Choices, p.39
Choices, page 39
The blond’s voice shook as he said, “Pretty certain. Like, ninety percent?”
“You need more time? You, Brian, say something.”
Nick looked at Brian now, when it’d be natural to do so. Brian seemed okay, maybe tired, maybe frustrated, the bruises darkening his nose and under each eye making him look older. Knowing how scared he must be underneath— seeing how little it showed— pride and fear battled inside Nick. Jesus, I want this to be fucking over, but look how he’s come into his own strength. Fucking look at him!
“What do you want me to say?” Brian’s voice was lower than usual, perfectly steady, his stance confident. “I know nothing about any marina in Florida. I’ve never been on a yacht, and given that they shot Damon on one, I’d like to keep it that way. I don’t know what else I can tell you.”
The blond looked him up and down. “It’s not him. The other guy was… different. No, I’m sure these aren’t the same two.”
Boris sat back. “Very good. Thank you, Milward. You can go now.”
The blond got up and hurried out, not running, but Nick was sure he would once he hit the street. A guard shut the door behind him. Nick fought not to sway in relief, or grin, or look at Brian. This isn’t over yet.
“Now this new mess.” Boris ran his gaze from Nick to the two guards. “Anyone care to explain?” The rise of his tone was sharp with warning.
When neither guard spoke up, Nick said, “I was walking outside and spotted a guy with a ski mask on the roof of the building next door. That’s never a good thing. I headed for the roof and found him aiming a grenade launcher this way. I tackled him, the launcher went over the edge, and your boys showed up to help.”
“A grenade launcher. How interesting.” Boris turned to the first guard. “You want to explain to me how someone got that close with that weapon? Do you?”
“No, sir.”
“Find out!” Boris glared back at Nick. “So you’re just a stranger out for a stroll?”
“No, sir.” Avoid the obvious lies. “Brian’s my boyfriend. I followed him down here with his brother. Motherfucking Damon Kerr— excuse my French— has gotten Brian into his schemes before. Not anymore. Not on my watch. I was trying to figure out where he’d gone and boom, there’s a guy with a fucking grenade launcher? First thing I think is Damon’s in trouble again, and Brian’s with him. So I took the guy out.”
“Did he do that?” Boris looked at his men.
“Yeah, I think so. Launcher went over the side, this guy had the other pinned, and the other guy was dressed for wetwork, mask, gloves.”
“Do we know the scumbag?”
“Not yet. We will, sir.”
Boris growled, “Bet your fucking ass we will.” He looked over at Damon. “How many people did you tell about this meeting?”
“None, sir. I swear!” Damon managed to sound younger and less self-controlled than normal. “I didn’t even tell Nick, just that I needed Brian, not where. I didn’t.”
Nick repeated, “I followed them.”
Boris held his gaze for a moment, then sighed. “Kerr, you are one major fuck-up.”
“Sorry, sir.”
“If Turov had been mine, I’d bury all of you, on principle. You’re lucky he was just one more stiff working the business.”
“Yes, sir.”
A guard said, “How do you know they’re telling the truth?”
“I don’t.” Boris sat back, folding his hands across his stomach. “But if that grenade had landed in here, Kerr and his brother and sister would have as many holes in their hides as the rest of us. He’s no genius, but I don’t think he’s that stupid.”
“No, sir,” the guard said.
Boris pointed at Brian, at Lori, at Nick, in turn. “The lot of you can go. I don’t ever want to see any of you again. Don’t want to hear you even say my name, not ever. You, Nick, looks like I owe you something, so I’m giving you your faggot boyfriend and the pretty girl. You satisfied with that?”
“Yes, sir.” If he could get them out with their skins intact, he’d count himself more than lucky.
Boris pointed his thick finger at Damon. “Now you, you owe me. And I plan to collect. When I call, you answer. When I say jump, you say, ‘How high?’ Got it?”
“Yes, sir, sure.” Damon’s tone was still lighter and thinner. “You can count on me.”
Boris huffed a breath. “Not as far as I can throw you, but you know what happens if you fuck me over. From now on, you make damned sure no one follows you. Marston can’t have put up with that bullshit. You give me your best, or you’re dead.”
