by Mia Watts
Nathan gripped the handle of the observation room door, giving himself a final chance to reconsider and was met only with certainty. He tugged the door open and stepped through. Fortunately, the walk to the Deputy Director’s office wasn’t a long one.
* * * *
Trick hadn’t seen Nathan in the week since they’d reached Quantico. He’d been shuffled from one interview session to the other, barely given time to rest, before giving more dates and more contact information.
The reports for each day were transcribed and the following morning, Trick read through them, signed off on their accuracy and either added more remembered details, or began more interviews. It was tedious and tiring. All he wanted was to lay eyes on Agent Rohn. He needed to know that everything had gone okay for him. He needed to know if Nathan had earned his elevated status.
He needed to look into his eyes and see how pissed Nathan was and if…
If what? There his mind stopped. He didn’t know what he wanted. Hell, he didn’t know if he even had any right to know what he wanted after what he’d already done—potentially done—to Nathan’s career in the FBI.
But somehow he knew that if he looked into Nathan’s eyes, he’d have the answer to that if. He wanted that answer so much that it stung his throat the way the kick of a shotgun stung a man’s shoulder.
He finally got the number for the sector office in Indiana. When he got a break at lunch, Trick dialed it. He pushed a finger against his other ear to drown out ambient sound. Whatever Nathan said, he wanted to hear it.
He waded through the introductory greeting from the phone attendant. “This is Detective Hampton with the Allen County Police Department. I’d like to speak to Agent Nathan Rohn please.”
“I’m sorry, but there isn’t an Agent Rohn in this field office.”
“Did he transfer?” Trick wondered. If he’d been promoted, perhaps they’d needed him at another location.
“No, Detective. Agent Rohn is no longer active.”
“Explain,” he asked tightly.
“If you’ll give me just a moment, I’ll get Agent diNossi to help you.”
A minute later, Agent diNossi came on the phone.
“Where’s Nathan,” Trick began, cutting through the crap.
“He left, Detective. He turned in his badge and gun the day you arrived at Quantico.”
“They fired him?” God, he couldn’t feel more like a shit.
“No. He reported himself.”
“But I didn’t say anything,” Trick argued.
“I know. He knows. But it’s like I said. That kid is a good egg. Did you really think he’d be able to keep a job failure to himself?”
“No,” Trick quietly agreed after a moment. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Where is he now?”
“Sometimes he heads over to St. Joe’s Hospital to check on Donny. He pulled through, by the way. He’s under constant guard, but he made it.”
“Good. What about the pilot?” Trick asked, wanting to know, but not caring nearly as much as finding out where the kid was.
“Pilot’s all right, too. Different state.”
“I need an address, diNossi.”
“For the pilot?” diNossi joked.
“For the kid. I need to find him.”
“It’s not a good idea for you to come to town right now. The Feds are here in force following up on your leads. The shit’s about to hit the fan. You’re going to be number one on the mob hit list.”
“I don’t care.”
“He’s visiting his family. Breaking the news or something. It was a big deal to them that he was an agent.”
“They’ll probably want to string me up,” Trick considered.
“Probably. Better take your gun and your badge just in case.”
“And the address?” Trick reminded.
“I’ll text it over to you. You’re secure?”
“I’m secure. Send when you have it.” Trick hung up.
He had another day of interviews to go, then he was on the first flight to Indianapolis.
Chapter Ten
Nathan scrubbed a hand over his face, then through his messy mop of hair. After telling his family that he’d left the FBI, his dad had called in the brothers, and his mom had wandered away to bake. She’d kept baking through the shouting, then the silence, then the dejected questioning about what Nathan expected to do with his life.
That was easy. The FBI had been his dad’s dream for him, not his own. Condescending to a desk job wasn’t desirable either. His passion had always been veterinary science. Maybe it was time to go back to school and sort that out.
Nathan stumbled off the last stair. His waistband pulled down around his hips. He tugged at the leg of his pajama pants to free the hem from where it had caught under his heel. It was only eight o’clock, but the house had gone silent. He appreciated the hollow tick-tock of the antique grandfather clock in the wide hallway.
