Discovery Author: : Suzanne Moore Email: suzanne.moore8@verizon.net Rating: PG-13 Summary: What happens after the violence in the parking garage? Author's Notes: Many thanks to Romantique for the Beta-read, and to Shirley, Bar, and Linda Fetzer for their energizing inspiration. ~*~*~ Adrenaline coursed through his veins, feeling much like the coke he dearly loved. Being this "amped" was something that he'd not felt in a while. He was breathing heavily, his blue-green eyes wide in disbelief. The sudden exertion had made sweat bead on his face, but amazingly, his palms were dry. Nick gripped the steering wheel tightly, unaware of the blood trickling across his scraped knuckles. His mind reeled. One punch was understandable; the guy had gotten physical with his Dad. But two punches? Three? And a head butt? Burton had joined in, too. They'd left the parking space thief on the garage floor. Did security cameras record the brutal beating? Did the man see Burton's tag number? What about witnesses? Nick didn't need more legal problems. Not now. Not ever again. He drove away from the lights of the parking garage and pulled into the shrouded safety of night, fighting the urge to speed away. Just drive normally and forget it happened. A block later, he slowed the car and then stopped. Someone was running down the middle of the shadowy street. It was eerie, surreal, bizarre. The runner drew nearer, until. . . It's Taliek! Meaningful eye contact was made. Taliek's face revealed something Nick couldn't quite wrap his mind around. What? Something bad? Taliek didn't stop to talk, but turned his icy gaze toward Nick. The young attorney knew that the man could now place him at the scene of the beating. But Taliek doesn't know about the beating. He stared at the running man in the rear view mirror. Would he turn around and return to the car? Why is my client running down the street at this hour? Nick knew about James' involvement in the man's injury, and the aftermath that followed. I could lose my license to practice, but James could loose a lot more. He suddenly had a feeling of foreboding, and felt for his cell phone to call James. Damn! Cell phone's broken. Nick glanced at Burton before pulling out. His father seemed calm and in control, smoking a cigarette, staring straight ahead. The car was quiet, the atmosphere supercharged, both men lost in thought. Nick fought to calm his breathing. What if the man in the garage was badly hurt? What if he could identify us? What if. . . Too many what-ifs for a good night's sleep. I'm out of control and guilty as hell. He turned the corner slowly, glad that the way home would take him past LSP. Two cars -- including James' -- were in the parking lot. Odd for this late on a Friday night. Nick pulled the car into the spot next to James' auto and turned off the engine. Burton snapped back into the present. "Nicholas?" "I'll be right back, Dad," he murmured, eyes wide and heart askitter. The elevator opened to a gruesome scene. Larry Flood lay dead. James was barely alive. Barely. Nick quickly removed his tuxedo jacket and covered James with it before calling 911. Then he sat on the floor close to his colleague, and patted James softly, waiting for help to arrive. His adrenaline rush was back again. He didn't like the feeling. It wasn't until the authorities arrived that Nick noticed his bloody knuckles. The police noticed them, too. The End