Nash (Daddies of Justice #3)

Chapter 12

Rosie

S hards of glass crunched under Rosie's pink sneakers as she surveyed the wreckage of her apartment. Drawers hung open, their contents strewn across the floor. Family photos, once lovingly displayed, lay trampled and torn. Her precious diaries, the pages filled with her deepest desires and fears, had vanished.

A sob caught in her throat. This was her sanctuary, her safe Little space away from the gritty realities of Chicago. Now it lay violated, defiled by unknown hands. Except that she probably did know whose hands had done this. Bobby Fire’s disgusting, coarse, murderous hands, that’s whose.

“I hate you so much, Bobby,” muttered Rosie, wishing there was some way she could get revenge on him.

The front door burst open with a bang.

Rosie whirled around, heart pounding, only to see Nash filling the doorway, his usually impeccable suit disheveled and his dark hair falling into those intense green eyes. Relief flooded his face as his gaze landed on her.

"Are you okay?" he panted, striding into the room. "Are you hurt?" His eyes flicked over the chaos—broken furniture, ripped cushions, the stuffing spilling out like cotton candy. "What the hell happened here?"

Rosie wrapped her arms around herself, voice wobbling. "Someone broke in. Trashed the whole place. Took all my personal stuff—photos, cash, my diaries . . ."

She blinked back hot tears, determined not to fall apart. Not now, not in front of him. Not when she’d just officially become his Little.

Two years ago, Nash had saved her from a dangerous underworld she'd stumbled into. She didn’t want him to have to save her again. Not when he’d spent two years telling her that their power dynamic had been “off”, that he didn’t want to take advantage of her when she was vulnerable. She didn't want him to see her as more of a victim than ever.

Dang it. She’d spent two years trying to make herself appear strong in front of Nash in the hope that he’d finally want to be with her. And now, he did. Okay, he was acting as her bodyguard right now, but they'd kind of got into their groove with that. Made it fun and sexy, somehow. Staying at Nash's place, getting her ass spanked for breaking the rules.

This here, right now? This was her life in tatters. And she didn't want him to see her fall apart over it. She didn’t want him to see her as a damsel in distress again. Not after all this hard work.

“Anyway, never mind,” she said bravely. “It’s only stuff, right?”

Nash reached out for her, but Rosie stiffened and he let it drop to his side. His jaw tightened. "I'm so sorry, Rosie. But the important thing is you're safe. We'll figure this out, darling, and get to the bottom of it. If Bobby did it, we'll figure out why. I promise you."

She wanted to believe him, to sink into his strong arms and let him make it all better like a true Daddy Dom. But this wasn’t the time for that.

Rosie squared her shoulders, lifting her chin. "I appreciate that, Nash. But I've got it from here. You should go—I need to start cleaning up this mess."

“Go?” Nash echoed. “Darling, I’m your Daddy. Even if I wasn’t . . . I’m not going to leave you to clean up this mess all by yourself. We’re teammates, remember?”

The sobs came then, racking her body as the reality truly hit. All her cherished mementos, her sense of safety in her own home—gone in an instant. Weeks of starting to feel secure, shattered.

"I should've been here,” she cried. “Should've fought back, not cowered away like some helpless little girl. If I'd been stronger, fiercer . . ." The words tasted bitter on her tongue. Rosie swiped angrily at the tears streaking her cheeks.

Nash placed his hands gently on her shoulders, turning her to face him. She refused to meet his intense green gaze, not wanting to see the pity she was sure would be there.

"Look at me, Rosie." His voice was firm but tender. "This is not your fault. The only one to blame is the sick bastard who did this."

She shook her head. "But I ran away to your place like a coward! I practically let Bobby win, let him violate my space again . . ." A cold dread settled in her stomach at the thought of her former tormentor being behind this.

"Listen to me." Nash tipped her chin up, forcing her to finally look at him. His expression was fierce, determined. "Bobby hasn't won a damn thing. You know why? Because you're alive and whole, and he can't touch you anymore. Not on my watch."

Rosie wanted to believe him, to borrow some of that unshakable strength and confidence. But hadn't she just been fooling herself these past two years, playing at being a badass when she was still that same terrified girl on the inside?

"Don't you see, Nash? I'm not cut out for your world—this vigilante life. I'm just a stupid Little girl playing dress-up." Fresh sobs threatened to overwhelm her.

Nash's grip tightened on her shoulders. "You're not stupid, Rosie. You're one of the smartest, bravest women I know. Being a Little doesn't make you weak—it takes real strength to embrace that side of yourself."

Rosie pulled away, shaking her head stubbornly as she began rummaging through the debris that had once been her cozy apartment. "Maybe I've been too reliant on you," she mumbled, tossing aside a shattered picture frame. "On Paladin Security, on everyone treating me like some girl in need of saving."

Nash reached for a toppled stack of books, but Rosie stood in his way. "Just leave it alone, Daddy. Please. I'm grateful for your help. I really am. But I want to sort out my own mess for once." She took a deep breath, trying to muster up every ounce of bravery she had left. "In fact, although I've loved every minute of getting to know you better over the last few days, I think I need my own space tonight. I like you so much, Nash, but relationships aren't built on neediness and desperation. I need to show you that I can stand on my own two feet once in a while."

"Rosie, there's no way in hell I'm letting you stay here by yourself. Not with Bobby on the loose." His voice was low but unyielding, the same tone he used when infiltrating the most dangerous criminal lairs.

She whirled on him, eyes flashing. "I'm not going to let that jerk scare me out of my own home, my own life! I may be a Little, but I'm not a child, Nash. I don't need you to coddle me."

Why was she even saying this? It was madness. Oh, how she wanted to sink into his arms, to let him make everything alright again . . .

Nash dragged a hand over his face, looking suddenly weary. "At least let me sit outside your door tonight. Anything happens, anything at all, you call me. No arguments."

Rosie pressed her lips together, touched by his concern even as it chafed at her newfound resolve. She had to prove she could do this, that she could be independent, or she'd never be anything more than a scared little girl. She didn't want to keep blurring the lines between a relationship and a rescue. Pretty soon, if she wasn’t careful, Nash would stop finding her sexy, and just feel sorry for her.

"That won't be necessary," she said quietly, each word a tiny shard of glass in her heart. "I'm going to do this myself, Nash. I have to. I'm strong, I'm powerful, and I won't live my life in fear anymore."

Please don't leave me, Daddy , her soul whispered.

But her pride forced her to stand tall as Nash studied her for a long, charged moment before finally turning away.