With pursed lips, she nods and pushes out the door.
"Fuck," I groan and close my eyes, torn between climaxing and complete embarrassment.
"Shhh, Pops, I got you. Focus on me, okay? Then we sleep."
The movement of his fingers increases, stroking every sensitive spot I've never known existed. All control is lost when his teeth clamp around my nipple again, nipping harder than comfortable but still erotic enough to shove me over the edge with a silent gasp and groan.
"Damn, you feel amazing. Can't wait to get you home."
Mind still spinning, I focus on one word. "Home?"
"Yeah, you and me. You come back to my place with me and we’ll figure it out from there."
Home.
With a happy grin plastered on my face, I drift off to sleep, hoping for dreams of a future with him.
Chapter 40
Nash
Today
Finally she sleeps. If I'd known a few twists of my fingers would help her get there, I'd have done it the second they laid her in this damn bed. Fuck, it's uncomfortable as shit; no wonder she couldn't sleep until pure exhaustion pulled her under.
Staring down at the freckled cheeks I love, I find myself looking forward to mornings just like this one in our future.
Future.
Damn, when was the last time I thought I had that with anyone? Sure, the family and helping them filled the gap since Brandi left, leaving me fucked in the head and feeling less important than worm shit, but this, her, us is what's meant to fill the hole. What Pops doesn't realize is when she looks at me, sees me, she's loving all of me and not expecting or wanting more than just that.
And what that does for me is beyond anything I've ever known. To be enough for someone and to see that in their eyes is overwhelming when for so long you didn't think you ever would be. Growing up the way we did, I always knew I had little to offer besides a flashy smile and good hair, but damn it if Pops doesn't make me realize that not only do I have more to offer, but I've found someone I want to offer that more to.
Yet still she thinks she's not worthy, or that this won't last.
Once that CIA fucker is behind bars with zero access to his clients for payback against her, maybe she will.
Reflexively, I pull her close and glance at the door. That fucker isn't getting anywhere near her. No one is.
As if on cue, the door swings open and I prepare myself for another flirty round with the nurses to keep my post alongside my girl. Instead, Matt steps through, allowing the door to softly shut behind him.
"How's she doing?" he asks with a longing look to the pink-haired beauty beside me.
"Finally asleep. The fuck do you want?"
"Mac wants to see you. Said he wants to talk about whoever you think that guy was working with. Has she said anything else?"
With a long look down, I brush a pink lock from her cheek and sigh. "Nah, not yet. Besides the initial questions, she hasn't been up for talking, and with the concussion, we're not pressing."
Inch by inch, I slide off the bed, trying to not wake her. I exhale once my feet are safely on the ground and her soft breaths still fill the room. Still staring, I hesitate before turning for the door.
"Don’t let anyone in this room while I’m gone,” I say through gritted teeth. “The nurses just checked on her, and we’re all set for her to leave this afternoon. If anyone walks into this room besides me, shoot them. No questions asked."
Matt nods.
"I need a fucking verbal answer from you, dipshit."
Yeah, still not over the fact that he took the shot that endangered her life, or that he might still have feelings for her. Hell, if he knew how difficult it is to even leave her alone with another man, he'd give me a high fucking five for my ability to fight this urge. But he doesn't know, and I can't hold that against him.
"And don't fucking touch her."
Okay, maybe I'm not as restrained as I thought. It's a learning process.
Chapter 41
Fate
Today
"Fate?" says a familiar voice, pulling me from sleep. "I have a few questions for you." There’s a slight jostle to my shoulder.
Something about the hushed, agitated voice pulls at a memory.
With a groan, I stretch my legs under the hospital blanket, relishing the slight soreness between them.
Blinking awake, I stare up into Matt's hard, blank stare. Immediately on alert, I push onto my elbows to scan the room.
No Nash.
"What's going on? Where is he? Where is Nash?" Anxiety builds sending my pulse racing.
"He's okay, just out taking care of a few things. Which leads me to my questions. We need to know, Fate. To help Nash get the inside source, we need answers, now."
Now. Sweat builds along my palms, turning them clammy beneath the sheets. Balling the rough blanket in my tight fist, I fight off the urge to spiral into the panic attack that threatens to swallow me whole. I take a few deep breaths in and out to calm my nerves.
"You mentioned that before you blacked out from the drugs, you heard or saw something. What was it, Fate. Is it enough for you to help convict this bastard when the time comes?"
What was I going to say? "I don't... I don't remember. Everything's so foggy, and I just want to go back to sleep. Where's Nash?"
"What do you remember?"
Think, think.
It feels important. Really important, but it's not clear. Every time I think I have the memory, it skitters away.
"You said it was right before you blacked out," Matt encourages. "So think back to your apartment. Think about right after you felt the drugs pulling you under."
A chill shakes my shoulders, but not at a memory—it’s at his words. How would he know I was in my apartment unless...?
Slowly peeling my lids open, I stare up into Matt's concerned features. Brows pulled together, lips pursed, he nods, urging me to talk.
"Where's Nash?" I ask, voice trembling. "I need him."
