Chapter 20
Nash
Ruby's body is draped across mine on her couch, her head on my chest, the sketchpad she was working on abandoned on the floor.
She went mid-sentence, something about retaliation plans for East's wardrobe, her voice trailing off, her eyes closing, her pencil rolling off the cushion.
I pulled the blanket over both of us and lasted about four minutes before the weight of her against my chest and the warmth of her breathing pulled me under too.
I wake up at two. The afternoon light is warm through the window. Ruby hasn't moved. Her body is heavy against mine, her hair fanned across my shirt, one leg hooked between both of mine.
My hand is on her breast.
I don't remember putting it there. At some point during sleep my palm found its way under the blanket, under the hem of my shirt she's wearing, and settled against the soft curve of her breast. Her nipple is hard against my palm.
My thumb traces a slow circle around it. She shudders in her sleep, a full-body tremor that presses her hips into my thigh, and my cock responds instantly, thickening against her leg. Her breathing stays slow, deep, her lips parted against my chest.
I do it again. Another slow circle. Her back arches slightly, her fingers curling against my ribs, a quiet sound escaping her throat that goes straight to my groin.
I'm fully hard now, aching, my body remembering every sound she made a few hours ago in the spare room.
I wish to wake her up with my mouth. Want to peel the shirt off her and taste the freckles across her chest. Want to get lost in her again, in the heat of her, the way her body opened for me, the way she said my name when she stopped fighting the surrender.
But I stop. Let my hand still and rest there. Her heartbeat is steady under my palm. I watch the light move across the ceiling and let myself feel the full weight of her against me, the trust of a woman who fell asleep on my chest with my hand on her skin.
I could stay here. I would like to stay here. I want to wake her up slowly, feel her body respond before her mind catches up, hear the sleepy version of my name in her mouth. But the phone on the coffee table holds a conversation I've been putting off since this morning.
I press my lips to the top of her head. "Ruby." She stirs. Mumbles something. "Ruby. Wake up."
"No." She burrows deeper into my chest. "Denied. Motion rejected. File an appeal."
"I have to make a call."
"Make it from here. I'm comfortable. You're warm. This is non-negotiable."
I tilt her chin up. Her eyes are half-open, sleepy, soft. I kiss her once briefly, and she chases my mouth when I pull back.
"Ten minutes," I say. "Then I'm coming back to this couch."
"You better." She rolls off me, pulling the blanket with her, curling into the warm spot I left behind. Her eyes close before I reach the kitchen.
Kyle picks up on the second ring. "Nash."
"We need to talk about Friday night."
The silence on the other end tells me he knows exactly what I'm referring to. Kyle is loud, chaotic, committed to every bit he runs, but underneath the comedy is a man who takes his assignments seriously. The silence is him bracing.
"Ruby slipped out the back stairwell while you were on her building," I say. "She drove her car to the fight circuit. She was off the grid for over an hour."
"I know."
"You know because East told you, or you know because you clocked it?"
Another silence. Longer.
"I clocked it late," he says. "Fifteen minutes late. I was at the front entrance. She took the back stairs. By the time I ran around, her car was gone."
"Why didn't you call me?"
"I called East. He said he'd handle it."
My hand grips the counter. The edge bites into my palm the same way it did this morning when East told me the same story from a different angle.
"Kyle." My voice drops. "There are photos of her car taken from across the street at Amaranth. Grease marker on her windshield. The threat is escalating. If she gets past you again, it's not a prank war footnote. It's a gap in her protection that someone is actively looking for."
"I know, Nash. I know." His voice is tight. "It won't happen again."
"It can't."
"It won't." He pauses. "I added the back stairwell to my rotation. Fifteen-minute intervals. I also talked to Rider about staggering our positions so one of us has eyes on both exits at all times."
The adjustment is solid. Proactive. The kind of operational correction that tells me Kyle heard the weight behind my words.
"Good," I say.
"Nash." Kyle's voice is quiet. "If something had happened while she was off the grid—"
"It didn't. We're fixing the gap. That's what matters."
He exhales. "Copy."
