My Bestie's Dad Likes Me Wet-Chapter 127 She’s Leverage

Ivin’s Pov

I’m slipping and it’s fucking bad!.

Grant has to see it, the way my hands fumble the wheel, the way I miss the turn by half a second too long. He doesn’t call me out though but y could feel him watching quietly and letting me stew in it.

Nalayna is wrecking me. She gets under my skin like nothing else ever has. She annoys me until my teeth ache, pushes every button I have, tests every scrap of patience I’ve got left.

So why the hell am I sitting here imagining her tied to my bed, wrists and ankles bound tight, thighs forced apart while I work her with my mouth until she’s shaking, coming again and again, that sharp tongue of hers finally breaking into something desperate?

I want to hear her beg. Want her to stop fighting long enough to plead with me to let her finish, to take her hard, to let her wrap those lips around me and—

"Ivin!"

The shout snaps my head around. Grant is staring at me, eyes narrowed, equal parts pissed and entertained.

"You almost took us into oncoming traffic, brother. You okay?"

I force my grip to relax. "Yeah. I’m good."

"No you’re not." He shifts in the seat, studying me. "You’ve been off all week. Distracted and messy, which is not you."

"I—"

"Don’t bother." He cuts right through me. "It’s the girl. First time I’ve ever seen you give a damn about one. Honestly thought you were into guys this whole time."

My jaw tightens. "What?"

He shrugs like it’s obvious. "You’re always working. Always around my men. Never looked twice at the women throwing themselves at you in the clubs. Free and easy, and you acted like they were invisible. Easy assumption. But this one..." He lets the sentence hang, smirking. "She’s different."

"She’s leverage," I say, voice flat. "Her brother owes me. End of story."

"Leverage you can’t get out of your head." He tilts his chin. "You sure about that?"

"She’s nothing."

He laughs once, short and knowing. "First lie you’ve ever told me, Ivin. And it’s over a woman you supposedly feel nothing for." He throws up air quotes around the word, grin sharp.

I change the subject before he digs deeper. "Report came back. The summary for last week was all false lead."

"Fuck." His fist hits the seat hard enough to make the leather pop. "We took out his whole crew. You handled most of it yourself."

We both remember why. Years ago some lunatic snatched Nova thinking Grant killed his wife. Personal vengeance gone nuclear. I made damn sure the bloodline died with him. No survivors just to avoid a second wave like this.

"Every last one," I tell him.

Grant rakes fingers through his hair, the way he does when the frustration is bone-deep. "Then who’s got the balls to come at me now?"

"You hear anything from the Russians—"

The impact comes out of nowhere.

A white van slams into the passenger side, full force, shoving us sideways across the lanes. The road is empty. Too empty and coincidently or not a lake was waiting cold and black beyond the guardrail.

My fault. Fuck..

I was lost in my own head, thinking about her instead of the job. I handed them the perfect window.

I took the nearest to my seat and fired three rounds through the window. Sparks flare uselessly off glass I realize too late was bulletproofed.

They were armored to the teeth, this was well planned to be a casual mistake. They knew exactly what they were doing.

"Boss—"

The Second van hits us from the left in a coordinated move. They waited for the first one to pin us exactly where they needed.

Two white vans, the same fucking model. There was no denying that this was too clean to be random. They knew our route, knew our timing. I fucked up and they capitalized.

The SUV lurches toward the railing. Metal groans under the strain. Grant makes a sound, that was not a yell, but more of a sharp, punched exhale like the air got forced out of him.

I looked over to see that he’s got one hand pressed to his ribs, head dipped, breathing all wrong.

"Boss. Talk to me."

"Drive," he grits out. "Get us off this fucking railing and drive."

"You’re—"

"Ivin." His eyes lock on mine, still carrying that same steel even while he’s bleeding. "Drive the car."

I throw it into reverse, tires screeching as railing scrapes along the bumper like nails on a chalkboard. I wrench the wheel, swinging us back onto the road in a hard arc. The lead van swerves to block me. I don’t try to go around.

I aim straight for it.

Impact jars through my bones as their front end spins away. The result was a gap opening immediately. I gun it through, accelerator flat to the floor.

"Secondary route," I say.

"Take it."

"They knew primary."

"Yeah." His breath comes carefully measured. "Someone talked."

The word hangs between us, heavily. Someone close who knew the plan. I lock the anger away. I can’t afford to spend it now.

I keep checking mirrors. Keep listening to the way Grant breathes, each inhale costing him more than the last.

"How bad?"

"Ribs."

"How many?"

"Enough." He shifts, winces. "Stop hovering. I can feel you doing it from over there."

"I’m driving."

"You’re driving and hovering. It’s annoying."

I almost fire back, but then I feel slow heat sliding down my left side. It was warm and sticky when I touched it. It was something ripped open during one of the hits and I didn’t notice until the adrenaline started bleeding off.

I don’t say anything because right now I have one job and that getting us out of this mess, keeping my boss alive and keeping the girls’ location safe as

Nalayna.

I see her in that hallway again, soda pooling around her feet, chin high, chest forward, mouth already loaded with whatever she planned to throw at me next. The way her nose scrunches when she’s pissed, which is damn near always.

Cute as hell. Dangerous as hell... hell maybe the pain from the gunshot is already messing my head but the way she’d look spread out for me, fighting me even while she fell apart—

Grant groans low in his throat, yanking me back to the blood soaking through my shirt, the steady trickle I still haven’t fully registered.

Doesn’t matter.

Keep driving.