Hell on Wheels (Black Knights Inc. #1)(71)

“The guy has two known accomplices,” Chelsea went on to explain. “One Frankie ‘The Shark’ Costa, and one Johnny Vitiglioni, who happens to be his cousin. Each of them has done hard time, and they all have rap sheets that read like your worst nightmare and that’s before you start talking about all the things they’re suspected of. Jesus, Z, what’ve you gotten yourself involved in this time?”

This time. As if he was notorious for finding himself on the wrong side of the equation. He wasn’t…except for that one time, but that one time had been enough to ensure his previously sterling reputation was ruined for all eternity. Even Chelsea, whom he thought still believed in him, obviously couldn’t completely ignore what had happened.

“Thanks for your help, Chels,” he said, ignoring her last question. “I gotta go.”

“Z, I didn’t mean—”

He hung up the phone before he could hear what she didn’t mean, because whatever she was about to say would be a lie. She did mean it.

He wanted to scream, “It wasn’t my fault! I was duped!” But what good would that do? None. It wouldn’t change the past. Nothing could.

And his personal problems just weren’t important right now, because Senator Alan Aldus had hired himself a group of thugs to take out Alisa Morgan and Nate Weller, and Dagan was going to do his damndest to make sure that didn’t happen.

Was he putting his neck on the line, trying to redeem himself for what happened three years ago?

Yeah, maybe.

But didn’t everyone deserve a little redemption?

***

“So, how’d you get this scar?”

Nate groaned and pulled Ali more on top of him, lifting her chin so he could kiss the chatter right out of her mouth.

Two hours.

She’d allowed him two blissful hours of the most glorious, peaceful sleep he’d had in years and then she’d awoken him by peppering his chest with sweetly hot kisses.

He was totally on board with the hot kisses, but engaging in conversation while she was naked—Ali was in his arms, naked—rated real low on his Things I’d Like to Do Right Now list.

She kissed him back, full-on tongue action that had all thought draining right out of his head. Then suddenly she pulled back, circling the big, puckered scar high up on his right shoulder with a soft fingertip. “This one. How’d you get it?”

He sighed; obviously she wasn’t going to let it go.

“Bad reflexes,” he reluctantly admitted, trying to reclaim her mouth, but the exasperating woman eluded him.

“Bad reflexes? What does that mean?”

“It means I zigged when I shoulda zagged.”

The look she gave him was so perturbed and so darn cute, he couldn’t help but chuckle.

“We got caught in a firefight between two rival drug cartels, and I just happened t’run into a stray bullet.”

She pressed herself up on her arms and glanced down his naked torso. “Just how many times have you been shot?”

“Enough t’know one time is too many.”

“Are you always this evasive?”

“Yep.”

She scowled, and his big stupid heart flipped over because there went her nose again.

“If we start catalogin’ all my scars,” he told her, “we’re gonna be here ’til next week, sugar. Unfortunately, a pretty, scar-free body isn’t part of my job description.”

“Hmm,” she relented and laid her head against his good shoulder. “I think you have a beautiful body, scars and all.

Women, geez, you just gotta love ’em. Somehow they could see beauty in everything. Scars, old dilapidated buildings, newborn babies…

Nate’d seen a few of the latter. They were always wrinkly, tended to be the wrong color, and there was usually something very wrong with the shape of their little heads. He was contemplating this last bit and didn’t realize how long she’d been quiet until she said, “Nate?”

“Yep?”

“How do you do it?”

“Do what, sugar?”

“Your job. Do you ever get used to it?”

Geez, this woman…this woman was determined to rip his heart out every which way.

He didn’t talk about this stuff…ever. Not even with Grigg.

But here was this woman he loved, asking him the tough questions, and for the first time he realized he wanted to talk about it. With her.

“No,” he swallowed as a myriad of bloody memories washed over him. So much horror. So much death. He looked at his hands, as he did every so often. They were broad and tough, and he was always surprised to find them unstained by the amount of blood he’d spilled. “You never get used to it.”

She shuddered against him, and he pulled her closer, tucking her head more firmly beneath his chin. Rubbing her crown with his beard stubble, he inhaled the earthy scents of sex and dried blood. Overlaying it all was Ali’s sweetly clean aroma.

“Grigg would never talk to me about it,” she said in a little voice.

“That’s because y’don’t really wanna hear, sugar. Grigg was just protectin’ you.”

“But I do want to hear about it. Grigg was the one person I had, Nate. The one person who loved me best, loved me more than anyone. And I didn’t even know him,” her voice cracked on the last words.