Nash (Daddies of Justice #3)

Chapter 7

Nash

N ash placed the last pancake on the pink plastic plate, admiring the cheery smiley face he'd made with chocolate chips and whipped cream. Rosie was going to love this. He hoped treating her like the Little she was would help her feel safe and cared for while she stayed with him.

The sound of soft footsteps made him look up. Rosie emerged from the guest room wearing the skimpiest baby blue lycra shorts and cropped tank top imaginable. The clingy fabric left nothing to the imagination, hugging her lush curves.

Nash swallowed hard. Damn. Having her flouncing around his house half-naked was going to be pure torture.

He had originally thought being here instead of the safehouse would be the best course of action. Going back to the place where they kissed seemed like a bad idea. The memory was too . . . arousing. But this? Having her in his home, walking around like she belonged here . . . this maybe wasn't the best plan.

"Morning!" Rosie flashed him a coy smile, her blonde hair tumbling around her shoulders. "Mm, something smells yummy."

"Blueberry pancakes." He gestured to the adorable place setting, complete with a pink sippy cup and animal-shaped utensils.

Rosie's eyes lit up as she slid onto the stool. "Aw, you're spoiling me."

"Just want you to feel at home here, baby girl." Nash fought to keep his voice even as Rosie crossed her long legs, the lycra pulling taut. Christ, he was only human. How could he be expected to keep things platonic with her tempting him at every turn?

She took a big bite of pancake, closing her eyes in bliss. "Oh my god, they're so good. You're a really great cook, Nash. You’ll make such a good Daddy someday."

Hearing him say “Daddy” sent a jolt of desire straight to his groin. Nash gripped the counter, willing his body not to react. He had to set some boundaries if they were going to cohabitate peacefully.

"Glad you like it, Rosie. But we need to talk about some house rules."

Rosie arched a brow as she sipped from her sippy cup. "Rules? That sounds ominous."

Nash cleared his throat. "I think we need some guidelines to . . . keep things professional between us." His gaze slid over her barely covered breasts and toned thighs. "Starting with a dress code."

"A dress code?" She glanced down at her outfit and smirked. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing? Don't you like it?"

Nash gritted his teeth, his self-control fraying.

The little minx knew exactly what she was doing to him. But he couldn't cross that line, no matter how much he ached to pin her against the wall and wipe that smug look off her face with a searing kiss.

He had to stay strong and focused on keeping her safe. Even if resisting Rosie's charms might prove to be his greatest challenge yet. “Nothing wrong with what you’re wearing, Rosie,” he said awkwardly. “If you were in a gym, it would be completely appropriate.”

Rosie smiled. “But I am going to a gym. I have my jujitsu class this morning.” She stood up and started walking back toward her bedroom, hips swaying enticingly.

Nash's gaze traced the curve of her lycra-clad bottom, and he swallowed hard. "I'll drive you," he offered, needing to put some distance between them before he did something reckless. "It's safer than walking."

Rosie paused, glancing over her shoulder with a defiant tilt of her chin. "I appreciate the offer, but I can take care of myself. I refuse to live my life in fear. I’ll be okay in the daytime, right? Nobody’s going to follow me in broad daylight?"

Frustration simmered in Nash's veins. He admired her independent spirit, but it was his job to protect her, whether she liked it or not. He crossed the room in a few long strides, crowding into her personal space. "Rosie, you're not going anywhere alone. Not until we neutralize this threat." His voice dropped to a low, stern register. "I'm walking you to class, and that's final."

Her eyes flashed with indignation, but something else simmered beneath the surface—a flicker of excitement, perhaps even arousal. Nash's body tightened in response, but he tamped down the sensation. He couldn't afford to be distracted.

"Fine," Rosie spat out, spinning on her heel. "I'll be ready in ten minutes."

“Alright,” he said. “But we’ll definitely be discussing those house rules later, young lady!”

