I just wanted a sit down elsewhere. Alone. It had been a simple request, right? Just stroll into the coffee shop around the corner, grab my usual cup of liquid nitrogen, and walk back again out. All while minding my very own business.

But I had developed to walk in at that exact second. Not 10 minutes earlier. Not ten minutes later on. Specifically when Savannah Areas needed someone to help her. When nobody except me had the courage to stand up for her.

Following the incident, she viewed me like I was her hero. But I’m no hero. I don’t even understand who or what I am any longer.

Who is Nick Tucker? A DEA agent? A criminal? Both? Neither?

The lines I crossed while undercover blurry my staunch sense of morality.

Then your auburn-haired beauty showed up within my apartment, begging for my help. I couldn’t switch her away. The greater I dropped myself in her, the more I came across myself again. Roughly I thought.

Even a broken clock gets to be right twice per day. There’s an excellent line between correct and wrong, love and hate, heaven and hell.

Contains mature themes.