Page 17 of Wicked and Ruthless

Nash filed away that tidbit for later.

Haisley had always been so guarded when it came to her family, deflecting his questions about her parents or childhood with a skill that used to low-key frustrate him. Not enough to cause real friction. He’d learned to avoid that landmine and instead explored Haisley’s other fascinating layers.

Still, her evasiveness had bothered him, because she’d been an open book in almost every other way. God knew she’d been sexually adventurous, but their relationship hadn’t all been tie-her-up, tie-her-down fucking. Surprisingly, they’d talked—a lot. Slowly at first. But they stayed up more times than he could count until the gray light of dawn just…talking.

Inevitably, they’d become tangled in each other’s lives, their connection transcending the hook-up they’d started with. Over the months, she’d become his best friend, his lover…and the woman he’d pictured building a life beside. He’d known exactly how she felt about friends, jobs, marriage, kids, politics, religion, and more. They weren’t always aligned, and that was fine. They had similar opinions where it mattered most.

At least until he’d changed his mind about one crucial issue. Was that why she’d bolted without warning? Had Haisley found the engagement ring he’d bought for her and freaked out? The excuse she’d given him was BS, and he couldn’t think of another reason she’d run from him, fled the state, and cut off all contact for two years.

“Is Haisley…upset with me?” He couldn’t hold back the question anymore. “We didn’t get to talk much tonight. Or since she’s been back in town.”

“She’s not mad, Nash. Just…” Gracelyn sighed. “I think you two really need to have an open, honest conversation. Clear the air.”

The brunette was absolutely right. How to make that happen was a whole other question, especially since, every time he came near Haisley, all he wanted to do was drag her against his body, throw her onto his bed, and never let go.

“I intend to. I need to make her see how much I…” His desperation wasn’t Gracelyn’s problem, and he had to keep her talking. “You get it. Is she seeing anyone these days?”

“No. She dated off and on in LA, but nothing serious. She was too busy as the social media manager for a local TV station out there. Apparently, it was a twenty-four seven job, so she’s looking forward to her new gig. She’s hoping it won’t be so demanding.”

Nash breathed a sigh of relief. At least Haisley was still single.

He opened his mouth to ask more questions, but Kane emerged from the men’s room and started shouldering his way toward them with his usual quiet confidence.

Gracelyn’s stare locked on the other man like a magnet to metal.

Nash fought back a grin. “Kane is a good guy. Honorable to the core but a loner. He’s tough as nails, smart as hell, and, according to rumor, kinky as fuck. As far as I know, he’s not dating anyone. Then again, I don’t think he dates.”

She gave a long-suffering sigh and downed the last of her drink. “Another guy who just wants to hook up? I’m getting too old for that shit. When do you Peter Pans grow up and want more than empty orgasms?”

Nash couldn’t answer that question for his teammate. Kane was older so maybe never. Then again, Nash never imagined he’d want till death do us part. At least until Haisley had come along and turned all his preconceived notions upside down. “I think it takes the right woman. Give him a shot. If it’s any consolation, I’ve seen the way he’s watched you all night. I don’t know if he’s ever looked at a woman like that.”

That perked her up. “Really?”

“Really.”

Kane reached their table again and sidled close to Gracelyn with a searing glance. “Your drink is empty. Did they already shout out last call? If not, I’ll get you another.”

“They did, so I’m out of here.” Nash clapped Kane on the back, then winked her way. “Gracie-girl has had too much to drink to drive herself home.”

Gracelyn gasped. “Oh, I’m okay. I don’t need?—”

“I’ll make sure you get home safely,” Kane rumbled in a deep, gravelly voice as he slid a protective arm around her.

“Great.” Nash palmed his keys. “I’d do it, but I’m on my motorcycle. I only brought one helmet, and it’s chilly. Kane will make sure you get tucked in proper, though. Won’t you, buddy?”

His face flickered with amusement. “I got her six, man.”

“You two enjoy the rest of your night.” Nash saluted them. “Happy New Year.”

With a wave, he left the pair, feeling lighter despite his unresolved shit with Haisley. At least she was back for good. He intended to use that to his advantage and remind her every single day of the connection they shared until he wore her down and she fell into his arms again.

Striding out into the crisp night air, he pulled out his phone and quickly located her new place—a little craftsman bungalow just two point six miles from his own rental. He couldn’t resist taking a detour for some quick recon, but all the pretty blue cottage’s windows were dark and still. No car in the drive, so it was probably in the garage around back.

Nash restrained his urge to pound on her door, kiss his way between her legs, and start the new year off right. She wasn’t open to being with him again—yet. But he was determined. No more volunteering for the riskiest ops or using other women to try and fill the Haisley-shaped hole in his heart. He would win her back and slide that diamond on her finger once and for all.

As he kickstarted his bike and peeled away into the starry night, Nash felt a surge of clarity. Of purpose. For his future. All he had to do was break through her walls and coax her back into his arms…and his life. Not that she would make it easy. Haisley was one obstinate woman. Good thing he was a stubborn son of a bitch, more than ready for the sweetest battle of his life. Haisley was a prize worth sacrificing everything to reclaim.

Nash gunned his engine and headed home, vaguely wondering what was happening between Gracelyn and Kane. Maybe nothing. Maybe a one-night stand. Maybe more. After all, he and Haisley hadn’t started out as more than a scratching of their mutual itches.

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