Chapter 27 #2
I nodded enthusiastically. She returned the nod, then shot her husband an icy glare.
“Precisely, see. He cares for her,” she said. She swiveled back to me, her face breaking into a saccharin sweet grin. “So, where is Betty?”
This woman? I could negotiate with her. She had reason. “She’s in the cabin, sleeping with the cats,” I offered.
Sybil turned to Nash. “See? Sleeping with the cats. He even saved the cats.” She furrowed her brow, glancing back in my direction. “Cats? Plural?”
I nodded. “I got her a second one. His name is Villainy.”
She gave me a wicked grin, and I returned it. I felt she was on my side. I had no idea how she knew she could trust me, but if she knew Betty, then perhaps she knew about me as well. Perhaps Betty had spoken about me.
Nash’s hands kept clenching and unclenching at his sides. If not for Sybil, we’d both be bleeding on the floor by now.
“Alright then,” Sybil announced, gesturing toward the shed door. “Lead the way.” She blinked expectantly.
Honestly, even I felt the need to obey her.
I swallowed, gave Nash a wide berth, and skirted around the snowmobile and four-wheeler to reach the door. Keeping large obstacles between us seemed like the best idea.
I led them up the hill to the cabin and onto the porch, gesturing to the rocking chairs. “Wait here so I can make sure she’s decent,” I said.
Nash growled at that.
I winked at him.
His whole body tensed, hands poised to strike, but he froze when he saw the lifeless pine marten around my neck. His eyes narrowed, his head tilting in question.
“Oh, him? That’s Larry,” I said, reaching up to take him from my shoulders and holding him up to inspect his face.
Larry dared to open his little eyes, but was shaking with fear.
“Come on, dude, you’re fine. I know you’re tougher than this.” I moved to the end of the porch, where a massive tree trunk stretched up into the canopy overhead. Holding him out, he perked up and leaped from my hand, scrambling up the tree and sending bark flying in his wake.
“That thing was alive?” Sybil asked. I glanced back at her. “Yeah, he’s just... Larry.”
Her hands flew to her gaping mouth. “He was so cute!” she exclaimed. “Was it a ferret?”
I shrugged, “Sort of. You could call it a ferret, I guess.”
Moving towards the door, offering Nash one last scrutinizing glare before kicking off my boots and stepping inside.
As soon as the door clicked shut, I let out a long sigh. They were going to mess it all up, weren’t they? The couple’s muffled bickering was already audible on the porch behind me. Family always complicated things; at least it seemed that way to me.
Gathering my courage, I walked over to the bed and found Betty just as I’d left her. I slipped beneath the covers, pulling her close and kissing her neck while I hummed against her skin.
She stirred, a soft moan escaping her lips as her fingers wove into my hair and traced my scalp. Despite everything, I grew hard, always in need of her.
She gently took hold of my beard, pulling my face to hers for a deep, lingering kiss. Her legs wrapped around my waist, pressing her core against me. She gasped at what she felt there.
“Gray,” she simpered. “Still not satisfied?”
“Never,” I whispered, then chuckled against her lips.
She shook her head.
I pulled back, tucking a strand of her chocolate hair behind her ear. “Though… as much as ravaging you is my number one priority, we have a bit of a situation.”
Her brow knitted together. “Did a pump break in the greenhouse again?”
I really appreciated where her mind was at, focused on our simple everyday problems and not the bigger ones. “No, not a pump.”
A few barks came from Bill on the porch. Betty froze. “Damn it, Gray. Are those wolves?”
I chuckled at her terrified expression. “Not a wolf.”
“Well, what else barks, Gray?” She was not amused, face leaching of color. It was adorable.
“Did you know wolves don’t actually bark?” I said.
She gave me a derisive glare, slapping me playfully before gripping my collar. “Then what is it, Gray?”
I breathed in, elongating the suspense, then breathed out. “It’s Nash.”
Her eyes widened to an impossible size as she slid out from under me. Sitting bolt upright, she clutched the comforter to her chest. “No. You’re joking.”
I shook my head. “I wish I were,” I mumbled.
“Nash? As in... my brother? My actual, human jackass of a brother?”
I nodded. “And a dog named Bill, and a Sybil.”
