Trusting His Instincts, page 10
The barista peeks her head out from the back room. Tears stain her cheeks. She’s shaking so hard, I grab a chair and carry it over to her. “The police are coming,” she manages.
I can hear Frank in my head.
“If trouble finds you, run.”
He warned me so many times. Don’t go over the speed limit or get a parking ticket. Don’t talk to the police. No hospitals. Free clinics only. Nothing that could leave a trail.
Nash Grace might have a birth certificate, social security number, and expired driver’s license, but he’s a figment of “Uncle” Duncan’s imagination. None of my paperwork will hold up if anyone looks too closely.
I edge toward the side door, three quick steps before I stop myself. What the fuck will Raelynn think if I bolt? And Teresa is still crying. I can’t just walk out on her.
“Nash?” Raelynn fastens her hands around my biceps and holds my gaze. “I can’t help you once the police get here.”
“Help me?” I’m confused. “With what?”
She gives Teresa a sideways glance, then lowers her voice. “That idjit tried to kill you, and I think you know why.”
My world grinds to a halt with all the grace of a semi truck. “No. That’s not possible.” Shaking off her hold, I take a quick step back. No one knows I’m alive. He couldn’t have been after me.
First the car accident. Now this.
She stares at me, disbelief shining in her eyes. “If he’d been a better shot, you’d be dead.” After a beat, she shakes her head. “You want to keep your secrets? Fine. For now. Go upstairs and lock the door. I’ll come get you when I’m done.”
I don’t move until she forcibly turns me toward the back door and gives me a light shove. Duncan. I have to call Duncan. He’ll know what to do.
He’ll tell you to run.
Every step feels like I’m carrying a thousand pounds on my shoulders. Raelynn’s voice carries after me, and I stop to listen. “When the police show up, sugar, you tell them that asshole came in, shot at me and you went to hide. We clear? I don’t know where the other folks got off to, but everythin’ happened so fast, they probably didn’t see shit.”
“You don’t want them to know Nash was here?” she asks with a tremble to her voice. “Why not? Is he in trouble?”
“I don’t know. But you can be damn sure I’m gonna find out.”
Shit.
I can’t stay here. She let me have my secrets last night, but now, they’ve put her in danger too.
Flipping the lock, I sink down onto the floor and clutch my backpack to my chest. My hands shake, but I find my old flip phone and dial the number Frank made me memorize twenty years ago. I hope to God it still works.
Raelynn
The sirens get louder as I text West.
Raelynn: Got some trouble brewing. Won’t make it to the warehouse today.
Three dots dance along the bottom of the screen. In less than two minutes, I’ll be elbow deep in cops, so he better be quick.
West: What kind of trouble? And where?
My first instinct is to tell him I can handle this on my own, but after our talk yesterday…I have to give him something.
Raelynn: The kind that walks into a coffee shop in broad daylight with a silenced pistol. And takes a shot at Nash.
Lights flash along the ceiling from the black and white pulling up to the curb.
West: I’m on my way with Ry. Fifteen minutes.
Raelynn: I want to talk to Nash first. Alone. I’ll meet you at Ry’s when I’m done here.
The dots start bouncing again, but I slide my phone into my back pocket as the officers push through the doors. West is gonna be pissed at me, but there ain’t much I can do about that. Once I unravel this mess, I can try to salvage a single scrap of the SEAL’s trust.
Half an hour later, I trudge up the stairs to the studio. Teresa did great talking to the police. Despite how shaken up she was, she didn’t say a word about Nash. It helped that she fled into the back room after two shakes and hardly saw a thing.
Nash opens the door, his hair sticking up at all angles, and ushers me inside. “They don’t know about me. Right?”
I tilt my head and give him the side-eye. “If they did, don’t you think they’d be up here by now? They think the guy came after me because I cut him off on the freeway. Just some deranged idjit with anger management issues. Barely worthy of filin’ a report.”
Some of the tension leaves his shoulders. “Thanks. Is Teresa okay?”
“She will be. Adam just got here. He closed the shop and he’s gonna take her home. And he doesn’t know you were there either. You can thank me for coverin’ your ass by tellin’ me why someone would want you dead. And why you’re scared of the police.”
