You’ve been lyin’ to me from the day we met. Nash isn’t even your real name, is it?
“That’ll be thirty-two-fifty,” the woman behind the counter says. “Are you a member of our rewards program?”
“No. And I don’t want to be.” Cringing when the cashier’s smile fades, I rush to add, “Sorry. I’m havin’ a day. I’ll sign up next time.”
The twenty-minute drive to my house feels like it takes an hour, but when I see the rental car in the driveway, I start to relax for the first time since the shooting.
So why can’t I go inside?
Because once I do, I could lose him.
You could lose him anyway. Stop stallin’ and talk to him.
I sit in Hidden Agenda’s SUV for another few moments, forcing myself to breathe deeply. I can do this. I have to.
It’s quiet when I finally work up the nerve to go in. Until Kiki comes racing up the stairs from the basement, meowing the whole way.
“Nash took pity on you, didn’t he?” The cat rubs against my ankles, purring up a storm. The stress of the day hits me—hard—and I scoop him up and bury my face in his soft fur.
When a pair of strong arms wrap around me, I swallow the sob welling in my throat.
“I was worried.” His lips brush my cheek. “Are you okay?”
Kiki wriggles free, and I turn in Nash’s embrace. “You’re the one who almost died.” The cut on his cheek is bright red, and I brush my fingers under the wound. “This is gonna get infected. Come with me.”
Leading him into the kitchen, I point to the breakfast nook. “Sit. I’ll get my first aid kit.”
“Raelynn…”
I silence him with a single look. “Let me do this, Nash. Before I have to ask you why the best hacker on the planet can’t find any evidence you are who you say you are.”
He drops his head into his hands. “I didn’t want to lie to you.”
“But you did.” Sliding onto the bench next to him, I wait for him to look at me before I dab an antiseptic pad over the cut. To his credit, he barely flinches. “What’s your real name?”
“I’ve been Nash Grace for twenty years. That is my real name.”
Two butterfly bandages close the wound but now that I have him trapped by the built-in table, I don’t make a move to get up. “Not the one you were born with.”
“Nathan,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Nathan…what? I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.” If I could stop, I would. The pain etched on his face is enough to break me. Or break us.
“You can’t help me at all. Not with this.” His fingers flutter over the thick scar at his temple. “You have to let me go, Raelynn. If you’re right, and that bullet was meant for me, staying in Seattle is a death sentence. For both of us.”
“It doesn’t have to be.” Slamming the lid on the first aid kit, I get to my feet. It doesn’t surprise me when Nash—Nathan?—scoots out from behind the table and edges toward the door, but a part of me aches that he’s so ready to give up on what we have.
One perfect night and a handful of lies. That’s all you have, and he knows it.
“I don’t work at the dojo.” The admission tumbles from my lips. He stops, a deep furrow between his brows. In the afternoon light streaming through the kitchen window, he looks so much older than his thirty-four years. The sun highlights a few strands of gray in his stubble and casts shadows on the exhaustion lines around his eyes.
“Then why are you there almost every time I take a class?” He rubs a hand over his chin, fear churning in his eyes. “Oh, fuck. You were watching me.”
“No!” I reach for him, but he turns and sprints for the front door. “Nash! Wait!”
Kiki darts in front of him, nothing but a black blur. Nash skids on the rug and goes down, landing on his ass with a rough, “Oof.”
I’m beside him before he can scramble to his feet, grabbing his arms and straddling him. “If I were gonna hurt you, I’d have done it last night.”