“I will.”
“Get out.”
Damon led them to the door and held it open. A flick of his eyes sent Nick through first, taking point. Brian was close behind him, Lori after Brian, and Damon bringing up the rear. One of the guards followed them out and shut the door behind them. A little of Nick’s fear eased, as solid wood stood between Boris and Brian. Of course, they still might be ambushed on the way to the car or run off the road later, but no one seemed to be about to take them down.
The guard said, “I’ll bring your cell phones and escort you to your vehicle.”
Nick asked, “My gun?”
The guard gave him a dead stare. “What gun?”
Fuck. He didn’t protest. I’ll have to report it randomly stolen. One more way to look stupid to Gannet. Shit.
The man’s tight grin showed uneven teeth. “This way.”
The ride back down was silent and tense. The guard let them out into the underground parking and ushered them to Damon’s car. Damon said, “Hop in, Nick. I’ll take you to wherever you parked.”
“Thanks.”
Brian squeezed into the back seat. Lori got in the front, and Nick slid in behind her next to Brian. Damon closed his door, started the car. Nick thought they were all holding their breaths. The guard stepped back as they pulled out, arms at his sides, no gun in evidence. Damon picked up speed smoothly, turning up the ramp. They turned again, and the guard fell back out of sight. One more spiral, and then the door at the top opened at their approach.
It was bright daylight outside. Nick blinked, as if waking from a dream. Damon said, “I told you that Milward guy would spot the difference. I found some damned good ringers, but they weren’t that good. Both of ’em porkier than you two, for starters.” He tapped his ear with a finger in warning.
Fuck, yeah, there could be bugs. Nick clenched his teeth against his questions. He did put a hand on Brian’s thigh and Brian’s warm palm covered his, pressing down. The stable presence of his man under his hand settled Nick.
Damon said, “Where’s your car, Nick? Oh, that way?”
Nick, who hadn’t pointed, shrugged. Damon drove a couple of blocks, then pulled into a space. “Here we are.” He parked, unlocked the glove compartment, and got out a bug detector. They all sat in silence as Damon swept the front, passed it to Nick for the back, then popped the trunk and got out. Brian’s hand clamped over Nick’s as Damon got down to check under the car. Lori tugged the elastic off her braid, shaking her hair out and combing her fingers through it over and over.
Finally, Damon got back in and passed the device to her. “All clear.”
Their collective sigh could’ve blown out a forest fire.
Damon dug a lock box from under his seat, got out a phone and held the box out open. “New burner for you, Lor. Stick your other phones in, people. I’ll check ’em later.”
Nick reluctantly dropped his phone in with the rest and Damon stowed the box away. “Do you think we were followed?” Nick asked.
“I’d bet not.” Damon pulled out into traffic. “Let’s find out, though.” Ten minutes and two detours through a parking ramp later, he shook his head. “Not unless they’re better than me. And no one’s better than me.”
That put the fucking icing on the cake. “Right. Because this whole episode shows how perfect you are.”
Brian flinched, but Damon barked a laugh. “At spotting a tail, Rugo. Not life in general. Now tell us about the grenade?”
He laid it out in a few short sentences, feeling Brian get tenser and tenser beside him.
“That was enterprising of him,” Damon said as if he was talking about a lemonade stand.
“Did you know that would happen?” A pulse of anger beat in Nick’s temples. There was something about Damon’s tone that was too mellow for the danger Brian and Lori had been in.
“Would I have been in that room if I did? Sounds like ninety percent coincidence, ten percent pure fucking stupidity.”
That wasn’t quite an answer. “That’s bullshit.”
“Is it?” Damon’s eyebrow winged upward. “I wonder if they’ll find out the grenade was a dud. Can’t trust that stolen army shit. Good thing you spotted him before he could launch it, though. I’m impressed, Rugo.”
Nick gritted his teeth against the impulse to scream out what an asshole Damon was and demand real answers. “Enterprising of him.” Did Damon aim that young man at that meeting, like some kind of fucked-up backup plan? It sounded all too like Damon’s plans within plans. Short of beating the truth out of him, odds were they’d never find out. “Who was the shooter?”
