by Lynn Hagen
Mr. Creegy had refused to look his way as he and Nash decided on a price. Not that Layne wanted the man old enough to be his grandfather ogling him, but he was starting to understand why the guy had pinned him against the wall.
That still didn’t excuse his behavior, though. If Layne hadn’t been raised by such great parents, he would’ve kicked the guy in his sagging nuts. But Layne had remained a complete professional because he wanted his mate to have this opportunity, and Layne wasn’t going to let the fact that grandpa had fondled him stand in the way.
Oh god. He was throwing up in his mouth just thinking about it.
“Next, the repair shop.” Nash held the passenger door open for Layne.
“Can we stop for something cold to drink?”
“We can do that.”
Layne slid in and buckled himself as Nash got in on his side.
Nash tried to start the truck, but the engine wouldn’t turn over. Layne furrowed his brows. The truck had started just fine when they’d left the house.
“Hang on,” Nash said before he got out and popped the hood.
Layne wasn’t sure how well received it would be if a cop rolled up and found Nash working under his hood at the curb.
They were in the busy downtown area, and although Kendall was considered a small town, there were a lot of residents and businesses. They held fall festivals, summer block parties, and a winter gala ball, amongst a whole host of other events and activities.
Even now the streets were busy with people walking by, looking at Nash. Layne decided to get out. It was a nice summer day, but then again, he was used to the sizzling sun bearing down on him.
Nash was already sweating as he fiddled around. Layne had no clue what the guy was doing. “I’m gonna go down to Casey’s Corner and grab us some bottled waters.”
Nash lifted his head so fast he whacked it on the underside of the hood. “No way are you leaving my side, shrimp.”
“Shrimp?” Where in the hell had that come from? “Albeit you’re a good six inches taller than me, there’s no need to call me names.”
Nash grinned at him. Damn that charming smile. “I meant it as an endearment.”
“You missed the mark, stretch.” Layne started away. “It’s only two doors down, and you can drool over the sight of my ass the whole time.”
He didn’t bother to look back. Nash just might change his mind and haul Layne back to the hot truck.
Layne sighed in relief when he walked into Casey’s. The cool interior felt good on his heated skin though, when the sweat dried, Layne became itchy.
He walked to the back cooler and snagged two bottles of water. He was tempted to get a soda, but that wouldn’t keep him cool. As much sugar as were in the cans, not only would Layne be hot and sweaty but he’d also have a dry throat.
He’d started back toward the front when the bell over the door jingled. When Layne looked that way, he instantly dropped down. Damn it. Why did Hartley have to come in now?
Layne hugged the bottles to his chest and moved down the aisle while still hunkered down. He would evade Hartley until the guy either left or was in the back and Layne could complete his purchase and haul ass.
Especially now that he knew Hartley was a panther. Layne wanted a lot of distance between them.
One of the bottles slipped, and Layne accidently kicked it down the aisle just as Hartley moved into his line of sight. Fuck.
Hartley bent over and picked it up. “What’re you doing down there?”
“Buying necessities.” Layne stood and turned. Without looking he grabbed the first box his fingers touched.
One of Hartley’s brows arched. “Tampons?”
Heat scorched Layne’s entire body as he threw the box back onto the shelf. He grabbed a roll of toilet paper instead. “Wrong necessity.”
Hartley swaggered toward him and held out the bottle. “I believe this is yours.”
Layne snatched it and tried to move around him, but the guy used his broad body to block him. “Why’re you rushing away? Can’t we just stand here and shoot the breeze for a minute or two?”
“After the stunt you pulled the other day?” Layne said in a loud whisper as he narrowed his eyes. He didn’t appreciate Hartley jumping out of his truck to come after him just because of some damn pheromone.
Hartley held his hands up, palms out. “It was out of my control, Layne. Pure instinct.”
Why couldn’t the prick take a hint? Layne had been giving them for a while now, and the guy still acted as if Layne was interested in him. It wasn’t the fact that Hartley was ugly. The guy was damn fine looking. It was his fucking personality that turned Layne off.
