Knight took his hand away. “Watch a movie. Read a book. Try to get some rest.”
He wouldn’t be doing any of that. He still nodded.
Knight studied him a second then nodded too and walked out of the room, saying before closing the door behind him, “See you in the morning.”
Nick turned his attention back to the lights of Denver.
Within moments, the city went out of focus and all Nick could see was his reflection in the glass. He could also feel the sweat trickling down his spine, pooling around his balls, the agony radiating through his muscles as he struggled against the restraints.
He lifted his hands and looked down, seeing at his wrists the scabs, deep scratches and pus-colored broken skin of cuts so deep they had not yet begun to heal.
He’d used those hands. For once in his life, he’d used those hands and his head and his gut and his strength and his courage and everything he had in him to do right.
Not for himself.
Not for his dad.
Not for his mom.
Not for Knight.
For her.
The mission had only marginally succeeded.
But she was gone.
* * * * *
Three Weeks Later
“I’m out.”
Nick said this firmly, looking right into FBI Special Agent Eric Turner’s eyes.
“I get that,” Turner replied quietly.
Nick didn’t want to give him what he had to give to him next. He didn’t used to be that guy. He didn’t used to be the guy who found it in him to do the right thing.
But the man he was now, the man she taught him to be, he gave it to him.
“You were right. I shouldn’t have gotten involved with her.”
“Shit happens, Nick,” Turner responded. “It was really her as an agent who shouldn’t have blurred those lines but that can happen to anyone. I had a job once. A job that involved a girl and it happened to me. I fell for her. It wasn’t right but I couldn’t stop it. I lost her too.” His gaze grew intense as he hid a flinch. Knowing he’d said the wrong thing, he finished quickly, “Not like you lost Hettie. But I fell hard for her and she’s still not mine.”
Nick didn’t want to sit around listening to Turner telling tales he hoped would help Nick feel better. Turner knew no words would make that happen.
There was only one thing that would make Nick feel better.
Turner knew that too.
Which was why he asked, “You gonna stay in town?”
Fuck yes, he was gonna stay in town.
“Yeah,” Nick answered.
At that, Turner did what a lot of people were doing these days.
He studied Nick closely before he said, “Doesn’t feel like it, but with time, it’ll hurt less. It just will, Nick. Give it time and then get on with your life.”
Turner had no fucking clue what he was talking about. He didn’t know what girl Turner fell for but if she wasn’t dead, never to see her again, never to smell her hair, taste her pussy, listen to her laugh, eat the fried eggs she always broke the yolk when she flipped them over, knowing she wouldn’t give that to him or to anyone…
If he didn’t survive that then he had not one fucking clue what he was talking about.
Nick did not share this.
He just repeated, “Yeah.” Then, to turn the subject, he said, “Talked to Knight, Raid, Sylvie, Marcus, all of ’em. Had to, Eric. Their women and families were targeted. They had to know what we were doin’, why we were doin’ it and how they were gonna use anyone that was close to me or Knight in order to use him to get to me to stop us from doin’ what we were doin’. My brother and his crew also dragged my ass out of that hellhole so they had to know why I was there in the first place.”
“Not thinkin’ any of those folks will talk,” Turner muttered in reply.
He was absolutely right.
Nick nodded.
His gaze still intense, Turner stated, “We were planning an extraction, Nick.”
Nick nodded again, this time sharply.
He didn’t want to go there.
“I know you were,” he said in an effort to stop Turner from talking about it.
He did know that. Turner wouldn’t leave Nick hanging. He definitely wouldn’t leave Hettie that way.
“Your brother and his crew, they don’t have to worry about the rules like my crew does,” Turner explained. “They could go in hot. They could take those risks, no plan, flyin’ by the seat of their pants.”
“I know,” Nick replied.
“We were comin’ for you,” Turner went on. “You and Hettie.”
Nick didn’t repeat himself.
They were. It was still too late. When Knight and his crew tore in there to save his ass, they were too late too.
Too fucking late.
“Coupla weeks, we’ll go for a beer,” Turner suggested.
It was Nick’s turn to study him.
“You do that a lot with your ex-CI’s?”
Turner suddenly looked pissed. “Jesus, Sebring, the shit we been through the last coupla years, you seriously think you’re still just a confidential informant to me?”
Now that…
That felt good.
Nick had not had a habit of surrounding himself with good people.
And Turner was definitely a good man.
“Fucked thing to say,” Nick muttered.
Turner’s face again changed. He might not have any clue how bad it was but he still got where Nick’s head was at.
“Coupla weeks, buddy,” he said quietly.
Nick nodded.
Unexpectedly, Turner was whispering, “Be smart, Nick.”
Yeah. He knew.
But Special Agent Eric Turner had taught him a lot.