Page 9 of Driven By Impulse

Nicco didn’t quite know what to make of Hanna Van Rijn. He knew anyone who went toe-to-toe with Ash had guts, but in the years since Ash had become Nicco’s Sergent at Arms, he’d never spoken of his former foster sister. When they had come to Montana the previous year to help Nicco’s brother Dante and the woman he had fallen in love with, they had used Hanna’s law enforcement capacity to their advantage, but despite how much they had needed her help, Ash had kept his distance, never even referring to her by name, only by title.

Another five minutes in the same room as the two of them and Nicco understood why. There was hurt there, ancient, buried under muscles and tissue, unable to heal until the poison was no longer pumping through the veins. He suspected it had something to do with why Ash had joined the violent, dangerous club he’d been part of when they had first met, but it was one of the few things Nicco’s closest friend never spoke of.

Maybe because he still has feelings for her.

Whether Jinx was right and they had slept together, or there was something unfinished between them, it had been impossible to deny that the anger in their battle, the sniping and biting, had been tinged with something desperate, heated and wanting. Niccolo knew he missed a lot these days, but there had been no way to miss that.

A familiar ache tugged at his lower gut. It was strange, the desire to desire, but he missed that heat, that anticipatory promise, intense and unyielding until the moment of sacrifice. It had been a long time since he’d wanted to play games of any kind, longer still since he’d had someone he wanted to play them with.

“Boss.” Ash’s voice came over the line, pulling Nicco from that feeling of darkness settling like early night. Sometimes, it blocked out everything, until he felt swallowed up by shadows and the sounds of nothing where something had once been.

“I’m here,” Nicco managed. The one thing, the most important thing, was that no one in his crew knew about his shadows. They relied on him to help the people who needed it, relied on him to run their businesses and keep the club family functioning, if not thriving. If they started to doubt his ability to command, everything would fall apart—and with the work they did, distraction could mean the difference between life and death.

“I think Hanna—the Sheriff—is headed to the hospital today to check on her deputy. I’m going to follow her.”

Nicco knew he should probably make Ash sit this one out. If nothing else, he should at least send someone else to tail the sheriff. But Nicco’s own brother had been the one in trouble the year before, and Nicco had stopped at nothing to protect Dante and the woman he loved.

And that’s just something I’m going to have to live with.

“Fine, but don’t engage. I don’t want her arresting you.”

“She can try,” Ash bit out.

“She’s the sheriff,” Nicco replied. “And last night she almost slit your throat, so just…don’t let it come to that.”

Normally, Ash was the one with his head on straight. He was the one who spoke to victims and their families, who guided them through the process, keeping them informed and supported. He was the one who knew how to put people at ease. Nicco knew that looking as he did—dark, inked, pierced, and perpetually scowling—he didn’t exactly fill people with a sense of calm or comfort. Ash had just as many tattoos, but his light blond hair and easy smile seemed to make him more approachable.

Light and dark. It was how things had always been between them.

And I have no idea how to play Ash’s part.

“For now, everyone back to the cabins,” Nicco said. “The others should be arriving soon. Ash and I will stay with the sheriff until we know more, but Jinx will keep us patched in.”

There were quick sounds of agreements, then Gray and Xander climbed onto their bikes and took off for the safe house on the far side of the county. Jinx disconnected their comms, and in a moment, Niccolo didn’t have anyone in his head or in his ear.

It was just him.

Alone with his thoughts.

Which is the last place I want to be.

Chapter Four

Hanna knocked on the doorframe to the hospital room and peeked her head inside. Frankie was sitting up in the bed, which had to be a good sign, and he smiled when he saw her.

“Hey, boss, those for me?”

Hanna glanced down at the box of donuts in her hand. “Mama Hillie’s, of course.”

“I appreciate you not baking.”

Hanna managed a smile of her own and crossed the room, placing the donuts down on the table next to him. “I figured you’d been through enough.”

She had been in the emergency room too many times to count, speaking with victims of drunken brawls, violent crimes, home invasions, hunting accidents. She had comforted families, promised justice, and taken statement after statement without cracking.

But it was always different to know the person, as a friend and colleague, and when she looked at her deputy in the bed, connected to tubes and wires, his skin wan and dark circles under his eyes, she felt a familiar pang in her chest she hadn’t felt in so long.

Nearly two decades had passed, but the antiseptic smell was the same, the dull voice of emergency announcements fading into the scenery, hotel art and the confetti linoleum floor and the distant wailing of the grieving, was all the same.