After the drama of the past week, it was a relief to have the downstairs to himself. His brothers had gone home a few days ago, more upset that Dad would look to them to fill the federal role Nathan had vacated, than out of disappointment in him.
A knock dragged his attention to the front of the house. Nathan scratched his chest through the white cotton t-shirt and headed that way.
Nathan flipped on the outside light and opened the door. It wasn’t fully dark yet. Thank God or the looming giant on the front steps would have scared the shit out of him.
“Hey,” Trick said.
He had his hands in his pockets and his shoulders were hunched like an errant child caught doing something he probably should be doing. He looked better than Nathan remembered: rougher, tougher, grittier. His heart leaped in his chest as every memory of him came flooding back. The good ones and the ones that hurt.
“Hey,” he answered inadequately.
“You’re hard to track down. You’d think the FBI would keep tabs on former employees.”
“They do,” Nathan said. “I’m on file for life. They just aren’t going to share it with anyone.”
“They kept me at Quantico for more than a week to debrief,” Trick explained.
“You did a faster job of debriefing me,” Nathan muttered.
Trick rocked from on foot to the other. “You think I could come in? I owe you an apology.”
He thought about it for a few seconds before dropping his hand from the doorknob and stepping aside. Trick moved passed him and through the hall to the living room visible beyond. “In here?” he asked.
Nathan nodded. “I’d offer you a drink, but you aren’t staying that long.”
“They want me to testify to what I know,” Trick began.
“Are you surprised?”
“No. It’s just happening sooner than I expected.”
“Funny how that happens,” Nathan mused.
Trick walked to the couch but instead of sitting, he turned. His gaze darted between Nathan’s eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“You couldn’t have told me,” Nathan relented. “We both know it. You were under orders not to reveal your identity for the purpose devised by the FBI. It’s not like you could have broken that agreement.”
“I was under control of what I did while you were on duty,” Trick argued back. “I lied to myself about what I thought would happen to you if the FBI found out. I knew, deep down, it wasn’t good for your career. It was selfish.”
“Yeah, it was,” Nathan agreed. He lifted his chin and crossed the room to the burly detective. “Here’s the thing. I knew my duty. I’ve known it for years. Hell, I knew it from the time I learned to put on a tie, that one day I’d be expected to don the FBI uniform. What happened on the road to Quantico was definitely preventable.”
Trick opened his mouth to interject, but Nathan stopped him with a quick shake of his head.
“I’m not a child. I know you like to tease me, call me a kid, but I’m a grown man. I could’ve said no at any time.” Nathan shrugged. “I didn’
t. There’s only one reason I can think of that would make me act so far out of character: I wanted to.”
Trick’s brow furrowed. “I don’t get it. You spent two years intensively training for a lead investigative role, only to throw it away with a cop you barely knew and hardly liked.”
“Yeah, okay, you could look at it like that.”
“How else would I look at it, Nathan? Tell me, because I’d really like to know.”
“I wanted out. I wasn’t as committed as I needed to be to carry on. But if I’d wanted to throw it away, it didn’t have to be by sleeping with you.”
“I see,” Trick said tightly, dropping his gaze. “I was your convenient out.”
“Honey? Is everything okay? I thought I heard voices.” His mom came downstairs, trailed by his dad.
“Everything’s fine. I’m just visiting with a friend,” Nathan assured them.
“Mr. and Mrs. Rohn? It’s good to meet you. I’m Detective Trick Hamilton.” Trick strode across the floor with his hand outstretched.
Nathan’s mom looked alarmed. Nathan’s dad balled a fist.
“The Detective who talked my son out of his job?” Mr. Rohn snapped.
“Dad, no. That’s not what happened.”
“Then what was it? What was it about this man and this assignment that made you leave? He had something to do with it,” Mr. Rohn insisted.
