Nash from behind.
“Nash!” I yelled.
He didn’t need my help. Like he sensed it, he whirled, then ducked the man’s sloppy punch.
Nash took a step forward, then hit the man in the back of the head. He fell forward, and hit the nearby poker table headfirst, then collapsed with a groan.
The look on Nash’s face was one of total control, edged with impatience. Leaning over, he flipped the first man onto his stomach.
“Stay down.” He did the same at the second man. Then he lifted a hand and waved. I spotted security guards on their way.
Nash hadn’t hesitated. He’d charged in, knowing he could handle the situation.
I shifted on my feet, energy filling me. No, it was more than that. I pressed my thighs together. I was turned on.
God. I wasn’t usually one to be turned on by violence. But it wasn’t the violence that got to me, it was Nash. His strength, competence.
I watched him speak briefly with the security team. Two security guards hauled the brawling men to their feet.
Then Nash looked at me.
I shifted again, trying to control my desire. His gaze narrowed on me, and I licked my lips.