Packing Heat(79)

One million dollars. That was life-changing money, the sort of money that could really make a difference for my parents.

And maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe I wouldn’t have to go in front of the media very often. So long as they knew I existed, got a few pictures of the two of us together, maybe that would be enough. We could say that I was a private person and that I didn’t like the spotlight.

Or maybe I could just forget about the whole thing. My parents were making it work on their own, after all. I couldn’t imagine that they would want me to go through something like this just for their sake.

Then again, they’d gone through a lot to raise me right.

It felt like I was at war with myself. I downed my coffee, got up, and went to get dressed.

I had to get out of the house.

I had to stop thinking about Nash Bell, about his cocky grin, his intense stare, his handsome face, his ripped body.

I had to stop imagining what it would be like to have him slip a ring on my finger.

And I definitely had to stop thinking about what it would be like on the wedding night.





6





Nash





The media was such a fucking bore.

“Sorry, ma’am,” I said. “That’s still classified.”

She smiled at me. “Okay, Nash. Last question. How did it feel to be out there serving your country?”

I smiled and repeated the same old bullshit. “It was my duty and my honor to fight for the United States abroad.”

“Thanks, Nash.” We stood and shook hands. I watched as she walked off and spotted Livy heading toward me.

It was another media interview morning. That was the tenth interview I had done in the span of a few hours, and now hopefully Livy was coming to let me have some fucking peace and quiet for a little while.

Though that wasn’t likely. I was probably going to be shoved in front of some more cameras and told to say things about how great America was and all that shit. Which, yeah, America was the greatest fucking country in the world, and I really did want to fight for my fucking country. But I was sick of being shoved in front of cameras and told to say it.

I missed the feeling of sand under my feet, of the sun beating down on my head. And of the constant twinge of fear and worry nagging at the back of my head.

I had felt alive out there. In the fucking media room of our hotel, I felt like a stuffed animal regurgitating some bullshit.

“Good job this morning,” Livy said.

“Thanks,” I grunted. “Easy when you just keep saying the same shit over and over.”

“Good. That’s what we want.” She paused and frowned at me. “But smile a little more. You looked morose.”

“I looked fine.” I stretched, looking out the window. “When’s lunch?”

“Soon.” She stood next to me. “You didn’t go out last night,”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Was it because of our conversation?”

I sighed, shaking my head. It really didn’t have anything to do with my handlers wanting me to behave. If it were up to me, I would have gotten out there and fucked the first willing, sexy piece of ass that threw herself at me.

But something had been stuck in my head, something had been nagging me. For some reason, as soon as I’d gotten back to the hotel, I just hadn’t felt like going to yet another club to fuck yet another vapid slut. Instead, I had ordered a whisky from room service and watched shitty TV until I had passed out early.

Which meant I’d woken up with a much smaller hangover than usual, which was nice.

“Nothing to do with you,” I grunted at her. “Just felt tired.”

“Good. Stay tired.”

I clenched my jaw. “You saying that shit makes me want to do the opposite. You know that, right?”

She smiled wryly. “Of course, Nash. But you’re good at following orders, right?”

“Yeah. You know I fucking am.”

She smiled again and walked away, leaving me there to look out the window.

Following orders. That was what I was good at. That, and killing men in a thousand different ways. I was so full of deadly training, and yet I was running around America like a fucking circus animal, getting shown off to and fussed over by dumbass media people.

And yet all I could think about was the girl from the night before. About Selena, the cute fucking college girl, the innocent one. The first girl to turn me down in a long, long time.

I had a phone full of women who would happily take me up on my offer. Sure, most of them would blow it in under an hour, but they’d all gladly say yes if it meant spending another night with me.

But not Selena. She had said no and seemed to mean it. She didn’t throw herself at me, but instead was skeptical of everything I had said. True, it was all pretty crazy, and it probably made absolutely no sense to her.