by Hart, Kaily
God, she’d blurted out the word before she even knew she was going to, before she’d had a chance to think. “You can stay here. Tonight. With me. You know…if you want.”
Jeez. What was it about this guy that could make her a blubbering idiot? He stood in a fluid move, all smooth skin and flexing muscles and male nakedness and her mouth went dry. Oh yeah. That’s why.
He looked at her for a heartbeat, two and all of a sudden she couldn’t breathe.
“Mind if I crash in your spare room?”
Lexi stiffened, she couldn’t help it and with the way he watched her, she knew he saw her reaction before she’d even thought to hide it.
He scrubbed his hand over his face. “Look, I…dream, okay?”
“Don’t we all?” She tried to sound light, shrug it off, but she could see the shadows in his eyes, dark and deep.
“Yeah.” He swallowed, turned away and headed for the bathroom. “Not like this.”
Lexi sat up, still shaky, and wrapped her arms around her drawn-up knees. What the hell was she doing?
Before she’d had a chance to even come up with something remotely rational, he was back and he’d pulled on a loose pair of workout pants from the bag he’d brought in earlier. Her mouth went dry. Man, commando plus loose pants equaled a beautiful thing.
“Lexi, this…between us… It’s sex, okay? We have hot, mind-blowing sex, and yeah, it’d be cool to stay with you but… I’m in town for exactly three more days. That’s it. I’m not looking for anything more.”
She lifted her chin, tried a smile. “Yeah, yeah I’ve seen that movie. Guy gets his rocks off for a few days, takes off never to be seen or heard from again.” She shrugged. “Works for me, okay?”
It did? Then why did her stomach feel as if she’d just jumped off a cliff?
He leaned against the doorframe, crossed his arms over his massive chest. “You sure?”
God. A bad boy who was a nice guy. Who knew such a thing existed? And in such an incredible package?
“Yeah. Absolutely.”
Lexi was mid smile and wild, dirty thought when her phone beeped from the living room.
Just like that reality—sharp and raw and chilling—returned in a rush. She bit her bottom lip so hard she almost winced when it beeped again.
“Are you in some kind of trouble, Lexi?” Nash asked.
His gaze was fixed on her, steady and sharp and Lexi closed her eyes for a second, as much to shut out his focused stare as it was to hide her own thoughts. “No.”
The phone beeped again. She swallowed.
“Lexi.”
“It’s fine. It’s my problem.”
Just like that his stance went from relaxed to full alert. He straightened, dropped his arms and took a step toward the bed. “Define ‘problem’.”
She rolled her eyes. She so didn’t need the big-strong-man-coming-to-her-rescue routine again right now.
“I’ve got it, Nash, okay?”
He leaned in a little closer. “And you’ll tell me what the fuck ‘it’ is. Right now.”
Lexi’s stomach jerked at the intensity in his voice and for the first time she saw a glimpse of just how dangerous he claimed he could be. Well, crap. He was supposed to shrug it off, let it go. What did any of this have to do with him, anyway? Anyone else she knew would have taken the clear hint but the look in his eyes and the hard set of his jaw told her he wasn’t going to.
Great.
She sighed. “It’s nothing. Really.”
“Nothing doesn’t make you tense and pale each time you get a fucking message. You’ll tell me and you’ll tell me now.”
You’re not the boss of me.
It was on the tip of her tongue. She wanted to say it. Really bad. Who did he think he was?
“Jesus,” she muttered instead. “Arrogant much?”
He raised an eyebrow.
She licked her lips. “I’ve been getting these…texts. That’s all.”
“Okay. What kind of texts?”
She shrugged. “Stupid. Dumb. They’re…sexually explicit and…”
Disturbing. Very, very disturbing.
He frowned. “Who’s sending them?”
She looked away from him. His gaze was too knowing, too…intense. “See, that’s the thing. I don’t know. He’s sending them from a blocked number.”
“For how long?”
“A couple of months.”
It was more like four, but sometimes those four months seemed like a lifetime.
“How frequently?”
She swallowed. The clipped, cold tone of his voice was making her nervous. ”Often.”
He frowned. “Lexi—”
“Okay. Multiple times a day. And recently? Sometimes—sometimes up to…ten times a day.”
He was quiet, too quiet and Lexi raised her head to look at him. His face was set in harsh lines.
“How do you know it’s a ‘he’?”
Nash hadn’t raised his voice but Lexi felt the quiet intensity ramp up, a sharpening of a focus that made the hair on her forearms stand on end.
She cleared her throat. “Yeah. I think it’s obvious. You know, based on some of the things he says he’ll do with—certain parts of his anatomy. Nash—”
But it was too late. He’d already turned and headed into the living room. Her stomach clenched. She didn’t want anyone else to see, not the filth she’d had to read. She’d run the gamut of being disgusted, angry and finally scared, but embarrassment factored in there in some weird way. That there was someone out there who thought these things about her, was targeting her, perhaps hated her for some reason. Yeah, she didn’t necessarily want anyone else to see that.