“Okey dokey!” Rosie flounced off to her room, leaving Nash clenching his jaw and mentally reciting baseball statistics. This woman would be the death of him, one way or another.

But damned if he wouldn't die trying to keep her safe. Even from herself.

***

Nash's boots echoed against the cobblestone streets as he walked beside Rosie, the scent of freshly baked kolaczki wafting from a nearby bakery.

"Oh man, that smells delicious," said Rosie, stopping to inhale the air. "I love kolaczki. Especially the cream cheese and apricot ones. Don't you?"

Nash shrugged. "Don't think I ever tried one."

Rosie chuckled. "I thought you were meant to be the local. Not me."

"I don't have much of a sweet tooth myself."

Rosie moved with a dancer's grace, her blonde hair shimmering under the morning sun. Despite the looming danger, she seemed utterly at ease, a mischievous smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "So, what's you favorite food, then?"

Nash glanced at her, the corners of his mouth twitching in amusement. "Depends. I’m more into the savory stuff. Give me a hot dog from a street cart or an Italian beef sandwich over pastries any day."

Rosie raised an eyebrow. "Italian beef, huh? Extra peppers, I’m guessing? You look like the 'go big or go home' type."

He laughed, the sound warm and surprisingly light for him. "Extra everything. And don’t even get me started on the giardiniera —gotta have that kick."

She shook her head, still grinning. "You’ve got the taste buds of a Chicago cop, I swear."

"Maybe I do," he said, smirking.

"What else?" Rosie asked happily. "Tell me some more stuff you love, Nash. You so rarely enthuse about anything. What do you love about Chicago?"

Nash thought of his promise to Rosie to help her fall in love with the city. He hadn't done a very good job of that so far. Maybe now he could think of some things to excite her about it.

Nash glanced around, the familiar sights stirring a rare flicker of fondness. "Alright, let’s see. I love the skyline at night—the way the lights make the whole city look like it’s breathing. And the lakefront, especially in the early morning when it's quiet. You don’t get that kind of calm anywhere else."

Rosie nodded, her eyes wide with interest. "I didn't realize you had such a poetic side."

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Don't get used to it. But... I guess I like those neighborhood street festivals too. There's something about everyone coming together, the food, the music. Makes it feel like... I dunno, like you’re part of something."

Rosie smiled, a warmth in her gaze. "See? Now I’m starting to understand why you love it here."

Nash shrugged, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Guess I’ll have to keep showing you, then."

"You sure will!" Rosie said, skipping a little as they walked.

"Hey, I’m glad to see you looking better this morning, Rosie," said Nash.

“I feel so much better now it’s daytime,” Rosie replied. “And I’m determined not to let what happened last night get to me. For all I know, I might have imagined it. Or it could have just been some random person, lost and in need of help.”

Nash swallowed. He didn’t want to tell Rosie this, but he had seen the guy following her. She definitely wasn’t imagining it. The guy looked dangerous as hell. And Nash was making it his mission to find out who he was and to eliminate the threat entirely. He’d guard Rosie with his life. No matter what.

“Well,” he said, clearing his throat, “I’ll have it all figured out for you soon, Rosie. I promise you that you won’t have to worry about it at all very soon.”

Rosie huffed. “It’s just so annoying. I was getting so good at taking care of myself. I didn't spend years learning jujitsu just for funsies. But last night . . . I felt like if someone had attacked me, I wouldn’t have known what to do."

“You knew exactly what to do, baby girl," said Nash. “You called me.”

Rosie gave an adorable snort. “So my jujitsu counts for nothing, then?”

“You know as well as I do that those skills are only there as a last resort. Much better to extricate yourself from a dangerous situation in some other way first. Which you did. Beautifully.”

Her cheeks flushed pink, but she held his gaze. “Thank you. For everything.”

"You don’t need to keep thanking me, Rosie. I’d do anything to keep you safe. Anything.”

