27 Nicole
Nicole
“Time for trivia!” Ollie says, his excitement already cloying.
Why is he even doing this? Why did he decide to invite this deeply suspicious man over to a home that’s not even his?
Isn’t he worried about how much it would cost to get blood stains out of the furniture here?
As he lays out the trivia categories, she sees an answer forming: Detective Ollie interrogating via game night.
It would be clever if it weren’t so direct. She wishes he’d asked for her help.
On the flip side, it’s nice to see him interested in something again. Barreling forward, checking things off—like the old Ollie. And he brought a pretty cool-looking date. Nicole doesn’t think an interrogation of a possible spy is what she’d call second-date material, but it’s his life.
So she jokes about the porn stars and watches Jon react to the questions, just like she knows Ollie is.
Of course, if he is a spy, keeping his face blank should be easy.
So him not giving anything away aside from knowledge about guns, drugs…
it means nothing. Him spending the night is news though.
She doesn’t love that. Unsurprising, but why would Brandon still be all over this guy?
She sighs, hiding it with a sip of her drink.
She knows the answer to that. Brandon being Brandon.
In love with a smile and willing to do anything for that love.
She’s almost jealous, aside from the fact that it’s currently putting them all in probable danger.
She can’t even ask out the coffee girl, and the only danger there is getting teased a little at the office.
Though she did sleep with her boss. That might have been brave. Or just stupid.
Her phone buzzes as they play, and she glances down at it.
ELLEN
Is he there?
NICOLE
Yep
ELLEN
You find anything out?
NICOLE
He’s a fan of fictional spies, and he’s staying the night, apparently
ELLEN
lol. Men will fall into bed with anyone.
Nicole smirks, then remembers the weird smell in Ellen’s kitchen. It’s not just men who make choices that land them in bed with questionable people.
NICOLE
Yeah
ELLEN
Let me know if anything changes or you find out anything else
NICOLE
Will do
Nicole tucks her phone back in her pocket, frowning.
Ellen is supposed to be working on finding out if it really was KBA who killed the guy, and who the dead guy was, and why anyone wanted him dead, but she’s checking in about Jon.
Probably trying to cover all her bases, which means she hasn’t found much.
“Tom, you pick the next category,” Brandon says.
“Go for international politics,” Nicole says, deciding to help Ollie out. “None of us know anything about that.”
“Okay,” Tom says. “International politics.”
It’s a softball though. There’s a movie and a Broadway musical about Operation Mincemeat, not that Nicole has ever seen either of them.
Ollie looks suspicious when Jon gets it, but it doesn’t really mean anything.
She goes over everything in her head again—someone shot near him, reservation made by KBA, two names.
It really doesn’t come to anything. Is it possible this is all just some weird misunderstanding and she’s totally overreacting?
Ellen definitely didn’t seem to think so, and Ellen seems a lot smarter than Nicole feels.
So maybe not. She remembers what Ellen said: talk to him, pretend she’s looking out for her friend, and just interrogate. More directly than Ollie is.
She sees her opportunity when Jon gets up, probably uncomfortable with the tension between Ian’s two boyfriends—no idea why they brought both of them.
Insane choice. But then, most of Ian’s choices are insane where Victor is concerned.
She smiles and says she wants a beer, too.
Which is a lie, beer is gross, but she’s doing what she needs to.
She follows him downstairs, the dark in the hallway suddenly making her aware that this guy is wrapped up with a private military and she’s about to try to get some information out of him. He could be a trained killer. Who knows?
“So, you and Brandon hooked up at his hotel, huh?” she asks as they get into the kitchen.
“Oh, yeah.” He smiles a little. Looks genuine. “Did he tell you the whole story? I did the whole ‘I need a towel thing’ like I was in a porno.”
Nicole laughs. That would seem romantic to Brandon. “Well, you’re here now, so seems like more than just a seedy hookup.” She opens the fridge and takes out two beers. “Not everyone gets a game-night invite.”
“Really?” He leans in to take the beer, pops the cap off on the counter. “Then who’s the drug dealer? And the marshal? Weird combo.”
She shrugs. “I said not everyone gets an invite. Not that we invited the best people.”
He laughs, leaning back, not eager to go back upstairs. Perfect.
“Are you the best people?” Nicole asks. “Not to be the protective–best friend stereotype, but you’re only here for a while, and Brandon is sweet, so—”
“You want to know my intentions with your friend?” Jon asks, grinning.
