Chapter Eighteen #2
Nash blinked. One of Connor’s strung-out hang-ons, no doubt. Back before the bank took the house, he’d walked in on all kinds of shit. But the thought of Cassie stepping into her family home and finding it like that—the garbage, the stink—lit something hot in his gut.
“Dammit, Cas,” he said, voice rough. “You had no business goin’ in there alone.”
Her head snapped up, eyes flashing. “I’m a grown woman, Nash. I’ve been taking care of myself a long time.”
As they stared at each other, Nash’s mouth flattening, the trauma doors slid open and Ollie Caldwell came through, uniform pressed, hat tucked under his arm.
Ollie stopped short when he saw Nash—surprise flashing before irritation set in. And, yeah, the feeling was mutual.
“Cassie,” Ollie said stiffly. “You doin’ okay?”
“Fine,” she said quickly. “How is she?”
“She’s stable. But still unconscious.”
“Was I right?” Cassie pressed. “Was she one of the girls from the Rooster? The ones you were talkin’ to?”
Ollie gave a tight nod, working overtime to avoid Nash’s gaze, much to Nash’s amusement. “Name’s Maya. Been in and outta trouble a couple years now—mostly drug related.”
“Drug related,” Cassie repeated. “So that’s how she knew Connor?”
“I don’t know details. People in that scene…they all know each other. Hell, everyone this side of Charleston knows each other.”
Nash rolled the name around—Maya—until a face stuck. Skinny. Blonde. Hollow-eyed and twitching. He’d seen her with Connor plenty. Never did find out if it was just the drugs between them—or something more.
The emergency doors slid open again, air rushing as Sheriff Tate strode in with another deputy at his shoulder. His beady gaze swept the room—Ollie, Cassie—before landing on Nash, his frown deepening.
“Well, well,” Tate drawled. “Nathanial Walker. Should’ve known you’d be in the middle of this mess.”
Nash snorted. “Told you before, Tate—why would the Kings bother runnin’ dope through your county when it’s already crawlin’ with it?” He shrugged. “I like my money clean.”
Tate’s eyes narrowed. “Funny,” he muttered. “Man who keeps sayin’ he’s clean always seems to turn up where the dirt is.”
Nash held his gaze, letting the silence stretch until Tate looked away first.
“Ms. Berry,” Tate said, voice slick with condescension. “Heard you had quite the day, sugar.”
Cassie crossed her arms, leveled him with a flat stare—and then turned her back on him entirely, facing Nash instead.
Watching Tate flush an angry shade of red, Nash chuckled.
“Caldwell,” Tate barked. “You get her official statement yet?”
“We were just gettin’ to it, Sheriff—”
“That’s a no, then.” Tate turned back to Nash, flicking his fingers toward the door. “Walker, I think it’s time you moved along.”
Nash didn’t budge. “I’ll leave when Cassie does.”
Tate stepped closer, one hand drifting toward his duty belt. “That so? Maybe we can think of a few ways of changin’ your mind.”
Cassie spun toward the sheriff, eyes blazing. She yanked out her phone, thumb unlocking it in one smooth motion.
“Go on—keep talkin’. And just so we’re clear—not only is every person in this room about to get front-row seats to your threats, but so are my twenty thousand Instagram followers and ten thousand YouTube subscribers—”
Nash watched Tate’s lips press thin as the realization took hold that he wasn’t the one holding the reins anymore.
“You want my statement?” Cassie went on.
“Here it fuckin’ is. I wanted to see the house I grew up in one last time before I left.
Saw the broken glass and the woman chokin’ on the floor.
Couldn’t get in without cuttin’ myself, so I went through my old bedroom window instead. And now here we all are.”
Before I left.
The words hit Nash hard, but he kept his face neutral.
“So now we got trespassin’,” Tate said tightly. “Breakin’ and enterin’, too.”
“So I should’ve just left her there dyin’?” Cassie stepped right up on him, phone inches from his face. “That what you’re sayin’, Sheriff Tate of Redwater County, West Virginia? I shoulda let her choke to death over a goddamn break-an’-enter charge?”
Ollie cleared his throat. “No denyin’ she saved Maya’s life. And that’s what matters.”
Tate shot him a glare before turning back to Cassie. “I’d imagine it won’t be long before you and I are havin’ words again, Ms. Berry. ’Specially if you’re hangin’ around the likes of Walker.”
Cassie sucked in a hard breath, fingers curling tight around her phone. Nash felt it immediately—the shift in her, the storm about to break loose.
Slinging an arm over her shoulders, Nash steered her toward the doors. “Don’t give him a reason,” he muttered. And for once, she didn’t fight him.
Outside, the light had dimmed even further, the sky hanging low and heavy as they headed toward his bike when—
“Cas, wait up!”
Nash bit back a curse as Ollie jogged across the lot, that stupid fuckin’ hat still tucked beneath his arm. “Found this during my walkthrough of your house,” he said, holding out an old cassette tape. “Didn’t want Tate confiscatin’ it.”
“Shit,” Cassie breathed, taking it. “I can’t believe I forgot it.”
Nash’s eyes caught on the faded ink as she turned it over.
WHEN YOU MISS HER.
Connor’s handwriting. No mistaking it.
“Had more important things on your mind, I reckon,” Ollie said, smiling at her. “Now—is there anything else I can do for you? Offer you a ride back to Margie’s, maybe?”
“Thanks, Ollie,” Cassie said, tucking the tape into her back pocket. “But I already got one.”
“Looks like rain,” Ollie added, glancing up. “Weather’s turnin’.”
Like a goddamn dog with a bone, Nash thought, fighting the urge to deck the idiot.
Cassie looked up just as a raindrop hit her cheek. She wiped it away with her thumb, almost smiling.
“Hell,” she said. “It’s just a little rain. I’ve performed in worse.”
As she turned away, Ollie’s eyes flicked to Nash, his smile faltering.
Nash slid his arm back around Cassie’s shoulders and held Ollie’s stare over her head, answering it with a slow, knowing smirk. He didn’t turn his back on the hospital until Ollie disappeared inside.
At the bike, Nash handed Cassie his helmet and swung a leg over the seat. She didn’t climb on right away.
“Connor knew Maya,” she said quietly. “Didn’t he?”
Nash dipped his chin. “Yeah. Pretty sure they were usin’ together. Don’t know if it was more than that.”
“I think…” Cassie sighed. “I think I want to talk to her. When she wakes up.”
Nash nodded. He wanted to talk to her too—had questions of his own—but there was no point adding more weight to today.
“One thing at a time,” he said, then, “Cas—ride with me.”
Climbing up behind him, she slid her arms around his waist, her cheek settling between his shoulder blades.
As the bike roared to life beneath them, Nash sat perfectly still for a second, just feeling the weight of her against his back.
Then he pulled onto the street grinning like a fucking idiot.