by Lane Hart
Dammit. Before I leave, before I can be with Nash Sunday, or Facetime him tonight, I come to terms with the fact that I have to be completely honest with him no matter the consequences. Nothing is more important to Nash than loyalty, which is why I hope he won’t think what I’ve done is a betrayal.
“There’s something I need to tell you,” I whisper, dreading having to say the words.
As I try to pull away to look him in his face, Nash’s palms press harder against the small of my back, holding me closer. Then, his lips come crashing down on mine before I can say another word.
It feels like I’m being kissed and attacked all at the same time thanks to his forceful dominance. I wouldn’t expect anything less from the outlaw biker or change a thing.
As I kiss him back, I start melting in his arms, molding my body to his like I want to be absorbed by him. When Nash reaches down to hike my left leg up on his hip, I feel his steely length drive into the seam of my denim shorts, causing me to moan into his mouth.
I was right about this man. His only speed is zero to fucking in sixty seconds. There’s no doubt in my mind he would be inside me already if not for several layers of clothing…and the ringing of a phone that just won’t shut up, interrupting us, again. Our lips eventually separate, both of us panting for breath when the damn phone refuses to give up. It’s probably best, though, since we need to talk before things go any further…
“Shit, that’s me,” Nash says when he finally recognizes the ringtone. That’s more than my hazy brain can accomplish at the second with the heat rushing through my veins, making my knees weak. “It’s Malcolm,” he says before he puts the device up to his ear. “This better be important,” Nash grumbles, and I’m thrilled that he’s not happy about having to stop either.
While I adjust my glasses, I can’t hear what Malcolm says to him, but whatever it is makes Nash frown harder.
“Right now?” Nash repeats. “Give me half an hour,” he tells him as his heated amber eyes hold mine. His left hand has also slipped behind my back and snaked up underneath my shirt, coming to a stop on the clasp of my bra. But with a heavy exhale, Nash’s hand falls and he mutters, “Fine. I’m on my way.”
He’s kidding, right?
“You’re leaving?” I ask in disbelief. “Now?” The throbbing in my panties is demanding more and right this second.
“Sorry,” he says, reaching down to adjust his cock in his jeans, telling me he’s just as disappointed. “Malcolm says it’s urgent, and I need to hurry.”
“Fine,” I say with a sigh, since I guess our talk will have to wait. It’s a sign that I should wait. “See you Sunday?”
“Yeah, see you then and talk to you later,” Nash agrees, pressing one last quick kiss on my lips before he rushes out the door, asking me to lock up when I leave.
I’m so ridiculously happy standing there in the middle of his apartment that it takes me several minutes to compose myself enough to leave. Honestly, I’m still not sure that just happened – that Nash kissed me and it almost led to more.
After turning my key in his lock, I practically float down the steps to my apartment.
I’ve just gone inside to grab my luggage when I hear several heavy footsteps on the stairs, then a loud banging before a man’s voice bellows, “New Hanover Sheriff, open up!”
The pounding picks up again, and it’s so loud and forceful that the pictures on my wall bounce.
“This is your last warning! Open the door or we’re coming in!”
Did they say it was the sheriff? Shit! What the hell did Nash do?
Hurrying over to my door, I step out into the hallway and glance up the stairs. Sure enough, there are four men in tan uniforms, their guns drawn and pointed up at the ceiling. It must be something serious for them to send so many and for them to have their weapons ready to hurt Nash! Damn Malcolm and the Dirty Aces!
“Ah, excuse me, officers,” I say softly to get their attention and not scare them. All of their heads turn in my direction, but their shoulders relax when they see I’m just a petite, harmless looking girl. “You can bang on the door all day, but, um, Nash isn’t home right now.”
“How do you know?” one of them asks me as he lowers his gun and holsters it.
“Because I live below him and hear everything, including when he slammed his door leaving.” I withhold the fact that I was in his apartment with him when he got a call from Malcolm and had to leave in a hurry. This must be why… “Is there a problem? Is he in trouble?” I ask.