“He did, but not by anything that was his fault. He just…woke me up,” Nathan said, meeting Trick’s eyes. “Go back up stairs, Mom and Dad. I’m fine. Trick and I need to clear the air.”
“You’re sure honey?”
His mom didn’t look so comforted. She kept eyeing Trick like he was about to pull out a gun or a pair of brass knuckles. Nathan couldn’t blame her. He’d thought the same thing when he’d first met him.
“I’m sure. I need to do this. Alone,” Nathan reiterated.
His parents slowly wandered out of the room. He heard his dad banging around in the kitchen, taking his time before he decided to follow his wife upstairs.
“Nice folks,” Trick murmured. “Protective. That’s good.”
“They’re good people,” Nathan agreed. He dropped his hands on his hips. “We do need to talk. Do you want that drink now?”
Trick nodded and followed Nathan to the kitchen. He got to the archway and burst out laughing. “What the fuck?”
“Mom bakes when things get uncomfortable. There’s been a lot of tension around here the past week. They finally got it, but Dad’s been reduced to sour looks and the occasional grunt. Tonight was more than he’s said to me in days.”
“He was pretty mad, huh?”
“You must be a detective or something.”
“Or something,” Trick said grinning. His smile faded just as fast as he looked around the kitchen. “She’s really worried about you. There isn’t a spare inch of counter space not covered with cakes or cookies.”
“Mm,” Nathan agreed.
He poured Trick a glass of water, then himself one. He tipped his head and led them back to the living room with a plate of homemade chocolate chip cookies. They sat beside each other on the couch.
“I like soccer,” Trick blurted out suddenly. “I don’t like football. It’s a pussy’s sport with all the padding. Rugby, though. I’d watch that before I’d go to a football game.”
Nathan chuckled his confusion. “What?”
Trick had been staring into his glass intently. Suddenly he looked up, his eyes earnest. “Was sleeping with me an excuse to get out of the FBI? Because if it was an excuse, I’ll go, but if there was another reason, I need to know.”
Nathan liked the way his brow wrinkled. It developed three wavy lines across his forehead and the outer corner of his eyes pinched making little crow’s feet appear. His cheeks were ruddy, too, and Trick fidgeted with his drinking glass, turning it round and round between his palms in an atypical show of nerves.
He didn’t have the personal experience to say he’d never seen Trick like this, but it did occur to him that what he was witnessing seemed out of the ordinary for Trick. He wore his discomfort like a jacket that hadn’t been tailored well. Kind of like the way the FBI jacket had felt on Nathan’s shoulders.
“I think I rationalized that you were a handy diversion. I think that’s what started the ball rolling, so to speak,” Nathan admitted. “I’d seen you in the bar. We had sex and it was—great, actually. Then I found out you were my suspect. It was a little overwhelming at first.”
“I didn’t know you were you in the bar than night, until you told me your name. You could’ve knocked me over with a feather. I meant to get information from you about the group you were with.”
“You told me,” Nathan reminded him.
“And then you were the one bringing me in. You handled the chopper. I couldn’t believe how easy you made it look to hold it together and land the thing. I hate flying. I couldn’t have done what you did,” Trick said.
“Thanks.” Nathan twisted to see him better, leaning his shoulder against the back cushions. He tucked a leg under his outside knee. “I was scared, but I was more scared of dying.”
“Then we were in the car, and I had time to think, you know? I had time to remember the bar and the way you handled stuff. I had time to think about little stuff like the way you looked up at me from the ground when I was still in the chopper, and the way you kept insisting I shut up. I wanted to piss you off so that you’d spend the trip ignoring me.”
“You didn’t try hard enough.”
“I got distracted. You’re damn cute.” Trick seemed to relax. He mirrored the way Nathan was sitting.
The plantation blinds behind the couch were shut, but Nathan could still see that the light beyond them had long gone. There were no shuffling feet upstairs and the sounds of water running for tooth brushing and bed preparation had stopped. The grandfather clock marked the passing of seconds with each heavy swing of the pendulum. And still, Nathan looked at the man who’d first intimidated him, and now made him feel peaceful.
