The Nullifier Read online

  Fat Cop doesn’t have a chance. Nick bit back a smile.

  “Don’t leave town,” Fat Cop warned, then pivoted and stalked away, handcuffs jingling from his belt.

  His partner sighed. “Thanks for your patience,” she said, and then she followed her partner back to the patrol car.

  Nick rolled his eyes, amused. “I didn’t know I was going to end up as a sidekick in a bad cop movie when I woke up this morning.”

  To his surprise, Felix laughed. “You never know when a situation is going to go sideways.”

  Nick blinked. The smile had transformed Felix’s face from handsome to stunning. He swallowed, willing his dick to behave. “Truth, man.”

  Felix rolled his shoulders. “All I wanted was a damned sandwich.”

  “I just wanted a coffee.” Nick grinned. Suddenly, Felix didn’t seem so unapproachable. “Shit happens.”

  “That it does.” Felix nodded at him, then turned back towards the mini mart. “Take care.” He strode away before Nick could respond.

  Well damn. He sure knows how to end a conversation. Nick watched him head inside and grab some food, drop a few bills on the counter, and head out to a black pickup in under five minutes. On his way out of the parking lot, Felix tapped his forehead in a rough salute to Nick from the open window of his truck, and then he drove off down the road.

  “And there goes any chance at ever asking out the man of my dreams,” Nick said under his breath, half smiling.

  “What did you say?” Fat Cop asked him.

  Nick startled, not realizing the cop had walked back over to him. Shit. Pay attention to your surroundings, Nick. You know better than that, he told himself. “Was just wondering if there’s anywhere else I could get a coffee around here. It looks like the cashier isn’t going to be able to take my order anytime soon.” He nodded to the girl still quietly sobbing on the back of the ambulance rig. “It’s been a while since I’ve been in town.”

  Fat Cop frowned. “Try Daisy’s. That’s where I go.” He held out a small business card. “Call me if you remember anything more from today.”

  Nick took the card and pocketed it without looking at it. Given his line of work, it’d be a cold day in hell before he’d call the police, but there was no need to be rude about it. “Daisy’s. Got it.” He’d been there before. In fact, he’d been there plenty of times, all throughout high school. He remembered the old red and white checked tile and the shiny leather booths quite well. He remembered that one winter when he’d come home on break from college, boyfriend in tow, eager to show his new guy his favorite childhood places. And he also remembered being thrown out of the diner, bits of egg literally stuck to his face, when his buddies from high school had discovered he was gay. Yeah, nope. Not a fucking chance am I going to set foot in that place.

  Fat Cop nodded. “Take care, Mr. Banner.” He walked back to his patrol vehicle and got in on the driver’s side.

  Nick stared at the cop car as it pulled away, remembering how the local officers had done absolutely nothing to help him when he’d tried to file assault charges all those years ago. “Good times,” he muttered, abruptly feeling a lot less optimistic about the next few months.

  Chapter Two

  Felix cursed himself all the way back to the house. He’d fucked up, big time. He’d given Nick his real name. The cops had one of his aliases, John Cooper, but he’d screwed up with Nick. He hadn’t expected the guy to offer to shake his hand. Most people gave him a wide berth. He wasn’t sure why: he took pains to blend in. He dressed in neutral colors, he made sure to act polite, and he never loomed over anyone unless they deserved it. Even so, he could count on one hand the number of people who’d offered to shake his hand.

  He pulled into the driveway of his rental house, gathered his food, and stepped out of the truck. His usual scan of the property showed him nothing out of the ordinary, except the rental sign on the neighbor’s lawn was gone. The houses all down the street were quiet. Since it was late afternoon, he knew that most of the people in this neighborhood were still at work. It was a normal Wednesday, except for the part where he’d instinctively intervened in a robbery because he had a soft spot for the poor girl at the mini mart. She’d always been nice to him.

  “Damned idiot,” he said to himself as he unlocked the front door. He headed inside, walking through the living room to the kitchen in the back of the small cape house. He dropped his sandwich on the table, and checked the back yard for any intruders. The trees had managed to dump a few more yellow leaves on the lawn, but nothing he needed to deal with yet. He kicked off his boots, sat at the table, and sighed. “Shit.”