Nash shoves his hands into his pockets and moves to the window, peering out a small crack in the drapes. “I’m not…wanted or anything.”
“Well, that’s a start. But if you believe that guy was shootin’ at anythin’ but you, you’re a damn fool.”
“I’m nobody,” he says. His voice might be only a whisper, but I can still hear his desperate need for the words to be true.
“Sure. And I’m Elmo.” With a huff, I glance around the studio. There’s nothing personal here. A plate standing up in the rack next to the sink, two shirts and a pair of jeans hanging in the closet, and his backpack sitting on the small couch. The rest of the space is pristine.
“Do you even live here? Because this,” I say, gesturing around us, “ain’t sellin’ the ‘I’m not wanted’ bullshit you’re feedin’ me.”
He flinches, shoulders hiked halfway up to his ears. “I move around—”
“A lot. I know.” Anger simmers just under my skin. After what we shared last night—and this morning—I can’t believe he’s still lying to me. “I shouldn’t care what you are, Nash. But I do. And I can help. If you let me.”
A black strap peeking out of the closet catches my eye. I cross the room in three steps and find a small duffel bag almost full to the brim. Right on top? The shirt he was wearing yesterday morning.
“You’re runnin’.” Those two words scare the piss out of me. I’m about to lose him, and I don’t know why. “We have somethin’. I know you feel it too. But you’re about to throw it all away.”
He strides over to the door, pain rolling off him in waves. Staring down at his feet, he pauses with his hand on the knob. “I have to. Please, Raelynn. Just go. I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to fix your heater. Or…spend another night with you. But…it’s better this way.”
“Better?” I gesture to the cut on his cheek from the ricochet. “A couple of inches to the left and I’d be mournin’ you…” The lump in my throat swallows my words. I can’t do this again. Losing another person I…care for would put me in the ground faster than a prairie fire with a tail wind. “You think runnin’ is gonna keep you safe? That asshole wasn’t some amateur. You’re up shit creek, Nash, and I’ve got a goddamn boat.”
“If you get involved…” He shakes his head, still refusing to look at me. “I’ll call you. In a day or two. But right now, I need to leave.” The sorrow in his voice is like a knife to my heart.
In my back pocket, my phone buzzes incessantly. West, I’m sure. Or Ryker. I’m shocked they haven’t burst into Nash’s apartment in full riot gear already.
Fuck this. He might not be willing to fight for us, but I am.
I dig into my bag for my house key, stalk over to him, and shove him until his back hits the door. “You’ve got two options. One. You pack up the rest of your shit and go to my place. You’ve clearly been runnin’ for a long damn time, so I reckon you know how to check for a tail. Make sure you’re not bein’ followed, park at least three streets away, get inside, lock the fuckin’ door, and wait for me there.”
He lifts his gaze to mine. “And two?”
“Come with me and pray the men I’m gonna introduce you to don’t kick both of our asses six ways from Sunday.”
He’ll be as welcome as a skunk at a lawn party at Ryker’s condo, but at least there, I know he’ll be safe.
Nash’s shoulders slump, all the fight leaving him so suddenly, I can almost hear it.
“You should let me go, Raelynn.” He cups my cheek, skimming just under my eye with the rough pad of his thumb. Leaning closer, he kisses me with such tenderness, tears threaten.
“Yellow don’t suit me one bit,” I manage when he pulls away. My voice wobbles, and I clench my free hand so hard, it shakes. Pressing the key to his palm, I hold his gaze. “I don’t think it’s your color either. So what’s it gonna be?”
The fear in his eyes twists my stomach into knots, but eventually, he closes his fingers over mine. “Your place. For one night only. Tomorrow, I’m gone.”
I clench my jaw until my back teeth scrape against one another. “We’ll see about that. If anyone comes knockin’ but me, there’s a false wall in the back of my closet. Leads to a reinforced crawlspace. Hide there and don’t make a peep until you hear me say ‘wildflowers.’ You understand?”
His brows furrow, and he takes a step back. “A false wall? Who the hell are you?”