“Would I know? Boris has a whole lot of enemies. Most of them arms or drug dealers.”
“Yes, I bet you fucking would know.”
Damon’s laugh sounded genuine. “You keep this guy, Bry. He’s all right.”
“Brian. I’m Brian.” A crease marred Brian’s smooth forehead.
“You sure are.” Warmth threaded Damon’s tone. “You did it perfect. I’m proud of you.”
“For finally being a good liar?”
“Sure. If you like.” Nick thought he caught a thread of hurt in Damon’s voice, but maybe he was imagining it.
On impulse, Nick said, “For standing tall. For being the guy you were meant to be all along if life had been fair.”
Brian turned to him, eyes brighter. “You think so?”
“You were amazing, and I say that as an undercover cop who knows how hard it is to lie convincingly to high-powered scum like Boris.”
“Oh. Yeah.” Brian’s expression softened. “You used to do that too.”
“In a good cause.”
Lori said, “What was that last bit, Damon? About working for him? I thought you said this would get us out from under for good.”
“Get you out from under.” Damon steered easily, three fingers on the wheel. “Now you’re off the hook, boring and useless. You can stay put, and as long as the cops don’t find Lori, you can raise the spawn and the sheep and whatever else you want.”
“While you work for Boris.” Brian didn’t make it a question.
“A man’s got to work.” Damon’s eyes met Nick’s fleetingly in the rearview, but it was like looking at one-way glass, impenetrable. “The jobs I’m fit for are on the dark side. Don’t worry, though. I expect to be running the show by this time next year.”
“Can’t you do something else?” Brian asked. “I bet you could be good at so many jobs.”
“Sure, I could, but do I want to?” Damon nudged Lori with his elbow. “Call that straight-arrow you’re living with and let him know we survived.”
Lori pulled out the burner phone and dialed Charlie, tapping over to speaker as he answered, “Yeah?”
“It’s me,” she said. “Temporary number.”
“Lori? Are you all okay?”
“We’re fine. Went like clockwork.”
Nick could hear Charlie’s soft laugh. “Really? Free and clear?”
“Turov’s little worm decided we were not the people he saw on the yacht. Boris sent us on our way.”
“After Nicko stopped an assassination by rocket grenade,” Damon put in.
“After Nick what?”
By the time Nick had explained it to Charlie, saving his suspicions about Damon for a private moment, they were cruising at fifty-five, halfway home. Brian asked Damon, “What do you think will happen to the guy with the grenade launcher?”
Damon shrugged. “Nothing worse than would happen to seven people in a room with an exploding grenade.”
“I guess. I feel bad, though.”
Nick rubbed Brian’s leg. Maybe launcher-guy was a coincidence, maybe Damon had set the whole thing up, but it was true that the bastard on the rooftop had been willing to turn the room into a death chamber. You could say what happened to him now was on Nick, who’d caught him, but there’d been no moment he could’ve called the cops instead. Not before Boris’s men arrived. Or after. “Sometimes we have to accept that we can’t save everyone.” It was the hardest lesson he’d learned on the job.
“The guy was probably scum,” Damon murmured. Nick figured it was the closest to reassurance he’d get.
“I guess,” Brian repeated. “But I liked saving people, when we could. Maybe I can do some good Finding again sometime?”
“About that.” Nick hadn’t planned to bring this up in a moving car, or in front of Damon, but what the hell. Brian needed something hopeful. “Charles, what would you say to ‘Rugo and Connors, Private Investigators’?”
“Connors and Rugo,” Charlie returned. “Wait, what?”
“Logic, right?” It wasn’t the same as being a cop, but damned if it couldn’t be good. Maybe better. They’d be their own bosses, for starters. He’d spent the drive to Raleigh thinking it through. “We know the work, we have the LEO training, which means we can apply right away. We even have Brian in our pockets as an ace in the hole. Someone comes to us with a missing child, we can solve that sucker.”
“Yes, please,” Brian said. “I want that.”
