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Authors: Winter Austin

BOOK: Atonement
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The General, minus Emma, marched past Hunt and through her house as if he owned the place.

Cassy waylaid him before he could get a foot closer to Nic. “Pop, I told you to stay away.”

He pushed her aside—he did it as if handling porcelain—in his quest to Nic. “Pack your things, Cassandra.”

She made a confused noise but didn't follow orders. Instead, she bypassed the island counter and once more intercepted him, blocking him from reaching Nic.

Seeing her sister defy him and the shock that covered his face gave Nic a sense of satisfaction she hadn't felt around that bastard in years. It had to sting to see his little princess disobey him. “You are not welcome in my home. Where's Emma?”

“At the hotel, safe.”

“Mom is here?” Cassy's voice took on a pitch of disbelief. She'd been kept in the dark—
oh, how the tables have turned.

“Cassandra, do as I say.”

“She doesn't have to do a damn thing. She's not one of your marines to be ordered around.”

The General's eyes narrowed. “Once, you were.”

“And I regret that situation with every fiber of my being.”

“Obviously neither of you are aware of what has been going on out there.” He pointed at the world in general. “Cassandra, pack Nicolette's things as well. Both of you are coming home, now. The media is starting to dig into your past, and they've discovered the inquiries and hearings. They're too close. If they push hard enough, they'll break the whole thing wide open, and more than just your job here will be at risk.”

Cassy looked between them. “Nic, what is he talking about?”

“Nothing,” Nic said between clenched teeth. “Get the hell out.”

The self-righteous prick stood there at attention, staring at her with those cold, unemotional eyes. Her eyes. She seethed. Damn him for acting like she was still under his command and he could order her around.

“It's time you came home, Nicolette. We'll get this sorted out and stop all this nonsense.”

Her anger exploded like a truck full of IEDs. “Nonsense! That's what you think this is? Nonsense?” She dodged Con's reach and quickly closed in on The General, pulling up short of punching him. “I'm suffering because of your dirty secret.”

“That's enough, Marine!” He barked that command in a way any drill sergeant would be proud of.

Nic slammed her open hand against his chest. He didn't budge an inch. “This ain't the marines,
Pop
. You can stuff the command shit up your ass.”

“Nic.” The warning in Con's voice didn't subdue her—it fueled her.

She pointed a finger at him. “Stay out of this, Con.” She swung back to The General. “I could have saved some or all of them. I had the perfect position to help them out, and I was told to stand down and keep to my objective.”

“You are divulging classified information. It's grounds—”

“Screw your classified information! You made it that way to cover up your sins.” Wet heat pooled in the corners of her eyes. Damn it, she never cried in front of him. Never. “A squad. A whole damn squad sacrificed like lambs. Slaughtered for one piece of shit.”

“Who you took out, like you were ordered.”

“After I watched them all die.” Sniffing, she swiped the moisture from her face with the back of her hand and took a few steps away from him. “You knew Farasat was in that village. You knew he and his men would kill those soldiers, and you shut me down.” She balled her hands into fists. “I could have saved them.”

“And risked losing the target. That was not your objective, and you damn well know it. Your job as the sniper was to follow the orders to the letter. There was no room for heroics on that mission.”

“Then what the hell were they doing out there? On the same day Aiden and I were on that mission? Why was that squad sent in there?”

The General's face blanched, and he lost some of his stiffness. “No one knows. Army command thinks they were lost and seeking shelter.”

She had never been told that. Even after she gave them the descriptions and patch IDs for their unit. Now he suddenly had a conscience and was spilling? Had the guilt gotten to him? Or was he just playing her?

“That's why there was radio silence for so long. You were scrambling to figure out who they were and decide if they were worth the risk.” Nic's groan came out more like a half-growl, half-scream. “They had no idea what they walked into, and you let those bastards slaughter them.”

He said nothing. Only resumed his stiff posture and glared at her.

