Page 92 of Parker
Drayton’s gone quiet since he took that bullet, but he’s not lying low. He’s been seen in city clubs, drinking and watching, never crossing the line onto Parker turf—but brushing right up against it. Close enough to provoke. Close enough to be a problem.
He’d laid in wait for years as part of my team before making his move. Drayton has patience, which is a dangerous trait in an enemy. He’ll wait to create the situation that gives him the highest chance of succeeding in his goal of ending the Parker domination in Glasgow.
My phone beeps. Nicky.
Why are there security guards at our gate? xoxo
My jaw clenches in exasperation; sometimes Boyd is too fucking good at his job.
Coming home. Will explain when I get there. xoxo
Packing up my desk, I grab my keys and head for my car. Louise’s eyebrows shoot up when I emerge. It’s only one in the afternoon.
“Don’t forward any calls unless it’s urgent. Everything can wait until tomorrow,” I call over my shoulder as I stride past. She mumbles in acknowledgment and bids me farewell.
The drive home is a blur. I rehearse the conversation with Nicky in my head. Before I know it, I’m sitting outside my house, nervous to enter. Years ago, her instructions were to tell her only what was necessary.
Until now, this wasn’t.
I hope she agrees.
The front door opens before I reach it. Nicky steps out onto the porch, concern etched on her face.
I close the car door behind me and cross the gravel. Her eyes are locked on me.
“Where’s Evan?” I ask.
She smiles and places her hands together, then raises them to her face as a sign that he’s asleep.
“Good, because we need to talk.” She gives me a curious look.
I trail her into the house, the air thick with everything unsaid. At the table, I take the head seat—habit, instinct. She chooses the chair to my left. Close. I reach across and take her hands in mine, steadying both of us.
“Nicky, Drayton didn’t die at the scene.” Her eyes pop from her head. “The following day, I found out he’d disappeared. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but you were in such a bad place. The last thing I wanted to do was frighten you.”
“Joel, that was months ago,” she whispers. Her voice cracking. Her eyes dart toward the screen of the baby monitor. Evan lies peacefully.
“You’re safe here,” I say, quickly. “I know I should’ve told you. But the time passed, and you were here with me, secure. Then we had Evan, and we were so happy. I wanted to protect that. Protect you. Protect us.” A flicker of a smile tugs at her lips. “I hoped we would find him before you needed to know. The nights I heard you screaming in terror were the worst.”
“You heard me?” she asks, stunned.
“Every one of them. I sat outside your door, trying to decide whether to go in. I wanted to hold you. I wanted to take it all away. But I wasn’t sure...”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Because I wasn’t sure if I still had the right. I couldn’t risk pushing you. Not when I’d only just gotten you back. I’ve fucked up before. I wasn’t going to do it again.”
She squeezes my hands in hers. I feel her strength in the smallest touch.
She always amazed me. Now, even more so.
“Last night was the first night I slept through without nightmares,” she says. “And it’s because I was in your arms.”
Her words anchor me. We aren’t only healing; we’re fighting for us.
“What do we do now?” she asks.
“We find the bastard.”
