Lina

“I can’t believe you’re making me do this,” Nash said as a makeup artist dabbed powder across his brow. Out of patience, he dodged her hand.

“Can we be done? Please?”

I was perched on the counter in his office, enjoying the hell out of his discomfort under the heat of the photographer’s lights.

For the past few days, I’d been the one suffering discomfort, being forced to move in with him…temporarily, I reminded myself. But that meant in the meantime, me, my clothing, my makeup, even my damn houseplant were now living in Nash’s apartment.

For the last forty-eight hours, I’d slept in Nash’s bed, brushed my teeth at his sink, and gotten dressed in his bathroom. Then I’d sat at his table and eaten the breakfasts and dinners he made me.

I drew the line at pooping while he was home. To be safe, I’d temporarily cut back on fiber.

To be honest, minus my fear of sharing a bathroom, the living situation hadn’t been as weird as I’d expected. But that was probably because most of our quality time was spent naked and the rest of it was working out details of the Nash’s-fake-memory-recovery-to-lure-Duncan-Hugo-out-of- hiding plan.

The makeup artist packed up her gear and hustled out of the room. I slid off the counter and approached Nash. He was in uniform and scowling, a combination I found utterly appealing.

“Need I remind you? This was your idea,” I said, running my palms across his broad chest. He’d been putting weight back on, steadily adding muscle to his frame. And I’d noticed him using his bad shoulder with fewer grimaces. My heart had given up on its nervous PVCs for the most part, and I wondered if earth-shattering sex was some kind of miracle cure-all.

“My idea was to spread the word that my memory was back. Not shout it from a national online magazine with a goddamn photo shoot,” he complained.

“Poor baby. But we have to make sure the news spreads far and wide in case Duncan is in hiding across the country.”

“How did Stef even pull this off?” Nash demanded, tugging irritably on his collar.

“He’s got a PR firm on retainer. Naomi called him, he called them, and here we are.”

“Remind me to drop a weight plate on his foot at the gym next time I see him.”

I grinned. “What?”

“I kind of like it when you’re surly. It’s cute,” I confessed. “I’m not surly and it’s not fucking cute.”

“Okay. You’re broody and it’s sexy.”

His jaw ticked as he pondered that one. “I can live with that.” “Are you worried?” I asked, cuddling up to him.

Nash slid his fingers into the back pockets of my pants. “He’s unpredictable. I could be putting myself out there as bait and he could still ignore me and go after someone else.”

“Knox isn’t going to let Naomi or Waylay out of his sight for the foreseeable future. You’re the one who’s going to be drawing Duncan’s attention. You’re the biggest threat. He won’t be able to resist trying to finish the job.” I shook my head and closed my eyes.

“What?” Nash asked.

“I can’t believe I’m comforting my live-in lover with the fact that the man who tried to murder him once will make a second attempt,” I said. “Nothing about this situation is normal.”

“Live-in lover?” he repeated.

“Boy toy? Man friend? Emotional support fuck?”

“Boyfriend,” Nash decided. He grinned when I winced. “For a badass, you sure spook easy.”

“I’m not spooked,” I lied.

“You think I can’t tell when my girlfriend is panicking?”

“Now you’re just being a Nashhole,” I complained, stepping out of his grasp. “Let’s table the labeling of whatever this is until after.”

He leaned against his desk, still grinning. “I like knowing I can rattle you.”

“Yeah? Well, I like it better when you’re freaking out over cosmetics and a photo shoot for a national magazine.”

He winced. “Now who’s being mean, Meana?”

“Here, have a mint,” I said, handing him one of the wrapped candies I’d snagged from the restaurant’s host stand on our first date.

“I don’t want a mint. I want…” He trailed off as the wrapper crinkled in his hand. He frowned down at it, lost in thought.

“What?” I asked.

He shook himself. “Nothing. Just felt like I was remembering something.”

“About the shooting?” I prodded. “Maybe. It’s gone now.”

“If you’re a good boy, I’ll take you for ice cream,” I offered, changing the subject.

His fingers hooked into the waistband of my pants and tugged me closer.

“Your pepper spray is digging into my stomach,” I warned him.

“How about instead of a photo shoot and ice cream, I sit you on my desk and spread those long, sexy legs of yours wide? I’ll go down on my knees and kiss my way up your thighs.”

A delicious shiver worked its way up my spine as he slid one hand lower to cup my rear end. His hand was warm, the grip possessive.

