He was already a memory

* * * * *

Nick

Nick stood at the window, teeth clenched, muscle jumping in his cheek and he watched her walk to her car.

Total poise.

Like a princess.

His princess.

The adult one.

“Shit,” he whispered.

She got in her Range Rover and drove away.

And she did that not once looking up.

Not once.

That was good.

If she’d looked, he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself going after her.

It was better this way for everybody.

Especially Olivia.

* * * * *

7:19 p.m. – That Next Friday

Nick stared at the texts on his phone.

Are you okay?

Missed yesterday. Tonight?

Sebring, is everything okay?

After that, nothing.

His head shot up and his mouth got tight when he saw Turner had slid on the stool next to him. He’d slid off that stool five minutes ago to use the bathroom. He’d returned and Nick was so deep in thought about Olivia, he didn’t feel him come back.

“Responses kinda slow, Sebring,” Turner murmured, eyeing him closely.

Nick didn’t reply. He looked away from his friend, lifting his drink to throw the rest of it back, his eyes catching on a woman’s at the end of the bar who was looking at him.

She gave him the smile that was his opening.

He looked away and threw back his whisky.

He returned his attention to Turner.

“I need another way to get at Harkin and Shade,” he told him.

Turner held his gaze, his lips now thinned.

They unthinned so he could ask, “Are you serious?”

Nick saw the bartender pass, got his attention and jerked up his chin before tipping his head to Eric.

The bartender nodded.

Nick looked back to Turner. “Olivia’s not gonna work.”

“Because she doesn’t know dick that’ll help you or because you like havin’ your dick in her too much to use her to help you?” Turner asked.

“We’re not discussing that,” Nick stated. “You don’t have any ideas, all right. You got thoughts on Olivia you feel like sharing, that’s not happening.”

“Seems there’s a pattern with you, work a job, get pussy during it, you fall for it.”

Nick turned fully to Eric.

“Careful,” he warned.

Turner tilted his head to the side mockingly. “Careful, me talkin’ trash about Hettie or careful me talkin’ trash about Olivia fuckin’ Shade?”

“You hear me say we’re not talkin’ about this?” Nick asked.

“I hear you say we’re not talking about Olivia fuckin’ Shade,” Eric returned.

“Yeah, that’s what I said,” Nick confirmed.

Turner’s expression shifted from seriously annoyed to pissed before he clipped, “Jesus, brother. She’s Olivia fucking Shade.” He got close and bit out low, “The daughter of the man who ordered Hettie executed.”

Nick’s response was just as low. “I might be wrong but I think I remember that better than you.”