I press my fist over my heart, needing to soothe the ache in my chest. “Someone who can help.” My phone keeps vibrating, and I groan. “Get your things. We’re swappin’ cars, and I need my bag out of the trunk first.”
We don’t speak again until Nash has thrown his duffel bag and backpack into my rental. The late morning sun doesn’t leave many places to hide, but I’m still on high alert. “If you spot a tail, call me immediately. Got it?”
He nods, slides behind the wheel, and peers up at me. “What you said earlier…about trust?”
If we have this conversation now, I’ll lose my shit, and that won’t keep him alive. Slamming the door, I pin my gaze to his. “Trustin’ and believin’ ain’t the same thing. I trust that you’re a good man, Nash. But lie to me again, and we’re through.”
Chapter Thirteen
Raelynn
My phone stops buzzing just before I get to Nash’s car. That ain’t a good sign, but I don’t bother checking the messages. In one half less than no time, Ryker and West can cuss me out in person.
Less than ten minutes later, I pull into the underground garage and stop at the heavy gates. It takes a twelve-digit code, a fingerprint scan, and a ridiculously complicated passphrase for the system to let me in, but I find a parking spot right next to the elevator.
Ryker owns this whole building, and the man is fanatical about his security. I have to repeat the process—with a completely different passphrase—before I can access the top floor where he and Wren live. Half of Hidden Agenda calls this place home. Graham and his boyfriend, Ripper and Cara. Wyatt and Hope. Some days, I wish I’d taken Ry up on his offer to move into the last empty unit on the seventh floor. But I wanted a back yard. A porch. Privacy.
I don’t have to knock. The second I step off the elevator, the condo door opens.
“About damn time,” Ry snaps. “Unless you’re dead in a ditch somewhere, you answer your fucking phone.”
“Give me a goddamn break. I’m here, ain’t I? Had to get the cops to believe my bullshit story and convince Nash not to rabbit first.” I stalk into the large, open concept living room and move directly to the floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over downtown.
“Raelynn?” West comes up behind me and touches my shoulder. I jerk away, but my foot lands on something soft—and squeaky.
With a yelp, I stumble and crash into Graham. The younger man wraps an arm around my waist to keep me upright.
“Whoa. It’s just one of Pixel’s toys,” Graham says. “You okay?”
No. Not even close. Okay is a thousand miles from here. Or more. Somewhere I don’t have to face these men who insist we’re family and admit the guy I just slept with is in trouble—and a liar.
I push Graham away, sidestep West, and narrowly avoid the fluffy, white dog who came running when I stepped on her stuffed ducky.
“Sit down.” Ryker stands between me and the sofa, his arms crossed over his broad chest. At almost seven feet tall and more than three hundred pounds, he leaves me no way to get around him. “And talk.”
“Fudgesicles. Give the poor woman some space.” Wren shuffles into the room, one hand rubbing her very pregnant belly, and the other pressed to her lower back. “She’s not the enemy, remember?”
“You’re supposed to be resting.” Ryker reaches for his wife’s arm, but she shoots him a look that could cool the fires of hell.
“If you had your way, I’d never do anything but rest. I’m fine. My doctor said the baby and I were both perfectly healthy just two days ago.” Wren gives Ryker a little shove. “Get Raelynn some coffee. She looks like she needs it.”
The big man stares down at her like she’s his whole world, presses a kiss to the top of her head, and ambles into the galley kitchen, grumbling the whole way.
“I’m…fine,” I protest. But I’m suddenly so tired, my knees threaten to buckle, and I sink down onto the couch.
“You’re obviously not.” Wren lowers herself to the cushions next to me. “Ry said someone shot at you?”
I shake my head. West and Graham take seats across from us. Ryker sets a cup of coffee in front of me. I can’t look at him. At any of them. If I do, they’ll see everything. The anger. The hurt. The betrayal.
“I wasn’t the target,” I say softly, staring into the dark brew. “The guy was aimin’ at Nash’s head.”
“Who’s Nash?” Wren asks.
My cheeks catch fire. God, I wish this mug were bigger so I could hide from West’s stare. “He lives above Broadcast. I, uh, drove him home this morning. That’s the only reason he’s still alive.”
