Nash (Dirty Aces MC Book 3)

by Lane Hart

  “In that case, you go get the money and I’ll go get dressed,” Lucy says as she carries her laptop with her to the bedroom and then shuts the door. It’s a shame that she won’t be wearing the pajamas, but they are definitely not appropriate on the streets. Or safe near me in close quarters like a car or my bike.

  Chapter Nine

  Lucy

  * * *

  While Nash is upstairs, I quickly pull on a pair of jeans, a t-shirt and some sneakers, then jot down the names and addresses he wanted me to find and shove the paper into my front pocket.

  Wanting to give the relatives of the dead men money is a nice gesture; I’m just not sure I understand why Nash feels he needs to make amends.

  Surely, he’s not responsible for the men who were killed in a horrible fire a few weeks back. They were probably just acquaintances of the MC, and he just thinks that their relatives could use the assistance after losing their loved ones so unexpectedly.

  Either way, I doubt he’ll ever tell me. But that’s fine. At least I get to tag along with him to see this good deed of his in action.

  I can imagine it now, one of the wives missing her husband like crazy goes out to check the mail and then finds a surprise that could help ease at least a financial burden for a little while. Not that I know how much Nash is planning to give them. A hundred bucks would be a nice, unexpected gift. Hopefully I’ll find out.

  The man doesn’t bother knocking on my unlocked door when he returns. He simply barges on in like he owns the place, looking like a hot bad-ass with a stack of manila envelopes shoved under one arm. “You ready?” he asks.

  “I am.”

  “Can I have the addresses now?”

  “I’ll give them to you one at a time,” I respond smugly. “Should we take my car or yours?”

  “I guess you can drive since I’ve been drinking.”

  “Good call,” I agree, forgetting that important piece of information. Nash is drinking whenever I see him. No telling how many beers he had before he came down to the pool. Although, I do think his amber eyes look clearer than yesterday, so maybe he’s drinking less. That would be a good start.

  Suddenly, it hits me that Nash’s depression could possibly be tied to the deaths of the five men he had me find addresses for. Were they perhaps friends of his rather than just acquaintances? Is he grieving for them, missing them? That’s so freaking sad that I want to wrap him in a hug and hold on tight for days. Or climb him like a tree and rub up on his dick until he fucks me so hard I can’t walk the next day. Both would be equally nice in their own way. A combination of the two would be even better…

  “Lucy?” Nash calls my name to get my attention when I leave reality and enter my dream world. “You ready?”

  “Yes,” I answer with a sigh. “Let’s go.” Grabbing my purse, I hurry past Nash out of the apartment. As soon as he is clear, I lock up and lead the way to my car, unlocking the doors with the key-fob and making the headlights flash in the dimness of the sun finally setting.

  “You’re kidding me, right?” Nash asks when he comes to a stop next to the passenger door.

  “About what?”

  “You drive a purple car?”

  “Yeah, why?” I ask.

  “It’s so…girly.”

  “Huh,” I mutter before I tug the front waistband of my jeans forward and glance down them. “Well, what do you know! I do indeed have girl parts!” With a roll of my eyes, I open my car door and stare at Nash over the hood. “What’s the matter? You too masculine to ride in a purple car?”

  “Possibly.”

  “Shut up and get in!” I tell him.

  He grumbles but does slip into the passenger seat while I toss my purse into the back seat and get buckled up. No one as tall as Nash has ever ridden in the passenger seat, so it’s sort of funny to see him cramped in with his knees touching the dash even after sliding the seat back as far as it goes.

  “Sorry,” I tell him.

  “Yeah, right,” he grumbles.

  “So, should we start with the closest address and work our way out further or start with the furthest and work back this way?” I ask.

  “I really don’t care. However you want to do it.”

  “Fine. We’ll go closest first, which would be…” I pull out the sheet of paper from my pocket to look at the list of cities. “The two in Carolina Beach.” I then grab my phone and type in the address for turn-by-turn directions.

