Chapter 16
Sixteen
Cam had never been in a louder silent room.
Aidan loomed at one end of the conference table, hands braced on the edge like he was about to roar into the speakerphone.
At the opposite end, Moore stood with his arms crossed, his huge body and presence filling the room.
Lauren fidgeted behind her computer, compulsively swiping at the bangs that kept falling into her eyes.
Garrett practically thrummed, holding up one corner of the walls, propped foot bouncing.
And Nic stalked the length of the room like a caged animal from Garrett’s corner to the one where Cam stood, arms outstretched, letting Jamie sweep him for bugs.
Jamie had had the unenviable task of checking all of them, only the fact that he was as big as a giraffe keeping him safe from an outburst. He stepped back from Cam with a nod. “All clear.”
Aidan slapped the Mute button on the speaker. “Unmute Mel.”
The silent conference room was at once awash in noise, the organized chaos of a hospital on the other end echoing over the line. Loudspeakers called for doctors, wheels squeaked and doors banged, muffled conversations rose and fell, and in the middle of the cacophony, Mel’s “I’m here.”
Aidan, calming slightly, lowered into his chair. “What happened?”
Earlier, outside the grand jury room, Garrett had opened his mouth to tell them, but Cam had slashed a hand in front of his throat—cut it—and mouthed, Wait.
Garrett was a new variable, as were all the people in the crowded courtroom lobby, any one of whom could have brushed up against them and deposited a bug.
“I was moving the Sares,” Mel said. “From the hotel to the boat.”
They’d agreed last night that daytime traffic in the city would provide more cover than being one of only a few cars out in the wee hours of the morning. Clearly it hadn’t been cover enough.
“We were almost there,” Mel continued. “And then we got T-boned south of Third and King.”
“Injuries?” Cam claimed the seat next to Aidan.
“Yes, just some scratches for me and Eddie. Victoria took the worst of it.”
Nic, practically vibrating, came to stand next to where Cam was seated. “Is she—”
Garrett shot out of his corner, moving to Nic’s other side. “Would I be here if she weren’t?”
Nic hung his head, hand raking over his jaw. “No, of course not.”
Mel corroborated. “Victoria’s got some bruised ribs and a broken wrist. They’re setting it now.”
Nic’s blue eyes swam with worry. Cam had seen a version of that look before, last spring when he’d been anxious about their informant’s safety. Now, however, the worry was amplified exponentially. “How’d they get Lette?”
The desperation in his voice matched the distress in his eyes. This wasn’t Nic the federal prosecutor; this was Nic the brother. Cam reached out a hand under the table and cuffed Nic’s calf, letting him know he was here for him.
Grounding him, like Nic had done for Cam time and again.
“I was pinned,” Mel said. “I told her to stay put, but she was desperate to get to her mother in the front. The kidnapper held a gun on Victoria and snatched Lette from behind. I couldn’t get a shot off without further compromising their safety.”
“I was on the side that was hit,” Garrett said. “I was knocked out for a few minutes while all this was happening. I wouldn’t have let her . . .” Garrett cast aside his gaze, Adam’s apple bobbing.
Drawing out of Cam’s grasp, Nic inched closer to Garrett, eyes sweeping him up and down. “Are you okay?”
“Concussion.”
Nic lifted a hand toward the bandage on his head. “You should be in the hospital.”
Garrett batted the hand away. “You know as well as I do that worse shit happens in the field. I’m trained, I’m qualified, I can help find my sister. I can’t sit in the hospital and do nothing.”
“Fucking jarheads,” Nic mumbled around a chuckle.
Garrett shoved him in the shoulder, likewise smiling. “Fucking frogs.”
Meanwhile, Cam, having vanished from existence, couldn’t help but dwell on what he and Nic didn’t have in common versus what Nic and Garrett did. Their shared past, Victoria and Lette, military service. Being fucking hardheaded when it came to protecting those they loved.
But wasn’t Cam the same in that last regard? Would their dissimilarities versus Nic and Garrett’s similarities stop him from loving Nic? No. Nothing would stop him from doing everything he could to protect Nic and those Nic cared for. Especially when doing so was also his job—the one he did best.
Clearing his throat, Cam leaned toward the speaker. “Did you get the details on the car? The kidnapper?”
“I’m texting all that to Lauren now,” Mel said. “Given that location, there should be footage from multiple sources.” Across from him, Lauren was already focused on her computer. “I didn’t recognize the guy who grabbed Lette. He wasn’t one of Vaughn’s usual men.”
