Page 70 of Never Enough

“Nor am I your daddy, but we can take it that direction if I need to get an answer from you, little kitty. Now fess up so I know how many spankings you’re getting.”

“Touch my ass, and it will be the last time you use that hand.”

“Oh, I’ll be touching that ass, and you’ll enjoy every second of it, but that’s for another time. Now tell me.”

She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “Fine. I posed as a sex worker. There. Happy now?”

He began counting in his head so that he didn’t lose his shit.

Steel, TB, and Waters looked at each other, then at Nemo, then back at her. Neither Steel nor Waters said anything at all.

TB, however, said it for them. “Ballsy. But when you’re female, white, and blonde with blue eyes, that's probably your only option.”

“Yes, it was. And there was no way in hell I was giving anything up to anyone, but I needed an entry,” she admitted.

Nemo didn’t know who he was more angry with—her for putting herself at risk or Loki and company for allowing her to do it. His voice was low but measured in its delivery. “Do you have any idea what would have happened if you’d been caught? Or what could have happened if you’d been unsuccessful in getting to your target?” When his eyes opened, and he turned his head to look at her, he felt like flames were shooting out of the sockets. “Not a repeatable option,” he growled.

“How else was I going to get inside? I certainly wasn’t goingto pass muster as a miner desperate for work. So what would your alternative have been, genius?”

“I don’t know, but that option is no longer available since you’ve already been chased out of there once while in that role.”

“No shit, Sherlock. Now I’ll have to run an even bigger risk, which is to use the illegal tunnels, risking cave-ins, flooded spaces, and heaven knows what else.” She looked to Steel and Waters. “I’m going to need aerial maps, a ten-kilometer radius, and eventually a plan to cut across the country. Entry is probably safest coming off the river if it isn’t being diverted to the farmers. I can sneak in at night when they’re deep in the overnight shift of mining. Less chance of being seen.”

“No way am I letting you go across the country without me, considering they’ve put out a contract on you,” Nemo argued.

Out of his peripheral vision, he watched her stare at him. Then she blinked once.

It wasn’t how he’d meant to tell her, but it was out now, so he refused to be sorry. Maybe now she’d understand just how goddamn dangerous this was for her.

He saw her turn back to face Waters, Steel, and TB. Her voice was calm. “Well… guess I’m not surprised. I mean, I knew they were looking for me. It’s why I took such a circuitous route to get to L.A.”

Nemo slammed his fist on the table. “There’s a fucking hit on you, Gem!”

“Nemo—”

“Shut the fuck up, Waters! It’s not your woman. It’s mine! Don’t you dare tell me to calm down or whatever other bullshit you’re going to spout. If it were Kubrick, you’d be the same way. Pissed and scared as hell.”

There was a gentle touch on his forearm. He looked down to see Gem’s hand there, and now he winced.

Gem asked, “Guys, can you give us a minute?”

Nemo paid no attention to the actual words behind the mumbling he heard. Instead, he concentrated on the weight of her hand, focused on the smooth skin against his, savored the soft caress as her fingertips massaged his arm. He was fucking this up left and right, but he didn’t know how to stop. The thought that someone might actually take her from him was terrifying. At least if she ran of her own volition, he could just chase after her.

And that’s what I’ll do. It’s what I should have done years ago.

“Nemo.”

He raised his eyes from her hand on his arm to her face.

“I appreciate that you’re concerned, but the danger is part of the gig. If you want something with me, which you seem to keep saying you do, you can’t smother me. No matter how attracted to you I am, smothering me will just make me run.”

“So that’s why you ran the past three times? I was smothering you?”

“No. I couldn’t stay the first two times. You were definitely not ready for something more back then. Not sure you are now or that you ever will be. But either way, back then, I had responsibilities that couldn’t be ignored.”

“Your father,” he said.

“Yes. Da was… difficult at the best of times. And because I was the girl and the youngest, it was my job to take care of him, even before he became ill. When the dementia took hold, he became angry. Violent at times. Verbally abusive. My brothers helped financially, but they weren’t there to deal with him day-to-day. His expectations became higher and higher for me. His ability to compromise was nonexistent. When he passed, it was almost a relief.” She laced her fingers with his. “It sounds terrible to say, but dementia is an ugly, painful, exhausting disease, and not just for the victim. But he was my da, and I loved him, even when he didn’t love me back. Or couldn’t when he no longer knew who I was.”

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