by Amy Braun
Nash frowned at that. “Sonya endured a lot of suffering from the other Stray Dogs.”
Sonya. His friend. The woman lucky enough to have known him before I did.
“She pretended like her injuries were nothing,” Nash continued. “I could never stop it, but we had a deal. After I came out of the fights, she would visit me, patch me up. In exchange, I helped her relax.”
“How?”
Nash glanced at me, almost nervously. He shifted a little closer, until his leg touched mine. His hands hovered over my shoulders, but his eyes were locked on mine. “May I?”
I didn’t know what he intended to do, so I nodded. Nash gently pulled the blanket down from my shoulders and pried it from my grasp. He set it down in front of me. “Can you lie down?”
My defenses went up immediately. I doubted Nash would try to violate me the way Morris did, but then again, what did I know about him? After all, he was the one who pointed out that we were all thieves and desperate survivors. If Nash pinned me down, I wouldn’t be able to stop him. He was too big, too strong, too experienced in fighting.
As though he read my thoughts, he said, “I’m not going to hurt you. I promise, this is just to help you relax. You need to rest, and this is the only way you’ll get it.”
I frowned, looking at the blanket like it would swallow me whole. “What are you going to do, massage me?”
A slight flush crept into his cheeks. He shrugged sheepishly, looking more like a little boy than a hardened fighter. “Nothing else, I swear. I would never go further without your permission. I haven’t… uh… it’s been a while since…”
He chuckled and ran a hand over his short, dark hair. “Not as smooth anymore, am I?” Nash lowered his hand. “Guess I screwed up. I’ll leave you alone if you want––”
“No.”
We shared the same, shocked expression. I regained my composure faster. “I’ll take you up on your offer.” I tipped my chin, making myself appear as dangerous as possible. “But if you start getting wandering hands, you’re going to have to report to Sawyer with broken fingers.”
Nash wasn’t the least bit intimidated. He even smiled at me. “I’d expect nothing less.”
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling back, then laid down with the blanket under my stomach. The floor was cold, but I barely felt it under my racing heart. Nash shuffled behind me, resting his knees near my hip. He didn’t straddle me or tell me to remove my shirt. The only pressure I felt was when his hands pushed against the middle of my back.
He smoothed his palms up toward my shoulders, his thumbs grazing my spine. The shirt glided like silk against my skin. When he reached the base of my neck, he squeezed a little tighter and rubbed my muscles. The circles he made with his thumbs worked like magic against my nerves. Nash slipped his hands across my shoulders to where they joined with my arm. He squeezed and rubbed some more, stopping only when I tensed at bruises he pinched. He would pause for a moment, as if memorizing the location of the pain, then move onto another spot, being very careful not to go near the bruises again. Eventually, he avoided all of them.
Never lifting his hands from my back, Nash drew his palms inward and traced them down my spine. I shivered as he neared the base, and he stopped.
“Am I still hurting you?” he whispered.
“No,” I said. “Keep going.”
He did, drawing slow, languid circles across my lower back, to the soft skin over my hips, up to the back of my ribs, to my shoulders, and down again. I had no idea how many knots were in my back until I felt them untangle. As he trailed up again, the knots unraveled until they were threads flowing in a breeze. Something began to build in my chest, a pressure that started working its way to my throat. I clamped my eyes and mouth shut, holding back whatever was trying to break free of me.
Nash’s hands continued their soothing circles. He pressed down on the knots, breaking them open, lifting the tension free.
He brushed aside the hair from my neck and let his fingertips graze over my bare skin, lightly brushing the chain of my necklace. His butterfly touch became a slow caress, warm and comforting. I shivered.
Nash paused, the tips of his fingers still on my throat. I trembled.
“Gemma?”
The pressure I’d been holding back trickled out of me. The steady flow became a tidal wave. I tightened the blanket in my fists and buried my face in the cool cloth. Tears burned my eyes.