“You said you didn’t want to chase cheating husbands, Nicko,” Charlie said. “You wanted to be a real cop, not hanging about with me slowing you down.”
Nick was surprised by the note of bitterness. I said that? Well, about the husbands— He vaguely remembered that, but the rest was bullshit. “You don’t slow me down, Chuck.”
“He needs you, Charlie!” Brian leaned toward Lori’s phone, speaking urgently. “Please? I don’t want Nick running around chasing crooks with no backup.”
“He’ll have you.” Charlie still sounded subdued.
“No, he won’t.” Brian turned to Nick, pale blue eyes wide. “You know I would if you really need me, Nick, but it doesn’t make sense. I want to work with the animals. I’m no good with guns and chasing people.”
Charlie chuckled, though it sounded forced. “Being a PI is more about sneaking around with a camera and doing paperwork.”
“I suck at paperwork,” Brian pointed out. “I don’t mind Finding nice people. Like you said, a kid, or someone’s mom. But I don’t want more and more icky traces in my head, chasing bad guys. I don’t want to be a PI. You and Nick, you’re good at that stuff.”
“Come on, Connors.” Satisfaction was rising inside Nick. He could imagine it, a month from now, a year from now, being his own boss with Charlie at his back. “I’m good at the sneaking, you’re good at the paperwork.”
“I’m sneakier than you are, Rugo. Who tripped over the sergeant’s umbrella?”
“Once. Years ago.” For this, he’d happily let Charlie rag on him forever for that fumbled practical joke. “So you have to join me. Demonstrate world-class sneaking.”
“I don’t know.”
Nick was pretty sure that tone meant Charlie was weakening. “Yeah, you do. You want this. I’ll even call it Connors and Rugo.”
“Fuck you.” There was a moment of silence. “All right.” Charlie’s voice went rough. “Yeah, I want that. I— I’ve wanted that for a while. From the moment we came up with the cover story for your move.”
“Oh!” Little moments came back to him with the clarity of hindsight. Charlie’s odd reaction to his fixation on the deputy job, Charlie so ready to come to North Carolina, to tie himself up with the Kerrs and Lori’s baby. Because he hoped I was serious about working together. Shit. I dropped that ball. Apologize? Move on and make it up to him later? Moving on had always been more his and Charlie’s style. “Good. You know I need someone steady, to keep us in the black.”
“And out of jail. The first thing you need to do is report that Glock of yours stolen. If you get tangled up in a murder, they’ll never give you a license.”
“Planning on it.” His brain was racing, thinking of all the things they’d need to do. “We need to look into licensing, and concealed carry rules. At some point, we’ll need an office. Clients coming to my place will think we’re broke, and at your place, Helen downstairs will have their problems solved with knitting and homemade pie before we ever get paid.”
Charlie said, “I’ll start looking at listings.”
A thought occurred to Nick. “Hey, Brian, you want your name on this thing too? If you’re going to be an equal partner—”
“No.” Brian shrugged. “I want to work on the farm, mostly, and just Find if you need me. I like ‘Connors and Rugo.’ It sounds good.”
“You like having his name first? What kind of boyfriend are you?”
For a second, he worried that Brian wasn’t in the right headspace for teasing. A couple months ago, he’d have started apologizing, but Brian grinned. “The sensible kind of boyfriend.”
The strong kind. He set a hand back on Brian’s thigh. The right kind.
“Will you need a secretary?” Lori asked. “I could do that. Maybe more.”
“When the baby’s bigger, sure.” Maybe she’d find something else to do before then. Although Lori’s talents might actually come in handy— if he could ever trust her.
Damon said, “I owe Charles a debt. Let me know if you need financing.”
“We can manage without your help.” Nick hoped that was true. At least, Charlie didn’t contradict him, and the money from the trailer sale could go to an office instead of a better house. He was getting fond of their little dump anyway.
“How far away are you?” Charlie asked. “The baby’s asleep, so I can do some preliminary research.”
Nick hugged himself, hearing the enthusiasm Charlie couldn’t hide. “You do that. Figure out where the competition is too. We’ll be there in less than an hour.”
