Page 16 of Cross & Crown

“Are you okay?”

JD was already shaking his head. He turned his head

toward the bar as he leaned back in his seat. “I remember that

Greg Maddux is the greatest pitcher ever to play the game

and that Stan Musial had 3,630 hits in his career. I remember

that Darth Vader is a bad guy and that vampires are suddenly

good guys who sparkle. I remember that I like spinach and

artichoke dip, but not when it comes with tortillas. I know

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that tequila will make me sick and just the thought of a worm

at the bottom of a bottle will make me want to hurl. I know

that the tattoo on your forearm means you were a Recon

Marine and that makes you a Grade A badass, even if you

kind of try to hide it. Probably because you like to go under

the radar so you can have the advantage in a fight. But I don’t know my own name. I don’t know where I come from, how

old I am.”

He lowered his head. His eyes were misting over, whether

from frustration, sorrow, or merely exhaustion was anyone’s

guess. Nick was shocked by how observant the man was even

in the midst of this ordeal, though, and the realization made

him uneasy. Only one person had ever called him out for

trying to appear less dangerous than he was, and Ty Grady

was the most observant man Nick knew.

Then there was the tattoo. Nick had a lot of tattoos,

including the Celtic cross that traced his spine from the

nape of his neck to the small of his back; and the eagle,

globe, and anchor that dominated his left shoulder. He also

had one on each forearm, and while he usually hid them

with dress shirts and suits, he’d rolled his sleeves up when

he’d sat down at the pub.

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