Chapter 17
Seventeen
“Price!” Jamie grabbed hold of Nic’s biceps, yanking him back. “Wait until I put the van in park!”
Nic wrenched his arm loose, and as soon as they pulled to a stop in the lot across the street from the smoldering garage, he shoved the van door open and charged across the street.
Traffic had been blocked in either direction, clearing a path for EMS. And for Nic to make his way directly over to the group of assembled law enforcement officers, a certain dark-haired, dark-eyed agent among them.
Nic knew Cam was okay. He’d reported in with him as Jamie had hung a U-turn at the bridge and aimed them back toward South End, but the conversation had been too brief, others on scene waiting for Cam’s orders.
Now at the scene himself, Nic needed to see Cam with his own eyes, touch him with his own hands, and kiss him with his own lips.
Registering his approach, Cam broke from the group and waited for him to close the distance. Nic held his gaze as he stalked past him, making the demand to follow clear. They circled around the back of an ambulance, finding a quiet spot among the chaos on the other side.
“You get checked out by the EMTs?” Nic asked.
“Yes, I’m fine.”
Nic glanced left and right—no one in sight—then rounded on Cam.
“Good, then I can do this.” He grabbed the lapels of the jacket Cam had replaced the vest with and yanked Cam forward, kissing him hard.
Desperate for the connection that had almost been severed again.
While he’d been stuck in another fucking van.
He made his argument with his hands diving into Cam’s matted hair, with his lips and tongue pleading his case by kiss, and with his body straining against Cam’s, reaching out with a need he didn’t bother to hide. No more being sidelined when it came to this man. Fuck that shit.
The whoop-whoop of a siren startled them apart, momentarily concerned the ambulance they’d fallen against was about to move, but then lights from another approaching firetruck cut across the shadows.
Chest heaving, catching his breath, Nic fell back against the side of the ambulance next to Cam. “That’s what I wanted to do the second I heard your voice on the radio. And I was fucking across town.”
Cam lolled his head to the side, eyes heavy-lidded as he reached for Nic’s hand, tangling their fingers together. “I’m fine, baby.”
“Barely.” He rotated onto his shoulder, angling toward Cam, needing to stay close. “And I was no safer in the van.”
“Jamie got you out of the blast radius.”
“But we couldn’t catch the car.”
“Ditto on the car at Matt’s scene,” Cam said. “At least the shot to Murphy wasn’t fatal.”
“Warning shot.” Nic surveyed the smoldering building again.
With multiple FBI and BPD teams involved, EMS had been on alert and had converged quickly.
They hadn’t lost any personnel and enough of the metal garage structure had survived so that crime scene techs were scouring the scene. “Anything salvageable?”
Cam’s hand spasmed in his and the tortured expression that crossed his face made Nic want to pull him back into his arms.
“What is it?” he asked.
Cam let go of his hand, and Nic instantly felt the chilly loss.
“Follow me.” The chill continued to creep through his veins as they tiptoed over soot-covered rubble to an open hatch door in the back corner of the structure.
“We got the fire contained before it made it downstairs,” Cam said.
“This was what they were trying to destroy.”
In the basement, halogen work lamps aided crime scene techs who were busy processing a workbench full of homemade explosives materials. Mingled in were burner phones and, Nic stopped to look, sheets of paper with BPD district phone numbers, addresses, and schedules.
“Price,” Cam called. He stood at the end of the hallway, holding open the door to another room. Nic didn’t want to go in there. A tremor ran up his spine and foreboding settled in every cell of his body. Nothing good awaited there.
His instincts proved correct.
It was the room from the ransom video, and with the bright lights shining, Nic realized how small it really was. And how covered it was in blood. The mattress, the floor, the cuffs that had held Shannon Murphy.
And God knew who else.
“Someone was definitely held captive here.”
“Maybe multiple someones,” Cam replied.
Maybe also Erin he didn’t say, but Nic heard it all the same.
“The techs will take samples and tell us.” Nic stepped closer, shoulders brushing, and spoke low, comfort for Cam’s ears only. “We don’t know what they’re going to find, Boston.”
