He opens his mouth to speak but stops himself before it’s too late. He shakes his head while keeping his eyes locked on mine. “You never cease to amaze me. Thank you for saying that.”
That look—the one he’s giving me now—the one that tells me he desperately wants to believe me, steals what little breath I have in my lungs. He needs to believe me. But he’s not quite there yet. That seals my heart’s fate. It’s not about “fixing him.” He’s perfect exactly the way he is now. My heart is now focused on helping him see the many wonderful qualities he possesses, the traits I’ve seen since day one. For me, this is more than the good friend mission I originally set out on. I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, I’ve already fallen for him.
“The bag Spencer brought over for you is in the bathroom. But let’s make sure you can walk alone before I go cook your breakfast.”
After I take a few steps, I assure him I’ll be okay alone in the bathroom and promise to yell for him if I need anything at all. With the door closed behind me, I glare at the commode and silently contemplate how I’ll manage the whole sitting maneuver alone, while knowing there’s no way in hell I’m asking Nick to help me out with that.
Though it takes much more out of me than it should, I manage to use the vanity to help brace myself as I sit and stand again. Rifling through my bag, I find my brush and a few hair bands. Thank you, Spencer! With my hair pulled up in a high, messy bun, my teeth brushed, and my comfy yoga pants and long-sleeved T-shirt on, I feel somewhat human again.
Nick has a tasty breakfast waiting for me when I finally join him in the kitchen. Instead of eating at the table, he puts our plates on the bar so I can slide on and off the higher stool easier. It really is the little things that matter the most.
We take my car to the hospital so I can use my employee parking decal and retrieve my badge I left in the glove compartment when I drove to Nick’s last night. Bypassing the triage desk, we walk in through the ambulance bay and straight into the secure area. It’s a relatively slow day, so one of the doctors is behind the desk, catching up on his charting when I approach.
“Holy shit, Savannah! What happened to you?” His eyes immediately move to size up Nick, the brawny brute standing behind me.
“Can you check me out, Dr. Wattress? I think I may have a couple of cracked ribs, but I just want to be sure they don’t move and cause more damage.” I reach back and grab Nick’s hand, wordlessly conveying he’s here to help me.
“Of course. Let’s get you into a room and see what’s going on with your injuries.” He chooses an open exam room and ushers Nick and me inside. He gives me a gown to change into and closes the curtain, giving me a little privacy. I slide the curtain back to let them know I’m ready. Technically, I’m supposed to remove my bra and panties too, but that’s not happening. They were hard enough to get into the first time.
Nick immediately notices the bed is too low for me to comfortably sit down, so he moves to the far side and raises it until the height is just right for me. Every move I make, he’s right there to help me.
“Who did this to you, Savannah?” Dr. Wattress asks when he begins checking my injuries.
I’m quiet for a heartbeat too long, so Nick answers for me. “Her ex who can’t seem to take a hint. She moved to get away from him, and he found her again.”
The doctor looks up at Nick, anger rolling off him in waves. “When you get a hold of him, don’t bring him to my emergency room for treatment.”
“Understood, Doc. If I get my hands on him, he’s more likely to need a good mortician than a physician.”
“Nick has been taking good care of me, even though I haven’t made it too easy on him.” I smile up at Nick, but that quickly changes when the doctor touches my ribs. “Ouch!”
“When did this happen?”
“Yesterday.”
“And you’re just now coming to see me?” Dr. Wattress shakes his head, clearly not pleased with my decision-making skills. “You definitely have a few broken ribs, I can tell you that without X-rays. There’s really no danger of them moving or puncturing anything if you follow doctor’s orders to the letter.”
“She will.” Nick’s confident reply makes the doctor smile. “Just tell me what they are, and I’ll make sure of it.”
He goes through a list of dos and don’ts with Nick. Ice packs. Ibuprofen. Cough if I feel the urge, to help reduce the chance of pneumonia—just hold a pillow against my side to lessen the impact. Six weeks off work, taking extra care the first two weeks. Move around as much as I’m able, to help keep fluids moving freely. Come back immediately if I reinjure my ribs or have any shortness of breath.
All things I could’ve told Nick before we got here, but he wouldn’t have taken my word for it after our hostage-negotiation discussion.
The doctor writes a prescription for a stronger pain medication to use at night to help me sleep through the discomfort and tells me he’ll submit the medical documentation for my required time off. Back in the car an hour later, Nick picks up my prescription for me before driving us back to his place with a triumphant smirk on his face.
“What are you so happy about?” I ask teasingly.
“One, I was right about a lot of things. Two, I really like that doctor. And three, you have to stay with me for the next two weeks so I can make sure you follow his orders to a T.”
“He didn’t say I had to stay with you for the next two weeks, Nick.”
“Yes, he did. Would you like to go back and ask him?” He glances at me over his shoulder, hoping I’ll accept his dare.
“No, because you two will just conspire against me.”
“Like I said, you’re staying with me for the next couple of weeks so I can make sure you behave. Doctor’s orders.”
Funny thing is, “behave” isn’t the first word that comes to mind when I think about spending two weeks with Nick at his place.
It’s not even in the top ten thoughts.
