Page 118 of Wicked and Claimed

“Back at you.”

Nash disconnected, his frustration building with each passing hour. The weight of their situation, of Haisley’s pain, pressed against his chest until he struggled to breathe.

Unable to take the silence anymore, he headed to the gym, punishing his body with a five-mile run and an hour of heavy weights. Each rep, each mile, felt like a futile attempt to outrun his rage and helplessness.

After a shower, he found Haisley still curled into the window seat, one finger absently tracing patterns on the glass. The afternoon light caught the copper highlights in her hair, reminding him of happier days when he could have simply pulled her into his arms.

His phone buzzed again. Trees this time.

He answered quickly, aware of Haisley’s attention shifting to him. “Hey.”

“Heads up. We’re making progress through these assholes’ encrypted files,” his brother said. “It’s slow going, and some of the images I’m getting are horrifying. Fucking stomach turning. I wish I was there to kill these bastards. But this footage…basically an engraved invitation to prison.”

“No shock there.”

“But what we’re finding… This operation is even bigger than we imagined.”

“How much bigger?”

“Massive. Our bosses have been coordinating with their FBI contacts. This ring operates in at least eighteen cities across the US alone. International presence, too. Hunter contracted a female agent, Karliah Dane, to join us undercover as a hairdresser in the spa. She’ll make contact when she arrives.”

“Good. You know I never turn down a woman,” he quipped for the surveillance. “But will one be enough?”

Haisley sniffed and looked away again. Nash bit back a curse.

“To make a difference in this investigation?” Trees asked. “Can’t hurt. I’m telling you; this fucking operation is a disgusting ball of worms. This new operative is supposed to be damn good, so I figure getting her there as backup and listening in on any employee gossip can only be a bonus. Need anything else? Something I can pass onto the bosses? I know you can’t talk much.”

“You’re right about that.”

His older brother sighed. “I’m worried about you. And Haisley. Laila is pacing a lot.”

That brought a little smile to Nash’s face. “I can picture that now. Send my best.”

“She’s going to need it.” Trees paused. “She’s pregnant again.”

Nash’s chest tightened, the wordpregnanthitting too close to home, given his standoff with Haisley. Still, he forced a laugh for his brother’s sake. Trees was deliriously happy. “You know, you need to figure out what’s causing that.”

“Oops,” Trees said with a smile in his voice.

“In other words, you’re not even trying not to stop it.”

“I love my wife, and I love my kids. Shoot me.”

“I won’t. She might. But congrats.”

“Thanks, bro.” Trees sobered again. “Stay safe.”

“Will do.”

Nash ended the call, then turned to study Haisley. She wouldn’t look at him, but the afternoon sun illuminated the tears she tried to hide.

Fuck, he hated that he couldn’t just hold her and make everything right. He hated the trust that had evaporated between them. Maybe he could help her escape this nightmare, if only for a while, and earn some goodwill.

“Come here,” he commanded in low tones, gentle but firm enough for their audience. When she hesitated, he raised a brow. “Now.”

She moved to him slowly, like a wary animal. He plopped onto the plush sofa and pulled her down beside him, arranging her against his side. She was stiff, but she didn’t pull away. Because she knew better with all the technical eyes watching their every move? Because she still liked being near him, despite everything? Or because she was afraid to cross him?

Nash hated wondering. “I’m in the mood to watch a movie.”

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