“On it.”
“You need more time? You, Brian, say something.”
Nick looked at Brian now, when it’d be natural to do so. Brian seemed okay, maybe tired, maybe frustrated, the bruises darkening his nose and under each eye making him look older. Knowing how scared he must be underneath— seeing how little it showed— pride and fear battled inside Nick. Jesus, I want this to be fucking over, but look how he’s come into his own strength. Fucking look at him!
“What do you want me to say?” Brian’s voice was lower than usual, perfectly steady, his stance confident. “I know nothing about any marina in Florida. I’ve never been on a yacht, and given that they shot Damon on one, I’d like to keep it that way. I don’t know what else I can tell you.”
The blond looked him up and down. “It’s not him. The other guy was… different. No, I’m sure these aren’t the same two.”
Boris sat back. “Very good. Thank you, Milward. You can go now.”
The blond got up and hurried out, not running, but Nick was sure he would once he hit the street. A guard shut the door behind him. Nick fought not to sway in relief, or grin, or look at Brian. This isn’t over yet.
“Now this new mess.” Boris ran his gaze from Nick to the two guards. “Anyone care to explain?” The rise of his tone was sharp with warning.
When neither guard spoke up, Nick said, “I was walking outside and spotted a guy with a ski mask on the roof of the building next door. That’s never a good thing. I headed for the roof and found him aiming a grenade launcher this way. I tackled him, the launcher went over the edge, and your boys showed up to help.”
“A grenade launcher. How interesting.” Boris turned to the first guard. “You want to explain to me how someone got that close with that weapon? Do you?”
“No, sir.”
“Find out!” Boris glared back at Nick. “So you’re just a stranger out for a stroll?”
“No, sir.” Avoid the obvious lies. “Brian’s my boyfriend. I followed him down here with his brother. Motherfucking Damon Kerr— excuse my French— has gotten Brian into his schemes before. Not anymore. Not on my watch. I was trying to figure out where he’d gone and boom, there’s a guy with a fucking grenade launcher? First thing I think is Damon’s in trouble again, and Brian’s with him. So I took the guy out.”
“Did he do that?” Boris looked at his men.
“Yeah, I think so. Launcher went over the side, this guy had the other pinned, and the other guy was dressed for wetwork, mask, gloves.”
“Do we know the scumbag?”
“Not yet. We will, sir.”
Boris growled, “Bet your fucking ass we will.” He looked over at Damon. “How many people did you tell about this meeting?”
“None, sir. I swear!” Damon managed to sound younger and less self-controlled than normal. “I didn’t even tell Nick, just that I needed Brian, not where. I didn’t.”
Nick repeated, “I followed them.”
Boris held his gaze for a moment, then sighed. “Kerr, you are one major fuck-up.”
“Sorry, sir.”
“If Turov had been mine, I’d bury all of you, on principle. You’re lucky he was just one more stiff working the business.”
“Yes, sir.”
A guard said, “How do you know they’re telling the truth?”
“I don’t.” Boris sat back, folding his hands across his stomach. “But if that grenade had landed in here, Kerr and his brother and sister would have as many holes in their hides as the rest of us. He’s no genius, but I don’t think he’s that stupid.”
“No, sir,” the guard said.
Boris pointed at Brian, at Lori, at Nick, in turn. “The lot of you can go. I don’t ever want to see any of you again. Don’t want to hear you even say my name, not ever. You, Nick, looks like I owe you something, so I’m giving you your faggot boyfriend and the pretty girl. You satisfied with that?”
“Yes, sir.” If he could get them out with their skins intact, he’d count himself more than lucky.
Boris pointed his thick finger at Damon. “Now you, you owe me. And I plan to collect. When I call, you answer. When I say jump, you say, ‘How high?’ Got it?”
“Yes, sir, sure.” Damon’s tone was still lighter and thinner. “You can count on me.”
Boris huffed a breath. “Not as far as I can throw you, but you know what happens if you fuck me over. From now on, you make damned sure no one follows you. Marston can’t have put up with that bullshit. You give me your best, or you’re dead.”
