Chapter 4
Four
A certain redhead was pacing anxiously outside Cam’s office when he returned from walking Nic and Mel to the lobby.
“How’s Nic, really?” Aidan asked, voice lowered as they stepped into his office.
“Last night . . .” By the tone of voice and the concern filling his warm brown eyes, Aidan was only slightly less alarmed than him about Nic.
“I haven’t seen him locked down like that since before you two got together.
He seemed better this morning.” Aidan claimed the guest chair. “But I’m still worried.”
“We talked. He feels guilty more than anything.”
“About his father dying?”
Cam relaxed back in his chair, hands folded over his middle. “No, about being relieved.”
Aidan shrugged. “Many people in his position would.”
“It’ll hit him eventually. He protects, and he’ll think he failed to do so, even if his father didn’t deserve it and even if he couldn’t have stopped this. The only thing that’ll make it better is nailing Vaughn.”
“We’re in motion there.”
“And yet I feel like I’m ten steps behind because he kept me in the dark.”
“You said it yourself, Nic protects. He was trying to protect you.”
Cam raised a hand. “I know that, but I’m only just getting caught up when I need to be on top of things for the Bureau and for him.
” Not wanting to paint a target on both their backs, Nic had tried to keep Cam off the investigation and off Vaughn’s radar.
Cam hadn’t given him an option once they’d committed to building something together.
And yet . . . “I get the feeling I still don’t know everything.
Flying by the seat of my pants with this many variables is not good for me, the rules guy.
I need to know where everything is on the board. ”
“And everyone,” Aidan added. “Including our mole here.”
Once brought in, Cam had taken point on finding the Bureau employee who’d fed Vaughn the details of their movements, including on operations. The mole had provided times and locations when Nic would be vulnerable to threats—or hits. It was an open debate between them.
“Tell me who’s at the top of your list,” Aidan prompted.
“Lorton and Cole.”
Aidan lurched forward, eyebrows racing north. “Francis Cole? The agent Lauren’s dating?”
Cam shot forward to match. “She’s dating him?”
“Jamie and I saw them out at Bourbon and Branch last week.”
“That’s not good.” And not just because it was against the Bureau’s anti-fraternization recommendation, not that he and Aidan enforced said rec.
“Tell me why you think it’s Lorton or Cole.”
Cam opened his laptop and shifted it so Aidan could view the screen.
“This is the list of agents on each op where an attempt was made on Nic.” He highlighted Lorton’s and Cole’s names, then popped open another document.
“This is the list of agents in this office who have suspicious banking activities over the past year.” He highlighted Lorton’s and Cole’s names again.
“Suspicious how?”
“They each had errant deposits. Not traceable to Vaughn but not traceable to anyone else either.”
“Because as agents, they’re smart enough to require cash.”
“Likely.” Cam tapped the screen. “But where does a fed get a sudden cash deposit of fifteen thousand dollars?”
“Other than family money or stock . . .”
“And we’d have records of those given that amount. Nothing. And the Bureau sure as hell didn’t issue fifteen-K bonuses to junior agents.”
“No, we did not.” Aidan shifted back in his seat. “We’ll question them.”
“Not Cole.”
Aidan prompted him to go on with a raised brow.
“I don’t want to tip off Lauren.”
The other one lifted to match. “You don’t trust her?”
Cam burst out laughing. “I trust Hall with my fucking life. But I don’t want to influence her actions around Cole. She could be at risk.”
Aidan returned his laugh and Cam hung his head, admitting to himself how silly that sounded.
“Okay, right. She’d kick his ass.” She’d been training with Mel for over a year, and even before that had been one of the best shots in the Bureau.
By now, Mighty Mouse could probably take them all down.
“Let me dig a little more. If he isn’t guilty, I don’t want to incur her wrath for scaring off a potential boyfriend. ”
“Now that’s closer to the truth. We’ll keep an eye out still.” Aidan pushed to his feet, but rather than turning toward the door, he shoved his hands in his pockets. “I meant to ask earlier, how are you doing?”
Cam rose and came around the side of the desk. “Jamie told you to ask that, didn’t he?”
“No, I’m asking as your friend too.”
