Fine Line (Crossing Lines Book 1)

by A. D. Justice

  “I’ve missed my best friend. I thought for sure you’d show up at Nick’s brownstone to see us.”

  Her head whips around in my direction, and she nearly jumps out of her seat. “Savannah! I’ve missed you too! Believe me, I was already headed out to the car with my keys in my hand when Spencer stopped me. He assured me you were in good hands before pressuring me to let Nick handle your care.” Her eyes scan my face and neck, noting each and every contusion, abrasion, and swollen spot. The green, black, red, and purple marks of the bruises are impossible to hide, no matter how hard I tried. But even if I’d had stage makeup that can hide full-body tattoos, Karen would still be able to find them. She lowers her voice and continues. “Spence told me that asshole did a number on you this time, but he didn’t accurately describe the severity. Dr. Wattress should’ve kept you inpatient.”

  “No, he shouldn’t have either. I know it looks bad, but I am on the mend. I have the best caregiver. He even dropped me off at the door while he parks the truck and walks in the cold alone.”

  “There’s your undercover lover now. There’s no mistaking his face—it’s on the news every day.” Karen smiles at Nick as he approaches. He walks directly to me, greets Spencer with one hand while the other wraps around me.

  “You must be Karen.” Nick accepts her extended hand. “Nick Tucker.”

  “It’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard all about you. Thanks to the news, I guess everyone knows your every secret now. I was looking forward to grilling you with my prepared questions, all 150 of them.” Karen breaks out into a full-face grin before she laughs, letting Nick know she’s only teasing.

  “Don’t believe everything you hear on the news. Fake news is a real thing, Karen. They’ve reported shit about me that I’ve never even heard of, so it makes me wonder what else I’ve believed without knowing the full truth. Besides, if I were really a superhero in disguise, Savannah would’ve already told you.” Nick looks down at me and winks.

  The hostess calls our name, and we follow her to the table. Over the next couple of hours, the four of us enjoy our meals, the company, and the ambiance of the restaurant. Not that Nick’s place isn’t great, but sometimes a girl needs to get dolled up and go outside. Even though staying home with Nick was more than appealing, I’m so glad we forced ourselves to leave and head out with friends tonight. We laugh, though I try to keep mine to a light chuckle. We make silly toasts in jest of each other. And we celebrate a momentous occasion.

  “I’d like to make a toast, and there’s no one I’d rather share this with.” Karen raises her glass, so the rest of us follow suit. “We just recently found out…Spencer and I are going to be parents. I’m pregnant!”

  My resulting yelp really, really hurts—but I wouldn’t take it back for the world. My best friend is going to have a baby, and I couldn’t be more thrilled for her. She rushes around the table to hug me, knowing I move like a senior citizen at the moment. With my arms around her neck, I squeeze her tightly and whisper my congratulations.

  “I’m so happy for you, Karen. I love you. You’ll be the best mom ever.”

  She wipes tears from the corner of her eyes and retakes her seat. “Thank you. It was definitely a surprise—we weren’t trying at all. My grandma always said no child is an accident. A surprise, maybe. A blessing, always. But never a mistake.”

  “I was wondering why you weren’t drinking wine. I thought it was in solidarity with me since I can’t have any with my pain meds.”

  “That’s exactly what it is, Savannah. I love you so much, I’d deprive myself of wine just because you can’t have any.”

  “You’re such a liar. You’d drink the whole bottle by yourself and leave me with none if you could.”

  After stuffing ourselves with the best Italian food DC offers and topping that off with the most decadent dessert on the menu, we say our goodnights and prepare to leave. Nick, being Nick, won’t let me out of the restaurant until he’s pulled the truck back to the front door to pick me up. Though I don’t expect the special treatment, I do love the way he takes care of me. The special touches he adds that show he’s put extra thought into the details.

  He really is the best man.

  Mom will be so impressed with him, she may even try to take him away from me and keep him all to herself.

  That thought makes me chuckle to myself.

