Chapter 10
Ten
Nic strolled into the familiar house, his gait a little slower than normal.
His body was confused, sore like it would be after an intense workout, stiff as if he’d sat at his desk all day, and if he turned the wrong way too fast, sore and aching would give way to a sharp stab of pain.
All in all, not too bad for having been hit by a car eighteen hours ago.
Cam shut the door behind him. “They give you some good drugs?”
They’d tried; he’d refused. He’d also tried to refuse the X-rays and head CT the doctors had recommended, wanting to leave with the rest of the team once they’d finished the debrief in his hospital room. Bowers had ordered otherwise, and for once Aidan had agreed with him.
Bastard.
Hours later, he’d finally been released, but by the time he’d returned to the Federal Building, Cam had already left.
After checking on Tony, calling Scott’s and Mike’s attorneys for perfunctory plea negotiations, and replenishing the caffeine and sugar stash for Lauren and Jamie, who was consulting on Cam’s cover build, Nic had left the city too, detouring by the brewery to check in with his assistant managers.
From there, he should have gone home to his duplex a few blocks away, but he’d driven to Cam’s place instead.
Not the smartest idea—he was putting Cam in more jeopardy than he already was—but after being flung over a car, after the way Cam had looked at him in the hospital with those swirling black eyes, after Cam had volunteered to take point on a case that had already gone from bad to worse, Nic was getting that second kiss before it was too late.
He was also getting an explanation for why Jamie didn’t want Cam on this assignment.
“Wouldn’t be here with these”—he lifted the beer bottles in their cardboard carrier—“if they had. I took worse hits in BUDs training.” Worse falls during his service too, including the one that had ended his SEAL career.
He stood in the middle of the living area, glancing around. “Didn’t change much.”
“Aidan left most of the furniture, which was good since I didn’t want to haul mine cross-country.”
Cam shuffled past him, slipping the carrier from his hand.
Nic stifled his gasp at the sizzle of heat that ran up his arm.
If his hospital room hadn’t been packed when he’d woken this morning, would he have gotten that second kiss then?
The way Cam had looked down at him, had spoken so softly, would have tempted Nic into pulling him down by the tie and forcing his tongue between his lips if they hadn’t had an audience.
Cam’s tie was gone now, as was the rest of his suit, replaced with a gray FBI T-shirt and worn jeans, the view of Cam’s ass in the latter a sight Nic enjoyed immensely as he followed him into the kitchen.
Pulling free two bottles, Cam set them on the bar separating the kitchen from the dining area and shoved the rest in the fridge.
Nic rooted around in the drawers for the bottle opener, and the mood was comfortable until it was shattered by a furry beast jumping onto the bar.
Nic fumbled the bottle opener, the metal clanking against granite. “Jesus, fuck, it’s huge.”
Cam stepped to his side, laughing. “I wanted a dog, but with the job, a cat made more sense.”
“This is not a cat, Boston.” Nic reached out a cautious hand. The animal ducked its head, then butted his curved fingers, nuzzling for a pet. Amused by the affectionate beast, Nic smiled as he scratched behind its ears. “This is a mini mountain lion.”
“Maine Coon, actually. He acts like a dog. As close as I could manage.”
“What’s his name?”
Cam grinned. “Bird.”
Nic shot him a baleful side-eye. “You named a cat Bird?”
“I know you got hit by a car today, Price, but come on, put it together.”
Nic glanced back at the cat. White and orange tabby, green eyes, thin green Boston Celtics branded collar around his neck.
Oh in surprise, then oh in disgust.
Nic couldn’t have stopped his eyes from rolling if his life depended on it. “Should have fucking known. Better than Larry, I guess. Or worse, Brady.”
Cam hid a wider smile around the mouth of his beer bottle, and Nic couldn’t stop himself from staring either. Or from the heat that warmed his cheeks when Cam made a satisfied hum in the back of his throat.
Tearing his gaze away, he forced himself to pause his desire’s objective and address the other objective first. “You ready for this tomorrow?” he asked.
Cam looked like he wanted to swallow a whole bunch of conflicting emotions with his next gulp of beer. “Best way to rescue Abby.”
“Thank you,” Nic said, infusing his voice with all the gratitude he felt, “for keeping that as your priority, even if you still don’t trust her completely.” If not for Cam, he’d feel like he was shouting at the wind.
