Things We Hide from the Light (Knockemout Series, 2)

“When you said ice cream, I thought you meant a date,” I teased Nash as he lowered the tailgate of his truck in the parking lot of Knockemout Cold, the town’s premier ice cream establishment.

I’d spent the day poring over the crime scene reports from both Nash’s shooting and the warehouse. I also answered a few follow-up questions from the Arlington police detective who was wrapping up his report on the Baker brothers’ naked knife fight. To top it off, I’d watched the dashcam footage of Nash’s shooting, looking for clues.

I was a wreck on the first watch, and by the third, I was so sick to my stomach I tackle hugged him as soon as he walked in the door.

“Look who’s learning to like dates,” he said smugly before setting the sweater-wearing Piper in the bed of the truck with her vanilla puppy cuppy. “Think of this as a double date plus one.”

I handed his cone back to him. “It’s hard to get to third base when we have an audience.” I made sure he was looking in my direction before I took a leisurely lick of my salted caramel ice cream.

“Shouldn’t have gotten you a cone,” he groused.

I sent a smug smile in his direction and perched on the tailgate. He stepped between my legs and planted a chilly, chocolate-flavored kiss right on my mouth.

“Gross. You guys are as bad as Knox and Aunt Naomi,” Waylay complained. She was flanked by Nolan and Sloane—on their second date—and carrying a towering ice cream cone.

“How many scoops is that, Way?” Nash asked.

“Three,” she said.

“Naomi is going to murder us,” I whispered.

“You’re in trouble,” Sloane sang as she and Nolan wandered over to his SUV.

Waylay shimmied her way onto the tailgate next to me. “Okay. You guys busted me out of soccer practice and gave me ice cream before dinner. I’m not stupid. What do you want? Did your laptop get a virus? ’Cause my rates have gone up,” the girl said before taking an enthusiastic slurp of her chocolate chocolate chonk.

“We want to talk to you about the night your mom and Duncan Hugo took you,” Nash said.

“Is this because he’s still out there and you guys want to catch him?” she asked.

“Pretty much, yeah,” he said.

I liked that he wasn’t sugarcoating it. That he trusted Waylay to handle the truth even if it was ugly and scary. My parents had tried to hide so many things from me because they were afraid I wasn’t strong enough to handle the bad. But every time the real truth had been revealed, it felt like another tiny betrayal.

I’d hated it…and holy shit, I was doing the same damn thing to them now. I didn’t trust them to be able to deal with truth so I lied to protect them.

Which meant Nash was right. Again.

“Damn it,” I muttered.

Nash and Waylay both looked at me with concern over their cones.

“Don’t mind me. Brain freeze,” I said.

Brain freeze, life-altering epiphany—same difference, right?

“We talked to your aunt and Knox and they said it was okay if we asked you some questions about that night,” Nash continued. “Are you all right with that?”

Waylay shrugged carelessly and chased a drip with her tongue. “Sure. Why not?”

“What do you remember?” I asked.

She shot me a duh look. “Uh, everything? You don’t get abducted by your mom and her crazy boyfriend every day. It’s kinda burned into my brain.”

“Let’s focus on when you were in the warehouse alone with Duncan,” Nash suggested. “What did he say or do before your mom came back with your aunt?”

“Well, he fed me some disgusting pizza. It was, like, burnt and cold at the same time. Then when I tried to climb out a window with Waylon, he tied us both up.”

Ever the hero, Nash’s shoulders tensed almost imperceptibly. I reached behind Waylay and rubbed his back with my non-ice cream holding hand.

“What did he do while you were tied up?” I asked.

“Mostly played video games. He ate a lot. Mostly shitty—I mean crappy pizza and some candy. I think he’s a nervous eater. Aunt Naomi would freak if she saw his diet.”

“Did he talk on the phone at all while you were there?” Nash asked.

