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He clears his throat. “I’m gonna need to take a piss soon.”
“Be my guest,” I say, smirking.
He taps his fingers rhythmically against the dashboard. Nick lets out a deep laugh. “You know, I forgot how much fun you are. But, hey, if you want to kill Rhodes so badly, we could lock you two in a room together, and you could bore him to death with your brooding.”
I refuse to let Nick get to me, even though every fiber of my being wants to throat punch him. Nick watches me closely, clearly sensing just how close I am to the edge.
Eventually, he sighs deeply. “You ever think maybe Harper wouldn’t want you risking everything just to prove a point?” he asks, carefully treading the line between serious and casual. “You know, if roles were reversed.”
His words sink into the chaos in my mind, but I don’t give him the satisfaction of admitting he’s right. Instead, I offer him a stony glare.
“Just saying. Harper deserves justice, sure. But she also deserves you.”
The quiet sincerity lurking beneath his sarcasm unsettles me. I swallow back the tightness in my throat, focusing on the endless stretch of road again.
Finally, grudgingly, I admit, “I know.”
“Glad we can finally agree.” Nick smirks lightly, glancing at the stars above. “I really would appreciate a pit stop. This car is nice as hell, but it wasn’t built for road trips or anyone over six feet.”
I check the fuel gauge, knowing we’ll need to stop for gas soon anyway. A few miles ahead, I see the faint glow of a neon sign for a twenty-four-hour gas station. I pull off, and the car rolls to a stop by the pump.
Nick gives me an exaggerated sigh of relief. “Thank God. Now I won’t have to tell Easton I pissed inside his car. However, I’d have loved to see the look on his face.”
“I’m not stopping because of you.” I put the car into neutral. “You’re driving the next shift. If you can drive a stick.”
Nick shakes his head. “You forget I didn’t grow up with a fucking silver spoon in my mouth, Calloway. Sometimes, all of you could use a hefty dose of fucking reality to humble you.”
Ignoring him, I step out; the late night air washes over me, easing the edge of exhaustion just slightly. When I reach instinctively for my phone, my heart sinks when I realize I left it in the duffel bag Harper took with her onto the helicopter.
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath.
Nick raises an eyebrow, catching the frustration in my tone. “What’s wrong now?”
“My phone,” I admit. “It’s with Harper.”
Nick shrugs, unsurprised. “Left mine in the city after texting Asher my plans. Didn’t want anyone tracking me.”
I glance at him. “You’re telling me we have no way to communicate with anyone?”
Nick offers a carefree grin. “Raw-dogging life. Asher knows I was meeting you. He’ll be waiting for us.”
I grind my teeth, irritation deepening. “You’re reckless as hell, Banks.”
“Probably why we get along so well,” he quips, smirking as he rounds the car, heading toward the gas station’s front door. “Want anything?”
“Some duct tape,” I holler.
He flips me off and steps inside.
As I fill the car with fuel, all I can think about is Harper. Nick’s casual confidence isn’t misplaced because I know Billie and Asher were waiting for her to arrive and will keep her safe until I return to the city. But that doesn’t stop my current need to hold her, to know she’s unharmed, and to make sure she knows how fucking sorry I am for scaring her.
Nick returns with a bag of snacks, and he’s holding two cups in his hands. “Coffee for Cranky,” he tells me as he jerks the keys from my hand and slides behind the wheel.
I finish pumping the fuel, and he starts the engine, revving it. I slide into the passenger side and glare at him.
“Careful. My ass is on the line if something happens to this car,” I explain. “Anything happens to it on your watch, and you’re paying Easton for it.” Frustration simmers deep beneath the surface.
A smirk touches his lips as he peels out of the parking lot, kicking up loose gravel. The bastard is driving it like he stole it.