Without taking my eyes off the two men, I said, “Cover me, Grey.”
Greyson kept his pistol pointed at them while I adjusted my hold on the limp body over my shoulder. I backed out of the kitchen and toward the front door . . . until I felt a light tap on my back.
“I have to, um, pee,” she whispered, her voice hoarse.
My eyes locked with Grey’s. “She has to pee,” I repeated like a dipshit.
Grey’s eyes widened and he shot me a look that said, Seriously? And if she had to take her tampon out, would you help with that too?
The sad thing was, yeah, I probably would. I carried her straight into the crappy little bathroom and tugged down her leggings and panties. A bit unsteady, she sat down and relieved herself, her posture slumped in defeat. I averted my gaze, keeping it locked on the doorway, both to give her some privacy and to make sure we were still alone.
When she was done, I scooped her up in my arms and walked out of that foul, run-down house, secure in the knowledge that Greyson was covering me all the way to my truck.
He started the engine as I laid her gently across the backseat and got in, scooting so my lap supported her head. She couldn’t sit up by herself, and to be honest, as mad as I was, I needed to hold her.
As Greyson sped toward the highway, I pulled out my phone and dialed the Dallas PD’s narcotics division. The bored-sounding officer who answered perked right up when I delivered my tip about a certain drug operation. Those bastards would be going to jail for a long, long time.
When I hung up, Greyson’s gaze flicked to the backseat. “Is that really Lacey?”
I grunted an affirmative, in no mood to discuss this with him. I couldn’t even wrap my brain around this fucked-up situation yet, let alone put words to it. Trying to make sense of things, I turned and stared out the window.
He blew out a loud breath, nonplussed. “So you’ve been dating the boss’s daughter this whole time? Damn. I don’t want to be around when that hits the fan.”
He probably couldn’t see it, but I grimaced at him anyway. “Is that really what you’re focused on right now? Jeez, dude, unfuck your priorities.”
Although there might have been a tiny part of me that agreed with him. It wasn’t enough that she was a drug lord’s ex—she had to be the boss’s daughter too? That was just icing on the goddamn cake. I’d gotten us away from Troy’s old buddies, but would I be so lucky with Barton?
“Drop us off at my place,” I instructed Grey.
Barton had said no hospitals unless his daughter was in need of immediate medical care. He said he didn’t know how big this thing was, or who he could trust yet. Still in DC when he got the news about the kidnapping, he couldn’t have been here quickly enough, so he was counting on me alone to keep her safe. I was only thirty minutes from her, and he trusted me implicitly.
Too bad he had no clue that I’d been eating his daughter’s * and lusting after her so badly I ached. God damn it.
“No . . . Lan . . .”
I startled when a slim hand brushed mine. I looked down to see Lacey gripping my fingers weakly. Her blue eyes were still heavy-lidded, but much brighter than before.
“You really came . . . for me?”
“Of course I did.”
She trailed off into a blurry mumble. It might have been my imagination, but I thought she said I’m sorry.
“Shhh.” I stroked her tangled hair. “It’s okay. Just rest.”
It wasn’t fucking okay, not at all. My doubt was still growing, and with it, my angry sense of betrayal. But for now, I let Lacey sleep—and I let myself enjoy her warm weight, knowing how soon I might have to push it away.
Chapter Twenty-One
Lacey
Only once we were inside Nolan’s house, with the door bolted, could I finally relax enough to draw a deep breath. He sat me down on the soft leather sofa and my entire body sagged in relief. The fear and adrenaline from the last several hours drained away; I knew I was safe. Thank God. What I didn’t know is where I stood with Nolan.
Turning to face him, I opened my mouth to say something, to thank him for saving my life. But the words died in my throat. He was fuming mad, stalking around the living room with a grimace, double-checking his gun before placing it on the dining table.
“You lied to me.” His voice was hollow and broken, and I hated the look that I saw in his eyes. I hated myself even more for putting it there.
“I w-wanted to tell you. I wanted to tell you a hundred times . . .” My voice cracked on a sob.
He placed a blanket around my shoulders. But I knew I couldn’t read too much into his tenderness; it was only his training kicking in.
“Then why didn’t you?” He stood before me, his fists clenched at his sides, a vein throbbing in his neck.
“Because I couldn’t. Would you really have been okay with me telling you I was Jerry Barton’s daughter?”