  Nick’s hand had been slightly cool, but strong. The guy had clearly been in pain from his wound, but it hadn’t seemed to really faze him. Felix respected that. “Not that you should even be thinking about him.” He pulled his sandwich over and devoured it with a few quick bites. He filled a glass with water and drank it down, then looked longingly at the refrigerator.

  No. No beer tonight. You’ve got to keep your head straight. He threw out the food packaging, and then he ran a hand over his face as he tried to figure out just what it was about Nick that unsettled him so much. He leaned back against the counter, but after a moment he pushed off and started pacing. He felt keyed up, which was odd. He wasn’t the kind of guy who worried about shit he had no control over. The image of Nick holding out his hand stuck in his mind like a video on replay.

  He’s young. Healthy. Haven’t seen him in this area before. Forcing himself to stop walking in circles, Felix stood in the center of the kitchen, running down a list of details. He wasn’t terrified by the robbery, but he wasn’t happy either. Could he be in the business?

  The sound of his cell phone beeping saved him from further rumination. He slid his personal phone out of his pocket and checked the screen.

  Zero: Money has been transferred, minus my usual fee.

  Felix: New contracts?

  Zero: One in your area, two that require travel to Europe.

  Felix sighed, debating on whether he wanted to hop a flight in the next few days. After a moment, he replied. Who is the close request client?

  Zero: You know I don’t share.

  Felix scowled. He’d known Zero for years, and it wasn’t like him to be reticent with Felix, of all people. Who?

  Zero: Why does it matter?

  Felix: Call it curiosity. The truth was Felix wasn’t sure he wanted to do any contracts anymore. He’d been thinking about retiring for a while now. If the job were something messy, he’d just as soon not bother. It wasn’t as though he were hurting for cash, after all.

  Zero: Robert Edwards.

  Felix’s eyebrows went up. Edwards was a fixture in the organized crime scene on the east coast. He didn’t usually farm out his work to freelancers because he employed more than enough specialists to do any job he required in-house. Interesting. Maybe the job would chip into the boredom that seemed to have permanently set up residence in his life. Set me up with the close contract.

  Zero: Details emailed.

  Felix: Will reply email as per usual when complete.

  Zero: Roger that.

  Felix slid his phone back into his pocket and headed to the bedroom on the first floor that he used as an office. He sat down at his desk and slid his laptop toward him. Sure enough, his email already had the contract from Zero. He opened the file and scanned the details. Quincy Edwards, white male, thirty-three, alias “Q,” two million USD upon confirmation of completion, contract interval two weeks, last known residence 448 Peace Road, Waldwick, NJ.

  Felix rubbed his chin. “Huh. No wonder Edwards is farming out this job. He wants someone in his own family gone. Interesting.” He hadn’t really planned on doing another job in this area, but what the hell else did he have to do? He hit confirm in the email and watched his browser open with an acceptance authorization code. He memorized it, then cleared his browser’s history and cookies, and sat back.

  “Two weeks. I can
be done and gone in two weeks,” he murmured, glancing around the room. He hadn’t bothered to decorate the place. He never did, so it wasn’t difficult to pack up and move on. Hell, a few times he hadn’t bothered to pack. He’d just grabbed his go-bag and left all the furniture and other assorted crap behind, buying new supplies when he landed at his next six-month residence. Anything he really wanted to keep was stored at his cabin in the middle of rural New York. The only one who knew about it was Zero, because he’d helped him buy the property and set up security on the place.

  He shook his head and stood up. “Getting soft,” he muttered under his breath. He thought of Nick with the strong hands. “Going crazy, too,” he added as he headed upstairs. He’d take a short nap, and then head back out to the storage unit for some gear to begin basic overnight surveillance. The time frame was tight, but he had enough wiggle room to observe the mark for a few days. He might be going soft, but he wasn’t about to make a rookie mistake that got him caught. Soft was one thing. Stupid was quite another.