It had happened too fast for him to trust it, and yet, here he sat, needing the same answers that Trick seemed to be seeking. “Was I revenge for ruining your cover?” he asked finally.
Trick tipped his head to the side. “No. I don’t know what you were, Nathan. I’ve never been down this particular path before. I just know you’re different. I don’t know what it means, but I need to find out.”
“I saw the beginning of your interview when we arrived. I know you didn’t tell them what happened between us, unless it was after I left.”
“I never said a word. Neither did diNossi.”
Nathan plucked at a nub on the cushion his fingers rested on. “I resigned.”
“But why? I wouldn’t have outted you.” Trick thought he knew the answer. He hoped he was right.
“I couldn’t. They might never know, but I would. I knew I’d messed up.” Nathan looked at him then. His brown eyes seemed to swallow Trick whole. “I also knew there had to be a deeper reason for why I let you get me. I’m not the kind of person who allows himself to ruin his name for a fling. That left me two brand new realizations. One, you already know. The FBI life isn’t for me, and I was looking for a way out. I hid behind what happened with you as my excuse.”
“And the other?” Trick asked, still not sure he liked the first answer.
“There’s something between us. It’s too soon to know what it is, and I can’t say I trust it yet, but there is definitely a thing.”
Trick linked their fingers and held on. “Yeah, there is.” Nathan could hear the relief in his voice.
“I like football,” Nathan said with a warming grin.
“There’s no accounting for taste.”
“I hate pecans, but every Thanksgiving Mom makes a pecan pie just for me because she forgets. She also thinks lasagna is my favorite dinner, but it’s not. That’s James’ favorite. He’s the middle brother.”
“I have a kid brother in the FBI. He
was at Quantico when you brought me in,” Trick told him.
“Oh yeah? Which one?”
“The big, blond one.”
“The beefcake, right. He’s so clean cut!” Nathan accused.
“I’m a family aberration. Quasimodo of the Hampton crew.”
Nathan laughed. “I’m allergic to birds. Cats, dogs, hamsters are all fine. Birds break me out into hives.”
“I’m allergic to latex. The condom we used that night? Yeah, I had blisters for days after that.”
Nathan howled with amusement.
“If there’s another time,” Trick hedged, “I suggest latex free, like the bartender gave me.”
“I’ll stock up,” Nathan said almost shyly.
Trick tugged their joined hands, hauling Nathan close enough to kiss. He’d missed the feel of Nathan’s mouth under his. He took his time rediscovering it. There was more he needed to know. Everything hinged on Nathan’s answer to his real question, if he could work up the nerve to ask it. He pulled back to look at Nathan.
“We have all night. Tell me more about yourself,” Trick said.
“What kind of things?”
“Like the bunny story. Tell me things like that.”
“I’ve broken both arms and an ankle. My right arm was from balancing on the top of the swing set. My brother, Greg, said I was a baby for crying, so I stopped crying. The left was from carrying a tall wooden ladder. We were going to climb on the roof, but I tripped and my arm got caught in one of the rungs. My nose broke when I thought jumping off the top of a water slide was a good idea, completely forgetting that the water slide was wet, and therefore slippery.”
Trick nodded thoughtfully. “That tells me a few things.”
“Like what?”
“That you’re not so coordinated with heights. And that I should’ve been a lot more scared in the chopper.”
Nathan laughed.
“I’ve broken just about everything,” Trick said. “There are few stunts I didn’t try as a kid. The most creative thing was when I had the worst case of chicken pox in the neighborhood. I snuck into Mrs. Lindgarden’s kitchen and used all her baking powder and baking soda to make a skin poultice. Mom didn’t cook, and I couldn’t remember if it was the powder or the soda that made it better. Anyway, I turned myself into something of a flaking zombie. Mrs. Lindgarden walked in, screamed, and started smacking me with a frying pan. Broke two fingers and bruised several ribs.”