Nash stripped away all my barriers without ever knowing it. He couldn’t see my secrets. Only hear my pain. He could ask me anything right now, and I would tell him the truth. I was raw. Naked and exposed, a broken mess in borrowed clothing who couldn’t do the right thing when she knew it would save lives.
He was looking at a coward.
Nash’s hands left my neck. I sobbed again, knowing he would want an explanation. But what was I going to say? Where did I even start? What did he want to hear?
A warm body lay down next to me. Strong arms slid over my back and under my chest to cup my far shoulder. Very slowly, Nash drew me into a warm embrace. I was pressed against his solid chest, feeling his body heat seep into me, hearing his strong heartbeat beyond his ribs. Those gentle fingers moved through my hair, tenderly moving the strands as though each one was precious.
I burst into fresh tears.
“I’m sorry,” I choked out against his chest.
Nash tightened his arms around me. His warm, earthy smell was everywhere, and I couldn’t get enough.
“It’s okay, Gemma,” he murmured, the deep rumble of his voice becoming a balm to the ache in my soul. “Just rest. Things will be better in the morning.”
My confession was swallowed by another sob. I should have told him to grab Sawyer and run. Leave me for whatever fate Fletcher had waiting for me. Nash would be safe if I didn’t see him again.
But I knew he wouldn’t let me go through that. His heart was too pure. Too good. Too much of what I would never have, let alone deserve.
The smart thing would have been to push him away. Make him hate me, hurt him so badly he couldn’t stand to be in the same room as me. But being in his arms made me feel more than safe and comfortable. It made me feel like I belonged, in a way that Fletcher and his gang could never imagine. Right now, I didn’t think about anything. There was no blackmail, no manipulations, no waiting hurt. It was just me and a man who had no idea what he would lose for caring so much.
Right now, I let the wonders of Nash’s massage, the warmth of his body, and the steady beat of his heart lull me into a deep sleep that I hadn’t had in years.
Chapter 8
Three days later, I suggested to Sawyer that we try another supply run. I told him I knew a good place to get welding material and some dried foods. He agreed to follow my lead.
I didn’t know who I hated more––Sawyer for believing me, or myself for telling him the location of Fletcher’s trap. The one I still couldn’t bring myself to tell him or Nash about.
Why couldn’t I just tell them what was going to happen? What was I afraid of? Did I actually believe that Fletcher, Tyler, Boyd, and Morris were part of my family? Why would I think that?
Because Fletcher took you off the streets. Gave you the things you needed to survive. Treated you like a daughter again.
An abused, disdained daughter.
This world broke him, and he tried to deal with the fallout as best as he could.
Was that why he sent me on missions to steal from dangerous enemies? Why he planned to use me as a broodmare for any miscreants and stragglers that caught his eye?
He gave you a purpose.
Taking things from people who probably don’t have any more than I do?
If it weren’t for this mission, you wouldn’t have met Nash.
I stopped. Nash. For a moment, I could almost feel his arms around me again, hear his strong heartbeat and smell his hearty, earth scent. It was a cruel, twisted fate that I would meet him because of Fletcher.
&n
bsp; Meet him, only to lose him.
“Gemma?”
I blinked and turned to the man who turned my life upside down. Nash wasn’t touching me, but he stood so close I that he was all I could see.
Of everyone left alive, why did I have to fall for you?
“Gemma? What’s wrong?”
I blinked rapidly, hoping the falling rain would hide my tears. Sawyer came into view behind Nash. His expression was almost as concerned as his friend’s. Close, but I doubted anyone alive could match the amount of compassion Nash had.
“I…” Damn it, Gemma, just say it! “I’m not sure this is a good idea.”
“Why not?” Sawyer asked.
I took another breath, but the words died in my throat. I turned my gaze from the marauders to the school where Fletcher and his sons took up residence. Westraven’s Academy of Science stood in the Collegiate district on the east side of the city, where scholars and students had gone for the highest education Westraven could offer. The Academy was isolated from the main college campus and far from the other major schools, sitting on top of a rolling and vacant hill, but I doubted that Fletcher minded. He probably felt like a genius when he was here.