The words slipped out before he could stop them, hanging heavy in the air between them.

Rosie's eyes widened, her lips parting slightly.

Nash's heart hammered against his ribs, a heady mix of desire and regret swirling in his gut.

Fuck. He needed to rein it in and stay focused on the mission at hand. But with Rosie looking at him like that, her body so close he could feel the heat radiating off her skin, it was damn near impossible.

They reached the jujitsu studio with minutes to spare, the tension still crackling between them.

Nash pointed at the coffee shop across the street. "Might as well grab a drink while we wait."

Rosie nodded, following him inside. The rich aroma of coffee beans enveloped them as they approached the counter.

Nash scanned the menu, his eyes landing on the green juice selection. "Two Emerald Elixirs, please."

Rosie's head snapped up, surprise etched across her features. "Green juice? I thought you were a coffee man."

Nash shrugged, handing over his card to the barista. "Figured we could both use a healthy boost. Besides . . ." He leaned in, his breath ghosting across her pretty ear. "Your last one ended up all over me."

Rosie's laughter filled the air, a melodic sound that made Nash's heart skip a beat. She accepted her juice with a smile, her fingers brushing against his as she took the cup.

"Well, well, look who's finally apologizing for being such a grump about it." She took a sip, her eyes sparkling with mirth over the rim of the cup. "Apology accepted, sir. But don't think this means I'll go easy on you in the future."

Nash chuckled, the knot in his chest loosening ever so slightly. "Wouldn't dream of it. Now, let's get you to class before your sensei sends out a search party."

As they crossed the street, drinks in hand, Nash allowed himself a moment to savor the warmth of Rosie's presence at his side.

“So, are you really just going to wait outside the studio while I’m in there?” she asked.

“Yep,” said Nash. “Really.”

“You’re very committed,” Rosie teased him.

“Totally,” he replied.

I’m completely committed where you’re concerned, Rosie Love.

She flashed him a grin before heading into the jujitsu studio, her hips swaying in a way that made Nash's mouth go dry. He shook his head, trying to dislodge the inappropriate thoughts that threatened to take hold.

As he waited outside, leaning against the brick facade, Nash pulled out his phone and dialed a familiar number. It rang twice before a gruff voice answered.

"This better be good, bro,” replied Jax. “I’m in the middle of an inventory count. Got romance novels coming out of my ears."

Jax, Nash, and Blake’s younger brother, used to work with them at Paladin Security. But recently, after hooking up with his Little, Mia, the pair of them decided to move to Bloomington and live a quiet life running a bookstore. Mia had been through one hell of a time before that, and Jax felt he owed it to her.

"Jax, I need a favor." Nash ran a hand through his hair, glancing up and down the street. "Someone's been tailing Rosie. I need you to hack into the city's security cameras for last night and see if you can get a lead on who it might be."

There was a moment of silence on the other end, broken only by the clacking of keyboard keys. "I thought I made it clear, Nash. I'm out of the game. Mia and I are trying to build a life here in Bloomington."

Nash sighed, the weight of his request heavy on his shoulders. "I know, and I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important. But Rosie . . . she means something to me, Jax. I can't let anything happen to her. Please take a look. She left The Den around two but didn’t take her cab like the other girls. She walked. And someone was following her. I know because I saw the guy. Not good news."

Another pause, then a resigned grunt. "Fine. But this is the last time, you hear me? I'll see what I can dig up and send it your way."

"Thanks, man. I owe you one."

"Damn right, you do." The line went dead, and Nash slipped the phone back into his pocket.

He closed his eyes, letting his head fall back against the wall. The image of Rosie's smile danced behind his eyelids, taunting him with possibilities he couldn't afford to entertain.

She was his responsibility, a witness under his protection. Nothing more. He couldn't let his guard down, couldn't let emotions cloud his judgment. Even if every fiber of his being ached to pull her close and never let go.