He blew out a long, slow breath. No one had asked him that over the past twelve hours, and truth be told, he didn’t feel like he had the right to answer it even now. This was Nic’s family, his life, on the brink, but tied as he was to Nic, more and more each day, it was his life now too.
“I’m worried,” he admitted. “Things were going so well for us. We were getting settled. Hell, I even got him to dance a little last night.”
“No shit? He wouldn’t even dance with my niece at the wedding.”
“No shit.” His voice sounded as forlorn as his smile felt.
“Vaughn was always hanging over our heads, but we were investigating quietly and orderly. Without threats or loss of life. Now Nic’s father is dead, it’s anything but quiet, and the timeline’s been accelerated.
” He scrubbed both hands over his face before letting them fall to his sides, helpless. “I don’t know if we’re ready for this.”
Aidan moved to stand in front of him. “You love him?”
Cam didn’t have to think twice about his answer, and it made him grin, despite the unsettling conversation. “Yes, more than I thought possible.”
Aidan squeezed his arm, returning the smile. “Then you’re ready.”
Bowers was waiting for Nic when he returned to his office—in his chair behind his desk like he owned the place in addition to his shiny corner office on the other side of the floor. He didn’t bother to stand or wipe the scowl off his face when Nic entered.
“Saw the news,” he said. “I’m surprised you’re here.”
Gritting his teeth, Nic shut the door and slid into one of his visitor chairs. Of course I’m here was on the tip of his tongue, but then the contradiction of Bowers’s statement cut through the red haze of irritation. “If you’re so surprised, then why were you waiting for me in my office?”
How had he known when Nic had left Cam’s office?
Were the two moles communicating? Nic was convinced Bowers was Vaughn’s inside man in the US Attorney’s Office.
The coincidences stacked up such that they couldn’t be coincidences—a sniper aiming for Nic on one mission, thrown over the hood of a car on another, then a shootout at his brewery after he’d left the office one night.
Bowers knew his twenty in all those cases and he’d consistently tried to stonewall their investigation into Vaughn.
When that hadn’t worked, he’d wanted to know everything about their actions, their plans, their strategy.
No doubt so he could run and tell his puppet master.
But unlike the other government employees Vaughn paid, Bowers had no financial records tying them together. At least none that they’d found yet.
Smart enough to require cash, which made nailing him harder and finding the leverage Vaughn had over him more difficult.
“What are you doing about your father?” Bowers asked, predictably dodging Nic’s question.
“Why does it matter to you?” he bit back. He should be more respectful—Bowers was his boss—but after this morning’s hassles, Nic’s patience was wearing thin. He owed none of the minuscule remainder to Bowers.
Bowers hesitated, face scrunched, as if debating how best to rip into Nic.
A more obvious threat or a litany of admin complaints? He went with the latter—safer and more annoying—ticking items off with his fingers. “Caseload, scheduling, more PTO.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Between San Diego, Boston, and Virginia, you’ve barely been here this year. Seems you’re off all the time.”
Nic held up a single digit. “One week.”
“One week what?” Bowers sneered.
“That’s how much time I’ve taken off this year.
” He was also an attorney; he could tick things off with his fingers too.
“San Diego, for work. Boston, for work.” Bowers opened his mouth, ready to protest, but Nic silenced him before he got a word out.
“Yes, a few days at the end of the Boston trip were PTO for my partner’s sister’s memorial.
And a few days to move when I got back, then one day to travel to Virginia for my Navy admiral’s retirement, where, as it happened, I spoke to several other federal prosecutors, so really let’s not count that as PTO either.
And all of that was August or later. I wasn’t gone at all the first part of the year. ”
“Your partner, who works for the FBI.” Stymied, Bowers had changed directions. “Don’t you think that’s a conflict?”
Nic wouldn’t be baited. He’d been ready for this line of attack for some time. “Quite the opposite, actually.”
Bowers rested his forearms on Nic’s desk, staring him down. “Think the Deputy AG will say the same?”
“Considering Jack met me and Cam for lunch in Norfolk and commended our work on cases together, I’m pretty sure he would.”
Bowers’s face fell and his skin blanched. Nic bit back a smug grin. “The fact remains,” Bowers griped, “I need to know when you’ll be out of the office to schedule cases. You’ll need time off for the funeral and to administer your father’s estate.”