While it wasn’t a prime target during The Storm, it became a pinnacle of violence when survivors swarmed it for shelter. The once beautiful building had been caught between the riots and the Hellion raids that picked off the remaining survivors. What lingered now was cracked and scorched grey brick building with a collapsed clock tower tumbling over the right side. Chunks of slate tile roofing were stripped away. A wide puncture was gouged in the ceiling as though a bomb had been detonated inside the building. The windows on both stories of the school were half-boarded up or covered with curtains soaked black from the rain. An overgrown holly shrub obscured one of the entrances, but the other stood under a crumbling archway. Both of the dented doors had been pulled open, revealing a sliver of the darkness inside.
“I’ve been gone for a while,” I said. “I don’t know if anyone will have taken over the building since then.” I jutted my chin at the entrance. “That door wasn’t open the last time I was here.”
Sawyer passed his gaze over the building. He seemed to scrutinize every faded window, every cracked tile, every gear in the fallen tower. He regarded the door with the most suspicion, though I was surprised how long he lingered on the holly shrub.
“We should at least check it out,” Nash said. “We walked at least an hour to get here, and there’s no telling how much lighter this rain is going to get.”
My eyes widened as I whirled to Nash. He simply smiled at me. “It’ll be fine, Gemma. We can take care of ourselves.”
“Nash is right,” agreed Sawyer, already drawing his cutlass from the scabbard on his hip. “We’re here, we might as well see what we can find.”
He started walking toward the Academy. Nash followed him without hesitation.
Panic filled me. I couldn’t let them go in there. I couldn’t.
Then why did you bring them here, Gemma? What are you really scared of now?
“You can’t just barge in there,” I called, catching up to the marauders when they reached the door. Sawyer paused before going inside. Nash was halfway through the door. I came to a stop, but my heart wouldn’t slow down.
“How come?” Sawyer asked, looking at me uncertainly. “Is there some kind of trap or Pitfall in there?”
My eyes flicked to Nash in the doorframe. He watched me, waiting for my response. He trusted me. They both did.
My breath hitched in my throat. This was my chance. I could get them out of here and keep them from ever knowing the truth. If I had to live with Fletcher and his goons trailing me the rest of my life, I would do it. I could save them from further pain, and find my own way to be free.
“Yes,” I said. “There’s a spring-loaded tripwire near the basement where the assembly room is. If it’s tripped, two pounds of buckshot fly out from a blunderbuss and pulverize anything near it.”
Sawyer and Nash raised their eyebrows almost simultaneously. I would have laughed if I weren’t so anxious.
“It’s been there every time I’ve stopped in for a place to hide. There are other small traps, too. New ones get placed and other ones move around. I think someone’s claimed this place as their own, and I don’t know how well they’ve guarded their supplies in the last four months. I thought it was a good idea to come here, but…” I looked down and shook my head. “I was wrong.”
Sawyer’s gaze pierced through me. I would have looked up and placed a mask over my emotions, if I thought I was capable of such a thing at that point––
“Help!” called a voice from inside.
I snapped my head up. Squinted at the voice. Wait, that can’t be…
“Someone, help!”
Nash ran through the door. Sawyer followed him with an angry hiss.
No!
I barged through, chasing them, but they were faster than me. More determined. They truly believed someone was in danger. Nash was smart, but his heart was too noble. His thoughts were only about the person caught in the trap.
He never considered the trap would be for himself.
And Sawyer? No matter what he did or how he acted, I knew he cared about Nash. If he were a son of Robertson Kendric and brother of Davin Kendric like Fletcher claimed, he would want as many friends as he could get. I didn’t know if Nash knew the truth or had accepted it, but it wouldn’t matter to Sawyer. He wouldn’t let his friend get hurt.
I ran behind them, praying I wouldn’t be too late, that I could find a way to stop them before Fletcher hooked his claws into them. I was still hoping they wouldn’t find out the truth about me.
