Chapter 3
Three
It was closer to sunrise than sunset when Nic emerged from a cloud of steam in Cam’s bathroom, a far cry from the cloud of smoke they’d staggered out of earlier with Amali and Riya.
Heat and smoke had nipped their heels every step of the way, but they’d made it to the ground floor, Shante throwing open the door to glorious fresh air.
And to Amali’s tearful, thankful parents who’d been waiting outside.
He and Cam had gotten the reunited family seen to, then, after a couple hits off a shared oxygen mask, they’d assisted the actual first responders until residents had been allowed back inside.
Nic, however, was barred from staying in his unit.
Between the smoke that had poured through the air vents and the overflowing water from the sprinklers in the upstairs unit, Nic’s new home had been deemed uninhabitable.
He’d only been allowed in to quickly grab essentials, most of which were still packed in his suitcases by the door.
He’d grabbed his luggage while Cam had packed up the Instant Pot, the stew preserved under the locked pressure lid.
As much as Nic wanted to sleep, he also wanted to eat, his body thrown out of whack from the travel and unplanned all-nighter.
Maybe food would also make the difficult conversation he’d avoided earlier—the one about what an idiot his father had been—go down easier.
Cursing him, Nic yanked on a borrowed tee, rolled it down to the top of his sweats, and ran a hand through his damp hair. Situated well enough, he strolled across the open dining area and into the kitchen where Cam stood ladling stew into bowls, his cat winding around his feet.
Cam’s dark eyes twinkled up at him, surprisingly awake for four in the morning. “Beer to go with?” he asked with a nod to the fridge.
He’d showered first while Nic had been on the phone with the arson investigator, filling him in on what they’d detected at the scene. Nic had also made it known they wanted to be kept in the loop. Because it was his home, he’d claimed. Because it was a nasty welcome home present, he suspected.
“I’ll get it,” Nic said, ignoring the hissing orange furball. He and Bird had been on good terms before he’d left for San Diego. Apparently, he was going to have to win the beast over again.
Food and drink in hand, they bypassed the dining table for the deep-cushioned couch in the living room. Digging in, Nic hummed as the rich flavors of the stew hit his tongue. “Thank you for the housewarming gift,” he said a few spoonfuls later. “Even if we are enjoying it at your place.”
Cam shot him a sideways grin. “I’m just glad it survived. Otherwise it would’ve been cup of noodles.”
“Wouldn’t be my first time.”
“Military?”
“Law school.”
Cam laughed mid-slurp of stew, and Bird pounced on the spray, licking it up off the floor.
Nic smiled, amused and more content than he had any right to be. “You didn’t have to do this.”
Dark eyes, dimmer now, slid his way. “My apologies for presuming.”
Nic lowered his spoon and forced down the bite that lodged in his throat. “I’m the one who owes you an apology. Thought we established that.”
“Confession,” Cam started, and Nic whipped his gaze back up, not sure where Cam was headed with that lead-in. “This is also me softening you up. I’m Irish,” he said, gesturing with his spoon at the clover on his Celtics T-shirt. “We attack through the belly.”
“Go on.”
Dropping his spoon in his empty bowl, Cam leaned forward and set it on the round leather ottoman. He stopped halfway back, elbows resting on his knees. “It’s about your father.”
“What’d you find?” Nic set his bowl next to Cam’s for Bird to lick clean. Cam had said he was going to keep digging, but had he found out more than Mel? And had he tipped off Vaughn doing so? “Were you quiet?”
Cam nodded. “We didn’t approach. Just dug into financials and legal records.”
“This is what you were softening me up for?”
“No, I was softening you up for what we found. You’re not gonna be happy when I tell you what your father’s done.”
Meaning they’d gotten at least as far as Mel had. “The mortgage on the house,” he said, grimacing.
“You knew?”
“Mel gave me a lift back from San Diego. Brought me up to speed.”
“Do you know who holds that loan?” Cam’s tone clearly indicated he did.
But first . . . “We didn’t approach?”
“Lauren.”
Nic had guessed as much; he’d already drawn her in himself last spring.
Ultimately, though, she answered to Cam, and her ace hacking skills, together with Cam’s investigative prowess, had led them to the same discovery Mel had made. “Duncan Vaughn.”
“He’s a gangster, Nic.” Cam raked a hand through his hair, dark brown made black by the lingering dampness. “He must be the one behind the attacks last April. He’s come at you three times already.”
Two snipers and a hit-and-run. Plus one Cam didn’t know about.