Now they were getting to the information Bowers was really after.
“I schedule my own coverage and run my own calendar,” Nic said.
“Always have.” He didn’t trust Bowers to not crater him.
Just like he didn’t trust Bowers asking questions, in a roundabout way, as to how fast his father’s estate would be administered.
He did, however, trust that, whatever his answer, it would get back to Vaughn.
Nic wanted to test how fast. “As for dealing with my father’s estate, it’s on hold while we await an autopsy. ” Let him run with that crumb.
“An autopsy?” Bowers’s beady eyes narrowed. “The news report said he died of a heart attack.”
“He did.”
“Then why—”
“Covering all my bases.”
The older man stood, coming around the side of the desk, glare imperious. “Seems like a waste of taxpayer money to me.”
No, Vaughn was just impatient to get paid. And maybe also Bowers, if Nic’s compliance was a condition.
“I’ve worked for the government in one form or another for almost thirty years. Longer than you.” Pushing to his feet, Nic circled around the opposite side of the desk, coming to stand behind it. “I think the taxpayers will spot me this one.”
“I thought you were estranged from your father. Why do you care how he died?”
“Because I do serve this country. I am a retired military officer and an officer of the court. It’s my job, my duty to uphold the law.
” Where does your loyalty lie? His question was unspoken but clearly hung between them.
Bowers didn’t answer, scrunching up his face instead. His usual pissed-off look.
The standoff lasted another couple of seconds until Nic’s desk phone blared into the silence. He glanced down and recognized the number. “I need to take that.”
Bowers moved to button his suit coat and missed the hole the first time. Nic fought his smug smile again until Bowers’s next words wiped it clean. “Be careful, Price. You don’t want to do something that’ll cost you that job you love so much. Or someone else’s.” Challenge—threat—made.
“I know what I’m doing.” And accepted.
“We’ll see,” Bowers muttered on his way out the door.
Fuming, Nic picked up the phone. “Dennis, one second, please.” He tossed the receiver on his desk, crossed his office to close the door, then returned to his chair and picked the phone back up. “You were next on my call list. I assume you’ve heard the news.”
“I’m sorry for—”
“Save it. You know better than anyone it’s utter horseshit.”
Laughter echoed on the other end of the line.
In an ironic twist of fate, his father’s personal attorney had become a mentor of sorts to him.
Dennis Selby had been the first to greet Nic at the local bar association when Nic had landed back in San Francisco at the USAO, and he’d been a wealth of information ever since—local politics, confidential informants, and he could get a reservation at any restaurant in the city.
“I was going to say I’m sorry for the headache.”
Nic groaned, closing his eyes and sinking back into his chair.
“I’m afraid that’s the sum of it. Curtis named you executor.”
As Nic expected. He’d already assumed as much—one last fuck you from his father—and he wanted to be the one to administer the estate, to make sure his father’s messes were cleaned up, no longer a threat to Nic’s family.
But hearing Dennis say the words, it felt like a noose tightening around his neck.
“At least there’s not much of an estate to manage,” Dennis added.
“Curtis was so far underwater he drowned, just say it.”
Dennis inhaled sharply. “He didn’t really, did he? Because that—”
“Heart attack,” Nic clarified, righting his head and opening his eyes. “Though I’ve ordered an autopsy.”
“That’ll delay the disposition.”
“I’m aware. Pull together what you have on the remaining assets and let’s meet on Wednesday. I can check it against my own records. As soon as the autopsy is wrapped, we’ll proceed accordingly.”
“Look, Nic, there’s something—”
“Wednesday, Dennis.” He ran a hand over his jaw, realizing he hadn’t shaved. “I’ve got enough on my plate until then.”
“Wednesday,” Dennis confirmed, then added, “I am sorry that you’re having to go through this.”
“We’ve been estranged—”
“I mean the hassle, dealing with the estate of a man who didn’t respect you. He missed out. You’re one of the best attorneys I’ve had the privilege of knowing.”
“Thank you,” Nic said. “It means more from you than it ever would from him.”
“We’ll get through this, Dominic.”
Just getting through today would be a good start.