And the fact that he wasn’t Nash.
What really got Layne was the fact that Hartley hadn’t even apologized for scaring the crap out of him. “I need to get going.”
Instead of asking him to move, Layne turned and walked back down the aisle then up the next. He felt Hartley’s eyes on him the entire time as he paid for the drinks and left, leaving the roll of toilet paper on the counter.
Nash was under the hood, his toolbox at his feet. When Layne approached, Nash looked up. “See, I didn’t hunt you down. Give me a kiss for my self-restraint.”
This had been the one time Layne wished Nash had followed him into the store. He gave his mate a quick kiss before handing over a bottle.
“Just what I needed.” Nash drank the bottle down in a few gulps. He smacked his lips. “I think my truck has finally died on me.”
Layne leaned against the frame, bending his leg to rest one foot on it. “Perfect timing,” he said as he glanced back at the store to make sure Hartley wasn’t heading his way. “You have the money. Buy a new one.”
Nash looked as if he was mulling the idea over. “I guess that wouldn’t be frivolous spending. You’re so smart.”
The guy was full of shit. He was just trying to make Layne smile, and it was working. Nash wasn’t an idiot and probably planned a new purchase while Layne had been in the store.
He’d take the compliment, though. Just as long as Nash kept smiling at him like that.
“I guess we don’t have to go to the repair garage now.” Layne looked up and down the street. “Why don’t we grab a bite to eat and walk back to the house? You can have the truck towed.”
Nash closed the hood, stored his tools in the cab, and then tossed an arm over Layne’s shoulders. “Now that’s a winning plan.”
When Layne looked back, he saw Hartley coming out of Casey’s. The guy stood there glaring at him before he and Nash cut the corner.
Chapter Eight
Granted, although Layne had known Nash since high school, he didn’t really know him at all. Stalking Nash from afar when Layne was younger didn’t count.
They’d slept in the same bed for only a few nights, and so far, everything had been fine. In fact, Layne had been getting used to the furnace next to him as Nash curled around his body. It was nice, and it made him feel safe and wanted.
But that night Nash scared ten years off Layne’s life. They’d had dinner, hung out with his brothers in the backyard, and then retired to bed.
It was around midnight that Layne was awakened by an arm slamming down on him. He cried out and jerked upward, half expecting a burglar in the room. What he found was Nash’s eyes closed, his body and hair covered in sweat, and his body tossing so hard he should’ve knocked Layne out the bed.
Nash’s jaw was clenched tight as he grabbed his hair in a brutal hold. He breathed rapidly seconds before a blood-curdling scream shattered the silence.
Terrified, Layne jumped out of bed and backed away, unsure what to do. Nash thrashed around, and Layne was afraid of getting hit if he tried to wake him.
The door crashed open, and Quinn, along with Nomad, raced in. Their hair was disheveled, and both men wore nothing but boxers. Quinn’s claws and canines were showing, and Nomad had a gun gripped in his hand.
Keller joined them and made his brothers move asid
e. He approached the bed but didn’t touch Nash. Instead Keller started talking in a calm and soothing voice, encouraging Nash to wake up.
Layne had no flipping idea what was going on. All he knew was that he wanted to wrap his arms around Nash and give him comfort.
Slowly Nash settled, and then his eyes opened. He curled onto his side and stared right at Layne. “What’re you doing out of bed?”
Layne looked at Keller. Nash looked over his shoulder. He jumped from the bed and bared his canines as he held his arms out and blocked Layne from the others. This was so damn bizarre. Layne was still lost on what was happening. Did Nash have nightmares often? Was this routine for these guys?
“Brother, you had a nightmare,” Nomad said. “That’s the only reason we’re in your room.”
“Does a nightmare require being armed?” Nash snarled.
Nomad shrugged. “Had no idea what was going on in here. Not a bad thing to be prepared.”
Layne touched Nash’s arm. “You had a bad one.”