I hang up. Through the kitchen doorway, Ruby is asleep again, curled up on the warm spot on the couch, the blanket pulled to her chin. One bare foot hangs off the edge. I walk over and tuck it back under the blanket. Her toes curl against my fingers.
My phone buzzes. Knox.
Decryption complete. War room. 6 p.m.
My chest tightens. I read the text twice, put the phone on the counter, and press my thumb into the headband until the weave bites bone.
The decryption is done. In four hours, I'll have the name of the judge who sealed three federal trafficking cases connected to the pipeline that took Sera.
I've had suspicions. The letterhead in the files.
Lawrence's flinch when Naya's name landed at the picnic table.
Pieces that could mean everything or nothing, and I've been holding them at arm's length because of what it means if they connect.
I sit at the kitchen table and watch Ruby sleep through the doorway.
The warm, golden afternoon light moves across the floor touching her hair, her shoulder, the edge of the blanket.
She's peaceful. Ruby trusts me. She touched the headband this morning with gentle fingers and told me we'd find Sera.
In four hours I'll know whether the pieces connect.
Ruby shifts on the couch, pulling the blanket tighter, and murmurs my name in her sleep. Just once. Quietly. The way she said it this morning with her body against mine and her breath on my neck.
I close my eyes.
At five-thirty, I write her a note.
Gone to the clubhouse. Business. Back by eight. There's food in the fridge. I got you candy. No gas station runs. Keep the deadbolt locked. — N
I set it on the coffee table next to her sketchpad where she'll see it when she wakes up. The bag of sour gummy worms goes beside the note. After pulling on my cut, I check the windows, check the camera feed, text Rider to confirm he's on the building.
At the door, I stop. Turn back. Cross to the couch and press my lips to her forehead. She stirs, her hand reaching up, fingers brushing my jaw before falling back to the cushion.
"Be here when I get back," I say. Quiet enough that she won't remember.
Then I leave and lock the deadbolt behind me.
The ride to the clubhouse takes eleven minutes. Every mile is a countdown.
The war room is dim. Malachi sits at the head of the table. Knox to his left with the laptop open. East sits across from me. James is in his chair. Rider is on Ruby's building. Kyle is on the perimeter.
Knox turns the laptop to face the table.
"Three sealed federal trafficking cases. All three routed through the same chambers in the Southern District of Mississippi. Same filing clerk, Garrett Webb, who retired six months after the last case was sealed. Same sealing procedure. Same judicial signature on every order."
He clicks. A name fills the screen.
The Honorable Lawrence R. Leighton.
The room is quiet.
I stare at the name. The letters are sharp, black, and the font impersonal.
It's the bureaucratic formatting of a federal court system that processes thousands of documents a year.
But this name isn't thousands. This name is the man who shook my hand at a cookout, who cleaned a shotgun while his daughter's prom date waited in the living room, who looked at Ruby across a picnic table with the particular vigilance of a father who would burn the world to keep his child safe.
This name is my girl's father.
"There's more," Knox says. "The third case contains a material witness protection order.
Sealed. The witness name is redacted, but the order references a direct threat assessment connected to the Gulf pipeline.
" He clicks to another screen. "The threat assessment names the target of coercion as an immediate family member of a federal official.
It was directed at his daughter to ensure cooperation with the sealing of the other two cases.
The filing date lines up with three years ago. "
The room absorbs that. Three years ago. The same window Sera disappeared.
"They threatened Ruby," East says. "The pipeline threatened his daughter to force him to bury the cases."
"That's one possibility," Malachi says. "Don't lock motive until we know more."
"Knox," I say. "Walk us through the sequence."
Knox leans back. "Three trafficking cases land in Lawrence Leighton's court.
The evidence in those cases could dismantle the Gulf pipeline.
Before the cases go to trial, the pipeline identifies Lawrence's daughter as leverage.
They make a threat. Lawrence files a protection order for Ruby, seals all three cases, and uses Webb to make the paperwork disappear through non-standard procedures.
" He pauses. "The pipeline survives. The evidence is buried. Ruby never knows she was targeted."
"So he sealed the cases to protect her," East says.