“Too recognizable at this point,” Aidan said. “If they’re smart, they’ve fled.”
“They’re not,” Nic and Cam answered together.
Nic’s smile and his hand on Cam’s shoulder made him feel a bit less invisible.
They shared things in common too, including a life they’d begun to build.
A pretty damn good one. And if Cam wanted to keep Nic in it, not watch him spiral further into the regret and self-blame that had haunted him for almost thirty years, then Cam had to be there. Had to be the best at what he did.
“Lauren,” he said, “we need the list of all of Vaughn’s properties, personal and commercial, and supplement it with any properties owned or leased by his associates. Same for Bowers.”
“On it.”
He turned to Jamie next. “Planes, trains, and automobiles. Any mode of transportation Vaughn might use to move Lette.”
“Your warrant wide enough for that?” Moore asked Nic.
“Fuck it.”
Cam bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, biting back the warning that wanted out.
Aidan, not so much. “Price.”
“I’ll make it work.”
“We can’t lose her, Nic.” With all the escalating voices, Garrett’s was hardly audible, and not what Cam expected out of the Marine, especially after the earlier back-and-forth.
But of everyone in the room, he had the most at stake.
“After everything we went through to keep her safe, we can’t lose her now. ”
Nic drew him into a hug. “We’ll get her back, G.”
“I will do anything.”
“We’ll do everything.” Nic’s gaze locked with Cam’s. “We’ve got the Bureau’s best kidnap and rescue agent on the case.”
Cam nodded, on board with the everything plan and willing to do anything for the man he loved.
Nic opened the door to Holding Room Two and the urge to strangle the man sitting relaxed on the other side of the table beside his attorney was damn near irresistible.
Since he couldn’t do that, maybe a snarky remark instead? About how nice a good night’s rest must be? Golden hair swept back, bespoke suit pressed, shoes shiny enough to reflect, Vaughn looked his normal, cocky self.
On first glance.
On second glance, however, the man’s normally bright eyes were dull and bloodshot, his hands looked like someone had taken a chainsaw to the cuticles, and his foot was bouncing where it hung over his knee, and not in the bored kind of way.
No, it hadn’t been a restful night for Duncan Vaughn.
Nic didn’t intend to make it a restful day either.
Keeping it in neutral for now, Nic slid into one of the chairs on his side of the table. “Thank you for coming in on such short notice.”
“Careful, Dom,” Vaughn said with a put-upon smirk. “I’m starting to think you like me. Wouldn’t want your boyfriend to get jealous.”
Cam lowered into the chair next to Nic. “Oh, I’m not worried.”
“Not even at Dom’s first love being back in town?”
Nic cut off that line of distraction, because that was what Vaughn was trying to do.
Not today, not while every second counted.
“Speaking of first loves, I’m surprised you’d risk yours.
Victoria could have been seriously injured in that accident.
And now you’re risking her daughter, all for this grudge of yours against my father. ”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Or maybe it’s because Nicolette is Curtis’s daughter,” Cam said, picking up the thread Nic had started. “Does that outweigh whatever love you had for her mother?”
“My client—” Patton started.
“Doesn’t know anything. Right.” Cam tossed a mugshot on the table. “Then why is this man who kidnapped Nicolette Sare on Mr. Vaughn’s payroll?”
With witness statements, traffic cams, and surveillance footage from a nearby ATM, they’d been able to identify the hulking bald man who’d wrapped his arms around Lette’s middle from behind and hauled her away from the transport and into another car.
She’d been wobbly, still disoriented from the crash herself, which was probably the only reason Mr. Clean had managed to subdue her, given her martial arts training. That and the gun he’d held on Victoria.
Vaughn didn’t bother to look at the picture. “Sure, it’s possible he’s on my payroll. I do hire private security from time to time.”
Private security or muscle? The guy had the build for either—six-three, three-fifty, bulging arms and legs—and the rap sheet of the latter, numerous charges of assault and battery.
“Tell me,” Nic said, “why does a legitimate businessman like yourself need so much muscle?”
“Debtors get desperate. I need private security professionals for my protection.”
Nic scoffed. “Or your muscle makes them desperate like they did Harris.”
“I keep telling you, Dom, I had nothing to do with Harris’s unfortunate decision to take his own life. Why would I do that to my own niece?”
“Why does a gangster do anything?”
“Careful, Counselor,” Patton warned. “You’re getting awfully close to slander and defamation.”
