It was on the tip of Dillon's tongue to ask how Nasa knew about those small details, but considering she was surrounded by private investigators, the most logical answer was she'd been thoroughly investigated.
Dillon finished peeling the sweet potatoes, tossed the peels, and washed her hands to eat her snack before she sat down, just in time for Nasa to drop a cherry bomb in her lap.
“Veracruz and the bulk of his team had to head out on another job today. Tobias and Duke are staying behind, but you won't see either of them without fair warning.”
Dillon paused with a cucumber slice mid-Ranch dunk, feeling the fine tremor that went through her at the mere mention of Tobias's name.
She was definitely getting better about not flying off the handle or giving into the knee-jerk reaction to go for the knives she had concealed on her person whenever she saw Tobias or heard his voice.
Her pulse was still in jack-hammer mode, the scars on her back gave a twinge, and the remnants of her past tried to claw their way up from the black pit, where they lived, for a visit.
She must have been sitting there staring at the cucumber in her shaking hand for too long because Nasa said her name with a firm note of command, snapping her back to reality in an instant.
That tone... there must have been magic in it, because from one racing heartbeat to the next, she was calm and focused.
Fascinated by the instant ON/OFF switch Nasa somehow flipped inside her, she looked up at him with a frown, which he took as a negative response.
“Revision: you won't see them at all. I'll make sure of it.”
With lips once again dry and papery as a response to her body preparing to fight or run, it took her a few moments to speak audibly.
She shook her head and swallowed roughly, which was communication enough for Nasa to get her a cold water bottle from the fridge.
He uncapped it in front of her and waited patiently for her to sip and swallow a few times.
“Don't change their routine on my account. I need to get a handle on my bullshit,” Dillon finally managed, struggling to sit still under Nasa's unwavering stare.
The only other person to ever give her such a penetrating look was her therapist, and Dillon decided she needed to stop dragging her feet about an appointment.
“PTSD isn't bullshit, Dillon.” Again with that black velvet tone. Only this time, the shiver that vibrated through her wasn't due to fear or anxiety. “You told Tobias you stopped going to therapy. Why?”
It wasn't any of his business, but for reasons unknown, Dillon found herself answering anyway, “Because like most people who do a lot of therapy, I was lulled into a false sense of accomplishment.
"I thought I'd made progress and had a good enough handle on my issues to stop all the talk therapy. Facing Tobias made it pretty damn clear I was wrong.”
Nasa frowned so hard, his two eyebrows became one. “I know you must feel embarrassed, but there was no way to prepare for what seeing Tobias after ten years would do to you. Having a traumatic reaction isn't something to beat yourself up over.”
Dillon agreed it wasn't her finest moment, and to be honest, the nightmares she'd had since seeing Tobias last week hadn't abated in the least. She needed to talk it out. Soon.
“Oh, I'm embarrassed,” she muttered darkly. “But tripping and falling off the deep end isn't what's pissed me off. I dropped my gun.”
Nasa's long, dark blonde eyelashes fluttered up and down twice before he said—with no small amount of incredulity— “What?”
“I dropped my gun,” she repeated, waving her hand at herself as she fanned the fire of that mistake. “I completely lost my shit and couldn't keep it together long enough to give Elka any sort of command to stay with me, protect me, or help me at all.
"The only things coming out of my mouth were hysterical screams, which are utterly useless when you're in life or death situation.
“If Tobias had been there to kill me instead of help me, I'd have been a sitting duck. Elka attacked Tobias on her own because I didn't give her any direction.
"She could have killed him, or been killed, because I was dumb and didn't keep up with my therapy.”
Dillon crossed her arms over her chest and slouched on the bar stool, giving a mental finger to the sarcastic voice inside her head, telling her what an obviously defensive posture it was.
“Joshua Warren taught me all sorts of coping mechanisms and how to work with Elka to ensure I could defend and protect myself, but it went out the window in two seconds flat. I forgot everything and let the panic take over.
“I need to call and make an appointment with my therapist, but it's been so long I'll have to jump through a fuck ton of hoops with her C-word receptionist. Maybe I can make a virtual appointment.”
Dillon said that last part more to herself than to Nasa, but he responded quite negatively.
“No way in hell are you making a virtual appointment to discuss your private shit across an open line.
"Even if Ghost wasn't a problem I haven't solved yet, there is no way to know how secure a video-chat room is or who's running facial recognition somewhere in the background.
“Can't tell you how many fucktards I've nailed utilizing their home computer during a video chat. Who's your doctor?
"If she doesn't have an appointment within the next two days, I know two of the best therapists in Texas.”
“I'm kind of surprised you don't know who I go to already,” Dillon said, forcing a note of humor into her tone despite the fact she was truly surprised Nasa didn't know every detail of her life.
He gave a slightly peevish sniff, but