  ****

  Nick stared at his sister as rage flared through his gut. “He what?” They stood in the bedroom she shared with her boyfriend, Quincy, and Nick clenched his fists in an attempt to not break anything. The throb of his left arm told him he needed to relax. That damned bullet wound was going to plague him for weeks. He uncurled his fingers. Flesh wound. Bah.

  Jenna wiped the tears from her face, smearing her mascara everywhere. “He didn’t mean to, Nick. It was my fault.”

  The bruise on her upper right arm told him that Quincy most certainly did mean to shove her against the dresser she currently leaned against. He stared at the white paint and cute little pink flowers curling around the brass drawer pulls as if the feminine design would somehow mitigate the absolute fucking bullshit she’d just tried to tell him. His sister loved that dresser because it had been a gift from their grandmother, and now she’d never be able to look at it again without remembering the bruises. He swallowed a growl. He didn’t want to add to Jenna’s misery.

  “I shouldn’t have gone out with Sara the other night,” Jenna said, tucking tangled blonde hair behind her ears. “I knew it would upset him when I told him I wouldn’t be home for dinner. It’s my fault,” she repeated.

  Nick carefully took a deep breath, counted to three, and then exhaled. It didn’t help calm him as much as he’d hoped. “Jenna,” he said, speaking slowly so his voice wouldn’t shake with anger. “Your boyfriend treats you like shit. It’s time to ditch him, and you know it. I can’t put it any more clearly than that. You’re twenty-two. You have your whole life ahead of you, and this—” He gestured to her arm, and the dresser. “Is fucking bullshit. You know it. I know it.” He ran a hand over his face. “Please. Let me help you. That’s why I’m here, right? It’s time to get out.”

  Jenna shook her head and backed away, out into the living room just off the master bedroom. “No, no, I can’t. Not now. He’ll go crazy. You don’t understand.” She started pacing the small space, nearly knocking over a lamp in the process. “I know I said I wanted to leave, but I’ve changed my mind.”

  “I understand all too well.” Nick walked over to his sister and cupped her elbow. “Look at your arm, Jenna.” He smoothed a gentle finger over the palm-sized bruise. The dark purple color against her skin made him feel sick to his stomach. “This isn’t the first time this has happened, is it?” He wanted to take her in his arms and drag her away from her asshole abuser, but he knew, from awful personal experience, that people needed to make their own choices.

  Jenna started crying again. “Nick, look—”

  “Jenna. You called me, remember? You told me you needed help. You told me you wanted to leave him.” Nick pulled her into a hug, wondering when his sister had started to feel so fragile. She’s lost weight, he realized worriedly. “I’m here. I’m working remotely at my job, so I am here for as long as it takes to get you out of this situation.” He leaned back and forced a smile. “You’re just lucky I’m an awesome web developer who can work from anywhere.”

  “I don’t know, Nick…” Jenna trailed off, looking out the front window of her and Quincy’s house. “You don’t know Q like I do.”

  “I know enough,” Nick said again, wishing his parents weren’t such bigoted idiots that they couldn’t see his sister’s situation clearly. “I know Mom and Dad urged you to stay with him—”

  “He’s my fiancé! I can’t just up and leave. Mom and Dad were so happy when he asked me to marry him. It was like everything was okay again.” She stared down at the diamond ring on her left hand as if it held all the answers.

  A chill went down Nick’s spine at those words. He knew why everything hadn’t been okay with his parents: because he’d come out as gay in his senior year of college. That was the year they’d thrown him out of the house. That was the year they’d pinned all of their hopes for a “normal” family on his sister. He’d known exactly how his religious parents would react to his sexuality, and that was why he’d waited to come out. He wanted Jenna to be old enough to know her own mind, so that if his parents clamped down on her, she’d have the means to get out, too.

  But clearly my plans didn’t go the way I’d hoped. If he’d just stayed in the closet, none of this would’ve happened to Jenna. Of course, if I’d stayed in the closet, I would’ve gone mad with misery. He sighed, wishing life weren’t always such a clusterfuck. “He doesn’t deserve you, Jenna, and you know it.”