West chokes on a sip of his coffee. “You drove him home—”
I straighten and set my mug on the polished wood coffee table. “If you’re gonna give me shit, you can go straight to hell.”
The SEAL holds up his hand as Graham asks, “You bought a car?”
Ryker’s chuckle sounds more like a hoarse grunt than anything else. “That’s your first question? ‘You bought a car?’”
Graham glances from me to West to Ry and back again before understanding dawns in his eyes. “Oh. Never mind.”
“You’re going to tell me all about this guy and how you met him later,” Wren says, her lips quirking into a smile for a hot second before she reaches for her laptop. “But right now, I need his full name.”
“I…fuck.” Dropping my head into my hands, I kick myself so hard, I’ll be sore for a week. “He’s just…Nash. I never…” My eyes start to burn. “Goddammit!”
Wren wraps her arm around my shoulders. “Raelynn, breathe. We’ll figure this out. What do you know about him?”
“Nothin’ worth spit, apparently. He can fix things. Moves around a lot. Drives a Honda that’s older than dirt. And is currently parked in the garage downstairs. He’s got my rental car.” I rattle off Nash’s license number. “And he’s runnin’ from somethin’. Or someone. But that’s all I’ve got.”
“Nash Grace,” West says, and I lift my gaze. He’s holding his tablet and shows me the intake paperwork from the dojo.
“Did he list an emergency contact?” Wren’s fingers fly over her keyboard, and in under a minute, Nash’s expired driver’s license photo appears on screen.
“Nope. All I’ve got is his address above the coffee shop.” West sets the tablet down and runs a hand through his dark hair. “You didn’t leave him there, did you?”
I jerk up straighter and glare at him. “I got enough sense not to spit downwind, y’know. I sent him to my house. The shooter took off in a black BMW—I didn’t catch his plate number.”
“He make it to your place yet?” Ryker asks. “You do have cameras set up, right?”
My patience is about gone, but I manage not to roll my eyes at the man. “Yes, I have cameras. No, he’s not there yet. It’s a twenty-minute drive.” Blowing out a breath, I give voice to the fear that’s settled like a stone in my gut. “Assumin’ he ain’t on his way to Canada right now.”
Ryker pulls out his phone. His big fingers move over the screen with a grace he shouldn’t possess. “Tank? I’m sending you Raelynn’s address. Set up a perimeter—two blocks in every direction should do it—and report anything suspicious.” Hanging up, he cuts his multi-hued eyes to mine. “Gut answer, Raelynn. How much trouble is this guy in?”
I’m so tired, so utterly worn out, all my defenses fall away. “More than hell and half of Texas? I don’t know much about his past. One sister, died when he was fourteen. His folks are gone, from what I can tell. God, I’m such an idiot. I got no right to ask y’all for help—”
“Are you a member of this team?” Ryker asks, pushing to his feet so he’s towering over me. Anger lends a harsh edge to his tone and a muscle in his jaw ticks.
“Yes.” I jerk up to put us on equal footing, though I’d have to stand on the couch for us to be even close. Ryker stares at me, brows raised, daring me to challenge him. No one else moves. Even Wren’s stopped typing. “What do you want me to say? That I feel somethin’ for Nash? That I don’t know his last name, but he needs our help? That I’m scared he won’t be there when I get home and I’ll never see him again?” My voice fails me on the last word, and I’m barely holding on to a shred of control.
Ryker McCabe is the toughest man I’ve ever met, and I’m about to break down in front of him. He’ll never trust me again after today. I wouldn’t trust me either.
Just when I expect him to snap, he presses his lips together and sighs. “I want you to understand you can say all of it. Or none of it,” he adds, his voice almost gentle. “This team works because when one of us has a problem, we all have a problem. You might think you’re keeping us at arm’s length, Raelynn, but when you needed help, you came here. So stop with the ‘I got no right’ bullshit and let’s get to work.”
All I can do is nod. Shock muddles my thoughts until Ryker takes me by the shoulders and turns me back toward the couch. “Sit. While Wren does a deep dive into Nash Grace’s background, tell us everything you can remember about the guy who tried to kill him.”
