17. Extreme Measures
seventeen
Extreme Measures
Iris
The sun was blinding when Nash threw open the front door. He tried to pull her outside, but the breeze coming in from the open door blew against her bare legs left exposed by her robe finally snapped her out of her daze.
"Nash!" He didn't spare her a glance. His only reaction to her was a subtle tightening on her arm.
It hit her then that in all the chaos of the dead bunny and him killing a man in his foyer, she forgot all she was wearing was a thin silk robe.
Her fear of anyone seeing her this exposed seemed a tad ridiculous now.
There were bigger issues than her modesty.
But that didn't mean that she wanted to arrive in the city in nothing but the thin garment for coverage.
In her desperation to get him to stop, she spoke louder than she meant to.
"Ricky!" her voice echoed off the cavernous ceiling of the grand entrance. The desperate tone in her voice finally got him to stop. He turned to stare at her with a fierce scowl.
"What is it?" He growled impatiently. "I want you locked down and away from these men. I don't trust half of them. Marcus might not have been the only rat."
"I know that! But I need to get dressed," she hissed at him. His eyes tracked down her body. Stopping on her gentle curves that the robe did little to obscure. He glared at the garment as if it personally offended him.
"Have you been wearing that this whole time?" His words were guttural, and his eyes were ablaze as if he was crazed. She scoffed at him. He didn't even notice before, and he had the gall to act like any of this was her fault.
"Yes, this is what I have been wearing! I woke up in our house and should be able to wear whatever I damn well please," she grumbled.
"Daisy and I were alone opening the wedding presents.
It's not like I planned for all of this to happen.
But I would still rather not parade through New York while I'm naked beneath this robe.
" His eyes hardened as he glared at her.
Then he pulled out his phone without ever breaking eye contact.
"Mrs. Nash needs clothing. I want a dress here in the next five minutes." He didn't even blink as he spoke on the phone. They stared at each other intensely until they heard hurried footsteps on the tiled floor approaching them.
A man with brown hair rushed in, his steps nearly frantic. Despite his haste, he made sure his gaze never left the floor in front of him. He handed over the dress without a word. Nash took it from him and then dismissed him with a curt, "Leave."
As soon as they were alone, he held up the blue garment to her with a gruff, "Put this on." She stared at him with wide eyes.
"You want me to get dressed here?" Her eyes skirted around the empty hall, concerned an employee would walk in at any moment.
"Yes, no one would even think about walking in on us.
Not when you're with me." He motioned for her to hurry when she just stood there.
"Trust me, I will let no one see what is mine.
Get dressed and then I can get you to safety.
" She noticed the manic gleam in his eyes, this wasn't the time to push him.
And if she was being honest, she wanted to leave too.
It didn't feel safe here anymore. She nodded quickly before shrugging out of the robe.
She pulled the dress on over her head, grateful that it was one of her dresses with a support for her breasts sewn into it.
Because the guard was remiss in bringing her any undergarments.
It was a simply blue sun dress made of thick, soft material.
As she smoothed down the fabric over her thighs, she looked up at him with hesitation.
The feeling of nothing protecting her most private area felt distracting.
He noticed the way her eyes shifted away from him and leaned down over her.
"If you weren't in danger here," he whispered into her ear while his hand slipped beneath her skirt and travelled upwards. "I'd bend you over right here and show you what I think of this pretty little pussy all exposed under that dress."
His words, combined with his skillful fingers, sent arousal roaring through her. Abruptly, he pulled away. She moaned at the loss of his fingers, and he smirked down at her. "Soon, ma fleur. Let's get you safe first. Then we'll play."
With those words, he drug her outside. Her hand jerked up to shield her eyes from the glare of the bright sun.
The same scarred man from earlier was waiting for them at the base of the steps.
As they came abreast of him, he turned and walked silently with them towards a dark SUV with blacked-out windows.
"Iris, this is Dolph," Nash spoke when the three of them reached the vehicle. "He's going to be your new bodyguard." Iris's eyes bulged out at hearing this.