One of the other sheriff deputies puts his gun back in his holster and comes down the steps toward me while telling the others, “Kick the door down and search the place for weapons.” As he comes closer to me, he pulls out a piece of paper and says, “We have a warrant to search Nash Kincaid’s residence and any vehicles he may possess.”
Oh shit!
“Search warrants?” I repeat with an exaggerated gasp. “Did he do something bad?”
“Yes, ma’am. Your neighbor is dangerous. He’s been named as a possible suspect in connection to multiple homicides.”
“Multiple…homicides?” This time I’m not faking my surprise. Nash is a lot of things, but I would’ve never suspected him to be a murderer. Well…possibly a serial killer…
Holy shit! The names of those dead men Nash gave me the other day to look up their relatives… Were those cash payments some sort of restitution from him for killing their loved ones? I just can’t believe he would do such a thing – the man who has been heartbroken over his wife divorcing him and mourning their deaths. Unless…was Nash depressed and feeling guilty because of the killings, and his ex-wife was just the cherry on his fucked-up cake?
“That’s right, six homicides,” the officer explains. Pulling out a notepad and pen, he asks, “When was the last you saw your neighbor, miss?”
“Saw him? Well, I couldn’t tell you that,” I lie. Even though my neighbor, the man I’ve been crushing on, cooking and cleaning for these past weeks before kissing this morning could be a killer, for some reason, I can’t yet betray him; nor do I want to actually admit that we’re friends. Are we still friends? Does the fact that I’m not afraid of him mean I’m certifiably insane? Very likely. “Um, like I told you, officer, I just hear whenever he’s moving around up there, you know? I think I heard his door shut and bike crank up from the parking lot an hour or so ago.”
He dutifully jots down my lie.
“Have you noticed any strange behavior from him?” the officer asks.
“No.”
Thankfully, his questioning ends there when one of the men busts through Nash’s apartment door with a swift kick that splits the wood, making me wince. Putting away his notepad, the officer pulls out a business card with his name and information all in gold and offers it to me. “Here’s my card with my cell phone number on it in case you think of anything or if you see him around here. He’s a dangerous man, so do not under any circumstances initiate contact. Just call me right away.”
“S-sure. Absolutely,” I agree with a nod when I take the card. “Homicide. That’s just…that’s crazy.”
“Take care of yourself and lock up,” he replies before he jogs back up the stairs to go into the apartment with the other three, all of their guns raised just in case they find Nash inside.
Jesus, Nash! What is going on?
Rather than call Malcolm right away since he obviously knew something was up when Nash had to leave earlier, I phone Jetta.
“Hello?” she answers calmly, which means she probably hasn’t heard that one of her boyfriend’s buddies is fucked.
“Jetta, hi, it’s Lucy.”
“Lucy! How’s your hair doing? Do you still like it, or are you calling to ask for a redo?”
“No, no, my hair is great,” I answer before lowering my voice. “But, um, I think Nash is in trouble.”
“What do you mean in trouble? Is he depressed again?”
“The depression seems…better, but right now, there ar
e four sheriff deputies upstairs with a warrant to search his apartment. They said he’s a suspect…for six homicides!”
“Oh my god!” Jetta exclaims. “Is Nash home?”
“No, he’s not right now. He left a little while ago…”
“Shit! I need to call Dev and let him know so he can warn Nash!”
“I have a feeling Nash may already know by now,” I whisper. “He got a call from Malcolm a few minutes ago, something urgent because he left here in a hurry.” In the middle of what was almost us getting naked together, I withhold. Talk about bad timing. If Malcolm hadn’t called, we would have probably been doing it in the kitchen when the sheriffs showed up.
“Crap!” Jetta says, and then I hear her sniffles. “This is all…it’s all my fault!”
“What? Your fault?” I say in surprise. She doesn’t look like the type of person to harm a hair on anyone’s head, other than for a trim.