Waylay wrinkled her nose. “I don’t think so. He mostly just yelled while he played Dragon Dungeon Quest.” She looked back and forth between us, then added, “That’s a video game where you shoot people with arrows and blow sh—stuff up.”

“Did anyone else come into the room while you were there?”

“I guess a couple of…what do you call the bad guys who work for the bad guy in charge?”

“Henchmen?” I supplied.

“Yeah. A couple of henchmen came in. Every time Duncan had to take his headset off, he got mad and yelled at them for interrupting him.”

Waylay walked us through everything she remembered that night, including Naomi diving through the air to save her and Knox squashing them “like pancakes” until Uncle Nash saved the day.

“My mom has the worst taste in guys.” Waylay finished her recap with a sardonic shake of her head. “Not like you and Aunt Naomi,” she added, looking at me.

“Oh, uh, we’re just…” I looked to Nash. “Help?”

“Yeah, me and Knox are pretty great. Well, mostly me. Knox is okay. If you’re into growly grumps who pout all the time,” Nash said, nudging Waylay with his elbow.

It was sweet to watch him with the guarded girl. He was good with kids. And why in the hell was I thinking about that? “Good with kids” had never once been a criterion for me.

“Thanks again for Career Day. Don’t tell Knox, ’cause he really will pout, but you and the ’stache definitely won.”

“Yes! I knew it!” Nolan, who was clearly eavesdropping, straightened away from the front bumper of his SUV and celebrated his official victory with an arm pump.

“You have ice cream in your mustache,” I called.

Sloane: Question. Does following Nash and Lina on their ice cream interrogation of Waylay count as a second date for me and Nolan? Asking for a friend who only puts out after the third date.

Naomi: It most definitely counts. You are one date away from Sexville!

Me: When are you seeing him again?

Sloane: Not before I get a wax, apply a thick coat of sunless tanner, heal from said wax, change my sheets, and buy some underwear.

Naomi: What do you mean buy some underwear? Don’t you mean buy some sexy underwear?

Me: My God. Is our quirky librarian a commando??

Sloane: I have revealed too much.

When we got back to Nash’s place, I freshened up Piper’s water dish and gave her her prebedtime gourmet treat. Then I went into the bedroom and changed into a sexy little silk number that showed more than it hid.

I found Nash standing in the dining room holding up a photo of the interior of the warehouse.

“Whatcha got there?” I asked, sidling up next to him.

“Something Waylay said got me thinkin’—Holy shit,” he said, noticing my outfit.

“Thinking about what?”

“Your boobs.” He shook his head. “No. That’s not what I was thinking about. I mean, I’m kind of always thinking about them. But not in a pervy way. More like a worshipful way.”

I took the photo from his dangling hand and glanced at it. “It’s a gaming console.”

Nash said nothing, and I realized he was still staring at my chest. I held the picture over my breasts. “Focus, hotshot. Talk to me.”

“Hugo’s gaming console,” Nash said, slowly coming out of his boob fugue.

“Looks like it was shot to hell. Do you think anyone could get anything useful off it?”

“We might not need them to.”

I met his gaze and it hit me. “Because he wasn’t yelling at the TV. He was yelling at other players.”

“Because he was playing online,” Nash said with a slow grin.

“Now who’s Nancy Drew?” I teased. “This is good. Really good. We could trace his location, couldn’t we?”

Nash pulled out his phone and dialed. “Hey. I need a favor.”

He listened briefly and rolled his eyes.

“Shouldn’t you be saving that for the wedding night?”

There was another brief pause and Nash winked at me.

“Then put your pants back on and go ask Way what Hugo’s username was on Dragon Dungeon Quest.” Nash waited a beat. “Yeah, the three scoops of ice cream were my fault.”

Nash reached for me and pulled me up against him. But instead of grabbing a handful of boob as I expected, he held my hand and kissed each one of my fingers while he waited for his grumpy brother.

“Yeah, I’m here,” Nash said into the phone. “She remember?”

His gaze held mine. I wondered if I’d ever seen eyes that blue before.