“You’d be begging me for it until I’d take my tongue and—”

“Okay! Sorry for the delay. I’m locked and loaded.” The photographer didn’t seem to notice that my knees had quit functioning or that Nash was glaring at him with the heat of a thousand suns.

“Rain check?” I whispered.

ear.

“What the hell am I supposed to do with a hard-on?” he growled in my

I glanced down and grinned. “Hide it behind your pepper spray. And

your flashlight. And your Taser. But whatever you do, don’t think about me screaming your name when you go down on me.”

“Fuck.”

 

 

Nash suffered through twelve whole minutes of photos—most of

them with a barely disguised erection—before pulling the plug on the shoot like a grumpy man bear. It was six minutes longer than I thought he’d last.

I shifted Piper in my arms and pulled out my phone.

Me: You owe me $20. Nash just gave the photographer the boot. Stef: Damn it! I thought he’d make it to fifteen.

Me: Sucker. Venmo me. Also, thank you for arranging this while you’re busy doing whatever it is you do in New York. I owe you.

Stef: You can repay your debt by feeding me intel on Jeremiah. Me: Aren’t you in contact with him?

Stef: Of course I am. I just want to know if he’s lifting weights like a sad, sexy panda while I’m gone.

“Hey. You wanna get out of here?” Nash said, poking his head in the door of his office. His face was scrubbed clean of the makeup artist’s powder. He looked exactly like an all-American hero. Piper thought so too if her tail wagging was any indication.

“Where are we going?” I asked, slipping my phone into my bag and putting the dog on the floor.

“To see a girl about an ass,” he said cryptically.

“After you,” I said, gesturing for him to walk ahead of me. I admired his posterior in those sexy as hell uniform pants as he led the way into the bullpen.

“Did they take any pictures of your face or was it all ass?” Nolan asked, shrugging into his jacket and following us out the door.

“Bite me,” Nash said.

It was a beautiful fall day for a drive. Nash cued up a country playlist and off the three of us—plus Piper—went in his department-issued SUV. I

focused my attention on the updates in the WhatsApp group. Naomi and Sloane were taking their assignments seriously.

Sloane had recruited a tiered network of spies on the lookout for Hugo and his henchmen.

Naomi and Waylay had their first jujitsu lesson scheduled for this evening. Knox and Lucian had ordered seven million pounds of security equipment that they would be installing this week.

“Fun field trip, Chief,” Nolan said from the back seat.

I glanced up and saw the women’s correctional facility looming in front of us.

“Figured it was about time I had a sit-down with her,” Nash said, eyeing the prison through the windshield. “Anything I need to know before we go in?”

“She won’t talk if Nolan’s in the room, and she has a crush on you.”

“Tina? On me?” Nash looked like I’d just whipped out a badminton racket and slapped him in the face with it.

“It’s the butt, isn’t it?” Nolan asked. “Mine or hers?”

“Come on, Chief,” I teased. “You know that every female in Knockemout loves to watch you leave a room.”

Nash’s ears were turning an adorable shade of pink. “Can we please not talk about my ass?”

“We can stop, but I don’t think you’re gonna shut the whole town up, Studly Do-Right,” Nolan warned.

Muttering under his breath, Nash got out of the SUV and tossed his keys to Nolan. “Stay here and keep Piper entertained. We’ll be back.”

“Try not to get shanked,” Nolan called out.

I stiffened when Nash slung his arm around my shoulders as we headed across the lot.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“We’re working,” I pointed out. “And?”

“And it’s not professional of us to be hanging on each other, making out.”

“I think we need to redefine what you consider making out.” “You know what I’m talking about,” I said, hating the sharpness in my tone.

Nash stopped me just before we reached the entrance. “You’ve been giving me a hard time all day, and when you’re not, you’re turning me on. And when it’s neither of those, you’re lost in thought. I’m guessing you’re still spinning over the whole extended sleepover situation.”

“I’m not spinning.”

“Did you know you emphasize words more when you’re upset?” “I do not.” Okay, he had a point. I’d never been around a guy long enough for him to pick up on my tells. This was frustrating.

And now I was doing it in my head. Great.

“Listen, baby. Freak out all you want. I’ll still be here when you’re done. It’s just an extended sleepover. You’re not trapped in a dungeon or held against your will. You’re just keeping your clothes in a different closet. We’ll handle the real decisions later. Okay?”

I nodded, a bit too eagerly. Baby steps. “Okay. Yeah. Okay.”

“Good girl. Now help me get Tina to open up.”

