Each ring reverberated against his innards, making him shift in his office chair. These conversations were likely to be as comfortable as an eyeful of sand, which should have the upside at least of distracting him from the fact that Becca had decided to soak in a hot bath down the hall—
Someone picked up. Then there was a long pause that made Rixey press the phone more firmly to his ear. “Nick,” Shane finally said. “Long time.” There was nothing welcoming in the man’s voice. His words were clipped so tight they even hid his usual hint of a southern drawl.
Rixey expected nothing less. “Shane. I know. And I’m sorry for that—”
“Save it.”
Shit. Rixey blew out a breath. “I fucked up.”
“You calling to walk down memory lane?”
In for a penny . . . “No. I got a situation.”
Shane’s humorless laugh was like a fist to the gut. “You calling me for a favor, Nick Rixey?”
No sense beating around the bush, not when the damn thing was on fire and throwing off sparks all over the place. “Yeah, I am.”
“Son of a bitch.”
“Pretty much. Will you at least hear me out?”
“You’re seriously asking me that question?” Rixey had to pull the cell away from his ear. “After months of refusing to answer a single one of my phone calls or shoot back an email? Hell, a message saying ‘Fuck you very much’ would’ve been better than the friggin’ silent treatment.”
“You’re right.”
“Damn straight I am.”
Shane was entitled to every bit of his anger, but Nick didn’t have time for the kind of venting his friend would require before they could ever have a chance to be squared away. Time to cut to the chase. “My situation has something to do with Merritt’s extracurricular activities.” At least that was the conclusion his brain kept coming back to when he tried to make sense of what Charlie’d told Becca. And now with Becca’s police reports conveniently disappearing from record? Man, that took him right back to the cover-ups after the ambush.
An arctic blast made its way down the line. “I’m listening. For now.”
It was enough of an opening. The rest of the story should blow it wide. “Fair enough. Somehow that shit spilled stateside and landed on Merritt’s kids. Son’s missing. Daughter came to me for help and was nearly kidnapped today. Both their houses have been tossed. Someone’s looking for something.”
“And I should care about the old man’s kids why?”
Rixey thought about this for a moment, shoving down the knee-jerk responses and really chewing on what he thought could possibly be at stake. Finally, he said, “Because my gut’s telling me what our bad guys are looking for is somehow connected to what happened to us. And there just might be an opportunity here to get our hands on some intel that would allow us to prove our innocence, to prove that we were railroaded right out of the damn Army. I’m talking about a chance to reclaim our honor. For the five of us—and for the six who never made it off the road that day.” He never counted Merritt among the losses, not when he’d caused them. Was the same reason the tat on his arm only commemorated six soldiers.
“Shit,” Shane said, the southern lilt returning to his words. “Just how far out on a limb are you with that bit of speculation?”
“Possibly pretty far. Maybe all the way.” But Rixey had heard the consideration in his friend’s voice. “But maybe closer than I think, too.”
“Your gut’s a fucking burr on my balls.”
The corner of Rixey’s mouth twitched. Come on, Shane.
“When do you want me?”
On Becca’s behalf, relief had Nick easing against the chair’s backrest to let his head fall back. He stared at the ceiling. “As soon as you can get here. Tonight.”
“Course you do. Fucker.” Rixey could almost hear the wheels turning in McCallan’s brain. “Fine. I’ll throw some things in a bag and hit the road. You still at your brother’s?”
“Yeah.”
“With rush hour, it’ll probably take me an hour and a half to get there.”
“Roger that. And thanks.”
Shane disconnected without a reply.
Pulling the phone from his ear, Rixey prepared to eat his next big helping of crow. His next of three. Only question was whether Beckett Murda, Edward Cantrell, and Derek DiMarzio would give him the same chance as Shane.
And there was only one way to find out.
BECCA CAME AWAKE on a gasp, the sensation of being watched sending her heart into an immediate sprint. After her bath, which she’d had to keep on the shallow side because of the stitches, she’d curled up on the couch and turned the TV on for background noise while she’d waited for Nick to finish with his calls and his friend Miguel to arrive. But the combination of her recent lack of sleep and the aftereffects of the attack at the hospital had made it impossible to keep her eyes open. Her nap hadn’t been particularly restful, though, as nightmares kept jolting her into bleary-eyed consciousness. She pushed up onto her elbow and found Nick standing at the foot of the sofa.