"Bodyguard?" she squeaked out.
"Yes, his only job now is to keep you safe," came the gruff response. "I am not going to be able to be with you every moment. When I'm not able to be there, Dolph will be."
She turned her gaze to land on him. There was nothing there.
Nothing but those same sad eyes she saw before.
With the sun behind him, it cast his scar in shadow.
It was all dark lines and jagged edges. It was haunting.
The pain she could see in him. He met her eyes, giving her the briefest nod before opening the door for them.
A firm push from Nash's hand on her lower back had her climbing in. As soon as she sat down, the door closed behind her and Nash came around the back to slide in next to her. Dolph opened the driver's door, and within moments they were pulling out of the long driveway.
"What happens now?" She asked Nash, but he gave her a small shake of his head before pulling out his phone.
He lifted it to his ear and promptly ignored her.
With a sigh, she sank into her seat and stared out the window.
Her eyes turned glassy as she stared at the shoreline as Dolph drove them silently down the road.
Nash's curt voice filled the car as he barked out order after order to whoever was unlucky enough to be on the other line.
She closed her eyes, but the sight of a bloody and mutilated rabbit flashed behind her eyelids.
She opened them with a shudder. But it was no help.
The threat sent with the poor animal was never far from her mind.
Someone was after her, and she had no idea why. She had no enemies. No one she could imagine would go to these extremes. What did they hope to gain?
"You're coming to New York," Nash's harsh words broke her train of thought. She turned to look at him, and the tapping on his knee was the first thing that she noticed. She'd never seen him unnerved before. But he was. He was doing everything he could to protect her. Her safety mattered to him.
She rotated in her seat, wanting to look at him easily.
This man was a killer. It was clear she had never really known him.
She suspected he was working with the mafia or something, but nothing so violent as murder.
Laundering money, or bribing some politician, maybe.
But it was clear he answered to no one. He was not some puppet to some unknown mafia don.
No, he wasn't involved in some gang or mafia family.
She didn't know what he was involved with, but it was clear it was bigger than she first thought.
But what she knew was that he was hers. And she was his.
He went to unbelievable lengths for her.
With an uneasy feeling, she asked herself if she was upset over him killing someone at all.
Or if it was just the shock of seeing it happen in front of her.
The man was a traitor, working for whoever tried to have her killed.
If asked, he would have hurt her. Nash did what he had to do to protect her.
It didn't change the fact that he killed someone. He was a killer.
The real question she faced was far more worrying. Did she care? Did she care he was a killer?
"I'm moving a team out to replace you, but you better be on a plane here by the end of the day." Nash barked before he lowered the phone. He glanced over at her and caught her stare. It gave him pause. "What are you staring at me like that for?"
Iris jolted, unsure how to explain her dark thoughts. Did she love him so much that she could turn a blind eye to such a heinous crime? Rather worryingly, she thought she did.
"It doesn't matter if I horrify you now," Nash leaned towards her, his whole body tense.
His hand came forward and gripped hers so tight that it bordered on pain.
"You're my wife. If I had to kill one hundred men to keep you safe, I'd do it.
You're mine, and nothing is going to change that.
" He threw the words out like a threat. As if he was daring her to challenge him.
But she realized she didn't want to fight him. She knew exactly who he was. A man obsessed. And maybe it made her a terrible person, but she liked being the object of his obsession. It may be toxic, but it felt good. Too good. She squeezed his hand back and leaned forward.
"Yes, I am. I'm your wife," he pulled back slightly in shock. Clearly not expecting her words. She nodded her head, a small smile turning just the corners of her mouth up. "You're my husband, and I'll stand by you. No matter what, we're in this together. You don't horrify me."
Nash was still for several seconds, as if he needed time to digest what it was she was saying.
And then he moved with explosive energy.
His lips crashed into hers, his hands burrowing deeply into her hair.
He tilted her head to the side so he could plunder her mouth with no obstacles.
Passion flared between them, and she would happily burn if it meant she could live in his arms for eternity.