Page 81 of Garrison's Creed

“Cash knocked him out.”

“Oh my God! Well, you know Jacks wouldn’t put up a fight with those precious bomb tech hands. It’s like he’s a freaking brain surgeon or something.”

“Yeah, I’m thinking it went something like, “hi,” punch.”

“You have to talk to Cash. Explain everything.”

“I don’t know.”

“What?”

“I could walk away and survive without him.”

“What!” Beth yelled into the phone.

“I did it once, though it about killed me.” And now, could she do it again? No. She couldn’t…

“Why the hell would you do that?”

“I’m better alone. Bad things happen when I’m involved with others.”

“Nic, you can’t blame Cash. He shouldn’t have knocked Jacks out, but shit. You didn’t tell him. He had no idea. Guys like that, they go all ape shit whenever they think some man checks out their girls. Jackson’s lucky to be alive.”

“First, I’m nothisgirl. I’magirl he has an attachment to, and the sex happens to be… volcanic. He feels protective and possessive. Give it a few weeks, and I’d bet he wants to get back to his bangin’ ways. Until then, there’s carnage. First, Roman was hurt. Now, Jackson.”

“You need to call him.”

“That’s what Jackson said too.”

“But you called me instead.”

“Yup.” Nic nodded into the phone.Such a bad habit.

“Call him and say, ‘Cash Garrison, this is Nicola Garrison, and I love you.’”

“What! I don’t love him.” She scoffed and scowled. “What are you talking about?”

Beth laughed into her ear. “Yeah. And I’m not on a Mojave dry spell right now, wondering if your ex is hung.”

“You can have him.”

“Eh, you know who I wouldn’t mind? Roman. I met him when you and Cash brought in David. Nothing to complain about in the looks department.”

“Ew, he’s my brother. Besides, he’s as bad as Cash. They’re all assholes.”

“Someone’s beeping in. Call Cash, and check in later with David and Cash updates. Bye.”

Nicola finished packing and grabbed her burner phone again. Time to call Cash.Hmm, if only I knew his phone number.She went back to the hall and picked up the pieces of her cell to see if it would turn on enough for an address book search.

Nope.

She sent Beth a text, asking her to track down Cash’s number. Beth was good. The best damn handler she could’ve wanted. Until the number appeared in her phone, she was content to sit on the bed and watch for it.

***

Cash banged on the door. The wrought-iron security door rattled. It was after hours, but that '69 Mustang Boss 429 sat in its spot. The hood was still warm, so whereever she’d gone, she was back.

“Open up,” he yelled at the security camera.

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