With a squeal, I turned to run, but he was faster than me. And I didn’t mind it one bit when he tossed me over his shoulder and marched us into the bedroom.
The pounding woke us both out of a dead sleep. Sometime after falling into a post-sex coma, I’d actually crawled on top of Nash, which was embarrassing to say the least. But there wasn’t any time to wallow in it with an extremely insistent middle of the night knocker.
Nash reacted more quickly than I did. He dragged on a pair of sweats and hauled ass to the door while I was still rubbing the sleep out of my eyes and hoping I hadn’t drooled on his chest.
I managed to stumble after him, barely avoiding stepping on the anxious Piper, who was growling and trembling at the same time.
“It’s three in the fucking morning. Someone better be bleeding,” Nash said, swinging the door open.
Nolan prowled inside in pajama pants, running shoes, and, well, that was it.
“I think this was meant for you,” Nolan said, handing me a freezer bag with a large rock and a piece of paper inside.
“Me?”
Nash snatched the bag out of his hand but not before I read the note.
Back off, Bitch.
“Where the hell did you find this?” Nash demanded.
“Mixed in with a nice shard of glass salad on her dining room floor,” Nolan reported.
“What?” I squinted at him, processing.
He looked to the heavens when I didn’t pick up what he was putting down fast enough. “They threw it through the damn window about two minutes ago.”
Nash sprang into action and bolted barefoot through the door.
“Damn it,” I muttered.
“Nice nightie,” Nolan said, throwing me a smirk and a salute before jogging after him. “There’s no one out there. They peeled out about five seconds after they broke the window,” he called after Nash.
I ran back to the bedroom, pulled on my shoes, a sports bra, and Nash’s sweatshirt over the nightgown, then sprinted after them.
The night air was damp and cold. The streetlights bathed the eerily silent street in golden yellow light that pooled in the thickening fog. I spotted tire marks in front of the building.
“Get back inside,” Nash growled at me when I caught up to them in the middle of the street.
“It was meant for me—”
“Which makes you the goddamn target. So get your ass off the street, now,” he barked.
“Now who’s the one overemphasizing words?” I muttered under my breath as I marched back inside.
Annoyed, I waited shivering in the vestibule as Nash and Nolan canvassed both sides of the street.
“Well?” I demanded when they finally returned.
“They were long gone,” Nash said, his voice tight as he brushed past me and headed up the stairs.
“Chief doesn’t seem to like having his girlfriend threatened,” Nolan said to me as we trudged up behind him.
“I’m not his girlfriend. I’m… We’re…whatever.”
“You’re living together and wearing shit like that to bed. Pretty sure in some parts of the country, you’d be considered married.”
We’d made it to the top of the stairs when Mrs. Tweedy’s door burst open.
“It’s like a circus full of elephants escaped out here. What’s with all the thundering feet? You’re interrupting my beauty sleep,” Mrs. Tweedy said. She was wearing a housecoat and holding what looked like a martini.
“You sleep with a martini?” Nolan asked.
“This is my middle-of-the-night nightcap.”
FORTY-THREE
BAD DAY, BAD ADVICE
Nash
After the rock through Lina’s window and Grave’s arrival to take our statements, I’d lain awake staring at the ceiling for an hour, listening to the steady rhythm of Lina’s breath next to me. But instead of the comfort I usually found from her proximity, I was left with a gnawing anxiety.
Someone had threatened her.
If something happened to her… If I couldn’t protect her…
I’d finally managed to drift off only to dream of dark pavement, the menacing crunch, and the echo of gunshots.
When I jolted awake with a racing heartbeat and thundering headache, I’d given up on the idea of chasing more sleep and slipped out of bed.
It was a dreary gray morning with a slow, icy rain that somehow settled into your bones.
I took my first cup of coffee standing in front of the case board in the dining room and pushed aside the anxiety that threatened to choke me.
Either Tate Dilton had decided not to go so quietly or somehow this Duncan Hugo mess had spilled over onto Lina. Either way, I wasn’t going to wait and see what happened next.
I pulled out my phone and opened my messages.
Me: Meet me at the station. ASAP.
Knox: Jesus don’t you ever sleep? Lucian needs at least an hour to put on his fancy ass suit and commandeer a helicopter to get up here.
Lucian: I’m already dressed and I’ve conducted two teleconferences from the back room of Café Rev so far this morning.
Knox: Kiss ass.
Lucian: Sweatpant-wearing whiner.
I beat them both to the station and nodded a curt greeting to the night shift.
I’d left my place without a goodbye just to prove to myself I didn’t need to start my day with her.
My head felt fuzzy and my gut burned from coffee and nerves. Uneasiness crawled through my veins like a thousand spiders.
To distract myself while I waited for Knox and Lucian, I opened the mail sitting on my desk. I didn’t realize until I’d already opened it and unfolded it that one of the envelopes contained a letter from my father.
Just seeing his signature at the bottom ratcheted up my anxiety.
How many times had I wanted something from him, needed something from him? How many times had he let me down because his addiction was greater than his love for me? Duke Morgan needed pills just to get through the day. To survive. To numb himself before the world and its realities could put him in the ground.
Despite the morning chill, I broke out into a light sweat.
Was that what I was doing?
I swiped a hand over my mouth and stared unseeing at my father’s handwriting.
Even after all this time, it was as recognizable to me as my own. We made our e’s with the same slashing angle. We had the same eyes, the same e’s. What else was the same?
My heart pounded louder in my head. But now it wasn’t fear that threatened to choke me. It was anger.
Anger at myself for following in his footsteps.
I knew better. I knew that leaning on a crutch just to get through the day was the beginning of the end.
And wasn’t that exactly what I was doing with Lina? Using her? Turning to her to help push the pain and fear aside? It didn’t have to be drugs or alcohol or whatever else people used to numb the pain of existence. It could be anything, anyone you needed just to survive, to wake up and start the whole horrible cycle all over again.
“Everything all right?” Lucian strolled inside and I stuffed my father’s letter, unread, into the top desk drawer.
“No, it’s not. But I’d rather wait for Knox to get here before I get into it.”
“He’s fuckin’ here,” Knox said on a snarly yawn.
“Someone threw this through Lina’s window last night.” I tossed the bagged rock and note on to my desk.