He wasn’t going to tell Nash that he’d slammed his arm into Layne’s shoulder and head. Nash was already carrying too much guilt, and Layne had a feeling that his bad dream had to do with Duke Rawlings’ threat. The phone call had dredged up memories Nash probably wanted to forget.
Nash scrubbed his hand over his jaw. “I’m cool. Seriously, I’m fine. You guys can go.”
Keller looked at Layne, his eyes grave, before the three of them filtered out of the room. Nash sat on the side of the bed, rubbing his hands over his head. “Did I hurt you?”
“No.” Layne hated lying to him, but again, Nash carried enough guilt. “You just scared the living daylights out of me.”
When Nash reached for him, Layne went, sliding his arms around Nash’s neck as he sat on his lap. Layne rested his head against Nash’s. “Anything you want to talk about?”
“No.” Nash held on to him. “Not right now.”
Layne wasn’t sure what else to do. It wasn’t as though he’d dealt with this kind of situation before. Well, there had been one time when Stevie had cried out in his sleep. But when Layne went to check on him, he quickly left the room. His friend had had a boner from hell and had clearly been dreaming about sex.
Stevie still denied the dream to this day.
Nomad knocked on the open door. “Found this at the back door.”
Nash crossed the room and took what looked like dog tags into his hand. He studied them, and Layne’s heart went out to Nash when a mist of tears filled his mate’s eyes.
Layne crossed the room and placed a hand on Nash’s arm as Nomad walked away.
“None of that was your fault. You can’t let Rawlings feed you this guilt trip.” Layne took the dog tags from Nash’s hand and stuffed them into a dresser drawer. “Let’s go for a walk.”
Nash looked toward the window. “It’s late.”
“And?” Layne asked. “I’m pretty sure you can keep me safe if a robber tries to steal our wallets.”
Nash gave a tight grin. “I think a walk would clear my head.”
Of course Layne was worried Rawlings might be out there somewhere, but he needed to get Nash into a different headspace. Besides, Layne had been telling the truth about Nash protecting them, and he was desperate for a walk.
They dressed in shorts and T-shirts before heading out the door. There was something about the night that gave Layne a sense of peace. He loved everything about it and preferred the darkness to the daytime.
“Besides, I need to get as much exercise as I can before I’m too big to move around.” Layne was joking, but in the back of his mind, he was still freaking out about this whole mess.
“I’ll still love you no matter how big you get.” Nash stopped walking down the sidewalk and cocked his head to the side, as if realizing what he’d just said.
Layne was stunned, too. He’d already declared his love in a roundabout way, and Nash hadn’t returned the sentiment. It had been a slip of the tongue. Layne knew that, but hearing those words sent his heart thundering.
“No big deal,” Layne said, playing it off. “Let’s keep walking.”
Nash shook his head and grabbed Layne’s hand. “That’s just it. It wasn’t a slip. I think I really mean it.”
Layne jerked his hand away. “You think?”
Talk about crushing his world.
“No.” Nash shoved his hands into the pockets of his shorts. “I know I love you. You’ve helped me every step of the way since I got back. You’re wonderful, funny, gorgeous, and I wish I’d noticed you back in high school. I must’ve been completely blind then.”
He gave Nash the stink eye. “As far as saves, that was pretty good.”
Nash pressed his hand against his chest and did a sweeping bow. “Why thank you very much.”
“You’re an idiot.” Layne smiled.
“I’ll own that.” Nash took Layne’s hand and started walking again. “That probably won’t be the last time you call me that.”
Layne agreed. They made it two blocks and entered into the downtown area of Kendall. The night was a bit muggy, but there was a gentle breeze that helped alleviate the heat. The streets were quiet, and the stores were closed. The only noise Layne heard were the crickets as they passed the bar Nash had just purchased.
They stopped and stared at the building. “I can’t wait to see how it looks when we’re done renovating it.”
“Me, either,” Layne said. “I’m excited to get started.”
