It fucking was.
They blew a hole in her head right in front of him two fucking days ago.
So yeah.
It was way too fucking soon.
“You’re here,” Knight decreed like his big brother was prone to decreeing, this happening Nick’s whole life. “You’re here with your family until you can sleep easy. I’ll give you time. We’ll talk it through later.” He held Nick’s eyes as he lifted a hand and curled it around the side of Nick’s neck, squeezing firmly. “But just gonna say, fuckin’ proud of you. I’m sorry for you. I hurt for you. But I’m fuckin’ proud of you.”
Nick didn’t want that to feel good.
He’d spent his whole life wanting that from his brother. His father. Fuck, even his mother, who loved him like crazy, had spoiled him, but he knew she didn’t think he’d amount to much. Not like her glory boy. Not like she knew her Knight would do.
And she was right, everything Knight touched turned to gold.
Nick had also spent a lot of time and energy trying to beat the need out of himself to make his family proud.
Then he’d spent a lot of time doing whatever he wanted to do to feel good despite knowing they wouldn’t, chase whatever highs life offered to drown out that need, convince himself he didn’t give a fuck what they thought.
And when his brother took what Nick wanted, namely Anya, Nick had pulled some lame-ass bullshit in order to try to tear them apart. Bullshit that, if it was Knight who did it to him, he wouldn’t give a fuck two days ago the woman Knight loved had a hole blown into her head. He would not be standing in his sweet crib telling Knight he was proud of him.
But the fact remained it felt good, his brother giving him that. It felt good because it was from Knight.
And it felt good because he knew Knight was right to be proud.
Last, it felt good because he knew she died proud of her man.
Even with all that, he just muttered, “Thanks.”
Knight took his hand away. “Watch a movie. Read a book. Try to get some rest.”
He wouldn’t be doing any of that. He still nodded.
Knight studied him a second then nodded too and walked out of the room, saying before closing the door behind him, “See you in the morning.”
Nick turned his attention back to the lights of Denver.
Within moments, the city went out of focus and all Nick could see was his reflection in the glass. He could also feel the sweat trickling down his spine, pooling around his balls, the agony radiating through his muscles as he struggled against the restraints.
He lifted his hands and looked down, seeing at his wrists the scabs, deep scratches and pus-colored broken skin of cuts so deep they had not yet begun to heal.
He’d used those hands. For once in his life, he’d used those hands and his head and his gut and his strength and his courage and everything he had in him to do right.
Not for himself.
Not for his dad.
Not for his mom.
Not for Knight.
For her.
The mission had only marginally succeeded.
But she was gone.
*
Three Weeks Later
“I’m out.”
Nick said this firmly, looking right into FBI Special Agent Eric Turner’s eyes.
“I get that,” Turner replied quietly.
Nick didn’t want to give him what he had to give to him next. He didn’t used to be that guy. He didn’t used to be the guy who found it in him to do the right thing.
But the man he was now, the man she taught him to be, he gave it to him.
“You were right. I shouldn’t have gotten involved with her.”
“Shit happens, Nick,” Turner responded. “It was really her as an agent who shouldn’t have blurred those lines but that can happen to anyone. I had a job once. A job that involved a girl and it happened to me. I fell for her. It wasn’t right but I couldn’t stop it. I lost her too.” His gaze grew intense as he hid a flinch. Knowing he’d said the wrong thing, he finished quickly, “Not like you lost Hettie. But I fell hard for her and she’s still not mine.”
Nick didn’t want to sit around listening to Turner telling tales he hoped would help Nick feel better. Turner knew no words would make that happen.
There was only one thing that would make Nick feel better.
Turner knew that too.
Which was why he asked, “You gonna stay in town?”
Fuck yes, he was gonna stay in town.
“Yeah,” Nick answered.
At that, Turner did what a lot of people were doing these days.
He studied Nick closely before he said, “Doesn’t feel like it, but with time, it’ll hurt less. It just will, Nick. Give it time and then get on with your life.”
Turner had no fucking clue what he was talking about. He didn’t know what girl Turner fell for but if she wasn’t dead, never to see her again, never to smell her hair, taste her *, listen to her laugh, eat the fried eggs she always broke the yolk when she flipped them over, knowing she wouldn’t give that to him or to anyone…
If he didn’t survive that then he had not one fucking clue what he was talking about.