“Sybil!” she shrieked, a wide grin spreading across her face as she threw back the covers and leaped out of bed. “Sybbie! She’s here?”
She was off again, her spectacular body bouncing with pure joy, completely unaware of the sensual power she held over me. Damn it, why did they have to show up?
“Yes, they found us… somehow.” I glared at her in accusation, while also drinking her in.
She halted. “It wasn’t me!” Her foot stomped the floor, hands and arms attempting to cover herself as my gaze swept down her form. “I never told him where I was.”
“Did you get a phone signal on that cliff?” I asked, my voice tight.
She flashed a knowing, sardonic smile, arching her back, aware of her ability to wield her body like a weapon. “Oh, that. Well… perhaps,” she replied. “But I did nothing else, I swear. I didn’t tell him where I was, so I don’t know how he found us.”
I shook my head. “He tracked your phone, Betty.”
Realization dawned on her face. “Oh… well, shit.”
It was careless of me not to keep a closer eye on that purse of hers. Still, there was a bigger reason to worry. If Nash could find us, anyone could. Crap, I had to talk to Ethan. How easy was it to track a cell phone? Did the mafia even know her number—that was a stupid question.
Betty threw on her robe, rushing to the door and slipping her bare feet into muddy boots. She looked completely disheveled and thoroughly fucked, and her brother was going to notice.
I ran my hand down my face. I was a dead man.
She flung the door open, and a cacophony of screaming, crying, and excited canine yelps filled the air.
The black and white dog soon bounded in, and to my shock, Mr. Beans darted out from beneath the bed to greet him.
A continuous, drawn-out meow escaped Mr. Beans as he trotted right up to Bill, rubbing up into his chest and leg, circling him in companionable joy.
I retreated to the kitchen, finding it to be the last sanctuary I had left. Leaning my palms on the counter, I waited. Soon, bodies filed through the door, coats were shed, and eyes avoided mine—all except Betty’s, which held a wary, apologetic glimmer.
Sybil placed a hand on Betty’s arm. “Are you alright?” She scrutinized her face.
Betty beamed. “Wait until you see Gray’s greenhouse. Sybil, you’re going to love it here. It’s amazing, like heaven.”
Okay, well. That felt good. She was showing the place off with pride.
Nash stood at the door, hands in his pockets and legs spread wide. He looked like a security guard or a club bouncer.
Our eyes met. “Beer?” I asked.
“Whiskey,” he replied.
He’d be a tough nut to crack, but we’d get there. I nodded, taking the whiskey from the top of the fridge and two tumblers from the cabinet. I poured him a generous glass and slid it over.
Betty was so feminine and bubbly right now, and it was beautiful to see. “Sybil, come out to the shed so I can get cleaned up in the tub. I have so much to tell you,” she gushed.
Was she really going to leave me alone with this guy?
I wasn’t afraid of Nash. When it came down to it, I was a far better fighter. I just didn’t want to deal with the awkward aftermath. He’d ask the tough questions; I was sure of it. But I might as well get it over with. I had questions of my own, like, how the hell did they get here, anyway?
“Want to sit?” I gestured to the two armchairs.
He grunted his agreement and sat down while I tossed a few logs into the stove.
Taking the opportunity, I hurried to the cabinet where I kept the satellite phone.
Sure enough, there was a missed call from Ethan, time-stamped late last night.
I could have easily missed it, as Betty’s every curve and soft angle had me captivated.
From the corner of my eye, I saw him surveying the room, looking at the ceiling, leaning forward to examine the molding and the floor, grunting each time. Grunt of approval? It was yet to be known.
The dog was doing much the same, sniffing all around the baseboards and inspecting every inch of the room. I felt wildly scrutinized, as if I were about to be caught hiding something.
Mr. Beans leaped into Nash’s lap, purring and rubbing against him before vigorously settling down to knead his arm. It was clear that they knew each other well. Villainy approached him slowly, settling at his feet and looking up with a blink. I watched Nash extend a hand for Villy to sniff.
Alright, maybe not a complete sociopath. If the cats liked him, that boded well.
I sat opposite Nash.
Nash gave me a placid stare.
I returned it.
He took a long sip of the whiskey, eyeing me over the rim of the glass before resting it on the arm of the chair and crossing his hands over Mr. Beans. “So…” he began. “You gonna tell me what happened?”