  When the full-size truck rolls up to the curb, I hug Karen and Spencer good night, congratulate them again, and promise to make plans to just hang out—in comfortable clothes—again very soon. With that, Nick helps me into the truck and takes me home.

  Home.

  I keep using that word when I refer to wherever he is. It just feels so right.

  Back inside his brownstone, he helped me change out of my dressy clothes and back into my oversize T-shirt and comfortable yoga pants. He slid his fingers along my skin, checking my wounds while sharing his love. Every place he found a bruise, he left hot kisses to help it heal faster. Where there were abrasions, he lovingly stroked my skin, telling me the places would heal without leaving a single scar as a reminder. I only wanted help to change because holding my arms over my head to take the dress off alone was too much to ask after a night of sitting upright, talking, and laughing. But he gave me so much more than I asked for—he realized what I needed and gave it all to me freely.

  Though the doctor said to move around, all the excitement of the night zapped all my energy. We retreat to the couch to unwind from the festivities and chat about Karen’s surprise news. With all seriousness, I turn to face him and take his hand in mine.

  “Nick, you should know this about me. If it changes your mind about us, I will not think less of you. Just please be honest with me, that’s all I ask.”

  “Always will be. You can tell me anything, darlin’.”

  “I’ve had female problems as far back as I can remember. Skipped periods, extremely painful cycles, so much irregularity since puberty. I’ve had some tests done in the past, and it doesn’t appear I’ll be able to conceive. My body just doesn’t work like it’s supposed to, so babies probably aren’t a possibility for me. Ever.”

  I wait with bated breath for his response. What man would want a woman who can’t have children?

  “I’m still waiting for whatever it is that makes you think I wouldn’t want to be with you anymore. Was that it?”

  Thinking he’s obviously teasing me, my eyes fly up to meet his, and I’m already fighting back hot, stinging tears. But there’s no jest in his expression. There’s no falseness in his eyes. Once again, my undercover hero just reduced the entire mountain down to a molehill.

  “Yes, that was it. No kids, Nick. We can’t have a family. No little Nick Juniors running around the house. No one to carry on the family name and traditions.”

  “That’s not what you just said. You have medical issues that prevent you from getting pregnant. That’s fine. That doesn’t mean we can’t still have a full life and a large family if that’s what we decide we want. All that matters to me is I spend every day with you. You are the best part of my life, Savannah. Anything extra is just the cherry on top.”

  I’m blubbering. Again. Crying like a baby. Tears of joy streak my perfectly applied makeup. Black mascara pools on my fingers with every swipe. I can only imagine how much of a mess I must look like right now. “I love you so much, Nick. I never thought I could love someone so much, especially not so fast. And I swear I won’t spend the rest of my life crying like an idiot…but after everything I’ve been through, my emotions are a mess. I either shut down completely or cry uncontrollably. It’s embarrassing.”

  “Never be embarrassed with me…and never feel as if you have to hide any emotion from me. Sad tears, happy tears, sappy tears. They’re part of you, and I’ll take all of you I can get.” He leans over to kiss me, and I’m completely lost in this wonderful man beside me, until I hear my name being announced on the local evening news.

  “In this shot, you can see Speci
al Agent Nick Tucker out with his new leading lady. But we have serious questions about the nature of their relationship, and who Nick Tucker really is, behind the scenes. In this closeup picture, you can clearly see that Savannah Fields, Special Agent Tucker’s new flame, has bruising all over her face and neck that is consistent with domestic abuse.”

  All I can do is gape at the television.

  “And, with the new allegations surrounding Special Agent Tucker and the crimes he committed against women on behalf of the Devil’s Dominion motorcycle club, we have to ask the hard questions. Did the undercover outlaw gang life change Nick Tucker, the pride of the DEA? Is he physically and mentally abusing Savannah Fields? Were his crimes while undercover absolutely necessary in order to complete his mission, or did they conveniently hide his true colors behind the safety of his badge? We have more from eyewitnesses at the restaurant tonight who claim they overheard Miss Fields referring to the source of her injuries as none other than Nick Tucker himself. More news, coming up next.”