“I will.”
“Get out.”
Damon led them to the door and held it open. A flick of his eyes sent Nick through first, taking point. Brian was close behind him, Lori after Brian, and Damon bringing up the rear. One of the guards followed them out and shut the door behind them. A little of Nick’s fear eased, as solid wood stood between Boris and Brian. Of course, they still might be ambushed on the way to the car or run off the road later, but no one seemed to be about to take them down.
The guard said, “I’ll bring your cell phones and escort you to your vehicle.”
Nick asked, “My gun?”
The guard gave him a dead stare. “What gun?”
Fuck. He didn’t protest. I’ll have to report it randomly stolen. One more way to look stupid to Gannet. Shit.
The man’s tight grin showed uneven teeth. “This way.”
The ride back down was silent and tense. The guard let them out into the underground parking and ushered them to Damon’s car. Damon said, “Hop in, Nick. I’ll take you to wherever you parked.”
“Thanks.”
Brian squeezed into the back seat. Lori got in the front, and Nick slid in behind her next to Brian. Damon closed his door, started the car. Nick thought they were all holding their breaths. The guard stepped back as they pulled out, arms at his sides, no gun in evidence. Damon picked up speed smoothly, turning up the ramp. They turned again, and the guard fell back out of sight. One more spiral, and then the door at the top opened at their approach.
It was bright daylight outside. Nick blinked, as if waking from a dream. Damon said, “I told you that Milward guy would spot the difference. I found some damned good ringers, but they weren’t that good. Both of ’em porkier than you two, for starters.” He tapped his ear with a finger in warning.
Fuck, yeah, there could be bugs. Nick clenched his teeth against his questions. He did put a hand on Brian’s thigh and Brian’s warm palm covered his, pressing down. The stable presence of his man under his hand settled Nick.
Damon said, “Where’s your car, Nick? Oh, that way?”
Nick, who hadn’t pointed, shrugged. Damon drove a couple of blocks, then pulled into a space. “Here we are.” He parked, unlocked the glove compartment, and got out a bug detector. They all sat in silence as Damon swept the front, passed it to Nick for the back, then popped the trunk and got out. Brian’s hand clamped over Nick’s as Damon got down to check under the car. Lori tugged the elastic off her braid, shaking her hair out and combing her fingers through it over and over.
Finally, Damon got back in and passed the device to her. “All clear.”
Their collective sigh could’ve blown out a forest fire.
Damon dug a lock box from under his seat, got out a phone and held the box out open. “New burner for you, Lor. Stick your other phones in, people. I’ll check ’em later.”
Nick reluctantly dropped his phone in with the rest and Damon stowed the box away. “Do you think we were followed?” Nick asked.
“I’d bet not.” Damon pulled out into traffic. “Let’s find out, though.” Ten minutes and two detours through a parking ramp later, he shook his head. “Not unless they’re better than me. And no one’s better than me.”
That put the fucking icing on the cake. “Right. Because this whole episode shows how perfect you are.”
Brian flinched, but Damon barked a laugh. “At spotting a tail, Rugo. Not life in general. Now tell us about the grenade?”
He laid it out in a few short sentences, feeling Brian get tenser and tenser beside him.
“That was enterprising of him,” Damon said as if he was talking about a lemonade stand.
“Did you know that would happen?” A pulse of anger beat in Nick’s temples. There was something about Damon’s tone that was too mellow for the danger Brian and Lori had been in.
“Would I have been in that room if I did? Sounds like ninety percent coincidence, ten percent pure fucking stupidity.”
That wasn’t quite an answer. “That’s bullshit.”
“Is it?” Damon’s eyebrow winged upward. “I wonder if they’ll find out the grenade was a dud. Can’t trust that stolen army shit. Good thing you spotted him before he could launch it, though. I’m impressed, Rugo.”
Nick gritted his teeth against the impulse to scream out what an asshole Damon was and demand real answers. “Enterprising of him.” Did Damon aim that young man at that meeting, like some kind of fucked-up backup plan? It sounded all too like Damon’s plans within plans. Short of beating the truth out of him, odds were they’d never find out. “Who was the shooter?”
