Page 107 of Summer Heat
“They’re assholes.”
“They’re men. And it’s done.”
“I’ll be down the block, at my pick-up location.”
Roman walked toward her. “You’re barefoot.”
“Maybe stupidity runs in the family.”
“Let me give you a ride.” Her brother shrugged.
“No. I’m not compromising the safe house, and I’m not compromising you.”
“You can stop with the ‘I’m-going-to-protect-you’ bullshit. I’m more than capable of watching my ass, kiddo.”
“I’m done with you two today. You can call me later.” She turned for the door, and looked over her shoulder. Roman remained in place. Rocco was back to watching television, but Cash remained silent, watching her, still breaking her heart. “Bye, Roman, Rocco.” She paused, trying to swallow the pain. It hurt to walk away from him again. “Cash… bye.”
***
The pressure in Cash’s head had nothing to do with any fist-fight hangover. He and Roman had woken up, exchanged a few very calm words, and decided the best course of action was to go to blows and call history done.
Cash should’ve told Roman, “Fine. It was decided.” They’d had a bro-code of twelve-year-olds, but at least they were consistent, and, honestly, Cash needed to spar. The throw-down had been so damn needed, to work out without thinking, expend the energy, face down the past with a violent rawness. Plus, they’d both use it as an excuse not to hit the gym later. Sparring and fighting was a workout.
Fuck.
The fight had done nothing for the real problem. Yeah, it had cleared the air between him and Roman—mostly. But Cash couldn’t shake that hurtful burden hanging tight around his heart. Today, he had to let Nicola leave. Just another operative passing in the wind. They’d meet up again later sometime. If he wanted to…? If she did?
His bunched fists tightened, and all he had to do was to remain on the couch, not chasing the girl down. But that voice, that sad-sounding goodbye killed him.
He shifted, almost turning, almost following, to insist that he give her a ride, that they talk, shout, fight, fuck… That he kiss her. Touch her hair, check her injuries. Anything to get his hands on her.
Instead, Cash cracked his neck and tried to breathe. All eyes weren’t on him, but it sure as heck felt as if they were. No one cared about where his head was at, but this morning, Cash nearly had to glue his ass to the couch to keep from getting up and knocking on Nicola’s door. And knowing every minute she was farther away, when she had just reappeared? Gutted. That was the only way to describe how he felt.
Roman cleared his throat. “Yeah, I need more coffee.” He headed into the kitchen.
Cash nodded, saying nada and choking on a million confusing thoughts.
Rocco flipped through a few channels then tossed the remote down on the table. “You doing okay, brother?”
Cash pinched the bridge of his nose, needing that bite of pain where a bruise had started to form. “No.”
“I wouldn’t be, either.”
***
Ouch. Maybe Nicola should’ve let Roman give her a ride. This sidewalk had way more gravel than her busted
foot needed. She hopped over another stone. In the land of manicured lawns and matching Range Rovers, someone should really take care of their gravel issues.
She rounded the corner and waited on the park bench. No cell phone, but at least Rocco had given back her gun. Like a thugged-out gangster, she tucked it into the waistband of the men’s sweatpants. Everything she wore smelled like Cash. Sitting there, ignoring the previous night’s events, it was the only thing she noticed.
Her first stop would be the nearest Target or Walmart for footwear and clothes. There was no way she was going anywhere dressed like the aftermath of a one-night stand with a gym rat.
A blacked-out SUV rolled up, a little early, but fitting the right description. The window rolled down. A pleasant looking woman Nicola had never seen before smiled.
“Gabriella? So nice to see you again after our play date with Beth.”
Code words, ding, ding. Play date and Beth. Nicola smiled and responded as directed by her handler. “My car broke down. Could you take me to the service station?”
