Chapter 15
Fifteen
The dim cone of light at Nic’s feet wobbled as did the man holding its source, Aidan’s curses coming in a steady stream of Gaelic.
“We’re almost at the top,” Nic said. He’d taken the lead, knowing the path well and used to scaling mounds of sand. He didn’t need the phone light or even the weathered wood steps to make his way up to the cliffside patio. But Aidan and Lauren did.
“Are you sure this is where they went?” Aidan huffed.
“According to my truck’s GPS.”
“Someone else could have stolen the truck.”
“And come here? I told Cam to use this place as a safe house.”
Lauren piped up from between them. “Then why are we scaling this fucking cliff? I’m a fan of Lord of the Rings and all but screw this many-steps shit. I don’t want to live it.”
Chuckling improbably, Nic crested the last step onto the stone patio and held out a hand to Lauren, helping her the rest of the way up.
“We came this way because we don’t know who’s with Cam.
” He’d recognized Cam in the truck, met his dark eyes in the mirror and watched him don that fucking BoSox cap, but in the dark, he hadn’t been able to tell if the woman with him in a ski mask was Becca or Abby.
“Oh, I think we do,” Lauren said.
Nic whipped his head around from where Aidan was throwing a leg over the patio ledge to the big bay window of Eddie’s house perched above the patio at the top of the cliff.
Backlit by the glow of house lights, Cam sat shirtless at the kitchen table.
Abby stood close to his side, wrapping a bandage around his upper arm.
A low burn simmered in Nic’s gut. It kicked up to boiling when Abby leaned in, kissing Cam’s shoulder, then his neck, then his lips.
Cam lifted a hand, resting it on her waist. Maybe he was holding her back but he sure as fuck wasn’t pushing her away.
“This was the other reason he was perfect for the job,” Aidan said, knocking the sand off his shoes.
“Because he’s hot,” Lauren replied, and Nic shot her a deadly glare.
Aidan, thankfully, didn’t notice the exchange. “According to Jamie, he was a legend at BC in both the frat and sorority houses.”
“Really?” Lauren said, surprised. “He’s generally so by-the-rules at work.”
“Not outside of it.”
“So, what, you want him to fuck his way onto the crew too?” Nic barked at Aidan.
Aidan did notice that remark and the tone. “If he needs to, yes. Or he can just steal more of my chocolate for bribes.”
Rolling his eyes, Nic glanced again at the house.
Cam had leaned away from Abby. She nodded at something he said, then with a tired smile and another lingering kiss to his shoulder, disappeared from view.
A few seconds later, the lights a floor down where the bedrooms were clicked on and Abby moved around, getting ready for sleep.
Upstairs, Cam slid off the stool, walking back into the kitchen and lifting the phone receiver off the wall. Nic had his phone in his hand when it buzzed.
“Boston,” he answered, voice clipped, quiet.
“Where are you?”
“Back patio.”
Cam spun around, staring out the window.
Nic held up his phone, the light from the screen letting Cam know exactly where they were. “Get down here. Leave the spotlights off.”
“On my way.”
“We’re not going up?” Lauren asked.
“Not until we get a read on the situation,” Nic said, glancing to Aidan, who nodded.
They crossed the patio to the tiny writer’s cottage tucked into the hill at the corner of the property.
Nic flipped the lights on and gestured to the desk for Lauren to set up.
Dropping into the chair, she booted up her computer while Nic and Aidan pushed the other furniture to the outer walls, making room.
The space was meant as a retreat for one. Four was going to be tight.
Tighter than anticipated when Cam entered, puffed up and full of something Nic couldn’t read. Leaning back against a bookshelf, Nic held his tongue, not wanting to say something he’d regret one way or the other, especially in front of Aidan and Lauren.
Aidan rested on the arm of a chair and nodded at Cam’s arm. “You okay?”
“Just a graze.”
“Need stitches?” Aidan asked.
Cam shook his head. “Couple of butterfly bandages under the wrap. What’s the latest from the scene?”
“We cleared out about an hour ago. One suspect from the other crew is in custody. The museum’s security personnel are on-site now.”
“Did anyone else get into the safe?”
“Nope,” Lauren said. “The other crew scattered when Becca’s did.”
“Becca back at the condo?”
“Don’t know,” Aidan said. “Tracker went offline, and she and her two bruisers are off the grid.”
“Could she have traced the truck’s GPS if she saw us get into it?”
“Negative, I’m jamming it.” Lauren brandished her phone before turning back to her computer.
“Anything out of the suspect you did catch?”
