He tore the machine out of the box and booted it up as she left the parking lot. He skipped as much of the setup process as the operating system would allow, then shoved the flash drive into the port. One item popped up in the Finder window. When he clicked on it, the screen came to life.
Chapter Nine
Sasha glanced from the road to the screen as it froze and a pop-up message about the operating system being out of date flashed, preventing Nick from playing the evidence.
“Fuck. Pull over,” Nick commanded. “I’m not a typist and this is too hard to do in a moving car.”
Sasha was cruising down the middle of three easterly lanes. “Anywhere in particular?”
“There.” He pointed to the entrance of a parking lot to her right, leading to a Chipotle.
She changed lanes and did what he’d asked. The lot was starting to fill up, and she knew better than to park in the middle of the crowd, so she coasted around back, between two empty cars that probably belonged to employees, and put the SUV in Park.
As she did, he turned on his hot spot and hooked it up to the computer. When the device prompted him to download more updates, he cursed and pressed the button to begin.
Over his cell signal, the download moved slowly.
“I wish we could play the video already,” she said desperately.
“Yeah.” He spoke the word as if he understood exactly how she felt, as if he’d waited and hoped like hell vengeance was coming.
Her impatience spiked. In moments, the mystery might be solved. The endless days and nights of misery might be over. Sadness that she’d lost Mike mixed with triumph that she and Nick could actually solve his murder. Mike would be so proud of her.
But Nick might be her biggest surprise. Despite being Mike’s friend, she hadn’t known him well. Nick had moved to Lafayette before she and Mike had begun dating. He’d been burying his mother the weekend she and Mike married, so she hadn’t met him then, either. Their introduction after Harper’s birth had been brief and oddly tense. So when Nick had acted like a predatory jerk in the last thirty-six hours, Sasha had remembered Mike’s warnings and believed the worst.
Now that Nick had explained why he’d distanced himself and she had spent time in the circle of his protection and caring, she gauged him not by his words but through his actions. He could have slammed the door in her face that midnight she’d come, begging for help. He could have told her that he’d just gotten out of prison and didn’t want any more problems with Walter Clifford. But he hadn’t. He’d risked life, limb, and freedom to give her and Harper a tomorrow.
Equally telling, Nick was denying himself something he wanted badly—her. Apparently, he’d been doing it since the moment he set eyes on her. He could have taken advantage of her twenty times by now. After all, she’d agreed to be his mistress for a month, give him whatever kind of sexual payment he demanded. But, despite being without sex for over a year, he’d refused her body both times she’d offered it. Last night he’d bestowed dazzling pleasure on her without asking for anything in return. Instead, he had done his utmost to respect Mike’s friendship and memory. Even now, he tried to protect her, especially from himself. His self-sacrifice struck her as both noble and sexy. Sasha didn’t know everything he thought or felt, but deep down she knew he was a good man. No denying he aroused her body in ways she’d scarcely imagined.
Yes, he could be gruff and foul-mouthed and blunt. But he was also smart and protective—and so much more than the dangerous criminal she’d believed him to be days ago.
Circumstance. Situations. Inevitability. Fate. Whatever she called it, everything had led her to this moment with Nick. The day she’d buried Mike, she’d felt as if she buried her heart with him. But here it was, fluttering in her chest with hope, respect, and desire—all for the man sitting beside her.
Oh, goodness. She was falling in love.
When had that happened?
Finally, another pop-up announced the completion of the operating system’s update. He flipped back over to the video player and clicked the button. An image of Walter Clifford’s office filled the screen. A little grainy, and the audio quality wasn’t great. But Mike stood behind the desk, looking up nervously at the camera.
Sasha gasped. It was hard to look at her late husband—his familiar movements and mannerisms. That face she’d know anywhere. The cowlick at the front of his pale hair. The remnants of the sunburn he’d gotten after washing their cars without putting on sunscreen the previous weekend.
“I’ll be goddamned. Mike…buddy.” Nick sounded choked up.
Sasha stifled tears and reached for his hand. “It’s him. Oh, my gracious. What is he doing?”
“Inexpertly setting up a hidden camera in his boss’s office. Damn it, Mike. Why didn’t you ask me to wire that place for you?”
“Maybe everything happened too fast?”
“Probably. And because the one time I visited your house, he saw that I couldn’t stop staring at you.” Nick looked sheepish. “I’m so damn sorry I wasn’t there.”
“Look at the date stamp.” She caught sight of it in the bottom right corner, a number that faded in, flashed a few times, then dwindled away. “Wasn’t that the day after you got arrested?”
Nick squinted at the numbers, then nodded. “It fucking is. He must have known that installing surveillance in Clifford’s office was dangerous. I got out two days later.” After the police had magically forgotten to allow him a phone call, and the Santiagos had come looking for him. Money talked, and theirs had helped him make bail quickly. “I would have handled it.”
By then, Mike’s fate had likely been sealed.
Sasha wasn’t even sure what to feel. Angry? Regretful? In the end, she settled for somewhere between sad and resigned since she couldn’t change the past. She could only move on from here. She would always miss her sweet, salt-of-the-earth husband.