“It’s…a long story. Please, please don’t think bad of Nash! Anything he did, it was to help me out of a shitty situation that my brother got me into. Trust me!”
“I do,” I say without hesitation, knowing in my gut that Nash isn’t just some sort of stone-cold killer. He’s loyal and protective of the people he cares about, even me who he hardly knows. If he was heartless, he wouldn’t have been so depressed about what he did. “I’m starting to get to know Nash pretty well, and I don’t think he’s capable of going around hurting people without a damn good reason.”
“You’re right. He’s not. But…things happened a few weeks ago…and now they’re coming back to bite him in the ass and possibly…all of the guys,” she says through sniffles. “I’m sorry to cut you off, Lucy, but I need to call Dev and warn him in case they’re coming after him too!”
“Okay, sure,” I tell her. “It’s going to be okay,” I say to try and assure her since she sounds upset.
“I don’t know about that,” Jetta replies. “I’ll call you if I find out anything else.”
“Thanks,” I say, biting down on my bottom lip and hating that I’m about to leave when serious shit is going down here. “I have to head out of town for my cousin’s wedding soon, but I’ll have my phone near me the entire weekend if there’s anything I can do to help!”
“I really appreciate that, Lucy,” she says. “Thanks for the heads-up.”
“Of course,” I say before we end the call.
I need to pack up and hit the road, but it’s impossible to think or move with my heart racing, worried about Nash as a herd of footsteps move around above my head, searching Nash’s things, trying to find evidence to prove he’s a murderer.
Chapter Fifteen
Nash
* * *
“What the hell is going on?” I ask Malcolm when he finally strolls up on the pier thirty minutes after Dev, Wirth, Fiasco, Silas and I arrived.
“Sorry it took so long. I had to make sure there were no bugs or trackers on my bike or phone.”
“Bugs?” Fiasco asks.
“The ones police use as fucking listening devices,” Malcolm mutters. “Right before I reached out to you all I got a call from Daisy in the clerk’s office, criminal division. We hooked up on the regular back before Naomi and I got together; and, thankfully, she’s still loyal. She wanted to give me a heads up that she had just seen some warrants come across her desk with Nash’s name on them.”
“I fucking knew it!” I mutter. I’ve had a bad feeling for weeks. Not just the guilt, but the paranoia that eventually we would get caught and thrown in prison for life. This is another reason why I held back with Lucy. “Let me guess – murder?”
“They’re only search warrants right now. But apparently, you’ve been named as a suspect. They want you to come in for questioning,” Malcolm says, making everyone curse.
“Just Nash?” Dev asks in surprise, his face paling. “Not all of us?”
“Just Nash for now.”
“Maybe they want to try and set him up to rat,” Wirth grumbles.
“That will never fucking happen,” I assure them.
“We know that, dickhead,” Malcolm replies with a shake of his head. “Anyway, as soon as I called you all, I reached out to Jay Hughes, the criminal attorney we keep on retainer. He says he needs a few days to find out what the district attorney has on you as far as evidence, how strong the case is and all that shit before you go in to answer their questions. He doesn’t think he’ll get anywhere until Monday or Tuesday. He was able to confirm that the sheriff does have a warrant to search your apartment and vehicles, but no one else’s yet.”
“Fuck! What the hell am I supposed to do now? If I go in for questioning, I may spend the rest of my life locked up,” I mutter.
“That’s why you’re not going to do anything just yet,” Malcolm says. “If you go in today and they arrest you, you’re done, locked up until the trial; and Jay won’t be able to tell us what they have or sit down and figure out a defense with us as a group. He wants you to try to lay low and stay out of sight until he knows more details, rather than have you sit in an interrogation room for days without knowing their hand.”
“How the hell is he supposed to do that?” Wirth asks. “The sheriff’s department will be watching his place, all of ours, the pool hall, and every other joint in town!”