There was a frown between his brows when he returned, flicking through screen after screen, pausing every so often. She was trembling so bad she couldn’t even get mad about his high handed attitude or the invasion of her privacy.
A nerve flexed in his temple, his jaw taut. “You really should have a pass code on this,” he bit out.
Lexi looked away. She knew every vile, disturbing, explicit thing he had to be reading. And that had to be just the messages from the last day or so. She’d deleted everything else.
“Have you ever responded?” he asked.
“No.”
“Not even once? Even when they first started?”
“No. Never. I—I read you should never do that.”
Nash inclined his head. “What about—an ex?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so. I really don’t know anyone who would send me those things, ex or not.”
He flicked Lexi a glance. “Have you talked to the cops?”
“When they first started, yeah. They thought a prank. And then…after that, they—they indicated there wasn’t much they could really do. There’d been no specific threat, nothing physical and—”
“That’s bullshit, Lexi. You don’t call that a threat?”
He turned the phone toward her and her stomach churned at the intent spelled out in explicit detail. And all in caps.
His mouth flattened. “Change your number. I know it’s probably inconvenient, but—”
“I have.”
His gaze flew to hers, locked on.
She swallowed. “Twice.”
“And he still continues to text you?”
She nodded.
“Goddammit, Lexi.”
Yeah. The burn was back in her stomach. Each time she’d tried to discount it in her mind, minimize it, but Nash’s expression said it was serious. Dead serious. Yeah. She’d known that, deep down she’d known that.
“How long until the texts start again after you’ve changed your number?”
Lexi swallowed. There was a hard edge to his voice she’d never heard before. “A couple of days.”
“When was the last time you changed it?”
“A week ago,” she whispered.
“Who did you give your number to?”
“A handful of people. I was very care
ful this time. They’re all close, good friends, people I trust and I—”
“You know what this means?”
Her brain shut down. She’d refused to go there. She shook her head. “It’s not one of them. It just isn’t.”
“Maybe not. But it’s someone with access.”
She frowned. “Access?”
“It’s either someone you know, someone close to you, close to your friends, someone you come into contact with. Someone with access. Get dressed and get some paper.”
“What? Nash—”
“I want names, contact information, everyone you gave your details to and I want you to list everything you did, everywhere you went since you changed your number last. Regardless of how minor, everything.”
Lexi let out a shuddering breath. For the first time she felt some of the weight she’d carried with this lift from her. She hadn’t realized how isolated she’d felt but having someone else know about it made her feel as if she wasn’t alone, not anymore. She hadn’t felt safe, not completely, since this whole thing had started.
She frowned. “What are you going to do?”
“I have friends.”
She choked out a laugh. “No shit. Really?”
“Smart ass. Friends who are now in positions where they can help me track down where these texts are coming from.” His mouth tightened. “I’m calling in some favors to figure out who this shithead is.”
“How?”
The side of his mouth lifted. “Probably better if you don’t know the details.”
“Are they the same friends who help you with an address from a license plate number?”
His mouth lifted at one corner. “Maybe.”
She licked her dry lips. “And then what?”
He curled his hand into a fist and she shivered, this time at the cold look in his eyes. “And then when I find this fucker I’m going to take care of it. Personally and with great pleasure.”
*****
Nash smiled at the mess of her scrawl. He could barely read the information she’d given him about her friends and her activities over the past week. He frowned. Her movements were surprisingly few and she spent a lot of time at home. She didn’t strike him as the social butterfly type, but it gave him an insight into her he wouldn’t normally have. She had a very small number of close friends, rarely went out, hit the gym on a regular basis, spent minimal amounts of time shopping and liked to hang by the pool. At least it made his job a hell of a lot easier. It should be a straightforward process to find out who was harassing her but he wanted to know how the bastard was getting her number. He could at least do that for her.
When he glanced up at her she was staring at his back. He hadn’t bothered with a shirt since his quickie shower and he knew exactly what she was looking at. He could pretend all he liked that she was checking out the width of his shoulders, the size of his lats, but he knew better. Besides, her expression didn’t exactly say she was appreciating his physique.
“Aren’t you going to ask me about them?” he said, his voice low.
They all did. Eventually.
Her gaze met his before she turned to clear away the remains of the pizza they’d ordered in for dinner. “No.”
He frowned. “Why not?”
Most women wanted to know the gory details as if it was some big turn on and usually he was more than happy to oblige.
She tossed the box on the kitchen counter. “You have scars. A lot of them. It’s not like you cut yourself shaving, right?”
“So? Most women—”
“So that’s all I need to know. You were obviously hurt and badly, probably multiple times. And don’t compare me to other women. Not even to think it.”
Nash reached out for her arm when she went to swing away from him, to apologize, to make amends, who knew, but he wasn’t prepared for her reaction. She spun around and slammed her hand up straight toward his face.
Reflex. Thank God for reflexes. He deflected the palm to his nose just in time, but she still managed to graze his cheekbone. He wrapped his hand around hers and twisted her arm gently against him, pulling her in close. If not for the training that had become so ingrained, he would have been in a world of hurt. Shit. Even if he wasn’t expecting an attack, he was always ready. Always. Was he getting soft? Complacent? He hoped not because that was a surefire way to get killed. Or was it just because he let his guard down around her?