A car backfired somewhere close by. It startled Layne, making him jump.
Nash slid his arm around Layne, chuckling. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep you safe from backfiring cars.”
Now that Layne wasn’t giving off those pheromones, he wasn’t worried about other panthers trying to come at him. It was reassuring to know no one would try to snatch him from a car or surround him.
That made him think of Hartley. The guy had been coming around for years, and now Layne knew why. Hartley had seen the mark. But he was too late. Years too late.
They started back, taking their time. The more they walked, the calmer Nash appeared. “Wanna tell me about your dream now?”
Nash chewed on his bottom lip as he stared at the storefronts. “Same nightmare I’ve been having since that roadside bomb. I can’t save my men, only in my dream their dead bodies get up and attack me.”
No wonder Nash had been thrashing around. He’d been fighting corpses. Layne had a feeling there was more to the nightmare, but he didn’t push. Nash was on his feet, seeming steadier than when they’d first started out, so Layne left the subject alone.
“Why don’t we start planning?” Layne suggested. “The pub, I mean. We could bat a few ideas around, start imagining what it’ll look like. We could even start ordering things.”
“Slow down, tiger.” Nash smiled. “We can take inventory when the paperwork is finalized. We’ll go from there.”
Layne felt a bit deflated. He was anxious to get this project started.
“But we could look at baby things,” Nash suggested. “You know, get the nursery finished before the baby comes.”
Layne’s excitement bubbled over until he heard a strange popping sound. First Layne looked around for a backfiring car. There were no cars on the street. Next he thought that the sound might’ve been metal hitting metal, like someone in their garage at midnight working on some project.
Realization finally dawned on him. Gunfire. It sounded just like it did in the movies, but not used to that sound, he had a delayed reaction. Not so for Nash. As Nash dove for him, pain exploded across Layne’s chest. He screamed as he hit the ground and looked down at his T-shirt.
Blood blossomed over his white shirt. Layne was still in denial, though. And everything moved so slowly. That might’ve been a cliché, but it was true.
Nash covered him as his brothers raced from the house. Nomad looked down at Layne, and their gazes locked. Then Nomad’s gaze dropped to Layne’s chest before he exploded into his pant
her, taking off.
Tears filled Layne’s eyes. He cried out as Nash lifted him off the walkway and rushed him inside. Keller stayed with them as Quinn rushed out and ran past them.
“Give him to me,” Keller insisted when Nash refused to let Layne go.
Layne didn’t want Nash to release him. He was terrified, and his shoulder felt like it was on fire. All he wanted was Nash, but his mate laid him on the dining room table.
“Save him!” Nash stepped away, and Layne saw the blood on his mate’s shirt and how badly his hands shook. That was Layne’s blood on Nash.
None of this seemed real.
“Go get my bag from my room,” Keller shouted at a dazed Nash. “Now!”
Nash took a second to move, and then he was hauling ass upstairs.
“Just breathe,” Keller instructed Layne. “I know it hurts, but I need you to remain as calm as possible.”
That was easy for the family doctor to say. He wasn’t the one spread out on the dining room table with a bullet in him. Layne felt like a damn buffet, and he wanted to crawl off of the table, right back into Nash’s arms.
“The baby.” Layne’s chin trembled as he pressed his hands to his stomach.
“Is gonna be fine.” Keller ripped Layne’s shirt off like it was made of paper. “Trust me, Layne. Let me do what I do best.”
He had no choice but to trust Keller, to put his life, and the life of his unborn child, in his capable hands. Layne had been freaked out about getting pregnant, denying it could happen. But the morning sickness, the increase in appetite, and his mood swings proved he’d conceived, and now he felt like the baby was already a part of him, a tiny person to love, and he was determined not to lose it.
Nash rushed back to them, his face flushed and sweat trickling down his scalp. He gave Keller the bag and then took Layne’s hand, standing on the opposite side of the table as his brother.
“Just look at me,” Nash said. “Tell me about the first time you saw me. What did you think?”
