Defiance (The Protectors #9)(19)

I had no clue what had possessed me to touch him like I had, but he’d made it a hell of a lot easier when he hadn’t moved away. A straight man would have been making a run for it the second I’d hovered my body over his. And touching his lips…instead of pushing me away, he’d held his breath.

And waited.

It had taken every ounce of control I possessed to pull away from him. Everything about Nathan Wilder turned me on. Just because I hated what he did for a living didn’t mean I couldn’t fuck him. God knew I’d fucked guys for all kinds of reasons. But I’d heard that damn vulnerability in his voice as he’d mentioned his brother, and that had sealed the deal for me. As interesting as it would have been to show the guy he was most definitely into cock instead of pussy, I wasn’t going to take advantage of someone who was struggling emotionally.

Even I had my limits.

Nathan shifted again, but when his hand suddenly began skimming down my side, I was done and I pushed him none too gently off me. By the time he woke up, I was already pulling my pants on. I glanced over at him just in time to see him looking at my side of the bed in confusion. His eyes shifted to me and I could see the question there. But I didn’t say anything as I went to the bathroom to piss and brush my teeth. By the time I returned to the main room, Nathan was sitting on the edge of his side of the bed, his head in his hands. I was glad to see his bandage didn’t have any blood seeping through it, meaning my stitches had held. When he lifted his gaze, I saw a slight discoloration on his jaw, but it wasn’t bad.

“We’re leaving in five minutes,” I said as I went to the door to remove the stun grenade.

“Good morning to you, too,” he muttered as he stood. I watched him long enough to see that his movements weren’t hampered, which meant his side was likely bruised, but his ribs probably weren’t fractured.

Nathan grabbed his bag on the way to the bathroom. I began packing up my own bag and within the five minutes I’d allotted him, Nathan was out of the bathroom and heading for the door. I stepped in front of him to keep him from leaving first. Energy charged the air around us as my arm brushed his chest briefly.

Fuck, how the hell was I going to keep my hands off him for however long it took to figure out who was after him?

I unlocked the door and left the room first, holding out my arm to Nathan to make sure he understood to wait behind me. Once I was sure there was no threat, I motioned him outside and went to my car.

“Wait here,” I said as I pointed to the front of the car. I quickly walked around the car and then dropped to the ground to check the undercarriage. The engine was next.

“What are you doing?” Nathan asked.

“Checking to make sure it wasn’t tampered with.”

“Tampered with?”

“Brake line cut, explosive or tracking device attached,” I said simply.

“Jesus,” Nathan whispered. I glanced at him long enough to see his eyes had gone wide. If he only knew this was my normal.

“Get in,” I said, motioning to the passenger door. He moved reluctantly, but I didn’t say anything. He’d either learn to trust me or he wouldn’t.

Once we were on the road, I found a fast food place with a drive-thru window.

“Tell me about the emails,” I said once Nathan was done inhaling the first of two breakfast sandwiches he’d ordered.

“What do you want to know?” he asked.

“How many were there, what was in them…”

I already knew the answer, but I was interested in what he had to tell me about them.

“It started a few months ago, I guess. A lot of people reached out after I denounced my father’s stance on gay marriage. Some of them commended me, others didn’t,” he hedged.

“Were there any people from your father’s constituency that contacted you?”

“Dozens,” he said quietly. “Even people I’d thought were friends began calling and telling me the same thing. That I was confused about Brody…that I was letting the fact that he was my brother overpower my loyalty to God. Said it was the devil’s lure.” Nathan laughed, but there was no humor in it. “That was always my father’s answer to anything that didn’t go his way. Devil’s lure. It was as common a phrase in our house as Praise the Lord and Amen.”

“Did any of the people threaten you with bodily harm?” I asked.

“My girlfriend at the time chucked a vase at my head after I told her to get the fuck out of my house. Does that count?”

I smiled despite myself. “She didn’t like the new Nathan Wilder?” I asked.

“Not sure she even liked the old Nathan,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

Nathan shook his head. “She was a prop,” he said. “Just like everything else in my life at the time.” He went quiet for a moment before saying, “Anyway, when she jumped on the “Blame it on Brody” bandwagon, I told her we were done. She tried to brain me with the vase, called me all sorts of very un-Southern-Belle-like names and stormed out of my house. Haven’t seen her since.”

“What about once the furor died down?”

“After a few weeks, there was just one left. [email protected],” Nathan murmured.

“Tell me about the emails.”

He turned his head to look out the window. “It seemed like the typical stuff at first. Ranting about how I was going to hell if I didn’t repent. After a while I didn’t even read the whole message.”