“Would I know? Boris has a whole lot of enemies. Most of them arms or drug dealers.”
“Yes, I bet you fucking would know.”
Damon’s laugh sounded genuine. “You keep this guy, Bry. He’s all right.”
“Brian. I’m Brian.” A crease marred Brian’s smooth forehead.
“You sure are.” Warmth threaded Damon’s tone. “You did it perfect. I’m proud of you.”
“For finally being a good liar?”
“Sure. If you like.” Nick thought he caught a thread of hurt in Damon’s voice, but maybe he was imagining it.
On impulse, Nick said, “For standing tall. For being the guy you were meant to be all along if life had been fair.”
Brian turned to him, eyes brighter. “You think so?”
“You were amazing, and I say that as an undercover cop who knows how hard it is to lie convincingly to high-powered scum like Boris.”
“Oh. Yeah.” Brian’s expression softened. “You used to do that too.”
“In a good cause.”
Lori said, “What was that last bit, Damon? About working for him? I thought you said this would get us out from under for good.”
“Get you out from under.” Damon steered easily, three fingers on the wheel. “Now you’re off the hook, boring and useless. You can stay put, and as long as the cops don’t find Lori, you can raise the spawn and the sheep and whatever else you want.”
“While you work for Boris.” Brian didn’t make it a question.
“A man’s got to work.” Damon’s eyes met Nick’s fleetingly in the rearview, but it was like looking at one-way glass, impenetrable. “The jobs I’m fit for are on the dark side. Don’t worry, though. I expect to be running the show by this time next year.”
“Can’t you do something else?” Brian asked. “I bet you could be good at so many jobs.”
“Sure, I could, but do I want to?” Damon nudged Lori with his elbow. “Call that straight-arrow you’re living with and let him know we survived.”
Lori pulled out the burner phone and dialed Charlie, tapping over to speaker as he answered, “Yeah?”
“It’s me,” she said. “Temporary number.”
“Lori? Are you all okay?”
“We’re fine. Went like clockwork.”
Nick could hear Charlie’s soft laugh. “Really? Free and clear?”
“Turov’s little worm decided we were not the people he saw on the yacht. Boris sent us on our way.”
“After Nicko stopped an assassination by rocket grenade,” Damon put in.
“After Nick what?”
By the time Nick had explained it to Charlie, saving his suspicions about Damon for a private moment, they were cruising at fifty-five, halfway home. Brian asked Damon, “What do you think will happen to the guy with the grenade launcher?”
Damon shrugged. “Nothing worse than would happen to seven people in a room with an exploding grenade.”
“I guess. I feel bad, though.”
Nick rubbed Brian’s leg. Maybe launcher-guy was a coincidence, maybe Damon had set the whole thing up, but it was true that the bastard on the rooftop had been willing to turn the room into a death chamber. You could say what happened to him now was on Nick, who’d caught him, but there’d been no moment he could’ve called the cops instead. Not before Boris’s men arrived. Or after. “Sometimes we have to accept that we can’t save everyone.” It was the hardest lesson he’d learned on the job.
“The guy was probably scum,” Damon murmured. Nick figured it was the closest to reassurance he’d get.
“I guess,” Brian repeated. “But I liked saving people, when we could. Maybe I can do some good Finding again sometime?”
“About that.” Nick hadn’t planned to bring this up in a moving car, or in front of Damon, but what the hell. Brian needed something hopeful. “Charles, what would you say to ‘Rugo and Connors, Private Investigators’?”
“Connors and Rugo,” Charlie returned. “Wait, what?”
“Logic, right?” It wasn’t the same as being a cop, but damned if it couldn’t be good. Maybe better. They’d be their own bosses, for starters. He’d spent the drive to Raleigh thinking it through. “We know the work, we have the LEO training, which means we can apply right away. We even have Brian in our pockets as an ace in the hole. Someone comes to us with a missing child, we can solve that sucker.”
“Yes, please,” Brian said. “I want that.”
