Nash (Marked Men #4)(22)

“I just watched what Rome and Asa did with that dive of a bar they ended up running and I thought we should try and up our game some as well. I love this place, love what we do, so why not take it to the next level?”

“That means whoever we hire to manage these shops in place of Cora is going to have to be a perfect fit. You don’t happen to know anyone that can fill that role, do ya?”

I automatically patted the pocket of my hoodie looking for a smoke and almost threw a fit when I came up empty. Quitting sucked and I sucked at quitting, but I was trying hard, and every time I saw Phil in that bed it made it a little bit easier.

Rowdy shook his blond head and pulled the collar of his quilted flannel up around his neck.

“Nope, but you’ll find someone. You have great instincts about people and Rule is like the gatekeeper from hell, not to mention whoever you hire has to pass the Cora test. You need to give yourself some credit, Nash. This is Phil’s life, his legacy … of course you’re the only one he would trust with it. We’re family, he wanted you to carry on the tradition and keep this place a home. You’ve got this, brother. Have some faith.”

I just grunted and turned to walk to where the Charger was parked. Light flurries of snow were starting to blanket the ground.

I glanced at him when he asked, “Hey, I heard your new neighbor is a solid ten. What’s up with that?”

I lifted a shoulder and let it fall. What was up with that was that her hair was the wrong color of red and her eyes were dark, not a lulling, gentle gray.

“Too busy, too jacked up over Phil … I dunno. Swing by for a beer and you can introduce yourself.”

He didn’t respond, just gave me a look. A look that clearly stated if I wasn’t trying to actively get in the hot neighbor’s pants, something else was going on. Luckily it was freezing, so neither one of us wanted to hang out on the sidewalk, and I got to cleanly escape without floundering around for a weak excuse as to my real reasons for not throwing all my considerable game at the hottie across the hall.

When I got to the hospital, it was almost nine. I tried to park close so I didn’t have to trek to the front door and freeze my balls off on the way, but fate wasn’t working for me and it took me five minutes to walk around the side of the complex to the front doors after finally finding a spot. I was muttering under my breath about needing a cigarette and rubbing my hands together to keep them warm when I came to a stumbling halt as I cleared the corner of the main building.

Saint was pacing back and forth on the sidewalk. The lights from the building were casting her in an ethereal and glinting light, like the heavens above were illuminating her with their glow, making each snowflake trapped in her amazing hair glimmer. She wasn’t just called Saint … it was like some unknown force was trying to push me into seeing her as so much more. Her normally restrained hair was all over the place, rioting around her pale face like fire and copper. Snowflakes were gathering in the loose strands but she didn’t seem to notice. She was dressed in her scrubs, no coat or gloves, and the cold didn’t seem to have any effect on her as she meandered back and forth. She was moving frantically, her arms crossed tightly around her chest like she was trying to give herself a bear hug.

I knew she didn’t want to have anything to do with me, that she wanted to pretend I didn’t exist, but I couldn’t just walk by her without asking her what was wrong, without seeing if she was okay. I wasn’t that kind of person, and more importantly it actually mattered to me why she was out here when she was obviously upset, and why she didn’t have a coat or anything on when it was so cold out.

“Saint?”

I called her name softly and moved a little closer. When she turned around I could see the frozen tracks of tears on her cheeks and could practically feel the coiled tension coming off her body. I was surprised the snow that was landing on her face and clinging to her eyelashes didn’t melt right off with all the heat and energy she was throwing off.

“Are you all right?”

She blinked at me like she didn’t recognize me, and I thought maybe it was the hat covering my head. She opened her mouth and then let it snap close again like words just wouldn’t come out. Her arms fell to her sides and she just stared at me, not saying anything or moving for a long moment. I was about to apologize for bothering her, yet again, when she suddenly moved toward me … she lurched like she had come untethered from the earth. I had no idea what she was doing, but the expression on her face was intent and focused, so I braced for her to smack me across the face or put a knee in my balls. With this girl I just never knew which way the tide was going to turn.

I wasn’t prepared for her to throw herself against my chest. I was so startled I actually had to take a step back as I wrapped my arms around her waist. She put her hands up around my shoulders and curled her freezing-cold fingers under the collar of my hoodie and dug her fingers into the back of my neck. Her br**sts smashed into my chest and her long hair coiled around my fingers where I was holding on to her lower back. It was silky and cool, like touching frost on a pane of glass. I was dumbfounded, trying to figure out what she was doing, when she slammed her mouth across mine. Good thing she was tall and didn’t have to reach very far because if I had been holding her up, there was a good chance I might have dropped her right back to the ground in surprise.

Her mouth was hot, frantic, wild, and desperate. She tasted like winter and some kind of tangy citrus. I knew this because she didn’t hesitate to roll her tongue into my startled mouth. I had been kissed by a lot of girls, probably too many over the years, and not one of them sent me from comfortable to feeling like my boxers were ten sizes too small in a fraction of a second the way Saint did. It wasn’t even that it was a great kiss. There was something behind it, something with more edge, more meaning than any other kiss I could remember. The way her soft lips felt pressed tightly against mine, the way she used her teeth with just enough bite, the way her short nails dug into the tendons on either side of my neck turned me inside out.