“No, we don’t,” he croaked. “But we have to find Shannon fast.”
“No argument there.”
Before either of them could posit next steps, Cam’s phone rang, the “Sweet Caroline” ringtone sending another tremor up Nic’s spine.
A family member was calling at two in the morning. Cam brought the phone to his ear, listening, and his face blanched ghostly white. The news couldn’t be good.
“I’ll be right there.” Cam hung up the phone, moving stiffly, slowly, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he’d heard.
Nothing good. “What is it, Boston?”
Cam’s dark eyes were twin pits of misery. “Mom’s had a stroke.”
Cam had never been so grateful for Jamie’s driving skills as he had been today.
First, getting the van out of the blast radius, then getting him to Tufts Medical faster than humanly possible.
At the hospital, he drove up to the drop-off curb and parked in the 24 Hour Reserved for Security space. “I think we qualify,” Jamie said.
“Works for me,” Nic agreed.
Cam didn’t argue. He was out the door the next beat, Nic and Jamie on his heels.
“Just in case,” Jamie said, “I’m going to hit the front desk. Badges,” he said, hand out. “As I’m technically not official anymore.”
Cam drew his FBI badge out of his back pocket and slapped it into Jamie’s palm, landing atop Nic’s DOJ credentials.
“Go,” Jamie said. “I’m right behind you.”
Cam took off for the elevator at the end of the hallway, assuming Nic would follow. He punched the call button, and when the doors didn’t automatically open, punched it again. As much for something to do with his hands as a target for his frustration.
No Shannon Murphy rescue.
No suspects in custody.
No leads on Erin.
And now his mother was taking a turn for the worse. Before he had anything to show for the heartache he’d caused, past and present.
No hope.
He lifted his hand to smash the button again and Nic intercepted him, grasping his forearm. “The button is not your enemy.”
“Fuck off,” Cam snapped, then immediately regretted it.
Nic thankfully didn’t take offense. He stepped closer instead, sliding his hand down Cam’s forearm to his wrist, fingers caressing the heel of his hand, soothing. “You need to breathe, Boston. Get yourself under control.”
“One thing, Nic. She wanted one thing, and I’ve got nothing.”
The doors to the elevator finally opened, and Cam moved to charge in.
Nic’s hand around his wrist held him back, making room for the couple of passengers to exit.
Once they were clear, Nic led him in and pressed the button for ICU.
The doors closed and Nic moved in front of him, forcing his gaze. “You’re doing what she asked.”
“We still don’t—”
Nic closed the distance between them. “You have the first lead in how many years?”
“It may not be connected.” Cam poked him in the chest. “Your words.”
“But it may be.” He covered Cam’s hand with his and lowered it. “And it’s not nothing. You’re getting closer to saving one family the pain yours went through.”
Cam searched for answers in his light blue eyes. “Did I cause my own more pain doing so?”
“Right now, that doesn’t matter. Being here for your family does.”
Cam closed his eyes and rested his forehead against Nic’s shoulder. “I feel like I’m coming untethered.”
A feeling that intensified when Nic let go of his hand. But then those long, strong arms wrapped around him, holding him together. “I’ve got the rope,” Nic whispered in his ear.
Standing by him, even after he’d run hot and cold the past few days. After he’d pushed him away in favor of keeping what little peace was left with his family. “I don’t deserve—”
A hand ran up his back and into his hair, holding him close. Cheek to cheek, Nic’s warm breath fanned the side of his face. “I will not let go.”
Cam’s heart and lungs stuttered. “Please don’t.”
Nic angled his face in, brushing their lips together.
It was a different sort of kiss for them.
Not the rough, can’t-get-enough-of-you claiming of mouths.
Or the just-shut-up lip smash they were both so fond of.
It was slow, gentle, full of silent words—I trust you, I’ve got you, I’m here—and every bit as claiming as all their other kisses.
Maybe more so. And it was by far the most convincing argument Nic had ever made without saying a word.