“You said you didn’t want to chase cheating husbands, Nicko,” Charlie said. “You wanted to be a real cop, not hanging about with me slowing you down.”
Nick was surprised by the note of bitterness. I said that? Well, about the husbands— He vaguely remembered that, but the rest was bullshit. “You don’t slow me down, Chuck.”
“He needs you, Charlie!” Brian leaned toward Lori’s phone, speaking urgently. “Please? I don’t want Nick running around chasing crooks with no backup.”
“He’ll have you.” Charlie still sounded subdued.
“No, he won’t.” Brian turned to Nick, pale blue eyes wide. “You know I would if you really need me, Nick, but it doesn’t make sense. I want to work with the animals. I’m no good with guns and chasing people.”
Charlie chuckled, though it sounded forced. “Being a PI is more about sneaking around with a camera and doing paperwork.”
“I suck at paperwork,” Brian pointed out. “I don’t mind Finding nice people. Like you said, a kid, or someone’s mom. But I don’t want more and more icky traces in my head, chasing bad guys. I don’t want to be a PI. You and Nick, you’re good at that stuff.”
“Come on, Connors.” Satisfaction was rising inside Nick. He could imagine it, a month from now, a year from now, being his own boss with Charlie at his back. “I’m good at the sneaking, you’re good at the paperwork.”
“I’m sneakier than you are, Rugo. Who tripped over the sergeant’s umbrella?”
“Once. Years ago.” For this, he’d happily let Charlie rag on him forever for that fumbled practical joke. “So you have to join me. Demonstrate world-class sneaking.”
“I don’t know.”
Nick was pretty sure that tone meant Charlie was weakening. “Yeah, you do. You want this. I’ll even call it Connors and Rugo.”
“Fuck you.” There was a moment of silence. “All right.” Charlie’s voice went rough. “Yeah, I want that. I— I’ve wanted that for a while. From the moment we came up with the cover story for your move.”
“Oh!” Little moments came back to him with the clarity of hindsight. Charlie’s odd reaction to his fixation on the deputy job, Charlie so ready to come to North Carolina, to tie himself up with the Kerrs and Lori’s baby. Because he hoped I was serious about working together. Shit. I dropped that ball. Apologize? Move on and make it up to him later? Moving on had always been more his and Charlie’s style. “Good. You know I need someone steady, to keep us in the black.”
“And out of jail. The first thing you need to do is report that Glock of yours stolen. If you get tangled up in a murder, they’ll never give you a license.”
“Planning on it.” His brain was racing, thinking of all the things they’d need to do. “We need to look into licensing, and concealed carry rules. At some point, we’ll need an office. Clients coming to my place will think we’re broke, and at your place, Helen downstairs will have their problems solved with knitting and homemade pie before we ever get paid.”
Charlie said, “I’ll start looking at listings.”
A thought occurred to Nick. “Hey, Brian, you want your name on this thing too? If you’re going to be an equal partner—”
“No.” Brian shrugged. “I want to work on the farm, mostly, and just Find if you need me. I like ‘Connors and Rugo.’ It sounds good.”
“You like having his name first? What kind of boyfriend are you?”
For a second, he worried that Brian wasn’t in the right headspace for teasing. A couple months ago, he’d have started apologizing, but Brian grinned. “The sensible kind of boyfriend.”
The strong kind. He set a hand back on Brian’s thigh. The right kind.
“Will you need a secretary?” Lori asked. “I could do that. Maybe more.”
“When the baby’s bigger, sure.” Maybe she’d find something else to do before then. Although Lori’s talents might actually come in handy— if he could ever trust her.
Damon said, “I owe Charles a debt. Let me know if you need financing.”
“We can manage without your help.” Nick hoped that was true. At least, Charlie didn’t contradict him, and the money from the trailer sale could go to an office instead of a better house. He was getting fond of their little dump anyway.
“How far away are you?” Charlie asked. “The baby’s asleep, so I can do some preliminary research.”
Nick hugged himself, hearing the enthusiasm Charlie couldn’t hide. “You do that. Figure out where the competition is too. We’ll be there in less than an hour.”
“On it.”