“Yeah. Got it. Thanks… No. You can take your pants off again. I’m about to.”

“She remembered it, didn’t she?” I asked when he hung up.

“Sure did. KingSchlong85.”

“Gross.”

Nash opened up his text messages. “If he’s using the same user name, Lucian’s creepy stealth team should be able to track down an IP address.”

“God, you’re hot when you’re all sleuthy.”

“And you’re sexy as hell when you’re investigating in lingerie.”

He tossed his phone on the counter and took a step toward me, a dangerous, determined gleam in his eyes.

I held up my hands and started to back away. “Hang on. We just had a break. Shouldn’t we wait to see what Lucian says?”

“No one says we have to wait with our clothes on,” he said as he kept coming.

I pulled out a dining chair and put it between us.

“But there’s work to do,” I reminded him.

“And there will still be work to do once I get you out of that outfit,” he said devilishly.

With a squeal, I turned to run, but he was faster than me. And I didn’t mind it one bit when he tossed me over his shoulder and marched us into the bedroom.

The pounding woke us both out of a dead sleep. Sometime after falling into a post-sex coma, I’d actually crawled on top of Nash, which was embarrassing to say the least. But there wasn’t any time to wallow in it with an extremely insistent middle of the night knocker.

Nash reacted more quickly than I did. He dragged on a pair of sweats and hauled ass to the door while I was still rubbing the sleep out of my eyes and hoping I hadn’t drooled on his chest.

I managed to stumble after him, barely avoiding stepping on the anxious Piper, who was growling and trembling at the same time.

“It’s three in the fucking morning. Someone better be bleeding,” Nash said, swinging the door open.

Nolan prowled inside in pajama pants, running shoes, and, well, that was it.

“I think this was meant for you,” Nolan said, handing me a freezer bag with a large rock and a piece of paper inside.

“Me?”

Nash snatched the bag out of his hand but not before I read the note.

Back off, Bitch.

“Where the hell did you find this?” Nash demanded.

“Mixed in with a nice shard of glass salad on her dining room floor,” Nolan reported.

“What?” I squinted at him, processing.

He looked to the heavens when I didn’t pick up what he was putting down fast enough. “They threw it through the damn window about two minutes ago.”

Nash sprang into action and bolted barefoot through the door.

“Damn it,” I muttered.

“Nice nightie,” Nolan said, throwing me a smirk and a salute before jogging after him. “There’s no one out there. They peeled out about five seconds after they broke the window,” he called after Nash.

I ran back to the bedroom, pulled on my shoes, a sports bra, and Nash’s sweatshirt over the nightgown, then sprinted after them.

The night air was damp and cold. The streetlights bathed the eerily silent street in golden yellow light that pooled in the thickening fog. I spotted tire marks in front of the building.

“Get back inside,” Nash growled at me when I caught up to them in the middle of the street.

“It was meant for me—”

“Which makes you the goddamn target. So get your ass off the street, now,” he barked.

“Now who’s the one overemphasizing words?” I muttered under my breath as I marched back inside.

Annoyed, I waited shivering in the vestibule as Nash and Nolan canvassed both sides of the street.

“Well?” I demanded when they finally returned.

“They were long gone,” Nash said, his voice tight as he brushed past me and headed up the stairs.

“Chief doesn’t seem to like having his girlfriend threatened,” Nolan said to me as we trudged up behind him.

“I’m not his girlfriend. I’m… We’re…whatever.”

“You’re living together and wearing shit like that to bed. Pretty sure in some parts of the country, you’d be considered married.”

We’d made it to the top of the stairs when Mrs. Tweedy’s door burst open.

“It’s like a circus full of elephants escaped out here. What’s with all the thundering feet? You’re interrupting my beauty sleep,” Mrs. Tweedy said. She was wearing a housecoat and holding what looked like a martini.

“You sleep with a martini?” Nolan asked.

“This is my middle-of-the-night nightcap.”