Chapter 2
TWO
As Nic strode out of his office, he struggled not to focus on the cool silk tie ends brushing the inside of his left thigh, or on the snug fit of the sailor’s knot around the base of his dick, or on what the man walking beside him had been doing to his dick five minutes ago.
“Stop thinking about the tie,” Cam said, as if reading his mind.
“This is going to be the longest goddamn meeting of my life.”
“And you’re not even technically on the clock.”
“I’d curse her if I didn’t think it would rebound somehow.”
Cam shook his head furiously, an amusing impression of their friend and colleague, Agent Lauren Hall. “Don’t tempt fate.”
At the end of the hallway, before they rounded the corner to the tasting area, Nic grasped Cam’s arm and pulled him to a stop. “You don’t have to stay here for this. You are off the clock.”
Cam’s dark eyes flared. “One”—he lifted his free hand and gestured around them—“community property once we get married.”
Nic bit back a laugh. “Not exactly how it works, and our fourth marriage license expires in five days.” They kept meaning to get married.
Something low-key and informal, just friends and family, probably here or at the house.
Lauren and his sister, Lette, had been on their cases about it nonstop.
But between trials, cases, the never-ending remodel on the house, and Gravity’s busiest year to date, those ninety-day license windows seemed to expire in a blink.
“Details.” Cam freed his other arm and lifted that hand too, pointing his index finger directly at Nic. “And two, you’re crazy if you think I’m going to leave you here to deal with this alone. Hell, I should be sending you home. This is a law enforcement matter.”
Nic stepped closer, and Cam’s flailing hands landed on his chest. “You are not sidelining me from protecting my own brewery.”
“Figured you’d say that.” Cam slid a hand down between them, palming Nic’s cock through his jeans and resurrecting the erection Nic was trying—and failing—not to focus on.
“And three, I’m not leaving here tonight until I take that tie off your cock with my teeth.
” He tightened his grip, swallowed Nic’s growl with a scorching kiss, then released him, spinning away and throwing a “Let’s go, Counselor” over his shoulder.
He disappeared around the corner, and affectionate jealousy streaked through Nic.
Cam could pull off that just-fucked look—whether actually the case or not—and no one would think twice.
Dark tousled hair, dark eyes, a sinful smirk that lived on his face half the time already.
Cam’s cockiness was part of his charm. Nic didn’t have that same easy charisma.
He had to rely on his prosecutor’s mask instead, which unfortunately wasn’t always foolproof around Cam.
It needed to be today, though, with his staff and Mel just around the corner.
Inhaling deep, he drew down the mask and coached down his erection before entering the tasting area.
He found it both more and less deserted than expected.
More in that his staff was nowhere to be seen.
Everyone was outside judging by the voices and noises drifting in through the open back-lot door.
Less in that Mel and Cam weren’t the only people in the room.
Daniel Talley, Mel’s husband, stood behind the bar, pulling taps and filling pint glasses.
“Help yourself,” Nic said.
Danny flashed him a devilish grin. “Don’t mind if I do.”
“You making the bartender gig official?” Whenever the youngest Talley was here, he always found his way behind the bar, and today he even looked the part—dressed in jeans, a Gravity tee, and a worn pair of Chucks.
“You want to tell my dad, or should I?” Danny replied.
“How do you think he’ll take the news? He’s been loving his retirement.
” Danny was CEO of Talley Enterprises, his family’s shipping empire, and Mel was TE’s chief of security, along with running a successful bounty business on the side.
Danny set another pint of FBI Stout on the bar in front of Nic.
“Only way Dad would find that acceptable is if you’ve managed to talk my brother into taking over. ”
Behind them, Mel and Cam laughed out loud, and Nic couldn’t suppress his own chuckle. As much as Aidan Talley loved his family, his allergy to the family business was legendary.
Four glasses in hand, Danny skirted through the open bar flip. “Guess that answers that question.”
Nic followed him to the table where Danny passed beers to Mel and Cam. “So then, you’re here about this bounty business too?” Nic claimed a glass and the chair next to Cam. “Or for the free beer?”
Danny’s dark eyes glittered with poorly concealed mischief. “Both.”
“I need a decoy,” Mel said.