“I guess.”
He sips his beer, and she mirrors him, trying not to grimace at the taste.
“I get it. You’re a good friend. You all seem to be really good friends.
And, honestly, I don’t have any bad intentions or anything, but I also don’t know if this is like a fling, a couple days that we think about for decades or try to forget, or maybe something more.
” He shrugs, face too charming. “I’m just playing it by ear.
But I’m open to anything. It would be fun to find my soulmate in a hotel on a work trip. Good story.”
Nicole smirks. “So, art insurance?”
“It’s not as exciting as it sounds. And you’re a lawyer?”
“Also not as exciting as it sounds,” she says.
He laughs and holds out his bottle for a toast. She clinks her bottle on his and takes another bitter swig.
“Although I do get to work on some interesting cases,” she says, deciding on a different track.
“My colleague is working on a case against KBA, this private military group.” She watches him carefully as he says it.
He blinks and quickly takes another swig at the mention of KBA, chin up, face away.
Calculated to cover his surprise, maybe.
“They’re war profiteers, not great people,” she continues.
He shrugs, face too charming again. “Never heard of them.”
“Well, it feels good to try to take them down anyway,” she says.
“You think you’ll win? A private army sounds pretty powerful, right?”
Nicole smiles, trying to look just a little menacing. “My boss is very good at her job.”
They lock eyes for a moment, both holding their beers, lights dim, dark house around them.
She remembers the bad night, suddenly. The man who was chatting her up, how she’d told him she was gay and locked eyes with him, and she’d seen something then that she sees in Jon now: something cold and broken.
She shouldn’t have taken her eyes off the man chatting her up, but she was nineteen and using a fake ID and worried about a million other things, so she didn’t notice when he spiked her drink.
Her boys saved her. Maybe now she can save them.
“I know—” she begins, but there’s a clang from the den, and they both look over. The door is closed.
“Should we check that?” Jon asks.
“Probably just the dog,” Nicole says.
“I thought he was upstairs,” Jon says, turning like he’s going to head back up, like he wants to escape.
“I know what you’re—” Nicole starts, but then there are loud feet on the stairs, and Brandon is there, smile too bright, eyes only for Jon.
“Hi!” he says.
Damn. She has no idea how to fix this now. Brandon looks so head over heels. And she wants him to be happy, but this guy is bad news. “You missed the lesbian question, Nicole. No one knew it.”
“Shocking,” Nicole says, still staring at Jon.
“What are you two talking about?” Brandon asks.
“Just getting to know each other,” Nicole says, keeping her voice light as she finally turns to him.
“Cool,” Brandon says, staring at Jon. “Well, want to go back upstairs? I just wanted to get a seltzer.”
“Yeah,” Jon says, “I just need to grab something from my bag.” He walks over to the hidden door and opens it.
“Were you interrogating him?” Brandon hisses at Nicole.
“Yes,” she whispers back. “Brandon, I get you like this guy, but come on . He’s dangerous, and he’s lying to you.”
“We don’t know that,” Brandon says quickly. “Jon could be his middle name that he goes by now. And he could work in art insurance. The head— It might have been wrong time, wrong place.”
She sighs, a million things she wants to say: Just trust me. I know best. Get your head out of your ass . But she knows just saying it won’t be enough. “Well, that’s all I’m trying to find out,” she says instead. “I’m looking out for you.” She sounds like she’s begging.
“I can look out for myself.”
She laughs and takes a swig of the beer just to make her mouth do something else. “Sure.”
Brandon crosses his arms. “You’re just jealous I’m actually getting some.”
It’s delivered like a slap, like he wants to hurt her—and that does make it sting a little. She could tell him she just got laid a few hours ago, but what does it even matter? It’s not about that. It’s about Jon. She opens her mouth to tell him that, but then Jon’s voice comes from the den:
“What are you doing in here?”
“Sorry, sorry,” Ian says, half running out of the den, Jon following them.
He looks so menacing chasing after Ian that she takes a step forward, ready to get between them, but then Jon pushes Ian down, and they fall with a thud so heavy, the track lighting shakes a little, like rain on the roof.
She swallows, a trickle of fear coursing down her chest. This was a bad idea.
But maybe seeing Jon’s violence is enough to convince Brandon how dangerous he is.
“Whoa!” Nicole shouts. “Do not push my friend!”