A fresh scream ripped through the dreary hall. Our feet crunched over cracked glass from the punctured windows of the classroom doors. Dark grey light seeped through the smoky window at the end of the hall, dousing the corridor in eerie blue light.
Nash pushed himself harder, pulling ahead of us and wheeling around a sharp right corner. Sawyer cursed under his breath and sped up his pursuit. He dashed around the corner and disappeared from sight. I made it to the same intersection and spun around the edge. My feet skidded over the rocky glass when I saw the crowd.
There was so much going on it was hard for me to take it all in at once. Boyd’s hand was wrapped around Sawyer’s throat, pinning the marauder to the wall. His weapons lay uselessly on the floor. Morris had Nash in a vicious headlock and had trapped his arms behind his back. He became the perfect target for Tyler’s punches.
Watching it all from the shadows was Fletcher. He lurked in the background, his deceiving dark eyes now emotionless and empty. He didn’t care that his two captives were being savagely beaten. It was what he wanted, after all. To pummel the defiance out of them so he had a semblance of control. Just as he’d done with me.
As if on cue, Fletcher looked past the scuffle and smiled at me. A shiver ran down my spine.
“Gemma,” he called. “How nice of you to join us again.”
Both marauders froze. With Boyd trapping his neck, Sawyer couldn’t effectively turn his head to glare at me, though I got the message loud and clear. He was furious at my betrayal.
But my attention was on Nash. He was breathing heavily from the fight, his arms and throat still locked in place. The look in his eyes…
My heart suddenly weighed a thousand pounds. Tears burned my eyes until I couldn’t see him clearly. It wasn’t rage or shock on his face like Sawyer’s. Not grief or defeat.
It was confusion.
Nash didn’t understand. In his mind, I was a victim. Lonely, afraid, damaged. A girl who listened to him and genuinely wanted to hear him speak about his past. Who wanted to understand him and keep him close.
He wasn’t able to see me as a liar, and from what I could see past the haze of tears in my eyes, he was waiting for me to give him a sign that it was all a ruse. That it would end with me fooling Fletcher and rescuing them from the trap they walke
d into.
I looked at the ground and felt my heart continue to plummet.
“I was worried when you didn’t contact us after the first few days,” Fletcher went on, stalking between the captured marauders toward me the way a proud father would approach a child who impressed him. “But I should have known you would come back to your family.”
I stared at the cracked tile floor and clenched my fists. I didn’t want to risk opening my mouth. Not until I knew what to do or say. I couldn’t fight Fletcher or my brothers with Nash and Sawyer trapped. If I made a move for one of them, the other would be hurt. I was fast, but three-on-one odds wouldn’t work in my favor. Especially since Tyler was still looking for an excuse to rip my spine out through my throat.
“Our…” My voice was hoarse, and I wasn’t even screaming. I held my breath and looked up. “Our deal still stands?”
Sawyer growled until Boyd tightened his grip. Nash’s confusion shifted as reality sank in for him. The cold disapproval in Fletcher’s eyes helped reveal the fakeness of his smile.
“Are you sure that’s what you want, Gemma? Once we break them in, you’ll have two new brothers to look after you. Can you honestly tell me you didn’t feel anything for them while you groomed them?”
Every thief was a liar by nature. To others, to ourselves. It was simply part of who we were. Not a trait I was fond of, but one I was grateful for sometimes. I relaxed my shoulders and looked Fletcher square in the eye. I dug through the wreckage of my heart for every ounce of contempt, disgust, and hatred, and laced them into my voice.
“No,” I said flatly. “That one’s all arrogance and stubbornness,” I jutted my chin to Sawyer, who scowled in response. I turned my attention to Nash. I clenched my fists until my nails cut into my palms. “And that one’s too soft.”
Nash was completely bewildered. He stared at me like he didn’t know who I was, like I was an impostor wearing the skin of the woman he sheltered just days ago. I couldn’t look at him for more than a few seconds. I turned my hardened gaze back to Fletcher.