"Alright, that's enough for tonight," Nash announced, his voice carrying the effortless authority of a man used to commanding a huddle. He raised a hand, shielding my face from the blinding strobe of the camera flashes. "My son is sleeping, and my wife wants to go home. You can direct any further questions to Horizon Sports Group. Goodnight."
He didn't wait for their response. With a subtle nod to his security detail, the imposing men in black suits instantly formed a wedge, aggressively parting the sea of reporters to create a clear path to the waiting vehicles.
"The Jesko?" I asked softly as we walked, my hand resting comfortably on the small of his back.
"Of course," Nash replied, a boyish smirk playing on his lips. "I had the passenger seat custom-fitted with a carbon-fiber, crash-t
