Ball & Chain(101)

The door opened before Ty could reach it. He stumbled to a halt in front of Nick. Zane and Kelly both lurched to their feet. Nick stepped out, glancing around the hall and at Ty. He met Kelly’s eyes, then Zane’s, and beckoned them in with a jerk of his head.

“We need Earl, too,” he said quietly.

Zane frowned in confusion, but turned and called for Earl to join them. They followed Kelly into the room, closing the heavy door behind them.

Jockie Fraser was slumped in the chair. His face didn’t look any worse than it had when they’d left him in here, but since it had already looked like he’d gone a round with an MMA fighter, that wasn’t saying much.

His hands, still tied to the arms of the chair, were quite obviously broken. Zane had no doubt there were other injuries they couldn’t see.

Nick walked up to stand beside and a little behind Fraser’s chair, and Fraser winced away from him with a whimper. Zane stared at him in morbid fascination.

“Tell them what you told me,” Nick ordered.

“The man who hired us,” Fraser gasped. He licked his lips and took shallow, rasping breaths like he couldn’t get enough air. “His name was Burns. Richard Burns.”





Nick had known the name would cause a shock wave, but he was so eager to get the hell out of that room and away from the man he’d been questioning, he hadn’t cared about what sort of responses to expect.

Ty remained motionless, staring at Fraser with the sort of blank expression that said he was rapidly playing through all the possible reactions in his head to find the most appropriate one. Zane and Kelly both made noises of confusion and disbelief. And Earl turned on his heel, storming out of the room under a cloud of curses.

“Bullshit,” Ty finally whispered.

Nick lowered his head and started for the door, brushing past Ty as he went. He didn’t intend to be here for the second round of questioning.

Ty grabbed his elbow and frowned. “Are you okay?”

Nick glared at him. “Next time you need help, you call Digger.” He stalked out of the room before Ty could respond, and sought out the darkest, most remote corner he could find, treading into territory of the house he hadn’t explored. He didn’t care, though; he just needed to get away from that room and get the blood off his hands. His back hit the wall of the alcove he’d found, and he slid to the ground, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes and curling his fingers through his hair.

The captain who’d strolled through camp one day fifteen years ago had plucked Nick from the canteen and told him he had extra duty for him. When Nick had learned they wanted him to train with CIA interrogators, he’d flat out refused, insisting he wasn’t cut out for that sort of thing. They’d told him that was the very reason they’d chosen him.

Well, fuck them. Nick had been right. He wasn’t cut out for it.

The scuff of a bootheel alerted him to someone near, and he raised his head. His night vision was still ruined, but it didn’t matter. The beam of a flashlight swept across his bare feet.

“Nick?” Kelly whispered. He came closer, the flashlight remaining on Nick’s feet instead of climbing higher. All Nick could make out was Kelly’s silhouette. He knelt and handed Nick a bundle. “I got you a change of clothes. Are you okay?”

Nick nodded and took the shirt. He leaned forward and slipped it on, realizing that he’d been freezing and hadn’t even noticed. His fingers were shaking when he tried to button it up.

Kelly covered them with his own, lowering Nick’s hands into his lap. “It’s okay,” he whispered. Then he took both sides of the shirt and pulled Nick toward him. He buttoned the shirt in silence, only meeting Nick’s eyes when he was done. “We have another night on this island. And there are still a lot of lives in danger. You did what you had to do.”

Nick stared at him. “We’ll keep telling ourselves that, huh?”

Kelly nodded. Then he took Nick’s hand and helped him off the ground. “Get out of those pants.”

Nick managed to huff a laugh.

“Because they’re wet! Pervert.”

Nick shed the remainder of his wet clothing and changed into the dry garments Kelly had brought him. He hated to admit it, but it felt better just being dry and warm. Kelly took the cuff of Nick’s soaked jeans and wiped at his hands for him, holding the flashlight between his cheek and shoulder so he could see the dirt and blood.

Nick remained quiet, even when Kelly held his hand and watched his fingers trembling for a few seconds. There was nothing further to say about any of it.

“Come on,” Kelly murmured. “Zane had an idea about the computer files. He said he wanted your help.”