Lost the Handle (Nashville Assassins: Next Generation #8)

Chapter 7

Chapter

Seven

Quinn

Posey: Emery just called me.

Shelli: Why? Did she confess about kidnapping Quinn? Has anyone checked on our dear brother?

Posey: LOL, I just talked to him. He’s fine.

Owen: So what did she want?

Evan: Didn’t you cuss her out last time you two talked? I’m surprised she called you.

What the hell? Is my life a fucking sitcom to them? Before I can tell Posey that I’m not coming over with food and she’s an asshole, her text comes through while I’m setting the four bags of Mexican food on the floor in the back seat of my Tesla.

Posey: I did, and still, she called to ask if she could come over for dinner.

Owen: Man, that girl has balls. What did you say?

Shelli: Did you say no?

Posey: Nope. I said yes because Quinn is coming over too.

Owen: Damn it! Why do I live so far away?!

Evan: I’m so coming over.

Shelli: Me too!

Posey: No, let me handle this. I’ll report back.

I glare at my phone and then blow out a long breath. Why is having siblings so hard? But most of all, I told Emery to call Posey so my sister would do me a solid and say no.

That didn’t pan out the way I wanted it to.

Me: Thanks for saying no.

Evan: He speaks!

Owen: He’s alive!

Shelli: Oh good, I don’t have to console Mom because her favorite is missing.

Posey: I’m not saying no. That means I miss the fireworks show of Quinn and Emery. No way. That’s exactly what I need after my shitty day.

I turn off my notifications and head toward her house, bristling with annoyance. While I know my siblings’ marriages aren’t easy—I mean, Shelli is married to Aiden Brooks, poor dude, and Owen is one sarcastic comment away from ending up on an episode of Snapped , starring his wife Angie—they all just seem…better. Like finding their people completed them.

While mine ran to the other side of the States.

And now, she’s back.

I really don’t know how to feel. On the one hand, I want to wrap my arms around her and give her what we both want. But on the other, I know I can’t. Not only am I still pissed she blew me off, I’m scared she’ll do it again when she gets me back. I may be a mess when it comes to my personal life, but I know the only reason she’s here is because I’m getting married. She doesn’t want anyone to have me, but that doesn’t mean she wants to be just mine.

Selfish ass.

And yet, I still love her.

When I pull onto Posey’s street, I see a sleek, chromed-out, black Bugatti Chiron parked behind Posey’s SUV. While this is an expensive neighborhood, made up primarily of athletes, songwriters, and singers, the Bugatti doesn’t belong. This is Nashville, for goodness’ sake.

The fuck?

I know it’s not Boon’s or anyone’s I know. So why is it parked in my sister’s driveway? After I park at the curb, I get out, eyeing the sexy beast of a car, and I notice that some neighbors are gawking at it.

Right? I think I’ve got a hard-on for it.

I grab the bags and head up the drive, drooling over the sleekness of it and the blacked-out windows. It’s a stunning car, and I’m thoroughly jealous.

I thought I was cool for driving a Tesla.

That my mommy bought me.

When I notice the California plates, I jerk back. Surely… No way.

Is this Emery’s ?

I’m almost to the door when it opens, and Zac comes running for me. I move all the bags to one hand so I can envelop my nephew in a hug. “There is my dude. How you doing?”

“Unky,” Zac coos, his grin bright as he wraps his little arms around me. I kiss his head full of dark curls. “I missed you.”

His voice is so small, so sweet, and it pulls at my heartstrings. This is what I needed. A cute little dude loving on me who thinks I’m the coolest, even when I feel like trash. I kiss him again. “I missed you too, my main dude. Have you been good?”

He beams up at me, his little teeth flashing for me as he nods. “Always.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

“Very,” he says confidently. I glance up at my sister, who is smiling down at us. Everyone has always overlooked Posey, especially with how loud and gorgeous Shelli is. But for me, Posey has always been my favorite. She’s hard and knows what she wants, but she loves like no other. It’s one of the reasons I had to come over. I know she is beating herself up, and I can’t have that.