  It doesn’t take us long to pull up outside the first house, a small run-down one-story on a street where most of the houses are boarded up. I’m guessing they could really use any amount of money out in this neighborhood. “Give me a second,” Nash says when he takes one of the envelopes and then gets out. He jogs up the front steps and quietly puts it in the mailbox beside the door.

  While he’s busy, I grab one of the other envelopes and pinch the metal clasp to open it for a quick glance inside.

  “Holy shit!”

  It’s not one hundred dollars. There are, like, stacks of hundreds!

  Nash returns to the car before I recover from my shock, catching me red-handed snooping. He snatches the envelope from me and seals it up. “You don’t know how to mind your own business, do you?”

  “How much money is that?” I ask since there’s no reason to pretend like I didn’t see it.

  “Not enough.”

  “That’s like thousands, right?”

  “Ten,” Nash responds.

  “Ten thousand dollars!” I exclaim with my jaw hanging open.

  “Just drive the car to the next address.”

  “Why are you giving them so much money? What are you doing with that much cash?” I ask.

  “If you don’t put this car in drive within the next five seconds, I’ll get out and walk the rest of the way,” Nash grumbles.

  “Might be tough since I have all the addresses,” I remind him.

  “Just go!” he shouts. So, I enter in the next address on my phone and pull away from the curb.

  “This is really nice of you,” I say as I drive through the dark streets.

  “No, it’s not,” he argues.

  And despite my many attempts to get him to talk on the way to the other four addresses, that’s the last words Nash says the rest of our trip.

  It’s pitch black when we get back to the apartment complex.

  When Nash starts up the steps to his apartment without even saying goodbye, I find myself already missing his surly ass. That’s why I blurt out, “Your beers are still in my fridge!”

  His hand pauses on the banister, halfway between the first and second floor. After a momentary deliberation, he turns around and comes back down. I try not to grin like a lunatic that he’s coming back to my apartment. For all I know, he’ll grab the beers and leave.

  But after I let us in, Nash only grabs one beer and then pops the top as he heads over to take a seat on my sofa. He grunts as he settles into the cushions, rubbing his hand up and down the armrest, looking ridiculous in his badass leather cut on such a feminine sofa. His tall frame takes up more than half of the cushions. “Ugly as fuck, but this thing is comfortable.”

  “It’s not ugly,” I argue without effort since I’m just glad he’s staying. Picking up the television remote from the entertainment center, I carry it over and sit down on the right side of the sofa as far away as I can get, making myself as small as possible with my legs folded underneath me to turn the television on. Even as balled up as I am, my kneecap still ends up pressed against the outside of one of Nash’s spread thighs. “Want to watch a movie or something?”

  “Whatever,” he mutters before taking a sip from his bottle. “As long as it’s not a chick flick.”

  Once I pull up the Netflix menu, I hand him the remote. “Here, you pick.”

  Nash cuts his amber eyes in my direction, looking from the remote in my hand to my shirt and jeans. When he finally takes it, he says, “I’ll find something if you want to change and get comfortable.”
/>   Comfortable?

  Do I not look comfortable in my baggy jeans and tee? They’re comfy enough for lounging.

  Unless…is Nash hinting that he wants me to put my cami and shorts back on instead? The set came from the junior’s section, so I never really considered them to be sexy or anything of the sort. In fact, I was wearing them the night Malcolm came over, and he didn’t even spare them a glance. But he’s also got a woman with a kid he obviously adores…

  “I’ll be right back,” I say when I hurry to the bedroom and shut the door, my heart beating a million times a minute. It’s entirely possible that I’ve misinterpreted things and Nash didn’t mean anything. On the off chance that he did, I quickly undress, stripping out of my bra and panties too, then apply lotion to every inch of my body and brush my teeth before dressing in my pajamas. Looking at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, I still look like the geeky computer girl who stopped growing at five foot nothing with only a half-decent rack.

  If it’s been three years since Nash has been with a woman, his comment, if it even meant anything, could just be out of desperation to screw the closest available woman now that he’s a free man.

