Police sirens pierce my frayed nerves like thousands of tiny needles. My heart rate kicks into a higher gear, every muscle painful, so stiff I feel like a porcelain doll.
“It’ll be fine,” Nash says against my temple, his voice low and soothing in jarring contrast to the firm grip that tucks me further into his chest.
For a fleeting moment, it’s just the two of us. The world shrinks to his arms and the calm heartbeat under my palm where I’m latched onto his hoodie. My knuckles are white with the effort. If I loosen my grip, I’ll pool at his feet.
I don’t know how he’s so calm.
He turned to wrath itself less than two minutes ago, throwing lethal punches left and right, but there’s no trace of that madness left in his eyes. He’s perfectly composed… as if he hasn’t just knocked out three men without breaking a sweat.
The steady thump under my palm is grounding, hypnotic even, but my mind’s not calming down.
I’m jittery, unfocused, still detached from reality, half of my subconscious floating back into what I’ve just relived, half clinging to Nash like he’s my lifeline. The only thing that connects me to the here and now.
“You hit them,” I whisper, focusing on the present, my voice shaky. “What if they press charges?”
The question should be different, I know. Why did you hit them? They were only trying to help…
“I keep you safe, and I decide how.”
I swallow hard, shaking with worry. What if he’s taken in for questioning and the cops tell the dean? She’ll call Dad. She’ll tell him I left the campus again.
It took an hour after the dean informed him I got lost in the woods looking for a missing student to calm him down enough that he stopped planning to take me away from Lakeside.
“It’s not safe, Hailey. That boy went missing!”
My arguments won’t hold up if he finds out I snuck off campus. He won’t let me stay. He’ll hide me somewhere, somewhere new and foreign. Far from Lakeside.
Far from Nash.
A soft shudder shakes me at the thought.
“Your lack of trust in me is insulting,” Nash says, his fingers tracing gentle patterns along my spine. “Easy, pretty girl.” He stamps a kiss on my head. “You’re safe.”
Am I? Dad would disagree, but when Nash is close, nothing can touch me. He keeps me safe. He’s the only person who’s made me feel truly safe since I woke up in hospital. Instinctively I burrow my face in his chest, inhaling his spicy, tangy scent.
There’s more there. A unique blend of leather, cologne, and sex. Strong and heady. It shouldn’t be soothing, but three deep breaths stop me shaking in the cold night air.
The distant murmur of the town gets lost, the growing noise of police sirens drowning everything else out until the patrol cars stop and the sound dies.
“You don’t calm down easily, do you?” Nash says, kissing my head again while red and blue lights dance across my closed eyelids. “If I say it’ll be fine, it will be fine, Hailey.”
“Dad will take me away if he finds out I left campus.”
“No one will ever take you away from me.”
Car doors slam at the mouth of the alleyway and heavy footsteps reverberate against grimy bricks, growing louder as they approach. Pulling away enough to see, I watch police officers emerging from the glare of the headlights, their shadows stretching and weaving against the alley walls.
A familiar face, lined with deep wrinkles, steps forward while his men hang back. Every move he makes radiates authority, but it’s the tired kind, like he can’t wait to retire and kick back with a fishing rod and a can of Coors.
It’s the same sergeant who questioned us when Nash brought me back to campus on Monday.
“Ah, you two,” he says, his voice gruff, eyes lingering on Nash’s hold around my waist. “Alright, what happened here?”
“I—” I pause, swallowing the lump clogging my throat. “I had a panic attack. I jumped out of the car and Nash…” I gesture to him with a trembling hand, “…came after me. It… it was a misunderstanding.”
I try moving to Nash’s side, but he holds me still while one of the men he punched steps forward, his face smeared with blood, more spattered down his jacket, hands, a few specks on the tops of his white converse.
“He attacked us! We were trying to help!”
The sergeant narrows his eyes at Nash, a flicker of amused curiosity in his gaze, probably recalling the fury coursing through Nash when the paramedic tried to make him leave the ambulance while I was being checked over.
Or he remembers how he carried me for five miles, then hardly let go of me until we were both dismissed.
“That true?” he asks, surveying everyone.
“Yes.” My hands fall away from Nash’s hoodie. “But like I said, it was a misunderstanding. I panicked and they thought he was hurting me.”
One of the other officers who was with Nash and Levi when they found us—Malik—steps forward, his rookie eagerness resonating in every step and every word. “We got multiple calls about a disturbance, Sarge.”
“I’m aware, but…” The sergeant rubs the bridge of his crooked nose, dragging his hand lower to pinch his chin. “I can see the lady’s unharmed, so—”
“We want to press charges,” one of the bloodied men interrupts, keeping a wary distance from Nash like he’s afraid of getting his nose snapped if he’s within striking distance. “Look at me!” He motions to his bruised jaw and the pint of crimson staining his clothes. “This isn’t right!”