Because my sister is utter perfection in my eyes.

I gather Zac up in my arms after Posey takes the bags. I press a kiss to her temple, and she hugs my side. I don’t release her for a moment, just letting her steal some of the strength that sometimes I don’t feel. She can have it all if it’ll make her feel better. I kiss her once more and ask, “How you doing?”

“Better now,” she admits, patting my chest.

We share a smile, and then I follow her in. As the door shuts behind me, I’m surprised that I’m able to move when my eyes meet a pair of gray ones that will forever be seared in my brain. I’m not an artist, but I swear I could draw Emery’s eyes. I would get every shade of gray right, the shape of her eyes, the way her lashes flutter along her smooth skin. But mostly, how her pupils dilate with heat whenever they set on me. I could put it on paper, I know I could, because no matter what, her eyes are a part of me.

I swallow as I hold her gaze. “Rental?” I ask, hooking my thumb behind me.

She feigns hurt, chuckling as she gives me an indignant look. “As if. That’s my baby, Black Beauty.”

I scrunch up my face as Posey giggles. “My neighborhood chat has been on fire since she pulled up. They think a movie star is here.”

I can’t look at my sister because I’m still spearing Emery’s eyes with mine. “You can afford a car like that?”

She gives me an eye roll. “Don’t play. You know how much money gets deposited in your account every month.”

EMQUINNY.

A business that was born from a late night in bed with her hot body pressed to mine. I didn’t think she’d do anything with my idea—well, really, our idea. As soon as I mentioned how it would help law enforcement to have a second set of eyes, she ran with it. She made something out of a silly idea and named it after us. She insisted on including me, even though I told her it was her baby, not mine.

I think it hurt her when I said that, but Emery doesn’t show hurt; she just does what she wants. So, she included my name, and each month, I get a deposit in my account for my portion of the profits. I wish I could say I gave her my banking information, but I’m pretty sure she hacked in to get it. Emery Brooks isn’t just dangerous to me. She’s dangerous to the world.

“Sure, but I don’t have enough for a Bugatti,” I say, trying to sound playful, but it comes out sharper than I intended.

She shrugs. “Means you aren’t doing something right.”

I scoff, unable to fight the grin pulling at my lips. “How so?”

“You chose the wrong career path.”

I chuckle with no humor because I know what she’s really saying.

I should have chosen her.

But I didn’t want her business. I wanted her, her heart, and I wasn’t enough for her.

“So, can I drive it?”

She leans back on the sofa, crossing her legs and giving me one hell of a view of her thighs. I force my eyes to stay on hers as she purses her lips. “But you’re so very engaged. Will your fiancée be okay with you driving your dream car, which is owned by your dream girl?”

There is a lot to unpack in that comment, but I’m not surprised one bit by it. She says the word fiancée like it’s the most disgusting thing in the world, and fuck, if she isn’t cute when she does it. But the last part, about my dream car and girl, yeah, she’s got that totally right. If I had my way, I’d fuck her on that car. Until neither of us remembers any fiancées or the past.

Posey snickers beside me, and I shoot her a dark look as she coughs, trying to hide her laughter. Emery stands, and I notice she’s changed into a flowy little blue dress that flirts along her creamy thighs. The bodice is tight, her breasts on display and leaving me drooling, just as her Bugatti did. She has her wild hair up in a high bun, and she’s stunning.

Which is nothing fucking new.

She sends me a wicked little grin, knowing she’s rendered me speechless, before she looks over at my sister. “Let me help, Posey,” she says as she takes some of the bags, and they both disappear to the kitchen. I almost forget I am holding my nephew while I watch Emery’s ass sway from side to side, until he captures my face in his tiny little hands. I look deep into his green eyes, and he presses his head to mine.

As if I need the strength of a kid.

And I guess I do.

“Don’t fall in love, Zac.”

Zac’s face scrunches up in confusion before he says, “But I love you.”

I kiss his temple. “I love you too, my dude. Let’s go eat.”

Or rather, let’s go survive the F6 tornado also known as Emery Brooks.