Said decoy dramatically swept an arm in front of himself. Mel rolled her eyes and caught her husband by the wrist, tugging Danny down into the chair beside hers.
“Should we be here?” Nic said, gesturing at himself and Cam, then toward the back lot. “Should my people and patrons? We’re expecting a full house tonight for the new release.”
“Which is excellent, by the way,” Danny said with a tip of his glass.
“It’s all by the book,” Mel said, and Nic swore he heard an unspoken relatively tacked on at the end.
“I’m here, getting the owner’s permission”—she tilted her own glass at Nic—“and we should be able to apprehend the bounty before things really get going tonight. The food trucks arrive early, correct?”
Nic glanced at the clock over the bar. “In about an hour. We don’t open to the public for two.”
“You do staff dinner?” Mel asked.
“Of course.”
“Good. We’ll gather them in here, then execute the takedown outside.”
“Are you sure your bounty will be here tonight?”
“Am I sure about the bounty I’ve been tracking for a month?
” She leaned forward, glaring daggers across the table at him.
As it was autumn, she’d traded her skirts and stilettos for cashmere, denim, and boots, but the heels on the latter were no less high.
She tapped one pointy end against the floor beneath the table, a tempo for her rapidly thinning patience.
“Yes, Price. I think I know what I’m doing here. ”
Cam stopped guzzling his beer for two seconds to interject, “It’s been a long day, Mel, and he’s just worried about his people. And to be fair, we’ve torn this place up a time or two.”
Nic raised his hands, palms out. “And to be fair,” he echoed, “I was part of that destruction each time, but it never happened with civilians here. As long as we can protect everyone, I’m on board to help.”
“Tell us what you’ve got,” Cam said to Mel. “Who’s your bounty?”
Seemingly appeased, she relaxed in her chair, glass in hand, and continued after a long swallow.
“James Daley. Charged with grand theft auto, DUI, and property destruction.” She traded her glass for her phone, tapped the screen several times, then handed the device to Cam.
He tilted it so Nic could see the mugshot displayed.
Daley looked like every high frat boy ever—shaggy blond hair; glassy red eyes; wrinkled designer polo; a carefree, doped-up smile, enjoying his buzz despite the circumstances, sure he’d get out of them. “Skipped bail earlier this month.”
Nic ran the numbers in his head. “That bond is at least a hundred grand.”
“Try two fifty,” Danny said. “He jacked a Lamborghini Urus while high with his frat brothers. Fucking gorgeous car . . . until he ran it into a light pole.”
Mel side-eyed her husband. “You don’t need another car.”
Danny hid his I’m-still-going-to-buy-one smile in his beer.
“I don’t remember hearing about this,” Nic said to cover his laugh.
“Local. The perp and the car,” Mel said. “No one was present, first-time offense, pure smash and grab by a doped-up idiot, which is why I’m not concerned about him threatening anyone here tonight.”
“But he skipped bail,” Nic said, trying to make the irregular pieces fit. “A not insignificant amount either.”
“His parents are wealthy. They posted his bail. He jumped it for a party aboard a private yacht and hasn’t been seen since.”
“How did you get the case?” Cam asked, handing the phone back to her. “Not your usual.”
Cam was right. Mel tended to run down war criminals and high-profile targets, not idiot frat boys.
“His parents are relentlessly pestering Chief Kane about the whereabouts of their son.”
“Probably more about the bond money,” Danny mumbled.
“Probably,” Mel agreed. “In any event, Kane’s got enough other shit on his plate. I can take this off it, and I owe him the favor.”
“How do we know Daley will be here tonight?” Nic asked, hoping the rephrasing of his earlier question would go over better.
Mel tilted her head in acknowledgment. “He fancies himself a restaurateur. A food truck he funded is making its debut here tonight. I don’t think he’ll miss it.
And we have this . . . ” She swiped her finger across the phone screen, then laid it back on the table for them to see.
“That’s Daley stepping off a sailboat in Carmel this morning. ”
Nic wasn’t focused on the picture as much as on something else Mel had said. A debut food truck. “Meat he gave it to witnesses on the regular. “But I promise, Nic, I won’t let this op be a problem for Gravity tonight.”
Her promise should’ve made Nic feel better, but after the last few years, the worry in the back of his mind wasn’t getting any smaller.