Page 66

I’m not safe.

Because as he watched Nicco roll the cigarette around in his fingers, Ash knew that they had crossed a line they could never come back from. He didn’t worry that their friendship had changed. Nicco would never let that happen. But he’d had a taste of the forbidden, a moment of intimacy he would always remember and never recover from.

“I’m not smoking it,” Nicco murmured. “Scent calms me.”

Both of them, sliding too close to temptation in the dark, hoping for some other outcome than the inevitable.

“Hanna’s asleep,” Ash said. It felt wrong, somehow, to break the silence of the night. “But I figured you’d be up.”

Nicco smiled, but it was glass, too breakable to hold. “You always know, Ash.”

At that moment, Ash did know. He knew Nicco was a man right at the edge, and already pulling away from anything that might keep him tethered to the land. He knew that Nicco needed more than he could give him, no matter how much Ash wanted to try. It wasn’t a persona or some kind of game to him, caring for his partners in bed, guiding them, controlling the moments of pleasure and release. It was innate, that need to protect his people, to make sure they always, always knew they were safe.

He’d been doing it with Nicco far longer than he wanted to admit.

“I need to ask you something,” Nicco said, tapping the cigarette out on a small plate that had clearly been left on the railing for that purpose. To his credit, it did seem like he hadn’t been smoking it.

And that gave Ash a rush of hope. Maybe Nicco had come to the conclusions he needed all on his own. Maybe it wasn’t impossible to wish for something better simply by being close. Maybe they weren’t all barreling to their own demise at top speed, unable to stop or even slow down.

Ash came to stand at his side, needing to feel Nic’s presence, needing to know he was still strong and virile and still breathing cold mountain air. “I’m listening.”

Nicco let out a low sigh. “How do you feel…how do you feel about taking over the club?”

The mountains were silent, but the question made Ash’s ears ring, echoing, like an alarm siren blaring through the valley, louder and louder, so loud it stung his skin and made his muscles burn, his heart suddenly pounding an impossibly fast staccato, as if he’d been running all this time and now it felt fit to burst, because the finish line was right there, and it turned out he’d be crossing over the edge of a cliff.

“Nic.” He shook his head. “You can’t ask me that. The Princes is yours. You’re what makes it so…important.”

It was a far cry from what he wanted to say, from the swearing and angry words, from the harsh reality that The Princes were the one thing Nicco had always stood for, always focused on, the one thing that kept him busy and striving forward and living for something.

Ash knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that The Princes were what kept Nicco standing up right. If he walked away, hell, the fact that he was even thinking of walking away, meant Ash hadn’t been off base these past months, worrying about the dark shadows under Nicco’s eyes or the gaunt look of his cheekbones, or the way he never seemed to sleep through the night. This, on the heels of so much connection, was a confession of an entirely different order.

“You’re the one people connect with,” Nicco replied. “You’re a born leader, Ash. You were always meant for more than being my sergeant, and I know you can do this.”

Ash’s thoughts were a whirlwind, too much anger. But I want to be your sergeant, Nic. I want to be your everything.

Nicco sighed, the soft sound so loud in the night. “You deserve better, Ash… You deserve more.”

Ash got the feeling that they weren’t talking about the club or Nic’s leadership. So many of their conversations in the last year had been held in the in-between, in the innuendo and shadow, and he wondered if they’d ever be able to say it aloud, all that lay between them, the worry and the fear. The want and need and…more.

Anger won out, as it so often did for him. “I don’t want to do this,” he replied. “I don’t want you to leave.”

He meant it in all the ways, all the ways neither of them could seem to say, because life had been harsh and rough and torn too many times over, and if a man didn’t have defenses in place, he could lose his grip.

Nicco is losing his grip.

Nicco ground out the rest of the cigarette, until the burning red disappeared into smoke. “Think about it for me, okay?” he asked, then he slipped back into the house.

Alone, Ash spoke to the moon in the sky. “I don’t want better, Nicco. I don’t want more. I want you.”

* * * *

Time had slowed to molasses for Hanna. They continued to work on Grace’s disappearance from the kitchen of the safe house, and occasionally she and Jinx would break off from the others to discuss her team, as he weeded through the correspondences and financial records. She no longer felt so guilty about snooping through their personal lives. That had stopped when her house had been blown to pieces, but more than that, nearly a week had passed since Grace had been taken, and they were no closer to figuring out where she might be.

Only one thing distracted her from the riot of emotions and the planning and logistics and surveillance.

Ash and Nicco.

They hadn’t broken the spell on the growing connection that kept dragging them back to bed, and the bubble was the only safe place where she didn’t have to be in charge and she didn’t have to worry and she could simply feel, intense and bright and delicious with every stroke and every kiss and every touch. Since arriving at the safe house, they’d all pushed their limits, exploring and taking and giving, leaving all of three of them spent and satisfied on just about every flat surface in the house.