He sat me gently on the chair, then pulled a cellphone from his pocket. He stabbed at the screen and put it to his ear. “Theo? I need a first aid kit and ice pack in interview one.” He paused. “Yeah. Thanks.”
“I’m fine.” I shifted on the chair. “My injuries are over a week old.”
“That guy hit you in your side. It must have hurt like hell.”
I sighed. “Okay, my ribs are sore, but that won’t kill me.”
He knelt beside me and my pulse went crazy. Warmth exuded from him, along with a crisp, citrus cologne. He wore a black shirt and black leather jacket, but my gaze fixated on the triangle of bronze skin at his neck. I wanted to push my face against his strong neck and breathe him in.
Warmth trickled through my belly, heading lower. I blinked. I hadn’t felt a lick of desire in months. Not since I’d seen the first picture of Viv that Snyder had sent me.
“Who beat you?” Nash asked.
I straightened. “It doesn’t matter?—”
“I want to know who did this to you,” he enunciated clearly.
“Nash.” I grasped around for a change of subject. “Why did you change your name?”
“I didn’t want to be found.”
I flinched. So people like me, his past, couldn’t find him. I looked over his shoulder at the bare wall. I shouldn’t feel so hurt by that.
“Who?” The word was sharp, gruff. “I want a name.”
I swallowed. “I left him sedated in that alley.”
“Fuck.” Nash shot to his feet. “You should’ve told me. I could’ve dealt with him.”
I twisted my hands together. I wanted that, but more than anything,Iwanted to be the one to deal with Bruno.
“Georgie?” Nash waited until I looked at him. “Who is he?”
I closed my eyes. “One of the men who hurt my sister.”
Nash’s brow creased. “Vivienne?”
I opened my eyes and nodded.
“When I tried to help her,hewas ordered to teach me a lesson. He works for the man who abused and killed my sister.”
Nash sucked in a breath, but his face stayed as impassive as ever. “Viv’s dead?”
“Yes.” Hollowness spilled through me, growing like a disease. “Everyone I ever loved is dead.”
CHAPTER 9
NASH
One of the security team delivered a heavy-duty first aid kit. I sat it on the table and opened it. Resting on top was an ice pack.
I turned, holding the pack in my hand.
Looking at her was like a fist to my chest.
Georgie. Georgie Linden was here in front of me.
Then other emotions swelled. She was too thin, her smooth skin was bruised, and she looked tired.