I shook my head to clear it. “Fine. Let me think. She appreciates that you were always decent to her. She mentioned you never treated her poorly, even when you arrested her.”

“So why did she let her boyfriend shoot at me?”

“She claims she didn’t know until afterward. And I’m wondering if Hugo targeted you because Tina had a thing for you.”

Nash glanced back. “Is it really that nice?”

“Yes. Yes, it is.”

Tina walked into the room with her usual swagger but froze when she saw Nash standing next to me. She quickly brushed her hair back and approached the table, her posture assertive.

Nash didn’t look at her chest beneath the prison uniform, but he did smile. “Hey, Tina.”

“Chief.” Tina’s shoelace-free shoe hit the chair leg, and she stumbled, steadying herself against the table.

“You okay?” Nash asked.

“Perfectly fine. I mean, yes, I’m fine.” The tough exterior barely masking the girl trying to resist the charming guy. I didn’t like the similarities.

“Nash has a few questions for you,” I said.

Tina’s eyes found mine as she sat down, looking surprised as if she hadn’t noticed me earlier. “Oh, hi, Lona.”

“It’s Lina,” I corrected, shooting Nash a knowing look. He cleared his throat. “Tina—”

“Look, I had no clue about him shooting you,” Tina interjected. “Not beforehand, anyway. And I gave him hell after. He claimed he did it to make his dad take him seriously. Why anyone cares about their parents’ opinions, I’ll never understand. A waste of time, if you ask me.”

This from someone with two parents who just wanted her to be happy and stop breaking the law.

“I appreciate that,” Nash said.

She nodded. “Like I said, I had nothing to do with it.”

“Why is that?” I asked.

She shrugged. “No idea.”

Nash leaned in, and Tina mirrored him. “Any clue where he’d go if he needed to lay low but stay close?”

“I told her I never met the guy, but whenever he needed a new spot, he’d call Burner Phone Guy,” Tina explained, nodding towards me without breaking her gaze from Nash. “He’d set us up with a place to stay or find Duncan a spot to hide the stolen cars.”

“How’d he pay Burner Phone Guy?” Nash asked.

“Cash. He’d put it in one of those media mailboxes from the post office and send it.”

“You’ve been very helpful, Tina,” Nash said, making a few notes before setting his pen down.

“If you have more questions about that night in the warehouse, ask Waylay. That kid remembers everything. Don’t mention ice cream unless you plan on getting it because she won’t let it go for two years if you don’t follow through.”

And just like that, I was back to being annoyed with Tina. Nash and I stood up.

“We appreciate your time,” Nash said.

Tina looked momentarily panicked before a sly grin appeared. She flicked Nash’s pen off the table like a cat. “Oops. Dropped your pen.”

Nash paled and looked to me for help. “You’re closer,” I said.

I barely stifled a laugh as he crouched down, keeping his backside away from Tina.

“You have a good day,” he said, pocketing the pen.

“See you, Tina,” I said, following Nash as he kept his back to the wall and moved toward the door.

We found Nolan and Piper sitting in the sun on a patch of grass, playing tug-of-war with Piper’s stuffed police dog.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” Nolan offered.

Nash reached down to pet Piper. “Hugo’s unknown helper might be more of a real estate guy than a henchman. He got paid in cash through the mail.”

“Mail fraud. Interesting.”

“I’ll have my researcher focus on known associates with real estate ties,” I said.

“Your turn,” Nash said to Nolan.

“I contacted an old friend in the Bureau. No names, but he had some info. He said the anonymous tips are coming through the mail to Special Agent Idler. Handwritten notes about Anthony Hugo’s operations. Nothing major yet, but it’s all been accurate. The sender hinted there’s more for an immunity deal.”

“That matches Grim’s info. Sounds like Duncan Hugo wants to partner with the feds if it means sidelining his dad and taking over the business,” Nash said.

“Should I worry about national security with all these leaks in the FBI?” I wondered.

“Nah. It’s probably fine,” Nolan said with a wink.

I opened the WhatsApp chat to update everyone on our progress.

“Oh good. Knox and Lucian added more cameras outside and inside the building. They’re installing window and door sensors tomorrow, and Lucian left a tracker disguised as a condom for you at the station,” I read.

“With all this progress, I’m getting hungry,” Nash announced.

“I could go for an open-faced hot turkey sandwich,” Nolan said.

“Hey, Nolan. Tina dropped a pen just to watch Nash pick it up,” I tattled as we got in the car.