Nash's jaw clenched as he pushed off the wall, squaring his shoulders. He had a job to do, and he'd be damned if he let anything, or anyone, get in the way of keeping Rosie safe. Even if that meant denying the undeniable pull between them, the spark that threatened to ignite into an all-consuming blaze.

He would keep his distance and maintain his professionalism. It was the only way to ensure they both made it out of this alive.

But as he stood there, watching the door of the studio for any sign of Rosie's return, Nash couldn't shake the feeling that somehow, someway, she had already slipped past his defenses and carved out a place in his heart.

And that terrified him more than any criminal mastermind ever could.

***

The studio door swung open and Rosie stepped out, her blonde hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, a sheen of sweat glistening on her skin. Nash's breath caught in his throat as she spotted him, her lips curving into a smile that sent his pulse racing.

"All done," she said, bouncing on her toes. "I'm starving. Can we grab a bite on the way back?"

Nash shook his head, falling into step beside her as they headed down the sidewalk. "Too risky. I've got food at the house."

Rosie huffed, her bottom lip jutting out in a pout that made Nash's fingers itch to trace its contours. "You're no fun. We stopped for juice on the way here."

"I'm not here to be fun," he said gruffly, scanning the street for any signs of danger. "I'm here to keep you safe. This morning, by the way, we only stopped for a few minutes. And it was probably taking liberties as it was."

"Alright," Rosie said, bumping her shoulder against his arm. "If your lunches are anything like your breakfasts, we’ll be okay."

Nash's jaw tightened, his gaze flicking down to meet hers. "This isn't a game, Rosie. Someone's after you, and I need you to take this seriously."

Her smile faded, her eyes growing serious. "I know, Nash. I'm sorry. I just . . . I hate feeling like a prisoner, you know?"

He softened, his hand brushing against hers as they walked. "I get it. But until we figure out who's behind this, we have to be careful. I can't let anything happen to you."

Rosie's cheeks flushed, her gaze dropping to the ground. "I trust you, Nash. I know you'll keep me safe."

The words hit him like a punch to the gut, the weight of her trust settling heavy on his shoulders. He swallowed hard, his voice rough as he replied, "Always."

They walked in silence for a few minutes, the tension between them growing thicker with each step. Nash's mind raced, trying to focus on anything but the way Rosie's hips swayed as she walked, the scent of her shampoo drifting on the breeze.

"So," Rosie said, breaking the silence. "What's the plan when we get back to your place? More house arrest?"

Nash snorted, shaking his head. "Not exactly. But we do need to lay down some ground rules, like I mentioned before. For both our sakes."

Rosie's eyebrows shot up, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "What sort of rules are we talking about, Daddy-o?"

Nash's steps faltered, his mind short-circuiting at the implication. He cleared his throat, his voice strained as he replied, "Get your mind out of the gutter, Little girl. I'm talking about boundaries. To keep things . . . professional."

Rosie's laughter rang out, bright and carefree. "Whatever you say, sir. But just so you know . . ." She leaned in close, her breath sending shivers down his neck. "I've never been very good at following rules."

Nash couldn’t say anything in response to that. In fact, he struggled to speak all the way home, and it was only once they got to the bakery on the corner that he spoke. "Let's stop here a moment."

Rosie's eyes widened as they ducked into the bakery, and Nash bought a big box of kolaczki , all apricot-flavored, just as Rosie liked them.

"Wow," she said. "I really hope you like them because there's no way I can eat that many all by myself."

"I'll like them," Nash said awkwardly. It was true. He already knew that he'd enjoy them, simply because he'd be sharing them with Rosie Love.

As they walked into his apartment, he tried not to let himself get carried away. This wasn't all fun and games. It wasn't a date or even a hangout. He was protecting her. And right now, that meant making some rules.

In the hallway, Rosie kicked off her sneakers, stretching her arms overhead with a satisfied groan. "God, that feels good. I'm all sweaty and gross, though. Mind if I grab a shower?"

