Page 17 of Cross & Crown

On the right was an ornate Celtic knotwork gauntlet that

covered his entire forearm from just below his wrist to an inch or so from his elbow. On the inside of his other forearm was

the Force Recon Jack, one that usually got lost amidst the

flashier work he had. It was a skull with breathing gear, with

a spade and knife crossed behind it, and wings fluttering out

from either side. The skull had thirteen bullet holes in it.

The knotwork gauntlet was far more impressive, but JD

had zeroed in on the Jack in particular—the one with special

meaning. Nick hadn’t met many people who actually knew

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what a Recon Jack even was, so the fact that JD did meant

he might be associated with the military somehow. Closely

associated.

“I can’t even tell you if I’m a good person or not,” JD said.

His eyes betrayed the frustration and stark fear he’d been

hiding so well up to this point. “I mean, what was I doing there in the middle of the night, stone-cold sober at a bookstore? I

could be some sort of criminal and not even know it! I could

be a cold-blooded killer, and you’re sitting here eating floppy chips with me!”

“Listen to me,” Nick said harshly. He leaned forward on

the table, seeing the turmoil of his own past reflected in JD’s eyes. “We will find out who you are.”

“You can’t promise that, Detective.”

“The hell I can’t. And I’ll tell you one more thing. I’ve

dealt with a lot of bad people before. None of them are ever

torn up wondering if they’re a good person.”

JD swallowed, but the words seemed to mol ify him. He

calmed, his shoulders losing their tension. He sighed and gave

Nick a weak smile. “When you put it that way . . .”

“Damn straight,” Nick said.

JD smiled softly. “You’re awfully optimistic for a cop.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

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