I shove my hands into the front pocket of Nash’s hoodie, twisting the fabric between my fingers. If they press charges, he’ll be detained and I’ll be gone before he’s released.
He tucks me back against his chest, his body tense as he dips his head, lips brushing my ear. “Calm down.” He barely whispers the words, but his tone is firm.
It’s an order. One that grounds me. I give up control, letting him lead, and the tension siphons out of me immediately.
Sarge lets out a tired sigh. “If you’re sure about it, then we’ll have to sort this out downtown.” He levels a measured glare at Nash. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t make this harder than it needs to be.”
There’s no glee in his eyes, but Malik compensates for them both, his smug smile shining bright in the dim alleyway. It droops when another officer rushes up, holding a phone out.
“Sarge, you need to hear this.”
With one eyebrow raised, he takes the phone, brows drawn together while he listens to whoever’s on the other end.
“Who’s this?” His back straightens like a metal pole. “I understand, but—” He falls silent, his complexion blanching. “Of course, as you wish.”
With a shaking hand he pulls the phone away from his ear, eyes darting between Nash and the screen. For a few heartbeats, no one says a word. The entire alleyway is engulfed by silence.
“Look,” he starts, moving his attention to the guy with the bruised jaw, “it’s been a long day. Misunderstandings happen. Maybe it’s best if everyone walks away now. No harm, no foul.”
“What? No way! He—”
“Sarge!” Malik denotes, arms akimbo, one hand dangerously close to his holster. “What’s going on? The man has the right to press charges! He was assaulted!”
“Not a word from you,” the sergeant snaps, his neck glowing red with anger. “And you…” He glares at the bruised-jaw guy. “Trust me. Drop it. It’s a bruise, son. Not. Worth. It.” He nods at Nash, a hint of respect in his eyes. “You’re free to go.”
My mouth falls open and my breath spirals from my lungs.
What happened?
Why the sudden change?
Who was on the phone?
Nash doesn’t share my shock. His expression gives nothing away as he turns to the other men, offering them curt nods before gently untangling my fists from his hoodie.
“Come on, pretty girl,” he whispers, nudging me along until my feet start working. “Let’s get you in bed.”
I let him lead us away, passing a line of cops. They all have the same shell-shocked look about them save for the sergeant and the guy holding the phone.
They know something. They’re the only ones in on the secret while others wonder—rightly so—why Nash is walking away without so much as a slap on the wrist.
He takes me back to his car. Abandoned in the middle of the road, drivers weave around it, glaring from their windows.
Nash opens the passenger door for me, my mind swimming with questions. I have ten at the ready and one slips out before Nash has even ushered me in and buckled me up.
“What the hell happened back there?”
He pauses with his hand on the handle. “I should be the one asking that, Hailey. You tucked and fucking rolled out of the car. You said your flashbacks weren’t as intense anymore.”
I chew my bottom lip but hold his gaze, refusing to cower. “Who was on the phone?”
He leans against the door, turning those enigmatic eyes on me. “What did you see?”
“Ugh!” I stomp my foot. “You can’t dodge my questions! This isn’t normal. Cops don’t change their mind out of the blue. You should be in the back of a patrol car on your way to the station right now. Why aren’t you? Who called? What did they say? Why did the sergeant look at you like you were… I don’t know, some kind of royalty?!”
He lets out an exasperated huff, cinching my shoulders and crowding me until I’m bent backward over the car while he towers above me.
“You’re incredibly nosy, you know that? You get one question and one answer if you promise you’ll tell me what the fuck you remembered that made you panic this bad.”
“Will your answer be honest?”
He grinds his teeth, a perfect storm brewing in his eyes. He’s pissed off that I don’t trust him… I think he’s about to lash out but instead of unleashing another tirade, he cups my face and shuts my mouth with a demanding kiss.
It’s not cute or soft. It’s punishing. Raw. Tongues dance, teeth scrape, and his short, heavy breaths make me want to rip his clothes off right here.
I know what he’s doing. He’s diverting my focus… I feel the intent behind the kiss, behind his firm touch, but it doesn’t stop my stomach fluttering or my mind blanking.
I give in. I give back, lacing my fingers around his neck.
He bites my bottom lip hard enough to teeter on the tightrope between pleasure and pain, holding still for three heartbeats, before he sucks it into his mouth, easing away.
“Angry sex must be so good,” I whisper, a little dazed.
I thought I had a taste of that in the bathroom when he pinned me against the wall and squeezed my neck, but this kiss makes it crystal clear I’ve seen nothing yet.
“I know what you’re doing,” I add, tracing my bottom lip with my thumb. “It won’t work. I want answers.”
“One answer,” he grits out. “Keep up this attitude and you’ll find out how fucking good angry sex is.” He digs his fingers into my hip, hauling me aside to open the door. “Get in.”