And just like that, the concern wrinkling his features falls to a smug half-smile. "Ah, slip of the tongue. Oh well. You should’ve listened to me from the beginning, Fate. I tried to tell you that you were in way over your head."
Chapter 42
Nash
Today
Each step down the hall toward the family waiting room pulls a pain-filled grimace to my face. I should take it easy on my leg, but there's no time for it. If Mac has any insight into ending this shit storm, I won’t let exhaustion hold me back.
I find him sitting in a chair, staring at his phone.
With a groan, I plop into the chair beside him and lean my head back against the wall. "I can't remember the last time I was this tired. Basic training, maybe. Hell, I can barely put two thoughts together."
Still staring at his phone, he nods but doesn't say a word.
Odd.
"What’s up with you?" I say with a punch to his shoulder. "What did you want?"
Turning, he bunches his brows as he levels a hard stare. "Patrick is denying any involvement, and the CIA is playing hardball with giving us access to his online history and phone logs. They say it’s a matter of national security, which I bet it is."
Growling into the hand covering my face, I stare up to the ceiling. "She's not ready yet."
"I know, but we need evidence. Anything she can remember will give us enough leverage to push past this fucking red tape."
"When she's ready. She's fucking exhausted, and the docs said it would be another day before the drugs are fully out of her system. We ask her then."
"Listen, I love her too." My possessive, ‘back the fuck off’ stare makes him chuckle. "Calm the hell down. Not like that. We're family. All the family each other has." For now. "But we need to get this done so she can move on. So you two can move on."
After a long pause, he looks over his shoulder to me, then back to the floor. "We need her to talk."
He's right. I know he's right. Every second counts, b
ut how do I balance knowing what needs to be done and her? This urge to protect her, keep reality at bay for a little longer for her is hard to suppress.
"Fine," I breathe and lean back. "When she wakes up." A flurry of nurses jogs down a hall, drawing our attention. "I need to get back in there. Fucking hated leaving her with that douchebag Matt. The shot he took was close, too close. He's damn lucky that bullet didn't go through her first. He's either a damn good shot and knows it or a complete idiot."
"I've never seen him fire a weapon, so I don't know about the good shot, but for him to take it, he must’ve felt comfortable with his ability. Can't believe you called him before me, bastard. And the additional tracker, keeping me in the dark—"
Everything shifts to slow motion as I replay his words. "What do you mean, we called him? You called him and he was closer."
All emotions fall from his face, leaving a cold, blank stare.
"Right? That's how he ended up at the warehouse before you."
Still nothing. Not a word.
My eyes widen as the pieces fall into place.
We shove out of our chairs at the same time and bolt down the hall toward her room.
Chapter 43
Fate
Today
He's going to kill me.
With one hand over my wrists, pinning them to the bed, and the other pointing his gun against my temple to keep me silent, Matt smiles down, knowing he has me trapped. Fear paralyzes any thoughts of how to escape his grasp, leaving me lying here staring up at the man who will soon murder me.
"I really did try to stop you. Even offered to date you, which most women would’ve jumped on, but oh, not you. Which was surprising since a lonely computer geek like you would never have a shot at someone like me in any other scenario. But you didn't take me up on my offer, and now we're here. How you got this far is a credit to your skills. After watching you keep me and Jace out of Mac’s files, I realized what an amateur Jace was. And I thought I was good but you’re better."
"Why?" I croak.
"Seriously? You haven't figured that one out by now? Money. It's all about money," he half-sings, half-mumbles. "What you saw in Jace's accounts was only a measly 10 percent of our fee. Kept him happy, but not too much to where he could stop. It's crazy—once I got him hooked on greed, he couldn’t get out. It’s an addiction. I'd know." He smiles. "I really didn't want to kill you. You have to know that. I hate doing the dirty work, but Jace fucked up your whole end game. Actually your boyfriend and his fucking boss did. But soon they’ll find out the inside guy isn’t the CIA bastard and keep digging, eventually leading to me. All because of you."
"Fuck you," I slur, taking more energy than it should.
The edges of my vision darken. Fuck, I have to calm down, ease my breathing to get more air into my lungs. I cannot pass out. I will not pass out and make this easy for him. No, I have to fight, have to give Nash enough time to get back in here and save me. He’ll save me. He’ll come back. I want a future with him. I want a life not filled with guilt and hate driving my every move. I want a family. I want him.
I want to live.
Repeating those four words over and over, I calm my breathing enough to clear my vision and think clearly.
Keep him talking. The more time he revels in his own egotistical praises, the more time I have to form a plan.
"I wanted to, remember?" he says with a growing smile. “Now be a good girl and lie still."
With one hand still holding the gun, he releases my wrists to pull a discarded pillow from the floor. Eyes wide, I watch in horror as he raises it toward my face.
"You won't get away with this. They'll catch you. They'll kill you."
"Wrong. By the time they realized you didn’t actually die from complications, I'll be halfway to a private airstrip where a plane’s waiting. Let’s make this quick, shall we? I should already be on the fucking plane, but you have to pay first. You fucked up a great thing, you know that?" Hate fills his intense stare as a sinister smile pulls at his lips. “Goodbye, Fate. Hope your sister was worth it.”
Matt leans forward, pillow first.
