“Who?” West sits up straighter, and the whole team is suddenly very interested in what I have to say next. Time to come clean and hope it doesn’t backfire on me.
“I was born Nathan Paul Rossi. Son of Angelo and Stella Rossi. Grandson of Giovani Rossi, head of the Rossi crime family.”
Raelynn
I pull a can of Dr. Pepper from the fridge and pop the top. Nash talked for two hours—amid all the questions Ryker and West had for him—before Wren needed a break. Graham and Tank are picking up Thai takeout, but they won’t be back for at least another twenty minutes.
Nash wanders over the climbing wall and runs his fingers over the lowest of the handholds.
“Want to go up?” I ask when I’m only a few feet away. “I can give you a lesson.”
“You climb this thing?” Nash turns to me and shakes his head. “Of course you do.”
“Three days a week for over a year. Before I jacked up my shoulder. Only been up a handful of times since then.” Grabbing a harness, I toss it to him. “We’ve got some time. And safety gear.”
He glances over at his backpack sitting next to the couches, his shoulders suddenly hiking halfway to his ears.
I cup his cheek, urging him to look at me. “No one’s going to mess with your stuff here, Nash. Rip might scan it for bugs later, but we have a wand for that.”
His eyes widen. “Bugs?”
Shit. That was the wrong thing to say. Clasping his shoulders, I hold his gaze. “Just a precaution. Like West and Inara stayin’ at your place last night.”
As if he’s suddenly realizing the lengths I’ll go to keep him safe, Nash surges forward, his arms banding so tightly around me, I stifle a yelp. “Thank you.”
“Put me down,” I hiss. “Before someone notices.”
“No.” He backs me up against the climbing wall, kissing me until someone—Wyatt, probably—whistles loudly.
Flames lick up my cheeks, but I don’t push him away. “You’re gonna ruin my reputation around here.”
“Oh?” He closes his teeth over the shell of my ear and tugs until I shiver. “Do you care?”
“Not one bit.” Sliding my hand up to his neck, I touch my forehead to his. “I know this is a lot. Bein’ here. Trustin’…anyone after so many years. But you’re doin’ great.”
“I don’t know how I’m going to explain any of this to Duncan.”
Shit.
I’d almost forgotten about the former U.S. Marshal Nash called yesterday. “Do you know when he’s landin’ yet?” Ryker’s gonna be pissed—and there’s no way in hell he’ll agree to bring the man here.
Nash pulls out his phone and checks the screen. “No service?”
I take his arm and guide him to the door. “Signal jammers. We have to get outside.”
Anger radiates from his entire body as he stalks after me. Sunlight blinds us for a moment until we round the corner of the building.
“What the fuck, Raelynn? I can’t stay here without my phone. Duncan’s on his way, and if he can’t reach me when he lands—”
“Calm your shit. The jammers only work on outsiders’ phones. Ours…are special. Text him and give him my number. He can call me when he lands. It’ll ring through, and you’ll be able to talk to him.”
Nash stares at me for so long, I start to worry. He’s doesn’t know which way is up, so far out of his comfort zone I wouldn’t blame him for snapping like a fiddle string at any moment. But he cracks open the phone and sends the message.
“He said he’d be on the first flight. How long does it take to get here from Italy?” The man looks like a lost puppy, and the confusion in his eyes twists my heart into a knot.
“Goin’ west, you got headwinds to consider. But with the time change, you make up time. There ain’t many direct flights from here to Italy. Wren might be able to work some magic if he’s already gone through customs. Let’s go back in.”
Before we make it to the door, a motorcycle roars to life. Inara speeds past us, a large duffel bag strapped to the back of the bike. “Inside. Now.” I grab Nash’s hand and pull him with me as I take off at a run.
