Unexpected (The Protectors 10)

Because he’d described nirvana to me.

The perfect life I’d always dreamed of.

With the person I’d been meant to share it with.

Less than a year later, nirvana was gone.

Everything was gone.

“Everett.”

The voice was a little louder this time and the part of my brain that I’d been trying to shut down – that little voice that had no problem reminding me what my current reality was – gleefully pointed out that it, in fact, sounded nothing like Pierce’s.

My limbs felt heavy as I sluggishly tried to move, but it wasn’t until a hand settled on my back that I finally felt a little bit of warmth.

Warmth that seeped through my thin dress shirt and lit up my skin.

Warmth I’d felt just two days ago when I’d made the mistake of touching someone I shouldn’t have.

Nash.

Special Agent Jonathan Nash, to be specific.

“Sir, please,” I heard him say gently, and then I sensed his presence in my personal space. Like it had been the day he’d corralled me against his car and told me not to call him “son.”

The day I’d felt that unexpected spark of electricity deep inside of me – the one that had only made itself known around one other person before.

“What?” I asked. My voice sounded rusty, even to my own ears.

“It’s getting late, Mr. President. Let’s get you home.”

Mr. President.

God, how I hated when he called me that. I hated when anyone called me that.

I bit back a moan at the rush of energy that went through me when I felt Nash’s fingers close around my arm. Awareness began to return to me a little bit at a time.

It was indeed getting late because the sun was quickly dropping below the horizon. The air wasn’t exactly cold, but I felt cold. My lower legs were wet from kneeling so long on the damp grass and my body ached from having held the position for what had to be hours at this point.

I forced my eyes up and saw that a shadow had fallen across Pierce’s name on the headstone.

And somehow that fucking hurt more than anything else.

I let Nash pull me to my feet. I tried to remind myself that I didn’t like the arrogant SOB, but it was hard to remember much of anything at that point.

“Sir, when was the last time you slept?”

My eyes blurred a bit as I cast one more look at Pierce’s elegant headstone. Most of the men and women buried in Arlington received the same standard headstone, but for whatever reason, Pierce’s grave had been marked with a private one. Since Vincent had been off doling out his revenge on his brother’s murderers at the time his funeral was being planned, I had to assume a higher-up had decided Pierce deserved special treatment after his death, and so he’d been laid to rest in a part of the cemetery that allowed for the use of a private grave marker. It wasn’t unreasonable, considering how decorated of a war hero Pierce had been, but I knew it wasn’t what he would have wanted.

“He would have wanted the same as his men,” I murmured.

“What?” Nash asked, his hand firm around my arm. I knew I needed to pull free of him, since I was already feeling a bit steadier on my feet, but I wanted just a few more seconds of that precious warmth.

“He would have wanted to have been buried alongside the men and women he served with,” I said tiredly. “He wouldn’t have wanted that,” I added as I pointed over my shoulder. “I couldn’t even give him that.”

“What do you mean?”

I shook my head because I was too tired to explain it. And I’d already said too much around Nash. He already had enough ammunition to use against me if he wanted. I’d been fully aware when I’d admitted to Nathan that I’d fallen in love with Vincent’s brother that Nash could overhear our conversation, but I hadn’t cared at the time. Maybe it had been a “fuck you” kind of moment, or maybe I’d just been too impressed with Nathan’s show of strength to care what Nash thought of me or who he’d tell my secret to.

“Mr. President—”

I pulled to a stop, forcing Nash to stop too. God, I was just so fucking tired. “Nash, would you do me a favor?”

I saw the man’s brow furrow at my request just before he said, “Yes, Mr.—”

“When we’re alone, can you please just call me Everett?”

Nash’s jaw hardened slightly. “No, sir, I’m sorry, that would go against protocol.”

I didn’t bother to point out that he’d already called me Everett a couple of times tonight. Disappointment flared inside of me, but I pushed it down and forced myself to straighten.

“Right, protocol,” I muttered as I tugged my arm free of his hold. I pushed past him and headed for Nash’s sedan. I ignored his effort to open the door for me.