Page 47 of All Twisted Up
“What?”
“Nothing. It’s just funny that we keep trading this gun back and forth as if I could do anything with it.”
He nodded. “Just keep an eye on the door. If the time comes when that weapon is necessary…well, let’s just say I don’t want to test that theory.” The expression on his face, told me he wasn’t kidding.
“Of course.”
“I’m just going to rinse off,” he said, draping his clean clothes over the tile wall.
“Sure.” I hefted the weight of the kit as he stepped into the cubicle. There were no doors and the walls were low enough to look over, so I inched closer to the exit to give him privacy. I kept an eye on the door but looked over at him as the shower turned on. He had his head under the spray as the water pelted down over his broad shoulders. I watched for just a second, trying not to stare too hard as I gave the door another look. Turning back to him, I caught sight of something I hadn’t glimpsed before. I frowned trying to figure out what I was seeing.
At the top of his left shoulder, smack dab in the center of his thick trapezius, was some sort of mark. It wasn’t very large, and since I was standing a few feet away from him with the cascade of water, I couldn’t tell what it was. When he turned and met my glance with hazel eyes, the glare he shot me was surprising. The expression was so foreign to me that I quickly averted my eyes.
He shut off the spray and stepped out of the shower a few seconds later. He was wearing a towel slung low on his hips. I tried my best to ignore the outline of his dick under the thin, terry cloth fabric, but it wasn’t easy. Nash Hampstead was a well-built man. He held out his hand.
“Go ahead.”
“What?”
He frowned. “You want a shower, right?” When I continued to stare, he gave me an exaggerated roll of the eyes. “Earth to Joshua. Give me my weapon and my bag then.” He wiggled his fingers.
“Oh, sorry…I was just distracted.”
“By what?”
“Um…how I could spend the whole day washing my clothes on your abs.”
“Smart ass,” he said, grinning.
I handed him the gym bag and shaving kit before stepping into a stall and stripping off my clothes. It only took me a minute or two to wash off and towel down before dressing in a fresh pair of shorts and a tee. I climbed into my shoes and left the stall. He wasn’t in the empty room. I walked around the corner and found him standing at the sink, running his hands through the short, brown hair on his head. He’d redressed in clean clothes, but I couldn’t drag my eyes away from his hair. It looked soft and the way it stood up in little spikes was sexy. He really was a stunning man. Our eyes met in the mirror. “Ready?”
When he turned around, the earlier glare had been replaced by a softer expression. “Feel better?”
“Somuch better.” I was relieved to see that Nash’s friendlier side was back. “I hope your boss will let us do a workout every day.”
“It’s being arranged,” he said, zipping up his bag. He picked up the kit and walked beside me as we left the bathroom together.
He wasn’t talking as we headed through the gym together but his attention was back to scanning the room. We were twenty-five feet from the front kiosk when he slowed, reaching over to take my arm. I turned to him and then noticed he wasn’t looking at me. He was staring straight-ahead toward the entrance doors. I followed his line of sight and noticed a short, Hispanic man standing on the opposite side of the check-in desk.
He was staring right past the guy checking him in, eyeballing us both with narrowed eyes. I noted he was wearing typical workout gear but the way he was openly staring, seeming to size us up, sent a chill down my spine. Tattoos covered his exposed arms, but it was the large tat on his neck that spelled out some sort of word in what could only be termed as graffiti, that gave me pause.
“What is it?” I asked Nash.
He tugged on my arm before dropping his hand. “Keep walking.”
We kept going as Nash discreetly moved his gym bag to his left shoulder, making a slight barrier between us. I felt adrenaline fill my veins as I heard him slowly unzipping the shaving kit. I dared not look down to confirm it as we slowly closed the distance to the front door. I realized Nash intended on walking us right past the man at the kiosk who turned his back on us and casually lifted his phone to his ear. We were closeenough that I caught snippets of rapid Spanish. Though I wasn’t fluent, I could make out whole sentences.
“Estan aqui…esos gavachos!”
I translated his words in my head. “They’re here…those white boys!” My heart thundered in my chest, almost expecting a bullet in the back at any moment. He pulled the phone from his ear as Nash suddenly grabbed my bicep, pulling me along.
“He recognized us,” I hissed, praying he wouldn’t hear me.
“You understood that?” he whispered.
I nodded as we rounded the desk…ten feet from the door, about the same distance as we were from the stranger. I couldn’t help but glance over as Nash practically dragged me out of the gym.
“Do you think he’s armed?”