Chapter 8
Nick
With Savannah resting comfortably on my couch, I retreat to my bedroom with the intention of making a few calls. Butch’s ability to access not only her building but her apartment is a huge red flag, one I can’t quite put my finger on at the moment. I know for a fact that she has multiple locks on her door and uses every one of them. The sinking feeling in my gut tells me Butch went to great lengths to get to her—but not because he’s distraught that she dumped him.
He’s after something else entirely.
I casually stroll back into the living room where Savannah is watching the news and fighting to keep her eyes open. Taking a seat on the coffee table across from her, I pick up her keys Spencer left and hand them to her. She looks at me then down at her keys, confusion and apprehension clear in her expression.
“Are any keys missing from your key ring?” I intentionally keep my tone light and my demeanor calm. There’s no need to cause her even more alarm if I’m simply being hypervigilant. As usual.
Her eyebrows draw down, and her eyes crinkle slightly in the corner, as much as she can with the swelling anyway, but she goes through each key on the ring as I asked. “No, they’re all here. I don’t keep the building’s garage door key on here anymore since I’ve been taking the Metro to work lately. It’s still in my car from when I drove over here yesterday.”
“Where did you have it before that?”
“Hidden inside my apartment. Why?” She lays the keys down beside me and gives me her full attention, preparing for a long explanation.
“Just a hunch I’m working on.”
She’s silent for a minute, waiting for me to continue, but that only results in us staring at each other. “Nick, that’s not enough. I need more than that.”
“Does Butch keep anything in your car? Did he ever use it?”
“No, to both questions. He was always on his motorcycle, and he always insisted I drive my car instead of riding with him. Said it ruined his image to have someone riding bitch. That was fine with m
e—I didn’t want to stay in the places he went any longer than I absolutely had to anyway. He went to the seediest parts of town he could find. There were always other gang members around with half-dressed women who I’m sure were strung out on drugs.”
“But he insisted you go with him to those places? Did he make you hang around very long?” I’m getting a clearer picture, and I don’t like it at all.
“No, not long at all. It was usually to change the bandages on his friend’s wounds…or to look at whatever new rash someone had.” A chill runs up her spine, and she shakes involuntarily in disgust. “After I’d played doctor and helped as much as I could, I got the hell out of there. Tell me what you’re thinking. What has he done to my car? Did he put a tracker on it?”
“I don’t think he has anything that high-tech. But I do think he’s after something specific, more than getting his rocks off by beating up a woman.”
Pulling my cell out of my pocket, I call Calvin at the agency and ask him to send a low-key forensics team to my townhouse. Savannah’s eyes grow wide with fear.
“What are you doing? What’s going on, Nick?”
“It’s best to wait until they get here. Do you have Spencer’s number in your phone?”
“Yes, I do.” She pulls up his contact info, and we wait for him to pick up. “Hi, Spencer. Nick needs to talk to you.”
She hands the phone to me, and I tell him about the team on the way to my apartment then ask if he can join us since he’s involved in the assault and battery charges against Butch. He promises to be here within minutes. He obviously understands the urgency, and Savannah feels the increasing pressure from all the stress. In case my gut is correct, I can’t tell her anything just yet and possibly taint the findings.
But I’ll do whatever it takes to protect her.
“Just trust me. I would never do anything to hurt you, and I won’t let anyone else hurt you either. I’m doing all of this to protect you.”
“I trust you.”
Though she has every reason never to trust another man in her life, she freely gives it to me. That realization is humbling. A knock on my door stops me from saying something neither of us is ready to hear. The feeling is there, on the edge of the proverbial cliff, but I’m not ready to take the leap off it just yet.
Tim, another Special Agent I’ve known for quite a while, is standing on the threshold. His team waits a few spaces down by the unmarked forensics van with the gear stowed inside, ready to get to work. We shake hands in a friendly reunion and a quick catch-up of what we’ve each been doing since we saw each other last. While we’re chatting, Spencer pulls up and joins us. After I introduce them, I turn my request to Savannah’s friend.
“Spencer, I need you to stay in here with Savannah and me while Tim does his job. We’ll need a third-party witness to verify whatever Tim finds hasn’t been tampered with by either Savannah or me. Every step of this is being done by the book to protect all of us in the long run.”
“You got it. I’ll go in and keep her company now.” Spencer leaves Tim and me alone to finish our conversation in private.
“What do you need us to do, Nick?” Tim looks puzzled and intrigued, ready to dive into the job at hand.
“Cover every inch of Savannah’s car. Don’t leave anything unchecked. But try not to look like a DEA agent searching the car. Act like you’re a mechanic or something—leave the hood open.” I explain her prior relationship with Butch, his ties to the Devils, and the recent events. “I don’t think he’s found what he’s looking for, and my gut tells me whatever it is will be found in her car.”
“The Devils are about to go to trial, you’re the main undercover officer for the DEA, and you’re involved with the ex-girlfriend of a club member? Have you lost your fucking mind, Nick?” Tim stares me down, looking at me as if he has no clue who I am.