  I’m okay with being convenient.

  The old Lucy wouldn’t have considered engaging in meaningless sex with anyone, especially not an outlaw biker. This new and cancer-free Lucy would count her lucky stars to be touched by a man as hot as Nash.

  Since I’ve taken three times the normal amount of time to change, I adjust my ponytail and fluff my bangs out of my eyes before forcing myself to return to the living room.

  I don’t even look in Nash’s direction, but I can feel his heated stare on me as I cross the room and retake my seat next to him. Again, my knee and his thigh connect, but this time it feels different because my legs are nearly bare. I can feel the rub of his denim pants on my flesh, the heat from his body. And of course my gaze is lowered to his thigh and not whatever is on the television, which leads me directly to his crotch. I’m pretty sure there’s a notably raised ridge down the right side of his jean leg.

  Nash’s leg bumps mine to get my attention before he says, “I need another beer. Want one?”

  “S-sure,” I agree. Liquid courage is exactly what I need because I’ve never been in this situation before, where I want to jump the man sitting next to me but not sure how he would react to that. Barry and I started dating as teenagers and had all of our sexual firsts together after discussing and researching the logistics thoroughly like the dorks we were back then and still are.

  Nash returns soon, offering me one of the open bottles. I stupidly take a sip before he sits down. His weight causes the cushions to sink in the center, the bottle to hit my tooth, and beer to dribble down my chin.

  “Ow, shit!” I shout. Jeez, I am so out of my element here.

  “You okay?” Nash asks with a quiet chuckle as he sinks back down, now with my knees ending up on top of his thigh so that he has to rest his arm over them. I’m so embarrassed I can’t look him in the eye.

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” I reply as I swipe my fingers over my chin to dry it off before trying again.

  As I tip my bottle back, I finally sneak a peek at Nash’s face and find him watching my lips that are pressed to the opening. Intensely. Like the kind of look that makes me wonder if he’s about to jerk the bottle out of my hand, throw it across the room and then press me down into the sofa to kiss me until we’re humping each other through our clothes and have to tear them in half to get him inside of me. Because I’m pretty sure that’s the type of man Nash is. He’s not the kind to kiss a woman after a date, then wait a few weeks to run the bases before finally sealing the deal. No, when he’s in, I bet he’s all in, taking everything he wants at the same time whether it’s the first date or a woman he met at a bar.

  But then I unfortunately remember that he’s not the kind of man to just pounce on me or anyone else because he’s been celibate for years! Ellie ruined him. If not for his ex-wife, I bet he would be that aggressive, horny male who enjoys throwing his big dick around wherever and whenever he wants. And yes, I’m almost certain it would be thick and long.

  Lowering the bottle once I’ve nearly drained it, I turn my attention to the television to pretend to watch whatever is on.

  Before my disappointment can wash over me, though, I feel the slightest twitch from Nash’s thumb brushing over my knee, the bottom one, which is so close to my inner thigh I stop breathing.

  Suddenly, my phone rings, causing both of us to startle like two teenagers getting caught making out by their parents. Nash jerks his arm away as I jump up to search for my phone. Thankfully, my bottle is nearly empty or it would’ve spilled all over us.

  My phone is still in my purse that I left on one of the stools at the counter. So, with my back to Nash, I put the bottle down and pull it out to see who is calling me at nine o’clock at night. The word “Mom” flashes on the screen with a photo of her in the background.

  “Sorry but I better take this,” I say to Nash before I answer since she doesn’t usually call so late.

  “Hey, Mom. Everything okay?” I ask, my voice shaky from whatever was happening on my sofa before she interrupted.

  “No, everything is not okay!” she exclaims in my ear. “I just got a call from Lorraine who said you still haven’t RSVP’d to the wedding, and today was the deadline!”

  “Oh, well, I’m not sure if I’m going or not,” I reply softly.

  “But you have to, Lucy! Your only cousin wants you to be a backup bridesmaid. And I know you two have had your ups and downs, but there’s a baby on the way! It’s time for us to all put the past behind us and move on!”

