58. Nash
Chapter 58
Nash
R osie hops from the truck. She's an artist in charge, directing Quinn where to haul the dress bags for the participants riding on the festival float. He salutes her, handing off his coffee in exchange for a pile, and heads toward Bambi’s pack house, where everyone is gathering outside by the attached industrial garage.
Today Rosie is cute as hell in a cutoff paint-splattered shirt that advertises Bambi’s Boutique and jeans that hug her ass, accentuating her round hips. She reaches into the truck to put away Quinn’s coffee, and I can’t help but remember the way her sweet ass rubbed against me in the shower.
It's too bad we were behind after getting home late from the game last night and I couldn’t do anything about it. I can’t do shit about it now either, but the view is impossible to beat.
When she catches me staring, she raises a brow. “That means you too, alpha. Don’t you have a float to hitch?”
I back her against the truck, my hands caging her in so I can steal a kiss to tide me over. My lips slide against hers, and I swallow her rebuttal. She melts, hooking her arm around my neck. Her curves brush against me, and I let out a hungry grumble that’s met by a shrill scream.
We break away from the kiss, eyes drawn to Bambi as she comes out of the garage, yelling, “That fucking omega is going down.”
Rosie freezes for a moment before pushing past me, and I know whatever she’s about to find is gonna piss me off.
Bambi grabs Rosie’s hand. “We can fix it.”
But Rosie doesn’t stop.
Every instinct tells me to scoop her up and keep her from seeing.
I jog behind her, but Quinn holds his hand out to stop me. “After, babe. It’s her work. She has the right to see.”
I swallow around the rage building in my throat, hating the overwhelming feeling of helplessness gnawing inside me. Quinn can’t keep me from following her though.
As soon as I see the float, I know it’s Marigold’s revenge for Rosie winning— at life . The spiteful omega didn’t take a baseball bat to the whole design. No, the purpose here was to destroy Rosie while letting the float remain intact, making her ashamed to show it.
Marigold painted the clearing where the women from the shop are supposed to stand. The cheerful meadow has been splattered with black spray paint to spell Busted Bitches Boutique . The word busted leaves no doubt in my mind it was Marigold. It’s the stupid name kids used to call Rosie when we were young and was meant to hurt her.
The people in the shop and driveway are loud. Bambi is on the phone with the police while Quinn snaps pictures and Bambi’s pack reviews security footage. The other staff members from the shop are all pissed, half of them in tears. My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I know it’s Dane reacting to the stress in his bonds.
“Her cousin sabotaged the float,” I say by way of answering.
“You’ve got to be kidding.” I hear Dane speaking to someone, trying to figure out how to ditch his football obligations.
“I’ve gotta go. Call your dad.” I hang up, never taking my eyes off Rosie.
Every muscle is locked, waiting for her call. Her bond is cloudy, and I can’t get a good read on her or her scent. Watching her walk the edge, her hand tracing along the feathery grass we rigged to the sides, is torture.
I want to fight the world for her, push back every awful dark thing until nothing bad ever touches her light. My thoughts go dark, all my alpha instincts demanding retribution, and I finally call, “Baby…”
Her gaze snaps to mine, and the fire I see in her green eyes restarts my heart. She is Medusa, set to destroy anyone who dares look at her beauty. “Find me black spray paint. I need fast-drying. At least three or four cans. And glitter. Marigold isn’t ruining shit.”
She comes to me, curling her hand in my shirt, her pretty face inches from mine. “She is the one going to jail today, do you understand?” Her scent is spiked with the heady spice of her determination. She hugs my neck tightly before pulling away. “Promise me.”
I hold her gaze, let her feel all the dark and twisted shit. She doesn’t shy away from it; in our connection, she gives me her devastation too, but she follows it with a warm rush of love.
“I’m choosing love against her hate. Not for her but because I want all the space in my heart to love you and our pack.”
Folding her against me, I give in. The red rage boiling beneath the surface wants to argue, but the point here is to follow her lead. “I swear to do nothing that will get me arrested today,” I say with a sigh.
“Thank you.” She pushes against my chest. “Spray paint and glitter! Go! I may be choosing love, but I’m also not letting her win.” Rosie raises her voice, calling to the others as I jog toward the truck. “Fuck the haters. Our float is about to kick ass.”
* * *
By the time I return with supplies, the police cruiser is pulling out, followed by Bambi’s pack. Amid the chaos of those remaining inside, I spot Dane with Rosie, but Quinn is nowhere to be found. I hand off the bags to her, and she gives me a kiss on the cheek before scrambling to get to work. Since I left, there have been some serious changes.
The original float was pastel colors and spring themed, but this version of the float is already edgier, although I have no idea what she’s planning.
Next to me, Dane hangs up his phone with a sigh. “Dad is at the station. They’re gonna look at the footage, but Jace and Bambi are pressing charges. Dad said the video shows Marigold clear as day. I bet she didn’t think they had cameras.” His gaze meets mine, and I can feel our shared outrage.
“Hopefully this solves the problem, Dane, because I’m not letting this shit fucking happen again?—”
There’s a spike in the bonds, and I search for Quinn, but I still don’t see him. “Do you have any idea where our omega is?”
Dane joins my hunt, scanning the garage but coming up empty.
“Did he go to the police station to meet your dad?” I ask, but that suggestion doesn’t make sense.
Rosie pauses in her spray-painting, pulling down her mask. “He had to go get Grandma Lily, remember? We’re following the plan. Nash, get the truck ready. I’ve got five more minutes, then we’ll pray it has time to dry.” She turns back to paint, then twists around again. “Dane, you can go back to your float?—”
“Not on your life, sweetheart. I’m staying here,” he growls.
“Then help Nash!” she says, shooing us off.
Dane looks at me as we return to the yard to get the truck. “Should I be worried?”
“I promised her I wasn’t getting arrested today,” I say.
“Did our omega make the same promise?” Dane asks as we fold ourselves into the truck and back into the garage.
“Knowing Rosie? Probably.”
Dane hops out to attach the trailer, calling from the back, “I don’t know which answer I was hoping for.”
“Did I ever tell you I like you a little feral?”
I catch him shaking his head at me in the rearview mirror. “You know, what’s funny is she didn’t ask me to promise anything. And I happen to know her cousin is downtown at the staging area.”
“Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.” I give him a look. “Your dad, however, might need the information.”
Dane pulls his phone from his pocket, and I hop out to help Rosie.
If I can’t smash skulls, I guess the next best thing is making sure Marigold ends up going down in front of the whole town.