She turned to him, her lashes lifted. “Wears on you?”
“Hell, yes. That’s why I’m getting out. I’m done and gone after this, and never looking back.”
A hint of pain tinged his voice. She’d almost forgotten. “I’m sorry about Flores.”
He shrugged, but he didn’t look at her. “It’s done. He’s done. That’s what counts.”
“Do you want to know why he did it?”
“Nope,” he said, glancing at her. “He was part of an attempt on our lives. He couldn’t give me a reason that would matter. They’ll suspend him and hold him for questioning until we get back and then I’ll give them what they need to lock him away for good.”
She drew a long, hard breath. This had hurt him. Betrayal hurt. If he wasn’t ready to leave his job before this, she imagined that Flores had sealed the deal. Still…“You really think you can simply shut off this world. Forget this part of your life?”
He answered quickly, as if he’d given the question a lot of consideration before she’d asked it. “For a while. Then, I’ll see where to go from there. I haven’t had time to spend my money so I invested it. I have time to decide. Private hire work is an option. It would be nice to choose my own battles.”
She turned away from him, lost in her own thoughts. Choose my own battles. She figured she’d done that by joining the U.S. Attorney’s office. Now, she wasn’t so sure. The battles sure seemed to be picking her these days. The internal emotional battle to find her place—the reason she’d made a career change—still existed, never letting her find peace.
Nicole had opened this conversation with Constantine looking to blame him for how out of control she felt. But the truth was, he not only wasn’t to blame, his words, his actions, made sense to her. He made sense to her. He’d saved lives today, acted bravely. He was a hero. A hero who didn’t always play by the rules, but he always had good intentions.
She admired him. She desired him. She felt safer with him near. And she feared him. Or maybe she feared herself and simply hated him for making her look deep enough to know it.
Once again, she came to the conclusion he always led her to—Constantine was dangerous. And that danger, she feared, was becoming an addiction she wondered if she would ever recover from.
Chapter Seventeen
CONSTANTINE HAD BARELY spoken to Nicole during the grueling hours in traffic, making the short trip to Houston progress far too slowly. But then, that was the idea. He wanted to get lost in the midst of the evacuation chaos. But along the way, he got lost in his own internal struggles. Now, walking down the hall of the high-end, high-security, downtown hotel toward their room, Nicole by his side, Constantine warned himself to dump the emotional garbage. It was dangerous, deadly, distracting.
The truth was, being betrayed by Flores had bitten him pretty hard, but it was nothing in comparison to when he’d climbed up to the deck of that boat and discovered Nicole was missing. That moment had pierced him with sheer terror. A feeling he’d had only once before—when he got the call about his brother.
Nicole had gotten under his skin, and apparently past an emotional barrier that he didn’t know could be penetrated. He was pissed at her for running off, at himself for becoming susceptible to Nicole. People around him had short life spans. It was the curse of his world.
For the second time in an hour, Constantine shoved open the door to their room. “You’re sure you have everything?” he asked, dropping a handful of bags on the floor and then locking up. They’d checked in under an alias, surveyed the room and then left to stock up heavily on items they might need for their extended stay. “We can’t leave for anything. And I can’t stress that enough. It’s dangerous. We slid in here as part of the background to the craziness of the storm. Once that calms, we’ll get more attention. We’re here to stay.”
Nicole sat down on the bed, settling several large Macy’s bags on the mattress beside her. She’d been tentative with him the entire shopping spree, no doubt because of his foul mood, or perhaps she was still angry over how he’d treated that patrolman back in Padre.
“I have everything I need,” she confirmed. “And thank you.” She hesitated and repeated a question she’d asked several times before. “You’re sure the department will reimburse you, right?”
If he answered truthfully, no. The department only covered basics, but he’d be damned if he’d admit that. Convincing her to shop from his wallet had taken heavy prodding. He expected the claustrophobia would kick in after two days of staying in the room, so having some of her personal comforts would help. Even people without a phobia got restless fast.