“Nothing yet,” Aidan answered. “I’ll question him again in the morning. We do have an ID, and we’re tracing his accounts. What the fuck happened? Who was the other crew?”
Cam flopped into the other chair and propped his elbows on his knees, running his fingers through his blue-tipped hair. It looked so out of place on him, especially in this conversation, but Nic couldn’t deny he liked it. Which only pissed him off more in his current pissed-off state.
“One of three scenarios,” Cam said, and Nic checked back into the conversation. “Someone else got wind of the heist and it was a pure third-party rip-off.”
“Or?” Aidan prompted.
“Whoever Becca’s working for, and she is working for someone, which I’ll get to in a moment”—he split a glance between them—“either didn’t trust her to get the job done or didn’t want to pay her the rest of her fee.”
“Contingencies,” Aidan said as he hitched a foot up.
Cam nodded. “And to protect his identity.”
Death would be the only surefire way to protect that, Nic thought, as Aidan asked, “The ringleader’s a ‘he’?”
“Stefan Kristi?,” Cam said.
Aidan’s foot slipped off the seat cushion and hit the floor.
Lauren’s tap-tap-tap likewise abruptly ceased.
And Nic sucked in a breath, awaiting the rest of Cam’s reasoning, even as his own brain fast-forwarded, putting together pieces.
Kristi?’s unavailability for an interview.
His emergency need to flee. “Interrupting” the initial raid, which had led to his wife’s death.
Asshole husbands strike again. Nic forced himself to remain still, grinding his teeth against his own instinct to rage.
“Becca had someone on the phone,” Cam explained. “A male voice to read the male part. I’d bet every cent to my name, which granted isn’t much, that it was Kristi?.”
“Was there any unusual activity on his accounts?” Aidan asked Lauren.
“None, and I checked it for connections to Rebecca Monroe too.”
“What about the deposits to Monroe?” Cam asked. “Where are we on that trace?”
“Brick wall. I can’t get through, and the bankers won’t talk either.”
“Because he’s an oligarch in the new Serbia,” Nic said, finally breaking his silence.
“I’ve seen this on Russian cases. Check all of his companies, particularly the ones that do business in the States.
We have legal standing to get access to those records.
If we can find a matching outlay, that’s how we usually nail them. ”
“We only have the weekend to do it,” Aidan said.
“You didn’t get the continuance?” Cam said, eyes on Nic.
“Kristi?’s flying back Monday,” he said, “after giving his testimony.”
“Getting clear with the artifacts more likely.”
“I don’t get it,” Lauren said, twisting in her chair. “He’s got the artifacts. He’s the dignitary overseeing their transport.”
“But who actually owns them?” Nic said. “His deceased wife? Her heirs? The government? I’m guessing not him. We need to see the bill of lading on those pieces and the wife’s will.”
“What’s his end game?” Cam said. “Sell them on the black market?”
Nic nodded as Aidan added, “Something tells me his flight plan will change Monday.”
“After he kills or puts away the people who worked for him,” Cam said, and Nic didn’t like that determined glint in his eye one bit. “I’m going back in.”
“No,” Nic snapped, pushing up off the wall. Two steps and he was standing right in front of Cam. “You’re safe here now.” He glanced out the window, toward the house. “And so is Abby.”
“He’ll make another run at the artifacts, probably at the show tonight or Sunday. We can’t risk more people getting hurt.”
Desert sand and heat settled in Nic’s gut, suffocating and uncomfortable. “So we risk you instead?”
Cam shot to his feet, the space between them narrowing more. “This is my job, Price.”
“And your case is circumstantial, Prosecutor,” Aidan added from his spot on the other armchair. Fucking traitor. “If Cam can get direct evidence that it’s Kristi? pulling the strings . . .”
Cam glanced over at him. “I can get it.”
“Kristi? knows who you are,” Nic reminded him.
Cam had taken off his mask and helmet in the penthouse after the heist that started all this. And he’d been in Kristi?’s hospital room after.
“If he ever shows his face,” Cam said, “I’ll convince him Abby turned me. That I’ve gone rogue.”
“That why you kissed her?” The words were out before Nic could stop himself.
Aidan cut in before the argument could go further. “She’ll have to go back in with you.”
“I’ll protect her.” Of course he would.
“This is a fucking suicide mission,” Nic gritted out.
“What was it last week when you jumped out of the van and ran toward the Kristi?s’ building?” Cam replied. “Or when you ran out of Mel and Danny’s condo the other night, charging for the park?”
Effectively silenced, Nic scoffed and turned away, hands braced on either side of the window frame, glaring out at the ocean.
“I can do this,” Cam said to Aidan behind him. “I can close this case.”