“Sorry,” she muttered. “But don’t grab me like that again.”
He frowned. “Where did you learn moves like that?”
She shrugged. “The way I grew up? You learn to defend yourself pretty quickly.”
His mouth tightened. “And that was?”
“Foster care. Bounced around the system till I was eighteen.”
Her voice said it hadn’t been a big deal. Her eyes said otherwise.
Damn.
“I’m sorry, Lexi.”
“Nothing to do with you.”
He lifted her hand, smoothed across her palm with his thumb. “I meant— I’m sorry for being a dumb jerk. Again.”
The smile was slight, but it was a smile. “It’s becoming a habit.”
“Yeah.”
So was apologizing for it. What the fuck was he doing here exactly? It wasn’t the first time he’d asked himself that question and probably wasn’t going to be the last. He’d avoided this exact situation in the past like the plague so why had he agreed to stay with Lexi and why the fuck was he looking forward to the next few days? Not just the sex…but her. He was going to enjoy her.
He’d been with a lot of hot, do-anything-you-wanted-no-questions-asked women, so what was it about her that got him so wound up, turned on, out of his head with lust he could barely think straight? He was an out of sight, out of mind kinda guy when it came to women, but Lexi…
Man. He’d fucked her missionary style and not for the first time. He didn’t particularly care for the position and when there were so many other options, it flat out bored him. But he’d just folded his body down over and on top of hers without any thought and it had felt so…natural, so familiar, so fucking good.
And he’d told her about the nightmares. They never happened when he was on a mission. Never. It was as if his subconscious knew he needed to keep everything all under control, everything together. But when he was down? All bets were off. Every terrifying moment, every gut-wrenching situation, every horrible thing he’d ever had to do chased him down and wrestled him to the ground when he closed his eyes. It was one of the reasons he stayed active so much, why his brain refused any thought of doing anything else. No way he wanted to have to deal with that shit on a regular basis. And he’d never told another person. Until her.
God. Maybe he’d lost his fucking mind. And maybe, just maybe, he needed to give himself the “just sex” talk.
He swiped his thumb across her palm again, over the calluses he just now noticed. She tried to pull back, tug her hand from his, but he held her firm.
He frowned. “What causes these?”
“My work.”
He’d wondered about that from her list. There’d been no mention of a job. “So you’re in construction?”
“Now who’s the smartass?”
“So?” he pushed when she didn’t add anything more.
She sighed. “I’m a metal artist.”
“A what?”
She smiled. “Basically, I take junk and scrap metal from all kinds of things and turn it into what people refer to as ‘modern sculpture’, which basically means they’re willing to pay a shitload for it.”
“Really? You make a living doing that?”
“Yep. You’d be surprised.”
“Show me.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. Show me.”
She stared at him with a frown between her eyes before finally turning away and heading for the door Nash assumed lead to the garage. He followed and blinked against the bright light that flooded the room when she hit the sw
itch.
Nash didn’t know what the hell he’d been expecting, but it hadn’t been this.
She’d turned her garage into a workshop and there was crap on every surface, including the floor. Broken, twisted, rusted bits of metal of all sizes were everywhere he looked. At first glance it seemed chaotic, unorganized, but there were piles of metal, clearly sorted by size and shape bordering two sides of the garage. The side wall had a ton of equipment and tools and looked like something you might see in a mechanic’s garage. A notice board had a bunch of pictures of different sizes pinned to it. There was a heavy acrid scent in the air that reminded him of places he’d prefer to forget.
And then there was the thing in the center of the room. Even though it was only partway done, Nash knew it was a wolf, or would be. Finished, it was going to be about the same size as your average cow.
It looked as if it had been built piece by piece, the body assembled in layers—the frame, the musculature, the fur. Even in its present state there was a sense of movement, of suppressed power, of danger.
He cleared his throat. “Okay, I’m no art connoisseur but—”
“You think?” She laughed.
“Well, I don’t know anything about art, so—”
“Me either.”
“Christ, Lexi you have to know what you do is amazing. I mean, that,” he gestured to the wolf, “it’s… not real exactly, but… It looks as if it’s crouching, about to pounce. It looks…alive.”
She ran a hand over the back of the wolf. It was a caress. Loving, tender, protective and damn if his dick didn’t harden thinking about her petting him like that.
“Yeah. He’s a special commission. Some rich guy from New York is giving him to his wife for her birthday. I’ll be sorry to see him go.”
She shrugged it off as if it were nothing, as if what she could do wasn’t anything special. Nash might know shit about art, but he knew true skill when he saw it and hers was off the charts.
“You always do animals?”
“Mostly, but I’ve been messing around with some other stuff lately. I just finished up a seven-foot-high wave last week for a restaurant. It wasn’t as fun to do, but was a hell of a lot easier. Paid my rent for a year.”
“Yeah?” Nash did a complete circuit of the wolf. “How do you get into something like this?”