“I know.” Nolan nodded. A part of him felt guilty for making Tanis feel bad about her gibe—no one wanted to be that person who mocked a paraplegic—but he couldn’t help drawing in a relieved breath. She’d bought his excuse. “Tell you what, serve me a few more fingers of that vodka, and we’ll call it even.”
Tanis’ grin returned. “I can do that.” She dumped her plate on the table, headed to the bookshelf bar, and served two glasses of the clear liquor. “Damn!” She held up the half-empty bottle. “You weren’t kidding about the pain being bad.”
Nolan grimaced and gave a nonchalant grunt.
Tanis poured a drink, handed one to him, and clinked her tumbler against his before returning to her chair by the table. The two of them drank in silence, but even as Nolan emptied his glass, he was keenly aware of Tanis’ gaze still on him.
“Bloody hell, Tanis, whatever it is, spit it out!” Nolan knew his irritability had more to do with his barely-satiated cravings than with the woman, but he found her scrutiny unnerving. Like she was seeing through the lie he’d told and seeing the pitiful person beneath. The person he’d become, the one he’d do anything to hide from her and everyone else he’d known before the Old Terran grenade ended his military career.
Tanis winced but, never one to sugar-coat or dance around words, she blurted out, “Your legs. How fucked are they?”
Nolan’s jaw slackened a fraction. That was blunt, even for her. “Totally FUBAR, according to the last specialist I saw.” He gestured to his back. “Even if I had money enough to pay for the Empire’s best surgeon, I can’t find anyone willing to do the procedure. Too risky, they told me.” His expression hardened, his lip curling into a bitter sneer. “It’s a choice to stay legless or take the chance of losing function all the way to the neck. Shitty and shittier options, right?”
Tanis nodded. “Yeah.” She took a long drink of her vodka, still fixing him with that same intense, piercing stare.
Despite himself, Nolan found the words pouring from his mouth. “And don’t get me started on the Imperial Office of Veteran Affairs! The IOVA paperwork alone is a damned shit-show, then it takes months for them just to get anything moving along.”
It might have been the vodka, the codeine in the painkiller, the presence of a friendly, familiar face, or a combination of all three, but the flood dams within Nolan had been broken and now the torrent of emotions flooded out.
“The disability check’s a joke, even with the Exceptional Incapacity Allowance, and it takes so damned long for them to dump the credits in my account that I end up months behind on rent. Which is why I got kicked out of my last three places.”
That was only partially true—he’d blown most of the last year’s allotment of disability pension on Blitz and anything else he could get his hands on—but at that moment, he just needed someone to listen, someone who understood. The compassion in Tanis’ eyes and the empathy etched into the lines of her strong face were all it took to bring up all the emotions he’d been holding deep down for more than a year now.
“And somehow, the money’s supposed to be enough?!” Nolan’s voice rose to a shout, anger burning bright and hot within his gut. “Like a few credits is going to make up for everything I lost. Everything that was taken from me!”
“You got dealt a shit hand,” Tanis said quietly.
“You think?” Nolan’s fingers trembled, and this time it had nothing to do with the drugs. He hadn’t realized how furious he was at his situation, but now it was all he could feel. “Every day I sit around, every day I can’t operate in the field, that’s a day fucking wasted!” Anger edged his voice, setting the walls ringing. “All those years I spent training, fighting through every bloody thing they threw at us to turn us into operators, gone in the space of a second. One second, just like that!” He snapped his fingers. “I gave it everything I had. It became everything I was. And now, I’ve got nothing.”
With that, the torrent of words dried up. But not the anger. No, that had taken root deep within the core of his being, and a few minutes of ranting was far from enough to run that fiery well dry.
“You miss it.” Again, Tanis spoke in a quiet voice.
“Damned right I do!” Nolan barked. “The action. Belonging to a team, working with people who care.” He leaned forward, his eyes drilling into Tanis. “But you know what I miss the most?”
“What?” the woman asked.
“Having a fucking purpose.” Saying the words aloud felt like releasing a sneeze. The thought had eaten away at him for months, but only now had he voiced it. “A reason to get out of bed in the morning beyond just eating, shitting, and earning a few credits.” He sat back against the couch and gave a bitter shake of his head. “That’s the worst thing I lost the day that grenade went off.”
Tanis remained silent. Her gaze remained locked on him, yet she seemed distant, as if lost in her own head. She toyed with the edge of her glass tumbler for long seconds, then finally set it down with purpose. Her eyes narrowed a fraction and she opened her mouth, but paused. Finally, she found her voice.
“What if I told you I had a way to solve your problems?”
Nolan’s eyebrows rose. “What?”
“You heard me.” Tanis leaned forward, elbows resting on her knees, and fixed him with a hard look. “A way to earn credits enough for a decent living, and a way to feel a sense of purpose again. A way to put your old Silverguard skills to use again.”
Nolan sucked in a breath. What is she asking me? The intensity in her eyes and the seriousness of her expression startled him. She was trying to tell him something without just saying it. But what?
“Tell me, Nolan,” Tanis continued, her voice dropping to a low, earnest rumble. “If I could offer you that, would you take it?”
Chapter Four
What the hell is happening? Nolan couldn’t be certain if it was the mix of codeine, vodka, fatigue, and pain, but it felt like he floated in a dream. How else could he explain the fact that he’d gone from sitting on Tanis’ couch to flying over New Avalon in the space of half an hour? Nothing made any kind of sense that he could understand.
He replayed everything that had just transpired. He’d hesitated only a moment after Tanis’ question to him, and the answer had come easy. “Damned straight I would!”
“Good.” Tanis nodded, pushed back her chair, and stood from the table. “Don’t move.” Then she was gone, striding toward the bedroom and closing the door behind her. Less than five minutes passed before she emerged—a totally different person. Gone was the friendly, jovial Tanis, and in the place of her bluster and humor was only the earnest, solemn intensity of a professional soldier. “We need to get to the roof.”
Nolan had no time for surprise before Tanis lifted him off the couch, deposited him on his chair, and pushed it toward what appeared a blank wall. When she reached the wall, she pressed a button he hadn’t seen, and a panel opened beneath the simple wallpaper to reveal a palm scanner. A quick scan, and the entire wall slid to one side. Cold blue lights winked to life in a room beyond—a room that had a steel work table and a small armory of guns hanging on wall racks.