  Chapter 12

  Nick

  For the next ten minutes and thirty-seven seconds, I stare dumbfounded at the TV, listening to the news anchor drone on and on. About me. About my sins. About my crimes. The long litany of offenses bringing back every haunting memory as she reads each one off the teleprompter, speaking as if she knows every intimate detail about me.

  Hitchhiking females kidnapped off the street, brought into the fold, and forced into prostitution.

  Involvement in skirmishes with rival gangs, resulting in injuries and deaths.

  Women bought, sold, traded, or just plain given away within the club.

  Sheep, those who didn’t belong to any one biker, forced into street-level drug dealing on behalf of the club.

  Rampant physical and sexual abuse against any woman without a “property of” patch…and even some with the patch, with her man’s consent…from any and all members, at any time they choose, in any way they want.

  Every tick of the second hand makes the bile in my stomach churn even more. Any thought I had of leaving those deeds under the rug, neatly hidden from the light of day, is completely obliterated now. My chance to confess to Savannah and try to help her understand the circumstances I faced while undercover was just annihilated by a partially fake news report. The report of the crimes committed by the Devils was true. My part in those crimes was not true. Not that I can completely absolve myself of all the violations I allowed to happen, but I’d still prefer she heard it from me first.

  Time to face the music.

  “Savannah.” Her name leaves my lips before I dare to look at her, knowing the disappointment I’ll see on her face will gut me. I feel enough like a failure as it is. My gaze swings over to hers just as she wraps her hand around mine and squeezes it.

  “Nick, I can’t believe they’re comparing you to all those bikers and accusing you of doing this to me. You’re nothing like those men. You’d never hurt me. I’m calling them to set the record straight. This is bullshit.”

  “Wait, darlin’. Hold up a minute. No, I’d never hurt you, but I didn’t stop those guys from hurting all those other women. I’m just as guilty as they are—I watched them commit all kinds of unspeakable acts, and I did nothing. For two years, I was complicit in every crime they committed against those women. At first, I walked away from the scene so I wouldn’t say anything. But I could only do that for so long before they started to question me.”

  “Nick—I know all of this. Don’t you think I know you had to do things while undercover that you wouldn’t normally do? I’m glad you did, no matter what it was at the time. Thanks to you, those violent men are off the streets. They’re going to pay for their crimes. What you did was for the greater good—you were looking at the long game, no matter what it cost you in the short run. That takes more than guts and courage, Nick. That takes commitment and sacrifice.

  “You’re nothing like them, no matter what you had to do to seem like you were one of them. I know that, and I think deep down, you know too. You have to forgive yourself. I know that’s easier said than done, but it’s eating you alive and keeping you from being truly happy. You deserve as much happiness as anyone else. Even more. You gave up two years of your life to keep the rest of us safe from men like that. How many people would be willing to do that, much less put their life on the line every day of those two years? If the Devils didn’t turn on you, a rival gang could have. Or a drug cartel. Or anyone else.”

  “Why does it sound like such a good idea coming from you?”

  “Which part sounds good? What am I getting credit for?”

  “Convincing me to forgive myself and let it go. That I deserve at least that much after all I gave up over the last couple of years. For the record, the biker life is not the life for me. I learned I enjoy hot showers, soap, and soft beds on the regular.” At last, I can start to joke about serving hard time with a biker gang.

  “I’m glad to hear that. So, can I call the news now and tell them they got the story all wrong? That it was actually one of the Devils who did this to me—not you?”

  “Unfortunately, no. Somehow, I think they’d find an even bigger story in the fact that the ex-girlfriend of a former Devil is now living in my home and going out on dinner dates with me. The spin and sensationalism of that story would eclipse the false accusations that I beat you.”

  “Oh shit, Nick. I didn’t even think of it that way. What if that does get out? Will you be in trouble? I mean, I can explain everything—how it all happened.”

