standing behind him. “Take care of yourself, okay?”
“I will. They said I can’t see you right now.” Amanda sounded close to tears again, her voice vibrating.
“No. It’s too dangerous. But when this is all over, I’ll be there.
You hear me?”
“I hear you. Be safe, Danny.”
“You, too, honey.”
Danny closed the phone with a snap, tossing it over his shoulder to land with a muffled thump on the couch.
“How was she? Did she—” Miller began.
Danny held up a hand. “I don’t want to talk right now,” he said, enunciating each word carefully. He thought throwing another punch might be in his future if Miller underwent a sudden personality shift 50 | Brooke McKinley
and became chatty. But Miller took the not-so-subtle hint and retreated, the sound of running water following him from the kitchen.
Danny fell backward onto the sofa and covered his eyes with his arm. Amanda. With her face wrecked, her bones shattered, her painted fingernails ripped out. Danny could remember exactly how she’d looked on the night they’d met. When her smile was still carefree and her heart not yet broken. When she’d worn a white dress and a crimson flower in her hair and danced barefoot in the street. When they’d both been young and stupid and drunk and Danny had thought wanting men could be limited to the time he spent in a nine by twelve foot cell and Amanda would be the one to save him. But instead he’d destroyed her.
Made her a criminal, torn apart her hopes. Don’t forget almost getting her killed.
One more guilt-ridden entry on the laundry list of his sins.
“I’M BACK,” Miller called, shutting the door with his foot.
“Did you get the pizza?”
“Yes,” Miller sighed, “I got the pizza. Pepperoni and mushroom, just like you asked. And the beer you wanted. And the bourbon. And the Marlboros. And—”
“I don’t need the whole rundown, but thanks.” Danny grabbed the greasy pizza box. “What’s that?” he asked, pointing at the duffel bag slung over Miller’s shoulder.
“That’s your stuff.” Miller let the bag fall to the floor.
“What do you mean, my stuff?”
“From your apartment. Clothes, mainly.”
Danny set down the piece of pizza he’d been about to shove into his mouth. “Um… far be it from me to interfere with the workings of the great FBI, but isn’t that a little stupid? To go to my apartment and then come here? Couldn’t someone have followed you?” Miller moved around Danny to the refrigerator, arms burdened Shades of Gray | 51
with provisions. “Yes, Danny, that would have been stupid. That’s why I had someone go to your apartment right after I picked you up yesterday, when we knew Madrigal was long gone, and get your clothes. Then he took the bag back to my office, on the off chance he was followed, and I picked it up today.” He shut the refrigerator. “I’m good at my job, Danny. You don’t need to worry.”
“Let’s just hope you’re better than the guys who were supposed to be watching my apartment,” Danny commented dryly, snagging a beer from the six-pack in Miller’s hand. “Want some pizza?”
“Yeah, fine.” Miller was knocked off balance by Danny’s easy banter. He had expected Danny to remain morose and angry after the conversation with Amanda. But an hour later he had searched Miller out for conversation, still a little distant but close enough to normal that he was able to resume bitching about the lack of food. For all his tough demeanor, it was clear that Danny was a man who couldn’t hold a grudge for long—fury and petulance a costume he wore occasionally, but not a permanent ensemble.
It took them only ten minutes to devour the pizza before Danny moved on to a pint of ice cream, while Miller settled in with a beer.
There was nothing good on TV but he kept changing channels anyway, Danny telling him to stop every once in a while so he could make fun of an infomercial or smirk along with canned sitcom
“I will. They said I can’t see you right now.” Amanda sounded close to tears again, her voice vibrating.
“No. It’s too dangerous. But when this is all over, I’ll be there.
You hear me?”
“I hear you. Be safe, Danny.”
“You, too, honey.”
Danny closed the phone with a snap, tossing it over his shoulder to land with a muffled thump on the couch.
“How was she? Did she—” Miller began.
Danny held up a hand. “I don’t want to talk right now,” he said, enunciating each word carefully. He thought throwing another punch might be in his future if Miller underwent a sudden personality shift 50 | Brooke McKinley
and became chatty. But Miller took the not-so-subtle hint and retreated, the sound of running water following him from the kitchen.
Danny fell backward onto the sofa and covered his eyes with his arm. Amanda. With her face wrecked, her bones shattered, her painted fingernails ripped out. Danny could remember exactly how she’d looked on the night they’d met. When her smile was still carefree and her heart not yet broken. When she’d worn a white dress and a crimson flower in her hair and danced barefoot in the street. When they’d both been young and stupid and drunk and Danny had thought wanting men could be limited to the time he spent in a nine by twelve foot cell and Amanda would be the one to save him. But instead he’d destroyed her.
Made her a criminal, torn apart her hopes. Don’t forget almost getting her killed.
One more guilt-ridden entry on the laundry list of his sins.
“I’M BACK,” Miller called, shutting the door with his foot.
“Did you get the pizza?”
“Yes,” Miller sighed, “I got the pizza. Pepperoni and mushroom, just like you asked. And the beer you wanted. And the bourbon. And the Marlboros. And—”
“I don’t need the whole rundown, but thanks.” Danny grabbed the greasy pizza box. “What’s that?” he asked, pointing at the duffel bag slung over Miller’s shoulder.
“That’s your stuff.” Miller let the bag fall to the floor.
“What do you mean, my stuff?”
“From your apartment. Clothes, mainly.”
Danny set down the piece of pizza he’d been about to shove into his mouth. “Um… far be it from me to interfere with the workings of the great FBI, but isn’t that a little stupid? To go to my apartment and then come here? Couldn’t someone have followed you?” Miller moved around Danny to the refrigerator, arms burdened Shades of Gray | 51
with provisions. “Yes, Danny, that would have been stupid. That’s why I had someone go to your apartment right after I picked you up yesterday, when we knew Madrigal was long gone, and get your clothes. Then he took the bag back to my office, on the off chance he was followed, and I picked it up today.” He shut the refrigerator. “I’m good at my job, Danny. You don’t need to worry.”
“Let’s just hope you’re better than the guys who were supposed to be watching my apartment,” Danny commented dryly, snagging a beer from the six-pack in Miller’s hand. “Want some pizza?”
“Yeah, fine.” Miller was knocked off balance by Danny’s easy banter. He had expected Danny to remain morose and angry after the conversation with Amanda. But an hour later he had searched Miller out for conversation, still a little distant but close enough to normal that he was able to resume bitching about the lack of food. For all his tough demeanor, it was clear that Danny was a man who couldn’t hold a grudge for long—fury and petulance a costume he wore occasionally, but not a permanent ensemble.
It took them only ten minutes to devour the pizza before Danny moved on to a pint of ice cream, while Miller settled in with a beer.
There was nothing good on TV but he kept changing channels anyway, Danny telling him to stop every once in a while so he could make fun of an infomercial or smirk along with canned sitcom
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