"The basics, but the names are being withheld until Owens's family is notified."
She squeezed her eyes shut, guilt pressing hard against her chest over the crushing pain Gary's parents would suffer. Because of her?
"The investigator is withholding your name for your own safety."
What? She shifted in her seat to face him. "I thought they believed I'm guilty."
"They saw the wisdom of at least considering other options."
"Thank you."
"I didn't do anything."
"Thank you anyway for staying with me today."
"Your father would have my ass if I didn't look out for you. Sharing an enemy prison cell forges a bond I can't explain."
Those days when her father's crew had been missing, then reported taken by enemy warlords, had been hellish. She'd feared for her father's safety as well as for the man she'd thought she loved—even if at that time Carson had not noticed her beyond a kid sister kind of way.
Until later.
She so didn't need to think of later right now with him sitting so close and her in need of comfort in a big way. Who wouldn't be rocked by what had happened? But she was strong. She could hold on until she got in her apartment where she would have a long soggy cry in her bathtub. A man was dead, a man she'd cared about enough to date. A man she'd kissed and apparently nothing more, thank heavens, but he deserved to be mourned. Even if he'd done something so horrible she'd struck out and killed him.
Bashed in his skull.
Bile burned high in her throat. "Pull over."
"What?"
"Pull over or you're gonna need your carpet cleaned."
He whipped the truck across two lanes and onto the shoulder. She jerked her seat belt free and lurched from the cab to the swaying reeds and tall marsh grass.
Thank God he didn't join her while she heaved up her empty guts. If only she could pitch the horror of the day into the marsh grass, as well.
Finally, she straightened again, weaving as she sucked in chilly winter air until the double vision of afternoon traffic meshed into a single world again. Turning back, she found Carson leaning against the passenger-side door, waiting in case she needed him, but not intruding.
Emerging sunlight glinted off his blond hair and sunglasses now shielding his eyes, his body every bit as tall and strong and appealing as the first time she'd seen him strutting across a tarmac when she'd been waiting to welcome her dad home from an overseas tour. She was too tired and heartsore to feel attraction, but God, how she yearned to rest her head on that broad chest.
Instead, she planted her feet into the grassy incline and made her way back up slower than she'd descended.
She stopped beside him. Traffic whooshed past in blasts of wind.
Carson passed her a handkerchief without speaking. She took the small folded linen from his hand, three tiny initials embroidered in the upper corner. She studied the larger "H" with a "C" and "A" on either side. Who carried monogrammed handkerchiefs anymore? Apparently Carson. She'd thought he was a friend, had even shared a bed with him and didn't even know he carried a handkerchief, much less what the "A" stood for.
Nikki swiped the cloth across her mouth before clutching it in her fist. "Thanks."
"Are you all right now?"
"Who would be?"
"Right answer." His curt nod gave away less than his shielded eyes as he stood in the freezing mist without the least shiver. Maybe he seemed so perfect because he wasn't even human. "It'll take the drugs a while to wear off."
She sagged to rest beside him against the truck, drags of the prickly cold clearing her head. "So I didn't hurl because I'm an emotional wreck after all?"
"Over in Rubistan, after your dad and I were rescued, I barely made it to the barracks bathroom before I lost the MRE the soldiers gave me."
She pressed her fingers between her eyes against the ache his image brought. She'd hurt for him then and wasn't anywhere near as distant as she wanted to be now. "I appreciate your telling me that, especially since it must be difficult for you to talk about that time. My dad still doesn't discuss what happened over there very much."