Page 101 of What Remains

What in the world? I pull free from Easton’s arms, but he cups my face, grounding me here in front of him. He’s not ready to let me go and face the truth—that Nash betrayed us.

“I told Allie about the trip.” Nash goes on, “I thought I was going with you, which is why I told her about Dubai. We may be separated, but I still give her a heads-up when I travel.” I can feel his eyes on me, but I can’t steal mine away from Easton to check. “Someone must’ve hacked the phone, and that’s how they found out where you were. That’s why it’s my fault, and I’m so fucking sorry, I swear.”

“Stop lying,” Dad barks out, and Easton and I unlock from our current position to face everyone. “We know everything. We know they took your wife as leverage for intel. And that they returned her once you did what they asked.”

“What?” Nash freezes. “My wife wasn’t taken.”

“We have footage,” Gray says quietly.

The way Nash looks . . . his confusion is, well, real.

“That’s not possible. If someone took my wife, I’d have come to you.” He slams a hand over his heart, eyes on me. “I’d never trade your life like that. I’d take out the bastards who so much as set a finger on Allie before I’d put you in danger.”

I want to believe he’s innocent. It’ll hurt too much if he’s not. And what he’s saying and how he’s saying it comes across as genuine.

Nash removes his mobile from his pocket and shoves it at Dad. “Check my phone. Go through all my stuff. Tear apart my room. But I’m telling you the truth. I had no damn idea telling Allie about the trip to Dubai would endanger Gwen.” His eyes cut sharp to mine. “But yeah, it’s still my fault. I unintentionally leaked the information, and I’ll do whatever I can to make that up to you all.”

I’m ready to forgive him. To tell him it’s not his fault. That he couldn’t have known someone hacked his messages. But then Gray speaks, and my mind becomes white noise again.

“You mentioned the charm tracker over the text,” Grays says. “Why?”

Nash mumbles a swear or two under his breath, hanging his head.

Easton steps alongside me, resting his hand at the small of my back, and I know it’s taking everything in him not to join in on the line of questioning. But he’s where I need him to be.

“I know how that sounds,” Nash finally begins, “but did you actually read the rest of the texts?” He glances at Dad. “Allie’s aware of how overprotective you are, and she was surprised you’d be okay with a girls’ trip. I mentioned the bracelet, and that you always know where Gwen is, so she would be fine.” He turns to Easton next. “Why isn’t Carter here crucifying me, too?”

“Because he can’t believe you’d betray us, so he wanted to look over the evidence again,” he answers him in a low voice. “Like maybe I should’ve done.”

Nash’s eyes narrow, and he walks a step forward. “So . . .” He swallows as if the fate of his world depends on what’s to come. And in a sense, it just might. “Does that mean you believe me?”

Easton drops his hand from my back and faces me. “Find out if that video footage Natasha found of Allie being taken was fake, just like that hotel bombing you thought happened was.” He glances back at Nash. “And then we’ll talk.”

CHAPTER 34

Gwen

“Give us a second. We’ll be right in,” Dad says in the hall, reaching for my forearm, a silent request to hang back.

I exchange a quick look with Easton, nodding that I’ll be okay. I mean, of course I will be, I’ll be with my dad.

“I’m going to talk to my wife. Give you all some space to figure this out.” Uncle Gray tosses a thumb over his shoulder. “Grab me if you need me.”

Dad nods. “Will do.” He lets go of me and gives Easton his keycard. “Emory is asleep in the second bedroom, so⁠—”

“We’ll keep it down,” Easton acknowledges.

Once Easton goes inside with Nash, Dad twists around to face me and cuts right to it. “I’m sorry about what happened back there. I lost control.” He tears both hands through his hair, messing it up. “I had no idea those men⁠—”

“You couldn’t have possibly known.”

His hands fall to his sides as he exhales sharply. “Easton was there. He knows.”

All I can do is nod, because my throat is growing thick, emotion clogging it.

“He held you back there. Had to protect you from me.” He curses low under his breath. “What you saw me do when I snapped hurt you. I⁠—”

“Dad . . .” I drag out his name. “Don’t go there. It’s not true, and you know it.”