“If you’d had someone on the roof, someone at the door of the limo, and bodies inches, instead of feet, from your client, Dani sure as hell wouldn’t have taken the hit.” Nash spoke calmly, but there was a warning in his words.
I couldn’t understand why he was here at all. It was the last thing I needed.
“Dani isn’t my client,” Tanner hissed.
But that was the wrong thing to say, because Nash had him shoved up against the door again. “Brady’s entire team is your client. They get hurt. He gets hurt. You feel me?”
Tanner struggled to push away, but Nash had not only a tactical, but a physical advantage. It wasn’t until Tanner gave a frustrated nod that Nash let up again, stepping away, looking for all the world like he was just waiting for a seat at a restaurant.
Tanner’s phone rang, and he stepped away to take the call which was obviously from Garner because they were already in a heated discussion.
“Want to untie the rest of the gang?” I said, waving at the four men who were still glaring at Nash as much as I was.
“Maybe they should figure out how to get out of it themselves.”
“This isn’t BUD/S training, Nash,” I said, my anger flaring through me again. He was so damn arrogant, and I understood it. Most SEALs were, but there were times that it was a detriment. Like now. I bent to gently rip the tape off each of their mouths, grimacing as it pulled at the scruff on Marco’s face. “Sorry.”
Nash handed me a knife which appeared in his hand like magic from who knew where. I pulled it from his grip but didn’t thank him. I wasn’t going to thank him for being here or for stirring up a hornet’s nest. I cut the ties on the four bodyguards’ hands and feet. The men stretched out their fingers and legs before standing and squaring off against Nash.
Tanner hung up and came over. He swallowed hard and said bitterly, “Garner insisted we go over our entire detail with you.”
You could tell each word cost Tanner a piece of his pride, and Nash didn’t help it by ignoring the man as if he hadn’t spoken at all. Tanner strode to the door. “My room has been acting as our headquarters. We can start there.”
“This one”—Nash pointed to one of the men whose name I hadn’t learned—“needs to be gone. He was playing on his phone. There’s no excuse for that. If you leave anyone outside this door, it should be these two, for now.”
He waved at Marco and Trevor who didn’t look like they appreciated his half-assed respect. The man Nash had just insisted be fired looked like he was ready to shoot Nash. It was probably a good thing Nash still had all their weapons.
Nash looked at me as if he wanted to say something, but I wasn’t in the mood to talk to him. I handed his knife back to him and walked away with his eyes following me.
My phone was ringing in response to the text I’d sent. Before picking it up, I watched as the entire detail left with Nash easily eclipsing all of them with nothing more than his attitude. As soon as the door shut, I moved out onto the balcony to take Mac’s call.
“Don’t start,” he said as if he’d known what I was going to say.
“What the hell did you do?” I asked, irritated but also not irritated at the same time. I couldn’t really be upset he’d seen the lack of security and sent help. I was just wishing it wasn’t a broody SEAL whom my body couldn’t seem to stop wanting.
“Whoever that was just sent a clear message. They aren’t going to stop. Not yet,” Mac said. “I just want to make sure you aren’t caught in the crosshairs. Nash was here, and he suggested it.”
It took me a moment to process the fact that Nash had suggested he come down as well as him being at Mac’s place. None of it made sense. He’d been very clear the day I’d left Tristan’s. He’d screwed up. We’d both screwed up, and being around me was the last thing he wanted. The last thing either of us wanted. Our apologies to each other at Mac’s wedding had been the last time I’d expected to see him for months.
I couldn’t say any of that, so I said the only thing I could. “Why was Nash at your place? And isn’t the Navy going to want to know where he’s wandered off to?”
“They put him on leave—some stupid game the psychologist is playing with him—and Tristan tossed him out.”
My heart stuttered. His entire world had just fallen apart, and instead of picking up the pieces, he’d come down here to keep mine from doing the same.
“Why’d Tristan kick him out?” I asked.
“I don’t know. He wouldn’t talk about it. You know Nash. He doesn’t talk about anything meaningful. He keeps it all inside.”
“Could be why the psychologist is having issues with him,” I said dryly.
Mac chuckled and then sobered.
“Hey, I’m due in a briefing in two minutes. But I want you to know, I’m glad he’s there. The whole family is glad. We owe him, big time. Promise me you’ll listen to him. Promise me you’ll be safe.” Mac’s voice got clogged with emotions that choked me up as well.
“I’ll be fine. It’s Brady you should be worried about,” I said, ignoring his request because I wasn’t sure I could make any promises regarding Nash. I seemed to break vows to even myself when he was around.
“Promise.”
“Everything is going to be fine. I love you, Squirter,” I said, and if he hadn’t had to run, I knew he would’ve kept going until the assurance came out of my mouth. I was thankful I didn’t have to lie to him.
“Love you, too, Gooberpants.”
I went back inside, determined to finish the press schedule we’d been working