The elevator dinged, arriving at their floor, and Cam didn’t want to leave the safety of Nic’s arms. Nic, however, was wise enough to step back in the nick of time, Bobby waiting for them in the hallway. They were still close enough for the dark brows above Bobby’s narrowed eyes to snap together.
“Cam, what—”
“How is she?” Cam asked as he and Nic stepped out of the elevator. Bobby looked like he wanted to get back to his unfinished question, so Cam came at him with another request. “Tell me what happened, Bobby.”
Conceding, his brother fell in step beside them. “She made it through the surgery and was in recovery.”
That’d been the last Cam had heard too. “I talked to Quinn this evening before we went dark for an operation.” They turned the corner to the ICU hallway. “He said she was waking up.”
“She did wake up around midnight. Ate a little too. And then—”
“This is your fault!” Keith came barreling toward him, pointing an accusatory finger. “She had the TV on, and they cut to a report about the blast in South End. You just can’t quit, can you?”
“Is that what the doctor said caused it?” Cam asked Bobby, horrified and being towed under by a cresting wave of guilt.
His older brother shook his head. “Blood clot like they warned us.”
“She was fine, then she wasn’t!” Keith hollered in his face. “Because of you!” He reared back an arm, hand fisted, and before Cam could blink, Nic was between them, palm in Keith’s chest, shoving him up against the wall.
“That’s enough, Sergeant.”
“Why are you even here?” Keith spat, eyes hard and angry. “This is a family matter.”
“And Boston’s mine.”
Cam’s heart skipped a beat, then lurched into his throat. He moved to break up the stare-down, but Jamie’s hand around his biceps stopped him.
“I didn’t have much of one growing up,” Nic went on. “But your brother and his friends took me in. That’s why I’m here, for my family, which by extension is your family. So, stand the fuck down. None of us needs this right now, least of all your mother.”
“What’s going on?” Everyone’s attention swung the opposite direction.
Quinn stood in the doorway of Edye’s room, arm around their tearful father.
Cam’s heart plummeted, all the way to the floor, the roller coaster making him nauseous.
Keith looked equally green, raising his hands, and when Nic dropped his, Cam reached for his brother.
Keith came to his one side, Bobby to his other.
A hand coasted across his lower back, giving him the courage to ask, “How’s Mom? ” even as he feared the answer.
“No change.”
The brothers sagged against one another. Cam broke first, going to his father and pulling him into a hug. “Tell me,” he said to Quinn over Ken’s shoulder.
“They may need to operate again. She’s on blood thinners now to try and dissolve the clot less invasively.”
“And the clot was an effect of the surgery,” Bobby said behind them. “Nothing else.”
“I’m sorry,” Keith mumbled.
Cam dragged him into the hug too. “It’s okay. We’re all on edge.”
“You should go see her, Cam,” Quinn said after a moment.
Cam nodded, handing Keith and his father off to each other. He glanced back at Jamie and Nic standing beside each other. The latter nodded. “Go,” he said. “We’ll be here.”
Taking a deep breath, he entered the dim room. And realized he hadn’t inhaled nearly enough. Because all the oxygen vanished, whooshing out of him like he’d been punched in the gut.
Last he’d seen her, his mom had been frail but awake and sharp. Now, she was laid flat out, unconscious and breathing with the help of a ventilator. Knees going weak, he caught himself on the bed’s foot rail, shaking the bed and drawing the notice of the nurse in the room.
He smiled gently, not seeming the least bit surprised. “Talk to her,” he said. “There’s still brain activity. She needs to know you’re here.”
The nurse slipped out, and once Cam got his legs back under him, he moved to the chair at the side of her bed.
He wanted to hold her hand, and the nurse had helpfully made a path for him through the IVs and wires.
Her hand was warm, which was a small comfort, but the way it didn’t move, didn’t curl around his, wiped the comfort away.
He squeezed for both of them. “I need you to hang on, Ma. I’m getting closer.
We found where the kidnapped girl was held.
Maybe Erin too.” He swallowed down the bile that rose up just thinking about Erin in that room and focused on his mother instead.
“I’m going to find out what happened to her, I promise, but I need you to fight, Ma.
I need you to fight like you fought for me. ”