Sebring
Now she was gone.
He threw back the covers, knifed out of bed and saw the door to the bathroom open. Seeing that, he prowled through the house but stopped when he saw her out in one of the Adirondack chairs on the back deck.
She was sipping coffee and staring at the mountain view.
He drew in breath, let it out, retraced his steps, took a piss, washed his hands, brushed his teeth and headed back out, straight to the coffeepot.
He got his cup and kept his gaze on his girl as he moved out the back door to join her.
She looked over her shoulder at him, her face soft, untroubled, and Nick relaxed more.
Approaching her at the back, he stopped behind her, bent, and kissed the top of her head.
She gave him a small smile as he straightened and she turned back to facing the mountains as he moved to the chair situated close beside her.
He settled.
They sipped.
No words were said.
But she’d been there days and they hadn’t talked much. There were other things to do. Show her the house. The town. Familiarize her with the area. She’d unpacked the surprisingly little she’d brought. They got groceries. They cooked. They slept. They fucked.
Now there were things she had to know.
“We’re covered, baby,” he said to the rim of his cup. “You know I owned that building where my place was. Sold my place and the building. Knight bought out my stake of the club. Hawk Delgado is lookin’ after my boys. He gets a cut, I get my take. And I got healthy investments. We got no worries here. We’re good.”
She held her cup close to her mouth, eyes to the view, and didn’t respond.
“We gotta get you a car,” he continued. “Go into Nashville, get you some more clothes—”
“Stop,” she said in her delicate voice.
Nick stopped.
She didn’t start, she just stared at the view.
“Liv—”
Still in that voice, she cut him off, “My job to make it worth it.”
Nick didn’t like that.
“That’s not how it works,” he stated.
Finally, she turned to face him.
“You’re wrong. It is. I get it now. It was your job to do all that. Now it’s my job to make it worth it.”
“Babe, this is just our life how we gotta live it.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “It’s our life. It’s your purpose in this life to take care of me. And it’s my purpose to give that back.”
He tried to read her, thought he got a bead, and said, “You don’t gotta make any grand gestures.”
But he’d read her wrong.
“You’re right, I don’t. You love me and I have one simple task. To make that worth it.”
“That’s not gonna be hard, baby, you do that by breathing.”
Wet welled in her eyes as she held his.
Then she leaned his way. Dropping her cup to the arm of the chair, she reached her other hand out to slide the tips of her fingers along the stubble at his cheek. Up, she smoothed the hair over his forehead. Back down, she cupped his jaw.
“I think, if you don’t mind, sweetheart, I’ll put a little more effort into it,” she murmured.
Fuck, he loved her.
“Knock yourself out,” he murmured back.
Her glistening eyes smiled and she slid her thumb over his cheekbone, his lips, before she took her hand away and settled back in with Nick and their view.
“One regret,” she said quietly.
Fuck.
He looked to her profile.
It was still untroubled.
“What?” he asked when she spoke no more.
She turned to him. “I never got a ride in your Jag.”
He bit back laughter.
“No worries, Livvie. It’s in storage. We’ll get it back.”
Her green eyes smiled, this time bright and carefree, and she turned back to the view.
Nick did too.
He gave her time. He gave himself time. When the peace settled deep, it was time for something else.
“You want breakfast?” he asked.
She turned to look at him again and when she did, her eyes had a different look. A look he felt in his cock.
“French toast,” she answered.
That was when Nick’s eyes smiled.
* * * * *
Five Weeks Later
He knew it the minute his stomach clutched, pushing bile up his throat so severe, in reaction to it his body convulsed right off the commissary stool.
“Clear! Clear!”
It was a bellow but it sounded far away.
His frame spasmed violently, pain raking his body as the foam filled his mouth.
A shadow crossed over his closed eyes.
He opened them to see the prison guard leaning near.
He bent closer. So close, he disappeared.
The foam slid from his lips.
The whisper came in his ear.
“Sebring’s got a message. He wants you to know you shouldn’t worry. He’s gonna do what you didn’t. He’s gonna take care of Livvie.” The guard pulled away, doing it shaking his head. “You shouldn’t have hit her, man,” he went on. “This woulda gone a lot different if you hadn’t.”
Foam and spittle bubbled out of his mouth.
“For that, you pay,” the guard continued and again got close, “For Hettie, you burn in hell.”
The guard again pulled back but stayed kneeling beside him, staring in his eyes.
So he was the last thing he saw before Vincent Shade died.
* * * * *
Nine Weeks Later
The day had been long. All they’d seen was hard, cold road the length of it.
They hadn’t even stopped to eat.
After they checked in, she demanded they eat.