Page 49 of Finding Fate

"They're gone, man," Nash shouts. "I sent them—"

"Top. Off." The gun wiggles up and down, emphasizing his point.

"Fuck," Nash says in near hysterics. "What do you want?" He points at me. "Don't you fucking dare listen to him."

"I want girls. You took them—"

"I took them!" I scream, my voice shaky. "He came to get—"

"Shut the hell up, girl," Nash says through gritted teeth as his gaze finally connects with mine. "One. Fucking. Rule."

Fuck his one fucking rule. I'm staring down the barrel of a damn gun. Who does he think I am?

"I made him take them. I couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't take hearing them cry every night." My knees fall to the dirt, a small cloud wafting up in their wake. Sobbing into my hands, I cover my eyes and try to forget death staring me in the face. "I. Couldn't. Take. It. If you're going to blame someone, blame me. I made him."

My gaze stays trained on the dirt as I wait for the repercussions of my confession, but nothing happens. Seconds turn to minutes before footsteps sound against the dirt and the door creaks open, then slams shut.

My arms give out, sending my face falling to the dirt. Sobs rack my entire body until a large callused hand wraps around my shoulder, hauling me off the ground.

Startled, I shove back, hands pressing against a warm, strong chest.

"Hey, easy. It's me. Just me," Nash says, pulling me to him.

At his voice, my fight dies along with what little strength I have left, sending me crashing against him. Not caring how I smell, I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him tighter as I sob onto his shoulder.

"It's okay. He's gone. It's okay, Fate. Please, please stop crying."

Even with the edge of desperation in his voice, I can't stop. The gun, what I just admitted, what that man saw—it's all too much for my brain to process. All I can do in the moment is cry, pathetic as it is.

"I know it's difficult, but deep breaths in. Come on, Pops. Deep breath in." With his calming tone combined with the stroking of his hand down my hair, I take a shaky breath in. "Good, now deep breath out. It's okay. I swear it’ll be okay."

"How?" I croak, my voice hoarse with tears. "How will it be okay?"

"I have no fucking idea." Warm breath from my huffed laugh pushes against his T-shirt. "We just have to make it a few more days. The guys will come for me, for us. I know they will. No way they'd leave me here."

"Then where are they? Why haven't they come already?"

The breath from his sigh brushes against the top of my hair, sending goose bumps sprouting along my arms and down the back of my neck. "I don't know. I'm sure they have a good excuse. Probably had a spa day planned or something."

"All jokes still," I say into his shoulder. "I swear you're messed up in the head."

Ready to face reality, I press my palms against his shoulders to see his handsome face. This close, I take in the full unobstructed view. His wide smile bunches at the corner of his eyes, making thin lines appear. The dark brown eyes I've been staring into from a distance for over a week now actually have flecks of gold around the edges, giving off a boyish charm. A dark, full beard has filled in over the past several days, but it still doesn't hide the soft, smooth tan skin beneath.

His thick brown brows furrow as his eyes search mine. This close, with his arms tight around my waist, still holding the lower half of me snug against his, everything outside fades. Almost like he feels the same tug, his arms flex, holding me tighter. Heat builds and throbs where our bodies connect, and a warm flush spreads across my cheeks as my breaths turn labored.

"Your cheek," he whispers as he brushes his thumb along the tender skin. "It's still bruised." A dark, ominous expression flashes across his features. "I'm going to kill him. All of them. When I know you're safe and my actions won't affect you, I'm going to kill them all."

A shiver rakes down my spine at the light rhythmic swipe of his fingertips down my side. On their own, my eyes shift down, focusing on his full lips.

"I'm fine," I say, nearly breathless, the want and need for him stealing all my energy and focus. "But you," I say, still staring. "Too bad all those punches to the face didn't fix your bad jokes."

The lips that have me in a trance pull at the corners, widening his smile.

Fuck.

Not into me. Just a good guy.

Not into me. Just a good guy.

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