“Bowers isn’t my boss.”
“Lucky you.” He took a long swallow from his own bottle and unfastened another button at the collar of his dress shirt.
He should have snagged a T-shirt at Gravity, but his mind had been elsewhere.
Here already, questions swirling, and Cam, whose eyes had drifted to the hollow of his throat, wasn’t giving him what he wanted, at least in the answers department.
“Also, you dodged my question,” he said, calling Cam’s bluff.
“Tell me why Jamie doesn’t want you going under on this one. ”
Cam’s eyes shot up. “Boy, you don’t beat around the bush, do you?”
“Not with most things.” He held Cam’s gaze, double meaning clear.
They’d been beating around the bush of whatever this was between them for months. Nic intended to directly address that too after he got any more case surprises out of the way. There’d been enough of those already. He wanted everything out in the open before Cam put his life in danger.
“I wasn’t always Special Agent Cameron Byrne.”
“I didn’t expect you launched from your mother’s womb as such.”
Cam almost spit out his beer on a startled laugh. Nice to catch him off guard and break the tension that had crept in.
Smiling, Nic climbed onto one of the padded barstools. “Tell me why you can fake it as a B&E guy.”
“Caught that, did you?”
“I should hope so, as the success of this sting depends on it.”
Cam took another long swallow of beer, then set the bottle down. “My older brother Bobby worked at a garage.”
He’d put the last word in air quotes, and Nic caught on to his meaning. “So, a chop shop, then?”
Arms braced behind him on the end of the bar, Cam leaned back and stared into space, his reflection in the shiny double oven doors vacant, his mind far away from the here and now. “I worshipped him.”
“You followed him to the garage?”
“Into it all. I could boost a car by the time I was thirteen. From there, it was a short jump to breaking into and boosting other things.”
“What changed?”
The vacant expression vanished, and Cam’s face twisted into grief and regret. He shook it off a second later, but Nic had seen it. Felt a familiar stab of pain in his chest.
“Some family shit went down,” Cam said. “The same night Bobby and I were out on a job. If we’d been where we were supposed to be instead .
. .” His words drifted off, Cam struggling for composure as the emotion returned.
“I might not be a practicing Catholic, but I’m Catholic enough to have a mountain’s worth of guilt stored up. Bobby too.”
Reaching out, Nic slid a hand over his. “You got out?” he asked softly.
Cam tangled their fingers like he’d done in the condo last night. “Bobby and I made a deal. Never again.”
“And you became an agent because of what happened?”
“After a failed dream of playing basketball, no thanks to Whiskey Walker.”
Nic let him have that dodge. He’d rather see a smile on Cam’s face than that ravaged look from a moment ago. “What’s Bobby do now?”
Cam rotated on his hip, facing Nic. “Installs security systems.”
“I bet he’s good at that.”
“One of the best. It’ll be useful for when his three kids become unruly teenagers like we were.”
“He’ll track them, won’t he?”
“You bet.” Cam polished off the last of his beer and waited for Nic to finish his, hand out for the empty. “Another?”
Nic nodded.
Cam strolled to the far end of the kitchen, tossed the empties, then opened the fridge door. “We both swung the opposite direction. Playing by the rules. Bobby installing security, me becoming an FBI agent.”
While his head was in the fridge, Nic slid off his stool and crossed the kitchen so he was right there when Cam closed the door. No more dodging. He’d seen the problem with Cam’s story. Had suddenly grasped Jamie’s well-placed concern.
“You’re going back on your deal,” he said. “With Bobby.”
Twisting, avoiding his gaze, Cam grabbed the bottle opener. “He said I’m not. It’s for work.”
Nic stepped closer. “How’s your head doing with that?”
“Still processing.”
“That’s why Jamie was worried. He knows about this.”
“Some of it.” Cam held an open bottle out to Nic. “I’m worried,” he admitted. “I buried that part of myself deep, and now I’m digging it all back up.”
Nic knew a thing or two about that. He’d spent most of his life hiding one secret or another.
Maybe if he shared some of those, the things that made him the man he was, Cam would feel more comfortable using his own past on this assignment without fear of losing the present.
Because after hearing what he had, Nic was more convinced than ever that Cam was exactly the right person for the job.
He reached past Cam to place his bottle on the cabinet behind him, and with his trailing hand, lifted Cam’s face, catching his dark, swirling gaze.
Considering.