This time, when she advanced on her old man, Con grabbed her arm and dragged her back. Nic struggled, but he clamped down harder. Maybe it was for the best he kept her at bay. Right now, she felt like murdering the man who was supposed to be her father.

“That mission. That squad. Those are the reasons I can't sleep at night. Why I wake up screaming from the bloody nightmares. I never gave a shit about my kills. They deserved it. But those guys … Now their families will never know the truth, because you bastards in your cozy command posts couldn't get your heads out of your asses.”

“I won't stand here and explain protocol to you. I came here to bring you home and get you the help you need.”

Her body shook from the rage and her grief. She let the tears flow unchecked. “I don't need or want your kind of help. I tried that already, remember? What did you say? Remember? What did you tell me?”

The General's eyes turned to flint. “
Semper fi ... ”

“Marines don't suffer,” she finished for him. “That's why Aiden took his life. He couldn't handle it anymore. No one was there for him, either, so he decided death was easier than living with it. And I was the one who had to find him.” Her knees were weakening.

Nic felt Con's arm slip around the front side of her waist. The General noticed the movement, too, his gaze darting down then up. The disgust in his eyes lit the fuse.

“I thought I raised you better than this. Get your shit together, Nicolette.”

Enraged, she screamed and charged. Con moved faster, grabbing her around the waist and hauling her off her feet. Her screams melded with her sobs. She struggled, begging for him to let her go.

“I suggest you get the hell out of here, sir,” Con yelled over her tortured wails.

Through the blurry haze, she saw The General hesitate, then about-face, and come face to face with Cassy. Nic choked down a cry and waited as her sister stared at him in horror. The General reached out for her, but she moved away. The man's shoulders slumped, and then he was gone. Leaving chaos in his rearview mirror.

Nic's struggling resumed, forcing Con to drop to the floor on his knees. As the grief over what had happened all those years ago took over, she allowed him to cradle her against him. Slinging her arms around his neck, Nic buried her face in his chest, heaving soul-wrenching sobs.

For the men who lost their lives for no reason. For Aiden. For Cassy, who now knew the horrible truth about their father. He was a cold-hearted son of a bitch who would sacrifice his own flesh and blood for his own gain.

But Nic cried hardest for herself, for what she'd done and the things she left undone. Because if she had just disobeyed those orders, a whole squad of men, and Aiden, would still be alive. And she wouldn't be living in hell.

Chapter Thirty-two

When the option became available, Nic freed herself from Con's hold and climbed to her feet. She waved and pushed him away, then staggered for the front door.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

She grabbed the keys to Cassy's car off the counter. “Anywhere but here.”

Cassy caught her hand, then gently pried the keys from it. “I'll drive.”

“Ladies, this might not be a good time—” Hunt started.

“Shut the hell up,” Cassy snapped and hooked her arm around Nic's. “I know where we can go.”

She let her sister escort her to the car. As Cassy was pulling out of the drive, Nic chanced a look at the house; Con was standing in the doorway. She could see the hurt on his face, but right now she couldn't feel a damn thing. Everything inside was numb, and she wanted to keep it that way.

“I hope this place where you're taking me has alcohol.”

“Liberal amounts of it.”

Cassy activated her MP3 player and cranked up the volume as some interesting style of folk/blues came out of the speakers. Nic slumped in the seat and let the music wash over her. Eventually, her eyes drifted shut. Their combined silence spoke volumes.

Nic didn't know what was going through her sister's head, wasn't sure she wanted to. But if Cassy's reaction to the truth of The General's involvement in Nic's downward spiral was any indication, it definitely included thoughts about making sure the old man never had sex with Emma ever again. Viagra be damned.

Nic didn't know how much time had passed or how far Cassy had driven before she felt the car stop and the music died.

“We're here.”

Nic peeled her eyes open and peered out the window at the brightly lit building with a gravel lot filled with dirty trucks and cars. The name of the place triggered a memory—she came out here when she first joined the sheriff's department. It was a little honky-tonk bar that managed to keep afloat thanks to the farmers and other country folks who preferred something not so pretentious.

