Endless

Regrets | Nick

I opened the cab door and let Ryan and Alya climb in first. When I followed, I found him cradling her to his torso, pressing a kiss to her hair. I clamped my jaw as tight as I could and slammed the door shut.

"Where to?" the cabby asked.

A gunshot went off and all the pedestrians ducked. The cabby stepped on the gas.

I searched the sky-scrapers' tops. Vince must have made an effort to make a noise so we'd know he'd run into at least one protector. Odds were the shot wouldn't kill whoever it was aimed at, but it would keep the protector busy long enough for us to get away. We needed to figure out how to talk to Davenport without getting killed first.

"Do you have a safe house?" Ryan asked.

Sure I did. A rogue didn't survive long without one. But damn it, I didn't want to take him there. Alya, yes. Ryan with her? A definite no. But with no other choice, I gave the address to the cabby.

Alya stirred at the sound of my voice and peeked at me over her shoulder. Something about her was so pained it made my heart race. Did she remember? Did she forgive me? No, whatever she'd remembered wasn't the memory I'd been dreading. Couldn't be.

Ryan frowned at me, as if asking me what the hell was going on. I couldn't tell him. Our friendship, our brotherhood, had all but ended the night I'd gone rogue. But to admit that I'd been betraying the Firm for years before that... I couldn't. Not even now after he'd taken a step out on a limb to protect Alya.

Not even when it was clear she meant more to him than he'd let on. I turned away. Seeing her with him hurt too much. I wanted nothing more than to steal her out of his arms and hold her. She'd nearly undone me when she pressed her face to my neck the way she always did when we'd made love.

Fuck, I couldn't go thinking about our doomed past now. I slapped at my coat pocket. The pack of cigarettes was there. I'd light up the moment I could. Anything to get back to the Nick I'd transformed myself into. Nikolai Tyrov was dead. Dead. Dead. I was Nick Parker. Former agent with the FBI, borderline dead-beat, serial dater without hope of redemption.

The cab came to a stop in front of my brownstone mansion.

Ryan whistled. "Nice digs."

I shrugged. "Had some money and nothing to do with it."

A beeper went off and Ryan winced. He slipped the beeper out of his pocket. "Forgot to throw this out." He glanced at the screen, then sagged into his seat. "Multi-vehicle school bus accident. Damn." His arms tightened about Alya. "They're calling in all available doctors. Haven't done this since the crash. But I can't—"

She hushed him by placing her hand over his mouth. "Do they need you?"

"Yes, but you—"

"Go. I'll be fine. Just, be careful."

He nodded and kissed her wrist. "Listen to Nick, okay?"

"Okay."

After a moment's hesitation, she kissed him tenderly.

It felt like a stab to the gut. I slammed out of the car and marched up to the gate, opening it for Alya. The car drove off, its purr fading in the distance. She moved up next to me.

"Nick."

"Don't," I snapped and stalked to the house. I needed a smoke. I needed to get away from her for a while. It took me the short trip to the front door to realize I'd never escape her. She haunted me, defined my very existence.