“Oh, we’re sure.” Wren points to the center monitor. “Inara just sent this picture of your front door.”
The screen flickers, the camera feed dissolving to reveal a switchblade pinning a piece of white paper to the wood, the point dead center of the single hastily scrawled word.
Nathan.
Chapter Seventeen
Nash
A large door swings open at the far corner of the warehouse, and Inara rolls Ryker’s motorcycle inside. “Your back tire caught a nail,” she calls over her shoulder. “Before I took her out. Pressure’s still good, but you’ll want to fix it ASAP.”
“Son of a bitch,” Ryker mutters. “Wyatt, you good with driving my truck home when we’re done here?”
“Don’t you mean ‘probie’?” Raelynn asks.
“Not yet.” Wyatt ambles over to the kitchen—it’s the only word for his slow, loping gait—and pours himself another cup of coffee. “I’m here in an advisory capacity only. For now.”
Raelynn gives him the side eye. “What the hell does that mean? And I’ll take a cup if you’re pourin’.”
“Hope’s having a bad week.” He fills a second mug and sets it in front of her. “She’s still having a lot of pain from the cracked vertebrae. The doc’s coming over in the morning. Until he takes a look at her, I’m sticking close to home.”
“Shit. Sorry.” Raelynn cradles the coffee to her chest and inhales deeply before glancing over at me. “You doin’ okay, darlin’?”
“No.” Pulling out my phone, I check the screen. I keep forgetting about the signal jammers. “Dammit. Why hasn’t Duncan called yet?”
“Who the hell is Duncan?” Ryker asks, suddenly appearing right next to me.
I take a step back so I can stare up at him. Both of the big men are terrifying in their own way. Wyatt’s been quiet. One or two word answers, delivered in a gentle South Carolina twang that would reassure me if it weren’t for his steely-eyed stare. But Ryker…he’s lethal. In every way.
“You gonna answer me, Nathan?”
Raelynn slides between the two of us, shoving at Ryker’s chest. “His name is Nash. Nathan died twenty years ago. And you need to back off. He’s here, ain’t he? Cooperatin’?”
“Then why is this the first I’m hearing about some guy named Duncan?”
I can’t let Raelynn fight my battles for me. Not all of them, anyway. “He was my dad’s handler. I told you about him.”
Ryker stares down at me. His eyes are the oddest mix of colors. Hazel, blue, green, even a few streaks of bronze, and they change colors with the light. “Not his name.”
“You’re wrong—” The second the words leave my mouth, I know it’s the wrong thing to say. So does everyone else. West straightens and slaps a hand against Wyatt’s chest so the other man doesn’t move, and Wren swivels in the plush recliner.
“Wrong?” With a single step forward, Ryker makes me feel like I’m only two inches tall. “I remember everything, Nash. Your mother’s maiden name was Meadows. You lived at 231 Millstein Avenue back in Chicago. At the Junior High State Championships, you took first place in the four hundred meters with a time of forty-six point five-two seconds, and this—” he points to a jagged scar along his cheek “—came from a Kershaw Launch 1 blade on day three hundred and ninety four of my time in Hell.”
Holy shit.
“So I know for a fact you never mentioned Duncan’s name. ‘My dad’s handler showed up in the middle of the night and told us to pack enough clothes for a week.’ Your exact words. And now you’re saying not only is this handler still alive, but you called him?” Ryker cuts his gaze to Raelynn. “And you knew about it?”
I step in front of her so his wrath is centered on me. “What the hell else was I supposed to do? Someone took a shot at me. I was alone and scared. I didn’t know what Raelynn did for a living or that you all,” I wave my hand toward the men and women standing behind Ryker, “would be willing to help me. Duncan was the only person in this world I could think of who still gives a damn about me. So yes. I called him.”
By the time I finish my tirade, I’m shouting. Not smart as Ryker could snap my bones without breaking a sweat, but I’m so sick of feeling like a bystander in my own life, I can’t hold back my anger.
“About fucking time,” he snaps.
“F-for…what?” I shoot Raelynn a look, but she’s as confused as I am.
“For you to show some goddamn backbone. Raelynn’s half gone over you, and until now, I couldn’t understand why.”
West sidesteps Ryker and claps a hand on my shoulder. “When was the last time you felt in control of your life, Nash?”