I frantically glance around the room in search of anything to derail his murder plan, my gaze falling on the heavy plastic tray still full of the food I haven't touched. The coarse material of the pillowcase brushes against my nose and covers my nostrils. Taking a deep breath in, I hold on to possibly the last breath I'll ever take.
One Mississippi.
I flail around, seemingly haphazardly, but with each move of my arm, I reach an inch farther to the left.
Two Mississippi.
The tip of my index finger brushes against the rolling table where the tray, my only weapon, sits.
Three Mississippi.
The pillow presses harder against my face. Four fingers pull the tray closer to gain a better grip.
Four Mississippi.
All the stored air whooshes from my lungs at something hard jamming into my stomach. I have one chance to live, one chance to fight.
And I'm taking it.
The tray wiggles in my soft grip but I will it toward Matt. I can't see where I hit, but the loud curse and ability to breathe from the pillow easing a fraction tells me I hit something sensitive. Again I launch the tray toward him, harder this time, fueled by anger, hate, and a small, male voice in the back of my head telling me I'm a badass.
The pillow falls completely and I suck in a deep breath, coughing.
It happens faster than my reflexes can keep up. The tray and pillow both clatter to the ground, allowing me to see the gun aimed at my head. Blood trickles from a gash along his cheek.
A commotion draws my attention from the barrel to the door where the two men I love the most in this world now stand.
"It's over, Matt," Mac says between deep breaths. "Don't make it worse."
"Worse." He scoffs and turns the gun to the door, no longer paying attention to me. "How could this get any worse?" His slightly hysterical laugh tells us all he's about to snap. Mac and Nash exchange a glance before stepping into the room, pushing Matt back, closer to me.
With Matt’s attention on them, I search for anything within reach to use as a distraction or a weapon. Pillow, blanket, rolling table....
I stare at the table before looking back up to Matt, who's herded deeper into the room by Nash and Mac. Both their guns are drawn, ready for an opening to take a shot. Again my eyes float to the rolling table. I know exactly how I can give them the opening they need.
Without drawing attention to my movements, I grip the side of the table and wait. Deep breaths in and out steady my nerves as he backs one step closer, then another. Two more steps and I can make my move.
One more step.
With every ounce of physical and mental strength I can muster, I shove the rolling table into his side, knocking him off balance. His gun fires into the ceiling just as the two men fire their own.
Ears ringing, I watch in stunned silence as Mac moves to Matt, kicking his gun across the floor before standing over the writhing man with his gun aimed at his chest. Nash ignores the bloody scene to race to my side. Large, gentle hands cup my face, pulling my gaze from the dying Matt to Nash's soft brown eyes.
"Hey, look at me. It’s over, okay? It's over," Nash repeats over and over, almost like he's trying to convince himself. "I fucked up again. I left you with—"
"You didn't know. We didn't know," I whisper, hoping it’s enough to erase the anguish from his features.
Behind us, a chaotic scene of nurses, doctors and security erupts, but still a smile slowly spreads across my face.
"What are you smiling about?" he questions as he brushes his lips against my forehead.
“Thank you.” I smile. “That day in Africa, when we first met. You said, ‘Thank me when we survive this,’ and we have. So, thank you, Nash. Thank you for saving me in so many ways.”
“You survived. We survived.”
"It's over," I say, then grab his face to draw
his eyes back to mine. "And you know what that means?"
Clearly confused, he shrugs.
"This chapter is over. This part of the story is over. And like I knew this whole time, this isn't a fairy-tale ending where the boy gets the girl."
His features drop, jaw slack.
Brushing a thumb over his lips, I shake my head.
"In this story, my story, the girl gets the boy."
His beaming smile fills my heart with joy, happiness—and hope.
"Well that’s a good thing, Pops, because that falls right in line with what I want. You. I want you. I want you to be a part of our family and maybe start our own. I want you for the rest of my life, to know you're always there for me when I come home. I want to make you so damn happy that you'll forget these past few years ever happened. You, Fate. I want—need—you."
I lean forward and press my smiling lips against his. "A family?"
"A real, loving, screwed-up, happy-as-hell family. You and me, Pops. What do you say?"
Tears spill down my cheeks as I whisper, “And they lived happily ever after.”
Epilogue
“You sure you want to do this?” Mac asks, eyes narrowed with concern.
“Yes,” I say with a smile. I know precisely what I’m getting myself into. He’s my life. I wouldn’t survive without Nash, and he wouldn’t survive without me. Somehow our souls have intertwined making separation impossible. Severing the connection would cut the others lifeline. So yeah, I know what I’m doing.
“Once again Fate, I don’t know if you’re fully aware of what you’re getting yourself into. This will be harder than you could ever imagine. Once you walk through those doors, it will be difficult to turn around if you have any second thoughts. Now’s your chance to run. I’ll help you escape. I’ll protect you if-”
I rest my hands on his broad shoulders and pull him in for a hug. Warmth spreads against my chest when he snuggles close and rests his chin on top of my head. I push back but stay snug in his arms to look up into his anxious gaze.
Finding Fate: An Intense, Fast-Paced Romantic Suspense Novel Page 28