“Did you hear a fucking word I just told you? I met her in a coffee shop—while he was manhandling her. You think I’d just stand by and let that shit happen, especially after everything I’ve seen? I told her she had a safe place to get away from him if she ever needed it. Well, step inside the door and take a look at her. She fucking needed it, man. He could’ve killed her.” My voice gets louder with each passing second. My blood boils while rushing through my veins.
Tim curses under his breath and steps around me. He opens the door, walks inside, and comes back out with a bottle of water. “I see what you mean. Any chance she’s in on this with him to help the Devils? To get any information or intel on you?”
“Zero chance.” I place my hands on my hips and wait for him to drop the subject.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you. When you tell Calvin the whole story, he’ll ream you a new asshole, and you know it.”
“Let me handle Calvin. You handle searching the car. I’m going inside now so I can’t be accused of trying to hide any evidence you may find.”
“If there’s anything there, the Devils’ lawyer may accuse you of planting it.”
“Anyone who’d believe I’d plant something, especially on someone I consider a friend, is a moron.”
“Yeah, well, the world is full of them, my friend. Any spin they can put on the story to make the good guys look bad is a good spin.”
Maybe he’s right—maybe I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t. But my conscience will be clear, and I’ll be able to look at myself in the mirror without questioning which lines I’ll cross today.
Savannah is sitting up on the couch with a pillow pressed to her side when I walk back into the brownstone, leaving Tim and his team to do their job. She has a blanket draped over her lap, and she’s nervously biting her thumbnail. Something hitches in my chest—a twinge of life I haven’t felt in a very long time. Years. I refused to let myself get close to anyone while I was undercover. There was no way I’d trust anyone in that world with my real identity and no way I’d start a relationship under false pretenses. Plus, when shit went down, she would’ve been the first target on their hit list.
Since I’ve been back in DC, I’ve had zero interest in anything except getting back to my normal self. Putting the past couple years behind me and letting go of all the guilt over what I didn’t do about the crimes I witnessed. Trying to reconcile the man I thought I was before the assignment began with the man I had to be while undercover. When I condemned them for lying and dealing underhandedly, the mirror told me I was doing the same things they were. When I couldn’t wait to bust them and send them away for life for the crimes they committed, my conscience reminded me about all the times I watched or participated in those very crimes.
Being around Savannah brings a breath of fresh air to my stale existence. One I didn’t even know was missing until getting better acquainted with her. When I look at her injuries, I vacillate between wanting to dedicate my life to showing her how a real man should treat her and wanting to rip Butch’s head from his body and shove it up his ass.
The struggle is real.
But when she looks at me like that—like I hung the fucking moon and stars—I can’t help but think my former self is making a full comeback, pushing the corrupt man inside me out of the way. Maybe she’s exactly what I need in my life. Someone to take care of, someone to help, someone who will listen when I share the details of my days—the good, the bad, the ups, the downs.
Someone to love.
Someone who can love me.
Not that she’s ready for a relationship. She hasn’t even been able to get rid of the last guy. I doubt she’d appreciate me adding more stress by trying to start something new. Bad timing and all.
“Nick?”
“Yeah?”
“Are…you okay?” Her eyes narrow as she cuts them sideways at me.
“Fine. Why?”
“Well, because you’ve just been standing there staring at me. Not saying anything at all.”
“Have I?”
Staring at her isn’t a hardship on me. Looking away from her is.
When I d
on’t elaborate, she stands, pushing the pillow harder into her side as she moves. I start to protest, but she shakes her head. “The doctor said I need to move around frequently, remember?”
I nod, smiling while letting her have that one.
She walks to me, pain in every step, but that doesn’t stop her. When she reaches me, she places her hand on my chest and peers up at me, her emerald-green eyes searching mine. “What’s going on out there that has you so distracted?”
“There’s a team of DEA forensic agents searching your car for drugs or other contraband.”
Reading people and gauging reactions are skills I’ve spent years training and refining. Knowing when they’re lying, when they’re holding out, and when they’re about to pull the gun they have hidden in their back waistband has saved my ass too many times to count. Studying Savannah’s face and reaction to that news tells me everything I need to know. She doesn’t have a clue why we’d look for anything in her car.
Sometimes I wish I could still be that naïve…that trusting of other people.
But not today. Today, I’m glad I’m listening to my instincts, so when I take Butch out of the equation, he’s out for good with no possibility of ever hurting Savannah again. In any way.
“I don’t understand. Why would you think I’d have drugs, Nick?” Pain flashes in her eyes. Hurt because I’d think so little of her.
“Savannah, I know better than that. I don’t think you’d do that at all. But I do think Butch has hidden them in your car, and I think he was so pissed off over not being able to get into your building’s garage to get them, he broke in to your apartment to look for the key. Then he attacked you when you walked in on him in the act.”
After helping her back to the couch, I order delivery for all of us. My friends will be hungry when they’ve finished with her car, and I need to make sure she eats more than enough to keep a bird alive, too. By the time the food delivery is expected, Tim and team join us inside the living room, smiles from ear to ear covering their faces. The delivery guy shows up just behind them, so I throw a couple of bills in his direction and tell everyone to help themselves after I fix Savannah’s plate.
Fine Line (Crossing Lines Book 1) Page 9