Keegan nodded warily. “I think I need a drink.”
“And now I’m a bartender.”
“Actually, I am,” Keegan said, and moved toward the small stocked bar Gunner always had set up in the shop for after hours. He poured himself a whiskey and downed the shot, then handed one to all of them.
His hand shook and Reid knew it wasn’t just from what had happened with Gunner. He turned to Reid and said, “I want out. I left two days ago. Haven’t answered any of their calls. I hear there’s a bounty on my head.”
“Keegan, fuck,” Reid said as Gunner pulled a seat up and simply listened to their conversation.
Keegan shrugged. “It was time. Besides, after what I did, they were going to get really suspicious. More than they were. I don’t want shit to come down on your head.”
“What did you do?”
“Got you some intel you’d only be able to get if you hung around getting your head bashed in repeatedly. To be fair, I know you like that sometimes.” Keegan reached inside his jacket and handed him a file. Reid opened it to find pictures and credit card and banking info of three men.
“These are the ones in charge?”
“Yeah. The others took payouts to pretend they were. As far as the authorities know, they’re the men to track.”
“How much money is worth being followed for the rest of your life?”
Keegan smiled the smile of someone who truly knew the answer. “Nothing’s worth it.”
“Keegan, this is enough to keep the authorities off our backs, and we’ve got the right men to deal with.”
“Now you have to figure out what you’re going to do with it.”
“I’m going to let Dylan make that call. I’m a little too close to all of this,” Reid admitted, then turned to Gunner. “Can you help me make Keegan disappear?”
“What’s this, Gunner’s home for WITSEC runaways?”
“You’re good at it.”
“Flattery gets you shit,” Gunner told him.
“You owe me,” Reid pointed out.
“Don’t use my own karma against me,” Gunner warned, then turned to Keegan. “We’ve got to get rid of that jacket.”
Keegan slipped it off and pulled his T-shirt over his head as he said, “Forget the jacket. What are we going to do about this?”
The OA symbol took up most of his back.
Gunner just smiled. “I’ve got a few suggestions I think will work just fine.”
The delicious smells woke her from a sound sleep. Fresh beignets and coffee. Heaven. She was sore in the right places this time, and although she didn’t like waking to an empty bed, she could forgive it for this.
“You’re going to want more, aren’t you?” Reid said from the doorway. She nodded, mouth full, and she was pretty certain she had powdered sugar everywhere.
“Created a monster.” He took a sip from his own coffee and she realized that once again, she’d slept through most of the day. A glance at the clock said it was nearly five in the afternoon.
She could eat beignets morning, noon and night, she decided as she dressed quickly and followed him downstairs where there was more deliciousness on the table.
He waited until she’d finished, leaning back in the chair and nearly humming.
“Listen, I spoke with Dylan. He’s got Jack with him and I also got some other intel that should clear you both. Once we give it to the feds, they’re going to want to talk to you about testifying.”
“The intel was that good?”
“More than.”
“And then they’re going to want me to go into protection.”
“Probably. And not that I don’t trust the marshal service, but I’d much rather you stay with me and the rest of my team until the trial, if it comes to that. No strings. And then after that . . . you and I can go our separate ways.”
Her stomach sank. “Is that what you want?”
“I’m not doing this, Grier. I know what I want. I made it clear. Even after you nearly broke me in damned half with that stunt, I still helped you.”
“You didn’t invite me to the wedding.”
“You wouldn’t have taken my call,” he pointed out. “Besides, I might not have, but if you’d shown . . .”
“Reid . . .”
“Forget it. Look, we’re going to help you out of this mess, and then you can retire and move on with your life. Do what you have to.”
They had a lot of history, crammed into such a small space of time. She ached when she thought about how badly she’d hurt him, but still . . . “I can’t stay with you because you feel guilty, because you have this ridiculous notion that you’re always saved . . .”
“Ridiculous?” Reid asked, his voice so dangerous. She caught sight of Gunner staring at her from around the corner as Reid stalked away and left her sitting there at the big table in the back of the closed tattoo shop, and she wanted to bury her face in her hands and cry out these last few days.
Gunner plopped a beer down in front of her, followed by a bottle of whiskey and two shot glasses. And a pack of cigarettes. “I don’t know your vices, so pick one. Or all of them. I can get you more beignets too.”
She managed a smile. “Thanks.”
The beer would be enough, she thought. When she drank half down in a gulp, she motioned for him to pour her a shot and he did so.
“You know his history?” she asked Gunner finally.
“Do you?”
“I know about his mom,” she admitted.
“What about his teammate?”
“No.”
He pressed his lips together into a grim line and then said, “When a man believes in that, a man believes. You ever stop to think he might have every right to? You lost your sister—are you ever going to get over that guilt?”
She shook her head mutely.
“Multiply that and see how you feel.” His words were gentle but his eyes were pure steel.
“I didn’t
