Page 18 of Wicked and Ruthless

That night seemed like forever ago, and he wished like hell he could go back and change so many things…

January

Three years ago

Saturday night, and Nash was fucking spending it alone. Yeah, he could go to one of the bars around town and find some temporary company, but he couldn’t muster the enthusiasm.

Because he didn’t want just anyone. He wanted Haisley Rowe. He cursed the obnoxious party guest who had drunkenly interrupted their kiss. Since that August night, he’d thought about her a lot. But life—and Haisley herself—had conspired to keep them apart.

Nash had been away protecting a senatorial candidate in DC, a paranoid internet influencer in LA, and a federal judge receiving death threats in New Orleans. Then he’d spent the holidays in West Virginia with his folks. When he’d been in Lafayette, he had glimpsed Haisley a few times since they’d locked lips—and every single time she’d invented excuses to run away like her very fine ass was on fire.

After Christmas, the first thing he’d done was hunt her down at Highrise. Goddamn if she hadn’t given him the cold shoulder again—while eating him up with those pretty blue eyes. Oh, she’d pretended to flirt with some local redneck, but she clearly hadn’t meant it because she hadn’t left with him.

And that was the real reason Nash wasn’t at a random bar tonight, getting his drink on and hitting on a more willing female. He and Haisley had unfinished business. Besides, no other woman measured up.

Fuck, he had it bad.

A knock on his apartment door interrupted Nash’s musings. He wasn’t expecting company. He was suspicious by nature, and caution had saved his ass more than once, so he tucked his SIG in his holster and slowly opened the door.

Well, well, well… Speak of the devil.

Haisley stood on his doorstep, one hand gripping an unopened bottle of whiskey, her fiery hair curled and tousled. His hungry gaze dropped, snagging on the rosy pout of her lips. His eyes nearly popped out when he took in the tiny black dress that molded to her lush curves, revealing glimpses of her creamy, toned thighs.

Damn if she didn’t look like she’d stepped straight out of his most scorching fantasies.

“Hey, hotshot.”

Her seductive murmur, along with a cocky grin, had him hard in two seconds.

“Haisley Rowe. Just who I wanted to see.” He leaned against his doorframe. “What’s up?”

“Nice to know you haven’t forgotten me.” She peeked around him, nosing into his apartment. “You alone?”

“Not anymore.” He stepped back and invited her inside with a sweep of his hand. “I got back from an op at two this morning and spent most of the day sleeping. Have a seat. Sorry the place is a mess.”

Her smile turned sly. “I heard you were back, and I didn’t come to critique your housekeeping.”

“Good. I have other, more critical skills that might interest you,” he rasped out in a low tone as she brushed past him and entered his living room.

“So you’ve told me.” She placed the bottle on the coffee table and settled herself on his sofa.

“How did you know where I live?”

“Matt is full of helpful information.”

After months of running, she’d gone out of her way to find him, dolled up, and appeared on his doorstep. Why?

Staring as if her expression would give him the answer, Nash sat in the oversized chair near her. “Remind me to thank him later. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

She nibbled her full lower lip between her teeth, batting those baby blues at him through a fringe of mascaraed lashes. “I’ve been thinking…”

“Should I be afraid?” he teased.

“Depends.” Haisley pretended to study her nails as she uncrossed and recrossed her legs, giving him a tantalizing glimpse of her soft inner thighs. “Do I scare you?”

Nash swallowed and tried to focus on their conversation. But it was too late. His thoughts had disappeared straight between her legs. “Not even a little. Maybe I should ask if you’re afraid of me.”

“Is that what you think?” She scoffed. “No.”

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