CHAPTER 19
The Armory was a blur of activity, with that crisp, focused vibe that said the Hudson Kings were already all over this thing. Good. Nick could focus on making sure Jane was okay.
Chase was on comms, barking at Flynn. From the sound of things, the explosives expert had been dispatched to the burned-out safe house to intercept any investigation Manhattan’s fire and police departments might have launched.
Shane was headed for the door, tossing his car keys, game face on. “Glad you crazy kids are safe,” he said as he passed. Nick wanted to get Jane to his room and tend to whatever she needed—hell, whatever she wanted—but there was Rothgar with his phone pressed to his ear, beckoning to him through the door of the war room.
He glanced at Jane’s pale face. She produced a smile and said, “Your boss is calling.” Nick sighed and led her into the war room with him. Missy glanced up, catalogued Jane’s relative okayness, but squinted at the blood-streaked mess of Nick’s face and clothes. She muttered something about the first aid kit before tossing her papers to the desk and disappearing in the direction of the medical cabinet.
Still clutching Jane’s hand in his, Nick watched Dex’s fingers whirring over his keyboard, clicking through a series of live streams assembled on the video cam hub and scribbling notes on a legal pad. He was probably combing through video of the safe house. Romeo and Geo were nowhere to be seen; they were likely out in the field too.
Rothgar hung up the phone and then crossed his arms over his chest, an island of calm in a sea of tense. His eyes took in Nick and Jane standing silently, hand in hand, confirming their safety with his own eyes, and then he said, “I’m putting together a mission that I think might contribute to shutting down this shit you’re wading in once and for all. It’s intel collection for the team’s Russian sleeper-agent mission, but since Sokolov’s part of that world, I’ve also got my eye on picking up something that might go toward getting him off your back.”
Nick felt Jane’s confused gaze on his face. “At this point, I think that would be useful,” he said evenly, in order not to betray that he was going out of his mind. At this point, I think anything that keeps Jane out of danger would be useful.
Rothgar’s gaze moved back to Nick and Jane’s linked hands. “Go take care of her,” Rothgar said gruffly and went over to Dex.
Nick wasn’t about to argue. He quickly led her down the hall to his room, pushing her through the door so hard they nearly spun around.
“Okay,” Nick said. “First things first.” He took her by the shoulders and stared her right in the eyes. “Jane, are you okay?”
“Well, yeah, Nick. I have, like, one small cut,” she said calmly. “I think that’s more than okay given there was a bomb.”
“Yeah, a bomb, Jane. We just dodged a bomb. Are you okay?” Nick waited for hysteria. For her to slap him in the face. For her to cry.
Jane just looked at him. “You’re acting weird again. Are you okay?”
“You don’t seem freaked out.”
“Do you want me to be?” Jane asked.
“No. This is good. This is great. I know I owe you an explanation or two or three. So, what do you want to ask me about first?” Nick asked.
“Is this really your room?” Jane asked.
Nick blinked. He’d never met a woman this game. Jane was extraordinary; did she even know that? “Yes.”
Jane grabbed a tissue from a box sitting on the bedside table and blew her nose, absently noting the black grime that came out. “It’s really stark in here. Really depressing thinking of me living the high life in your penthouse, with you in what is basically a dorm.”
Nick gave the décor a cursory glance. “I’m free to fix it up if I want. But it’s temporary.”
“It doesn’t reflect your personality,” Jane said. “I used to move a lot, and for a while I thought it was pointless to decorate, until I realized it was critical to decorate. You need a place where you feel good. Where you feel like the best version of yourself. Well, that’s how it’s been in my experience.”
Nick shifted his weight impatiently. “I’m going to need to officially debrief with Rothgar soon, give him the details of what just happened. It sounds like you’re totally fine with the bomb.” He paused and waited for her to nod, which she did, and then he added, “Is there anything else you want to talk to me about?”
“Like what?” Jane asked.
Nick put his hands on his hips and stared down at the floor, shaking his head. “So, we’re going to pretend it didn’t happen.”
“Oh, the mail bomb definitely happened,” Jane said. “You’re bleeding. Again. I’m going to start carrying a first aid kit just for you. And you’re really dirty. I don’t want you to get an infection. Didn’t Missy say she was going to get a kit?”
Nick cursed. She did not want to talk about the kiss. Did that mean she regretted the kiss? Because he did not regret that kiss. That kiss was fucking fantastic. “Yeah, I guess so,” he said. This is a classic “I don’t know what just hit me” moment. Except maybe I do know. I think Jane just hit me, and next to her, the bomb seems like a mosquito bite.
“Oh, I do have another question. What did you take from the safe house?” Jane asked.
“I just pried the hard drive that runs the security and surveillance system out of the wall, which is the only thing that can be traced to the Hudson Kings. I also preferred not to go out the front not just because we’d be crossing through a smoldering debris field but also because we’d be exiting in front of a bunch of folks gathered with their cell phones, ready to live stream whoever’s going to come out.” Nick sighed. “Listen. I think we should talk about the kiss.”
“Why?” Jane asked. “It was a thing. And now we’re on to the next thing.”
“Do you purposely start going vague when you’re uncomfortable or embarrassed?” Nick asked.
“What makes you think that?”
“Maybe you regret the kiss,” Nick pushed. He was beginning to feel the foreign sensation of bewilderment. I want to throw Jane MacGregor down on the bed to finish what we started, and she seems more like she’d prefer to watch paint dry.
Jane blinked. “That was a really great kiss, Nick.”
“I know, Jane.”
“I don’t think we need to analyze it to death,” she said matter-of-factly.
Nick tried to remember the last time a woman had him so off-balance. He could not come up with anything.