  “Easy for you to say,” I grumble.

  “This is your chance to be the bigger person, sweetheart. Show them that you’re doing just fine even after everything that happened.”

  “Fine, I’ll go,” I say, mostly just to get her off the phone and get back to Nash who I look over and find sitting up on the edge of the sofa like he’s getting ready to leave. “I’ll call you tomorrow, Mom. Goodnight.”

  “Night, sweetie! I’m so glad you’ve agreed to come. Goodnight.”

  After making sure the call is ended, I toss my phone on the counter.

  “Everything okay?” Nash asks.

  “Yep, just my mom telling me I have to go to my cousin’s wedding in a few weeks.”

  “I hate weddings,” Nash grunts.

  “I can’t say I’m real fond of them right now either,” I say when I go over and start to sit back down. Before I lower myself to the sofa, Nash says, “There’s one more person I need you to find. Do you mind?”

  “No, of course not,” I say, even though I have a feeling who it is and wish he didn’t feel the need to go there. “Let me grab my computer. What’s the name?” I ask as I go retrieve the device from my bedroom.

  “It’s…” Nash starts when I return. He abruptly stands up from the sofa and says, “You know what, forget it. Maybe another day.”

  “Are you sure? I don’t mind,” I tell him.

  “Nah, I, ah, I’m going to head back upstairs.”

  “Okay,” I reply with my shoulders slumping with disappointment.

  “See ya,” he says, taking the beer in his hand as he starts for the door. Faster than I can blink, he’s gone.

  Chapter Ten

  Nash

  * * *

  After the night I stupidly gave Lucy the names of all the men who were killed by the Aces, and I almost, pathetically, asked her to track down my ex-wife which would’ve ended in disaster, I considered never speaking to her again.

  But then, the next morning, she showed up in my apartment and cooked pancakes for me and I changed my mind.

  Sure, I could’ve told her to fuck off, regardless of what Malcolm had asked her to do.

  I told myself that I needed to keep her around to make sure she didn’t become suspicious about the dead men and start digging into how they died in that fire. So, I let her c
ome and go whenever she wanted.

  In fact, over the next week, Lucy and I spend several hours a day hanging out binge watching several episodes of American Horror Story and eating lunch and dinner together most days. That meant I sometimes tagged along with her to the grocery store to help pick out the ingredients for our meals. The weight I lost from my two-week attempt at alcohol poisoning has started piling back on, and I’ve even found myself waking up earlier each day, even though Lucy never comes over before eleven. She seems to think I prefer to sleep in and doesn’t want to wake me.

  Giving the families money has helped the most to take some of the guilty burden off my chest. Ten thousand doesn’t come close to making up for their lost loved one, but it’s better than sitting around drinking and doing nothing for them.

  * * *

  All in all, I’m finally starting to feel more like the man I was before the murders and the divorce papers, just so much hornier now that there’s usually an attractive woman sitting just at arm’s length away from me in my apartment. It would be so easy to cross that line, because I’m confident Lucy would be all in on getting naked together. I’m not an idiot. I’ve seen how she looks at me like I’m an ice cream cone she wants to lick when she thinks I’m not paying attention. Fucking her would be a much-needed stress reliever; but for whatever reason, I haven’t gone there. Maybe it’s because I’m still not ready to move on or that I’m worried once I remember how good sex feels I’ll be addicted and won’t be able to get enough. Fucking a girl on the regular is how relationships start. Throw in the fact that Lucy practically lives with me and that has the makings of getting too serious way too fast.

  I just ended a marriage, so I definitely don’t want anything that even looks like another commitment. At the moment, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to stomach a long-term relationship again.

  Still, I can’t deny that Lucy is fun to be around. Without even trying, she’s cute and sexy in an annoying yet irresistible way. And her always bubbly personality makes it impossible for me to sulk. Not that I want to as often lately. There’s something about the way she looks at me and treats me. When we’re together, it’s easy, comfortable, and familiar, like we’ve known each other for years.