“Well, that might play into it. Might help you on your time. Plus, they won’t be able to meet you there. Try to pull any of their typical tricks.”
“Yeah, the longer we have and the less they know, the better.”
“Always.”
Gavin and I spit ball back and forth while we wait. It keeps me from pacing, which is what I feel like doing. I don’t like waiting. I don’t like not having all the facts. I don’t like being the last to know. And, most of all, I don’t like worrying about being able to keep Olivia safe. There are too many unknowns, too many players, too many variables. What I need is for Dad’s man or people to get here so I can regain some amount of control.
For a while after the accident, I was blood thirsty. All I could think about was getting revenge against the people who killed my mother and brother, and who framed my father for their deaths. But, over time, the more I became Nash, the more I realized there was a legal way to go about it, a way that could free my father. That alone would be worth going about it without bloodshed. So that’s what I did. I set about getting my law degree and learning as much as I could about similar cases, so that one day I could use the evidence that my dad sacrificed so much for to see justice served.
But now all that is in jeopardy. Unless the ace up Dad’s sleeve is a damned good one.
Forty-four minutes later, an hour before the club closes, an ace walks through my office door. And holy hell what an ace it is!
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Olivia
It would be impossible not to notice him. Danger and confidence and reckless disregard for pretty much anybody and anything emanate from him like a stink. Or, for every female in the immediate vicinity, like a perfume.
I’m pretty sure that tickle at the back of my throat is Taryn’s pheromones. They might choke us all. I don’t even have to look down the bar at her to know she’s sitting up and taking notice. I wouldn’t be surprised if she was preening like a cat. But I could also understand it. He’s pretty…compelling.
He’s tall. Every bit as tall as Cash. The fact that he’s wearing a black leather jacket and sunglasses into a club in the middle of the night only makes him stand out that much more. But it’s not only that. It’s not just one thing. Or ten things. It’s everything about him. There’s no way this guy could hide. Not in the biggest crowd could he go unnoticed.
People step away from him as he walks through the room. I don’t know if it’s fear or reverence, but something causes them to give him ample space.
I’d guess his hair is chin length. Maybe shoulder length, but pulled back into a ponytail as it is, it’s hard to tell. The color is like pale straw, lighter on top than that underneath, which makes me think he works out in the sun. Often.
His chin is covered with a thick, light brown goatee. Between that and the sunglasses, most of the details of his face are obscured, but there’s something about him that seems vaguely familiar. I wonder if he’s been into the club before. Not dressed like this, of course, but maybe in regular clothes.
Without stopping, he walks straight to Cash’s office and disappears inside. It’s like there’s a pause after he’s gone, as though his slow, powerful walk across the room left a slight concussion in its wake. But after about thirty seconds, everyone returns to last call as if nothing happened.
But I’m more curious than ever.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Cash
I’m glad I’m sitting when he walks in. I’m also glad I’m not eating or drinking when he walks in. It would be a shame to make it this far and then choke and die from seeing the long-awaited visitor walk into my office.
And recognize that he’s my twin brother.
Nash.
“What the fu—”
My first thought, my first feeling is profound relief. Joy even. My brother isn’t dead. He’s very much alive. And standing right in front of me.
His hair is longer. And blonder. His face is familiar. I’d recognize it anywhere, of course. Even with the lower half covered in a dark blond goatee, it looks just like mine. Only harder. Much harder.
I feel the presence of him in a way that no other person on earth feels it. We’re part of each other in a way that most siblings don’t experience. It’s different being a twin.
I think, on some level, I’ve always known he wasn’t dead. I never felt him leave, never felt him die. I never felt his absence like he was truly gone.
But what does this mean? What the hell is going on? It only takes me a few seconds to put the pieces together.
Dad.
“Dad knew. He knew all along and didn’t tell me.”
A slap in the face. A sucker punch to the balls. A reality check that reminds me there really isn’t anyone I can trust. Not completely.
I trust Gavin for the most part, but the two people I’ve trusted with the most have both given me reason to question my judgment. My father obviously withheld quite a bit from me. I don’t know why, but I’m damn sure going to find out eventually. Once I make sure Olivia is safe…
Olivia.
She’s the other person I’ve trusted with a lot. She hasn’t betrayed that trust, but she’s been withdrawing over the last day or two and it concerns me. I know she has a lot to overcome and deal with, but now isn’t the time for that. It’s too dangerous for her to decide all of a sudden that I’m not trustworthy and then bolt. It could mean her life.
What that means to me is that I have to either convince Olivia she can trust me, that I’d never hurt her, or I have to leave her alone. She can’t be safe if she doesn’t trust me. And I can’t trust her if she doesn’t trust me.
Nash’s words bring me back to his mysterious reappearance. “Yeah. We all had our reasons for making the choices we made. You included,” he says pointedly.
He’s right, but that doesn’t take the sting out of being the only one kept in the dark. My temper rises, but before I lay into Nash, Gavin shifts, reminding me that I’m not alone with my brother.
I glance at my bar manager and best friend who is looking back and forth between Nash and me. His expression says he’s a little confused, but not as much as I might’ve expected.
“I’ll explain all this later,” I promise.
Gavin narrows his eyes and then starts to slowly nod. “No, I don’t think there’s any reason for that. I think I’m up to speed.” He stands to his feet and steps over to Nash. “Gavin Gibson. I don’t suppose we’ve met before.”
I’ll be damned. He did figure it out.
I “met” Gavin as Nash once to add some legitimacy to the farce. If Gavin had ever had any suspicions about the identity, he’d never mentioned it. But then again, knowing Gavin, he’d probably keep it to himself in case he needed it later. I guess in this business—well, my Dad’s business—everyone has their secrets. And their weapons.