“To which truth is a defense.”
“What evidence do you have of the truth?”
Cam pushed another sheet of paper across the table.
“Scopolamine was found in Harris’s system.
A drug that in certain high doses can make a victim prone to suggestion.
A drug one of your”—Cam curled his fingers in air quotes—“private security professionals used to date-rape a young woman last year.”
Vaughn’s eyes narrowed, like he was finally paying attention and hadn’t liked what he’d heard one bit. “You have no evidence of that.”
Cam leaned forward, the kill in his eyes. “You sure about that, Duncan?”
Some of the color drained from Vaughn’s face, and Nic didn’t bother to bite back his prideful smile. He’d never tire of Cam on the hunt, especially when he had his target dead to rights.
“Scopolamine is a prescription drug,” Patton said. “Who’s to say Harris didn’t already have it? That he didn’t accidentally or intentionally overdose?”
“No prescription on record,” Cam replied. “He didn’t already have it.”
“But you already had that reconveyance, didn’t you?” Nic said, speaking directly to Vaughn. “Drafted in advance before Harris’s suicide.”
“Basic planning for any real estate deal.”
“Except you have no history of forgiving debts, even for family members.”
Vaughn shifted in his chair, foot dropping all the way over his knee, legs crossed and spine straight.
He picked at a cuticle, then, noticing both Nic’s and Cam’s attention drawn by the nervous gesture, he laced his fingers together in his lap and lifted his chin.
“Did I say ‘any’? This one—Beth—is special.”
“Is this the evidence you presented to the grand jury?” Patton asked.
Nic forced himself not to react, not to rise to Patton’s bait. He focused instead on what Patton’s question had revealed. “Heard about that, did you?”
“I have my sources at the courthouse too.”
“Maybe,” Nic said. “But I think it’s more likely you got that information from your client.”
“Who had one of his lackeys bug me,” Cam finished.
Vaughn shrugged. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Agent Byrne.”
“You don’t know a lot of things,” Nic replied. “But I think you know where my sister is and you’re going to tell us.”
“Actually,” Patton said, “what we know is that your grand jury presentation was compromised.”
“How’s that?”
“By having your lover be the agent who testified.”
“Agent Byrne testified because he knows the case best.”
“And you know him best,” Vaughn said. “You knew how he’d answer and react if there were any curveballs.”
Cam stiffened beside him, the tension rolling off him and filling the room.
He’d been worried about testifying, not exactly for this reason, but Nic was sure it had crossed his mind.
It had his. It was a risk he’d been willing to take.
The reason they’d maintained their personal distance in professional contexts.
Until Vaughn had bugged them, invaded their personal space, and was making it a professional issue.
One that didn’t exist—a fabricated straw to clutch at—and that pissed off Nic more than anything.
Patton made space among the papers on the table for a new one.
“This letter has been sent to your boss and the Deputy AG. You are not an impartial party in this case, and neither are your witnesses. You’re both conflicted.
We’re demanding this matter be stripped from you and the grand jury and either be dismissed or brought before the federal district court in a public preliminary hearing where I’m confident it will get dismissed.
You have nothing, Attorney Price. That’s why you’re using the grand jury, testing out your case. ”
“Wrong.” Nic put a hand on the paper and sent it flying off the table. “I’m using the grand jury because people are dying at the hand of your client.”
“Who wants a trial so he can intimidate and tamper with witnesses,” Cam added, then spoke directly to Vaughn. “You want to try this case in the court of public opinion. You do that, we’ll air all your dirty laundry.”
“Are you prepared to air your lover’s dirty laundry too?” Vaughn replied. “An affair with his almost stepbrother. An abusive father who ran the family company into the ground. A sister he didn’t know about for almost thirty years. Why’d they keep her away from you, Dom?”
“If you continue to keep her away from me, I swear I’ll—”
Cam’s hand on his knee stole the rest of the threat he was about to speak.
One he couldn’t walk back.
“You’ll what, Dom?” Vaughn’s smirk killed the moment of calm clarity.
Nic slammed his palm on the table. “Where is she, you sack of shit?”
“Further evidence of impartiality.” Patton looked as smug as his client. “We’ll add that to our complaint.” He stood, gathering his papers.
“And we’ll be sure to add kidnapping to the charge sheet,” Cam said.
“You won’t win this,” Nic added.
Vaughn stood, buttoning his coat. “Oh, Dom, but I already have.”