“That’s why Nash needs to get the fuck out of town for a few days,” Malcolm says. “Jay said that if you do decide to leave, don’t go out of the country or the police could think you’re trying to bolt. He said to stay just a few towns away, but you can’t take any vehicles registered in your name or one of ours. That’s too easy to track, and other law enforcement agencies may be looking for them. You also can’t use any public transportation, credit cards or bank cards. And you need to throw your phone in the ocean right fucking now.”
“That doesn’t leave me with a whole hell of a lot of options!” I exclaim. “Where am I supposed to go without a ride, money, or any of my shit?”
“It’s just for a few days, at least until Monday to give Jay time to wrap his head around everything. And you’re not wanted. Not yet at least,” Malcolm grumbles.
“I would tell you to take Jetta’s car, but they may already be watching my place and tail her if she leaves,” Dev offers.
“No, I don’t want to drag Jetta’s name into this any more than necessary after what she’s been through,” I say as I try and think fast. “Oh fuck! Lucy’s leaving today, going down to Charleston for a wedding this weekend. Maybe I could ask her to come by here and pick me up on the way.”
“You really think dragging Lucy into this is a good idea but not Jetta?” Malcolm asks, acting all protective of her yet again, for some unknown reason.
“Lucy won’t have to know anything. I would keep her in the dark, and the police would have no reason to go after her, unlike Jetta, who could be badgered into talking. Her cousin’s wedding would make it easy to hide and not spend money.”
“Why would you want to go to this fucking wedding of all places this weekend?” Malcolm grunts.
“What other choice do I have? Any of you got a better idea?” I seethe. “I bet none of us have enough cash on us to get me to the South Carolina border.”
“I’m still trying to figure out what kind of bug can track people. That’s super sick, bro!” Fiasco says, never any help when we need him.
“The Lucy girl may be your best bet, man,” Silas agrees. “You can hitch a ride with her, stay out of the public eye, and then come back to town next week once the attorney knows what’s going on.”
“I bet it was that goddamn bodyguard!” Dev grumbles. “We should’ve killed him.”
“I agree,” Malcolm grits out. “It’s not too late to correct that error in judgement. I’ll see if my PI can track that motherfucker down. But, Nash, you need to get the fuck out of here now,” he says, pointing his finger at me.
“Yeah,” I agree. “Let me borrow your phone so I can call Lucy. Hopefully she hasn’t left yet,” I say as I pu
ll out my phone and memorize her number before launching the device into the waves below us.
“You may regret this more than prison,” it sounds like Malcolm mutters as he hands over the phone.
“What?” I ask him after punching in the numbers and putting the phone to my ear.
“Nothing,” he says before he looks out into the ocean and pops a stick of gum into his mouth.
I take a few steps away from the guys, who are still talking among themselves, just as Lucy answers.
“Malcolm! I’m about to walk out the door. Can I call you when I’m on the road?”
Jesus, she has his contact info in her phone? What the fuck is up with that? I know it’s nothing sexual, because Malcolm would never stray from Naomi, so it must mean they’ve been talking to each other frequently – about me. I’ll worry about that later.
“Lucy, it’s Nash,” I tell her, and there’s silence on the other end of the line for so long that I have to look at the screen to see if we got disconnected. “You there?”
“Yeah, sorry. What’s up?” she asks, her voice sounding off. Maybe it’s because of how we left shit, me shoving my tongue down her throat, ready to rip our clothes off. It could’ve been too much too soon even though I made it clear I wanted her. We can hash that shit out later, though.
“Well, this is going to sound sort of crazy, but do you think I could crash your cousin’s wedding?”
“Huh?” Lucy asks.
“Have you left for Charleston yet?”
“No.”
“Good, because I want to come with you,” I explain.
“Why?” she asks, which catches me off-guard. I thought she would jump at the idea of having someone go with her to the shitshow where she has to see her ex-boyfriend marry her own damn cousin, all while pretending she’s over him. And I could possibly distract her by picking up where things left off in my apartment.