"Go ahead," Nash replied, trying to keep his eyes from lingering on the sliver of skin exposed as her tiny tank top rode up.

Rosie flashed him a grin, already tugging her tank over her head. "Thanks. I won't be long."

Nash's mouth went dry as she tossed the shirt aside, revealing a tight sports bra that left little to the imagination. She sauntered down the hallway, hips swaying, and Nash forced himself to look away.

"I'm hot as heck," Rosie called over her shoulder, disappearing into the bathroom.

The sound of the shower starting jolted Nash back to reality. He shook his head, trying to clear the inappropriate thoughts swirling in his mind. This was Rosie, his client, his employee. The girl he'd sworn to protect. He couldn't let himself get distracted.

Grabbing a notepad and pen from the kitchen, Nash settled at the table, scribbling down a list of house rules.

No leaving without an escort.

No inviting guests over.

No snooping through his things.

No flirting.

No entering each other’s bedrooms.

He was just adding " No walking around half-naked " when the bathroom door opened, steam billowing into the hallway. Rosie emerged, a fluffy white towel wrapped around her body, her damp hair clinging to her shoulders.

Nash's pen stilled, his eyes drawn to the droplets of water sliding down her collarbone, disappearing beneath the towel. He swallowed hard, forcing his gaze back to the notepad. "We need to talk," he said, his voice gruff.

Rosie padded into the kitchen, perching on the edge of the table. "Sounds serious. What's up, buttercup?"

Nash slid the notepad across the table, tapping the list with his finger. "House rules. Non-negotiable."

Rosie scanned the list, her lips pursed. "No flirting? Well, that's no fun."

"This isn't about fun," Nash countered, his jaw clenched. "It's about keeping you safe. Which means no more parading around in towels or skimpy workout gear."

Rosie's eyes narrowed, a defiant glint sparking in their depths. "I'll wear what I want in my own home, thanks very much."

"This isn't your home," Nash snapped, his frustration getting the better of him. "It's mine. And as long as you're under my roof, you'll follow my rules."

Rosie stood abruptly, the towel slipping dangerously low. Nash averted his eyes, his pulse pounding in his ears.

"Fine," Rosie said, her voice icy. "Anything else, Agent Marks? Or am I dismissed?"

Nash sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Just . . . go get dressed. Please."

Rosie stalked off without another word, slamming her bedroom door behind her. Nash slumped back in his chair, the notepad mocking him from the table.

Rosie emerged a few minutes later, wearing a tank top and shorts that were entirely too short for Nash's peace of mind. She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over her chest. "So, these rules. They're all designed to make my stay here as boring as possible, is that it?"

Nash narrowed his eyes, rising to his feet. "They're designed to keep things professional. To maintain boundaries."

Rosie scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Right. Because god forbid we have a little fun."

Nash closed the distance between them, his voice low and dangerous. "You were wrong to joke about spanking the other day. If I had to do it to teach you a lesson, I would. So you should remember that."

Rosie's eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat. For a moment, Nash thought he saw a flicker of desire in her gaze, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a coy smirk. "Oh, I'll remember. Don't you worry about that."

Nash shook his head, his resolve wavering. Damn it, it was so hard not to give in to temptation. To drag her into his arms and show her exactly what happened to naughty little girls who didn't follow the rules.

But he couldn't. He wouldn't. This was a job, nothing more. He had to keep his head on straight, no matter how much his body betrayed him.

"Good," he said, his voice rough with barely suppressed desire. "See that you do."

With that, he turned on his heel and stalked out of the room, desperate to put some distance between them. If he stayed a moment longer, he didn't trust himself not to do something they'd both regret.

As he closed his bedroom door behind him, Nash leaned back against it, his heart pounding in his chest. This was going to be the longest, most torturous assignment of his life. And he had a feeling it was only going to get harder from here on out.