  His sister walked to a side table and tore open a box of tissues. She scraped at her face with a thick wad, and then started ripping the thin tissue to shreds. “I don’t know what to do.”

  Nick frowned at her, sick with guilt. She’s scared. She wants to leave, but she’s scared to death. I need to fix this. He rolled his shoulders, trying to ease the crick in his neck. “Ok, here’s what we’re going to do, Jenna. We’re going to pack up your stuff, and I’m going to take you home with me.”

  “Nick—”

  “No.” He cut her off, knowing that if he gave her a choice, she’d just sink down even deeper into her boyfriend’s clutches. “You called me last week, begging me to come help you get out of here. We texted every day, remember? And I know this has been building for a while. You’re going to leave him, and I’m going to help you. No more changing your mind.” Nick grabbed two of the boxes he’d brought and headed back to the bedroom. He ignored the stab of pain in his arm as he lifted the box onto his hip. The last thing he wanted to do was worry his sister, so he’d covered up his injury with a long-sleeved shirt. “You can either come pack your stuff or you can watch me do it, but you know I’ll probably shove all of your underwear in with your shoes.” He risked a wink at her, trying to lighten the mood. That ought to rile her up.

  “Oh my God, what kind of gay man are you? That’s a sacrilege,” Jenna said, following him into the room. She didn’t argue when he dropped the boxes at the foot of the bed and started opening her dresser drawers.

  Nick smirked. “I’m the kind of gay man who doesn’t buy into all the stereotypes, remember?” He plunged a hand into a pile of socks and grabbed a bunch. When he tossed them into the box, his sister rolled her eyes and hurried forward to rearrange them in the box.

  “Uh-huh. Whatever you say, Mr. Snazzy Dresser. I see those designer sneakers you’re wearing. And your shirt is cashmere. So just shut up.” She headed for the armoire in the far corner of the room and opened the top cabinet.

  Nick watched her slowly gather an armful of tops, relieved that she was finally moving in the right direction. He’d get her out of here, and then she would be able to heal. He emptied the rest of her socks into the box, and then folded the flaps closed and put it on the bed. When he looked up, he realized Jenna was standing with her shoulders slumped, hands full of sweaters as she watched him.

  Shit. She’s second-guessing herself.

  “Nick—” Her face twisted.

  “I know it’s hard, Jenna.” He walked over to her and gave her a hug
, then took the sweaters and packed them away for her. It didn’t take long.

  “I just thought he was the one, you know? I don’t understand what happened.” Jenna wiped at her eyes again as she wandered over to the dresser. “Why can’t I stop crying?”

  “It’s going to take a while, sis.” Nick put a box at her feet. “Just start with one drawer. When you’re done, start on the next. That’s all there is to it.”

  “But I don’t want him to hurt you,” she whispered, looking up at him with red eyes. “He’s got a really bad temper.”

  Nick’s heart broke. “Oh, Jenna. He won’t touch me. He’s a coward at heart.” He touched her shoulder, then headed for the closet. “I’m going to toss all of your shoes in this box. You deal with your clothes. Okay?” She nodded, and he watched her start to drop underwear and t-shirts into an empty box. Good. She’s moving.

  “This is real, isn’t it?” she said quietly, after a few minutes had passed. “He really is awful. I don’t understand any of this.”

  Nick knew she didn’t mean the bruises on her arm. “Yeah, but you’ll be okay now. I promise.” His voice came out gruff. To fend off his sadness, he started shoving his sister’s insane collection of shoes into his box.

  “How do you know who to trust, Nick?” Jenna asked, opening the next drawer. “I mean, Quincy was so nice to me in the beginning. I don’t understand how I could’ve been so stupid.”

  “Jenna, you’re not stupid. You’re young. There’s a difference.” Nick closed his box and headed over to her. He didn’t mention that the weird, manipulative dynamics of their parents’ marriage hadn’t been the best example for either of them. He hadn’t yet managed a successful long-term relationship, and he wasn’t sure if he ever would. “And knowing who to trust… Well, that’s a tough question.”