“How'd you find out about this place?”

“Patrick brought me out here. I liked it.”

“What the hell did you do with that kid all day?”

“He's not a kid, and I got the lay of the land. It's come in real damn handy, if I do say so myself. Do you think anyone is going to figure out where we are?”

Shrugging, Nic moved to leave the car. It would be nice not worrying about Con or The General finding them. Because tonight she planned on getting wasted and to hell with the world. The door slammed shut behind her as she traipsed across the lot to the entrance.

Cassy gripped her arm. “Hold on, Nic. I know you're reeling and probably ready to drown yourself, but I need to know if you're packing.”

She held up her arms and showed Cassy that she was indeed unarmed. “I didn't bother.”

“Good,” her sister said and pushed inside.

Stale cigarette smoke and the rank stench of body odor and mildew blasted Nic as she followed her sister. An '80s-style jukebox sat next to the bar, spilling out country tunes of the same era. Men were scattered about the room with a few women here and there, all holding longnecks and talking. A few interested looks were thrown Nic and Cassy's way as they meandered through the maze of tables and chairs to the bar, but for the most part the patrons ignored them. A first for Nic since Dusty Walker's death, which was odd, considering how many of these people lived in the outlying areas around Eider.

Each taking a stool next to each other, Nic and Cassy grabbed a handful of peanuts and began shelling them as they waited for the bartender.

“When did you and Con happen?” Cassy asked after four peanuts.

“I don't know. It just did.” Nic tossed a shell at a basket sitting in the middle of the bar. “He's been working on me for a few years now.”

“And suddenly you just decide he's okay enough to sleep with?”

Nic chomped on her peanuts.

The bartender joined them, took their orders, and placed the desired liquor before them. Nic sipped her whiskey and savored the burn as it slid its way down her throat. Damn, that tasted good.

“You know he drinks that, too,” Cassy commented, then took a swig of her beer.

Nic caught her meaning. It was a crying shame this was the only thing she and The General shared a common love for: whiskey. Too bad. Nic threw back the rest in one gulp and slapped the glass on the bar top. The bartender caught her cue, returned with the bottle, and poured her another round.

“Why didn't you tell me sooner?” Cassy asked.

“Because I couldn't. He made sure of that. If the truth came out about his involvement in that mission, his retirement would have been tarnished. And we both know how much that meant to him.”

“My God, Nic, I knew he was hard on you … God, I just can't figure out … It's bullshit.”

“Sorry I had to break your rose-colored glasses.”

“Many years too late. He did that when you brought Aiden around.” Cassy sighed and picked at the label. “I don't think he would have ever approved of Boyce.”

“Damn, girl, what the hell do you see in that bastard?”

“He's not a bastard, just too career-driven for my taste.” A hint of a smile played at the corner of Cassy's mouth. “The sex was unbelievable.”

“TMI.”

Someone laid a twenty on the bar next to Nic. She looked over as Patrick sat down next to her.

“Hey, Rivers sisters, what are you doing here?”

“The question should be, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be working tonight?” Nic countered.

Patrick nodded to the bartender as he retrieved his glass of something dark and bubbly. “Night off. I like the music, so I come out here.”

Nic glanced at Cassy, who shrugged, and then turned back to Patrick. “Tell me, Patrick, what do you think about this shitstorm that's hit town?”

He choked on his drink, sputtered until he caught his breath, and shook his head. “Wow, what a conversation starter.”

“Inquiring minds want to know.”

“And some minds don't dwell on the morbid and trivial.”

Nic sniffed and drained her glass. She felt Cassy's elbow jab her but ignored it. They might be considering Patrick as a suspect; it didn't mean Nic couldn't put some pressure on him to see what popped.

“Did you know any of the people who've died?” Nic circled her finger to catch the barkeep's eye.

“Except for Deputy Walker and the mayor, uh, nope. Not a clue.”

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