“Well, well.” Nate leans against the kitchen door, arms folded over his chest, a wolfish smile on his face, that dimple in his cheek winking at us. “Don’t mind me. You know I like to watch. Go on.”
Kash groans and presses his forehead to mine. “Asshole.”
“Your asshole. Wait, that came out wrong.”
Kash grins.
Nate chuckles. “Come and eat or West will have fucking kittens. We can play later.”
Play.
There’s a dark promise in Nate’s words, in his voice, and both Kash and I shudder in response to it.
Then my stomach growls and Kash snickers. “Come on, let’s get you fed. You’ll need energy for the games Nate has in mind.”
And then he snickers again when another shudder goes through me. He takes my hand, shoots me a sweet smile, and leads me into the kitchen that smells like heaven and an Italian chef had a love baby. Like cream and cheese and meat sauce.
“Lasagna, right?” I squeal in delight.
“My girl’s favorite.” West grabs me around the waist and lifts me off my feet, forcing Kash to let go of my hand. “Missed you,” he says against my neck and I hug him tight.
“How was the therapist?”
“Well, it was a sexy young thing who wanted to have wild sex with me,” he whispers dramatically, “but I let her down gently.”
“Actually it’s a middle-aged man with a wife and three kids,” Nate cuts in drily. “Sorry to destroy your fantasy, dude.”
“But did it go okay?” I press as West puts me down on my feet. “Did he say anything helpful?”
“He recommended I drink myself stupid every night and… okay, okay.” West steps back and lifts his hands protectively when Nate tries to punch him in the side. “Maybe? I dunno. He asked me loads of questions, got no answers…”
“West!” I poke my hand into his hard stomach. “You’re supposed to answer the questions. That man is trying to help you.”
He sighs and rubs
at the back of his neck. “Yeah…”
“Give the guy a break,” Kash mutters, sitting down at the table and pulling the pot toward him. “Some questions aren’t easy to answer.”
I study his face as we sit down and dig into the food, study the shadows that his pale lashes cast under his eyes. Or are those dark circles from not sleeping enough?
There are questions I’ve meant to ask him, too, and they won’t be easy to answer, either. About his past. About his tattoos.
The dragons inked on his arms shift as he lifts the fork to his mouth and I blurt it out, before I have a chance to think too hard about it:
“We talked to Zane Madden. The guy who inked you?”
“You did?” Kash blinks owlishly at me. “When?”
“When we were looking for you.”
His face softens, cheeks flushing. “Right.”
Oh, he’s so cute when he gets happy and embarrassed like that. He’s happy we never gave up on him, even if we didn’t manage to rescue him. He did that all by himself.
Sourness fills my mouth when I think of what would have happened had he not freed himself and walked back to us. He’d have died in that basement, or his kidnappers would have shot him.
“What’s wrong?” He whispers. “You’re thinking about the what ifs, aren’t you?”