Fine Line

I only wanted a cup of coffee. Alone.

It was a simple request, right? Just stroll into the coffee shop on the corner, grab my usual cup of liquid nitrogen, and walk back out.

All while minding my own business.

But I had to walk in at that exact moment. Not ten minutes earlier. Not ten minutes later. Precisely when Savannah Fields needed someone to help her. When no one except me had the courage to stand up for her.

After the incident, she looked at me like I was her hero.

But I'm no hero.

I don't even know who or what I am anymore.

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

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

Then the auburn-haired beauty showed up at my apartment, begging for my help. I couldn't turn her away.

The more I lost myself in her, the more I found myself again.

Or so I thought.

Even a broken clock gets to be right twice a day.

There's a fine line between right and wrong, love and hate, heaven and hell.