  “No one will believe it was all a coincidence, darlin’. If they don’t turn on me, they’ll turn on you and accuse you of using me to get your boyfriend out of trouble. Or some other bullshit about us fighting over you and you getting caught in the crossfire. There are so many possibilities of how that narrative could go.”

  We settle back on the couch, Savannah taking her time to find a comfortable spot snuggled next to me. The news is too depressing—and infuriating—so I change the channel and find something we will actually enjoy. Just when the chaos seems to die down and we can enjoy some alone time, my cell phone rings. This late at night, that’s never a good sign. I grab it off the coffee table and stare at the name on the caller ID for a moment before deciding to get it over with now instead of later.

  “Calvin. What can I do for you?”

  He starts yelling immediately, loud enough for Savannah to hear every word he says, even with the phone pressed against my ear. He rants and raves about my very public relationship with her, already knowing who she is but not realizing we were letting the rest of the world in on our little secret just yet.

  “Do you know how this looks, Tucker? You’re dating the former girlfriend of a member of the very gang we’re prosecuting. How fucking stupid are you? Don’t tell me you couldn’t keep your dick in your pants for a few months longer to give us time to send these assholes to prison! How can you not see this is a conflict of interest?”

  “How can it be a conflict of interest when she was never part of the gang? Her ex-boyfriend has been here over the last couple of years, not even an active member of the Devils after his assignment fell through. And I didn’t meet her until they’d already been arrested—under a multi-agency cooperative effort, by the way, and the charges had already been filed. This is standard spin-doctor bullshit, sir. My relationship with her doesn’t change the crimes they committed. They tried to murder a federal agent, for fuck’s sake!”

  “You should know as well as anyone that perception is key when it comes to how the public will view this. And right now, what everyone will see is that our lead undercover agent is sleeping with the fucking enemy.”

  “What do you suggest we do, sir? Hold a press conference? Do a few interviews?”

  “Did you fall and bust your fucking head? No. You don’t publicly say or do anything else. Get her out of your house and lay low until this shitshow blows over.”

  He hangs up without waiting for a reply from me. Jus
t as well, he wouldn’t have liked what I had to say anyway. Savannah isn’t going anywhere—at least not until the security system is in place and she’s mentally and physically ready to go back to her apartment. Not a moment before. And definitely not because my director thinks he can direct my personal life. After I turn off my cell phone for the night, I wrap my arms around Savannah and resume watching the movie with her.

  Like nothing happened.

  Because nothing did. Nothing wrong anyway. Everything between us is right. Right as rain.

  Before long, Savannah is sacked out in my arms, sleeping soundly after the excitement of our first date. I chuckle to myself over that term. Not because of how much it meant to her, but because of how backward our relationship is. We started living together before we ever had our first date. We were eyeballs-deep in love before we officially had dinner out together. And we were planning our future together before I met her best friend.

  But why not?

  Nothing else in my life has been traditional or had any semblance of normalcy. My time in the service was spent under constant fire, enemies around every corner waiting for the opportunity to wipe me from existence. When I worked for Steele Security, I was under similar circumstances, but on a much smaller scale. My private security time with Dominic Powers brought danger and near-death experiences. Now that I’m older, it’s nice to enjoy the simple pleasures in life and not wonder who’s lurking in the dark, waiting to blow up my Humvee with an IED.

  I’m finally at a place in my life where falling in love is a perk, not a burden.

  Savannah stirs in my arms, and a light moan escapes her lips. I look down at her, expecting her to wake and ask me to take her to bed. Instead, she tightens her grip around my waist and adjusts her head to a more comfortable spot on my chest. Another first for me—sleeping with a woman without fucking all night then sending her packing in the morning. Relationships were never in my bag of tricks before I met her. One-night stands that turned into full-weekend romps between the sheets were. Occasional friends with benefits—only the ones who weren’t looking for more—satisfied my itch.