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"I think I'd figure that out if I were you," Ian stated as he moved into the 206
passenger seat. "That's a damned good woman you're walking away from."
"Shut the fuck up, Ian," Nik ordered shortly, reversing from the drive and hitting the gas hard as he accelerated down the street.
"Now there's appreciation," Ian drawled in amusement. "When you get your head out of your ass and realize what you're risking, let me know. You might get smart enough in time not to lose her, and then again, you might not." Nik shot the other man a glare. "That's not possible. I won't risk her."
"You're not the first Elite Ops agent to fall in love and you won't be the last," Ian informed him. "I've watched four of you fall so far, and I'll be here to watch your commander go down fighting as well. Protecting your woman isn't your problem; it's protecting your heart."
Nik brought the truck to a hard stop in the middle of the street before turning back to the other man. "Get the fuck out or shut the fuck up." Ian chuckled as he gave an easy shrug. "It's your funeral, my friend. Drive on. I'll say no more."
His funeral. Fuck, he'd never felt more alive in his life than he did when he was with Mikayla. Just her being in the truck with him was enough to make him feel exhilarated, on top of a sensory overload that made no fucking sense. Accelerating once again, he fought to block Ian out, to get a handle on himself and the regret lacing through him. If Mikayla were there with him, the world would feel brighter, lighter. It would feel invigorated.
He would feel invigorated.
He'd been dead inside for so damned long that coming to live once again was damned painful. That was exactly what he felt as though he were doing, coming to fucking life.
As he and Ian pulled into the quarter-mile drive that led to Martin Kefler's threestory mansion, the stately brownstone looked too distinguished, too aristocratic, for the man Nik knew Martin Kefler to be.
As they pulled into the drive, double front doors opened and two black-suited bodyguards stepped out on the landing.
"We have a welcoming committee," Ian murmured.
Fuck, Nik was glad he left Mikayla home.
"Mr. Steele, Mr. Kefler is waiting inside. Could we have your weapons please?" One of the bodyguards held out his hand imperiously.
"I'm unarmed." Nik held his arms out while the other bodyguard produced a metal detector and began running it along the outline of his body.
He'd left his weapons in the truck. Kefler was dangerous but not nearly as dangerous as an Elite Ops agent and one of the most dangerous Navy SEALs America had ever produced.
Satisfied they weren't carrying, the bodyguards moved aside as Nik and Ian stepped into the luxuriously appointed marble-floored foyer.
They were escorted through the house into an office that could have belonged to any of the major CEOs in the world.
"Damn, and here we're told crime doesn't pay, Nik," Ian commented mockingly as the doors closed behind them, leaving them alone in the office with an illegitimate son of one of America's most dangerous crime bosses.
207
"Mr. Richards." Kefler rose to his feet, his penetrating hazel eyes staring back from an imperious face. "I must say, you do your father justice in your bearing as well as your insolence."
"Well, you know what they say, blood tells," Ian quipped sarcastically, though Nik was well aware of the fact that Ian's father, a former Colombian drug lord, was a sore spot with the other man.
"Do tell." Kefler's brows arched as he tugged at the expensive leather belt cinching the charcoal gray slacks at his waist.
Pushing the long sleeves of the silk white shirt up his arms, Kefler grinned before waving them to the chairs in front of his desk. "Have a seat, my friends. I must say, I feel rather privileged to be sitting in such august company. The son of perhaps one of the most lethal drug lords in Colombia, and a mercenary of such bloodthirsty tendencies that he could give even me a few uncomfortable moments."
Nik grunted at the mockery.
"I must say," Kefler continued, "I was pleased to learn you weren't bringing Ms. Martin. Her reputation is one any woman could envy. A trip here would perhaps sully it." Self-deprecation curved his lips before he glanced at them again. "What can I do for you?"
"As I'm sure you already know, I'm looking into the death of Eddie Foreman," Nik told him.
"I heard." Kefler nodded, his expression turning serious. "Just as I've heard Ms. Martin has been threatened several times. Eloise was distressed to hear that. So much so that I've been attempting to gain some information on the problem myself." Nik arched a brow. "And did you learn anything?"
Kefler's lips quirked into a grin. "Not much, I'm afraid." Nik stared back at him. "It seems I've learned a few things, though. Things such as the fact that Eddie owed you a lot of money and he wasn't paying." Kefler blinked back at Nik. "A small amount," he admitted. "I must say, a few of my men were looking for him when we received word that he had been killed."
"Were you behind the murder?" Nik asked straightforwardly. With a man such as Kefler, subtlety wasn't always the answer.