“Four times. Five, maybe, if that fire in the unit above mine tonight was arson. Which is why I’ve tried to keep you out of this.”
Cam’s eyes grew wide, swirling with worry and smarting from betrayal. “Four or five? And how long have you known it’s Vaughn?”
Nic put a hand on Cam’s knee to keep him from bolting upright. He left it there as he filled Cam in on his first run-in with Vaughn’s goons. The two bruisers had tried and failed to jump him in Gravity’s parking lot a week before a sniper had pinned him and Cam down there.
“You’ve known it’s been Vaughn this entire time?”
Standing, Nic grabbed his wallet off the table, took out the card the goons had given him, and handed it to Cam. “They were clear about who they worked for.”
Cam turned the card over in his hand, running a thumb over the embossed lettering. VAUGHN INVESTMENTS. He glanced back up, the betrayal in his eyes eclipsed by the worry. “Fuck, Nic. This is serious. We need to report this.”
“I can take care of myself, Boston.”
Cam shot up off the couch, standing nose-to-nose with him. “Don’t be fooled by that lie I told earlier. I’m the LEO here.”
“I’m not going to report this.”
“Why the fuck not?”
Bird scampered off the ottoman with a startled meow, surprised by his owner’s outburst. It was enough to break their stare-down and poke a hole in the rising tension.
Taking Cam’s hand, Nic sat on the edge of the ottoman and tugged Cam back down to the couch.
He wasn’t the enemy—Cam could be an ally—if Nic explained why he’d taken the steps he had.
Why he’d kept things quiet, beyond merely wanting to protect him.
“I’m not going to report this because I still think they were just threats, not actual attempts on my life.”
“Bull—”
“And because the FBI is already investigating. I don’t want to fuck up that case, and I don’t want to be walled off any more than I already am.”
Cam pressed his lips together, stewing. “We’re walled off too,” he said after a moment. “I can’t access the files on Vaughn or Curtis.”
“All of us are, including Aidan. Conflicts of interest.” Which was putting it mildly.
Aidan Talley, Cam’s partner, was the San Francisco Special Agent in Charge.
He was also Cam’s best friend’s husband, Mel’s brother-in-law, and the man Nic had once dated.
The Irish ex-pat was the center of the wheel that held them all together.
“Assistant Director Moore has the files. He keeps them on flash drives in a safe in his private residence. He’s the only one who can grant access. ”
It took Cam less than a second to draw the same conclusion Nic had earlier.
“Shit, the same flash drives I stole that one time?” Cam, undercover with a wanted heist crew, had had to steal flash drives out of the AD’s personal safe to prove himself.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Becca said they were for another client. Vaughn?”
Nic nodded. “I’d put my money on it.”
“But we gave them back.”
Nic shook his head this time. “I’m pretty sure I saw Lauren copying them after the bust, before we gave them back.”
“That’s what she’s been working on all these months. She can’t crack ’em. It’s driving her nuts.” Slumping into the cushions, Cam ran a hand down his face and over his stubbled jaw. Nic wished for this conversation to be over so he could run his fingers over it. “I can talk to AD Moore,” Cam said.
And then he was right back in it. “No!” The word came out harsher than Nic intended, and Bird skittered on his nails the rest of the way out of the room.
“Shit, I’m sorry, that came out wrong.” He spread his legs on either side of Cam’s knees and laid his hands on his thighs.
Containment with a side of contrition. “I haven’t slept in almost twenty-four hours.
Hell, I haven’t really slept well in over a month. ”
Cam’s hands landed on top of his. “In five weeks?”
Nic smirked as irony reared its head. The very house he’d run from was now his refuge. He was here now; he wasn’t going anywhere. No use denying how much he’d missed it. “Yeah, Boston, since I left your bed. That what you want to hear?”
“That’s exactly what I want to hear,” Cam said, voice practically a purr, but when Nic tried to slide his hands higher, Cam stopped them. “First, though, I want to hear why you think we can’t talk to Elton Moore about this.”
He should have known Cam wouldn’t let it go. Groaning, he tipped from the ottoman onto the opposite end of the couch. “I already told you.”
Cam shifted to face him, bending a leg and planting a foot in the cushion, arm resting on his knee. “The real reason, Dominic.”
“The first sniper, who had my picture, struck mid-operation. The car that hit me, mid-op. And the second sniper was waiting when we pulled into Gravity that night, after we left the Federal Building.”
“Vaughn has someone on the inside,” Cam said, tying it all together. “Someone who knows when and where we’ll be.”
“On our operations, no less.”
“Perfect cover. We thought they were connected to the case at first.”