Chapter 19
Nineteen
“Everyone knows their approach routes and positions?” Cam straightened from where he stood, huddled over the topographical map of Vaughn’s seaside property. Each team leader around the table nodded. “Great, we move out at the top of the hour.”
The agents scattered, debriefing their individual groups and checking their gear.
With Danny’s help, they’d secured an empty hangar at the municipal airport in Paso Robles about forty minutes east of Cambria.
They could have set up base closer but vans full of FBI agents would have been too noticeable in the smaller seaside towns near Vaughn’s fifteen-acre estate.
Word would reach Vaughn before they did.
They were less likely to draw attention here in busier Paso Robles, and from this spot, they could execute his and Aidan’s raid plan, approaching the property from multiple directions, not drawing too much notice in any one.
Doubly important as they no longer had the cover of darkness.
The sun was well on its way up, rising over the two-strip airfield and the surrounding vineyards, their leaves a spectacular splash of fall colors.
Cam was used to seeing the reds, oranges, and yellows on trees, but this was just as pretty.
A rolling spread of autumn. He’d like to visit here again with Nic.
He’d also like to call Nic, let him know all was handled on this end, but he’d be in front of the grand jury by now.
Making his case and hopefully putting the final nails in Vaughn’s coffin.
Bowers’s too. Cam didn’t want to interrupt.
He did have Garrett’s number though, and unlike yesterday’s recon, Garrett was there, not here.
He’d appreciate an update, would relay the same to Nic when he got out of the hearing.
Cam got as far as opening Garrett’s contact card when the surveillance van doors banged open, Jamie flying out with a phone in hand.
“What—”
“We’ve got a problem.” Jamie handed him the phone, Aidan’s face on-screen. Raised voices blared through the speakerphone, an argument mid-progress.
Cam stepped to the side of the van and kicked down the volume before everyone in the hangar overheard.
“That’s enough, Lou,” Moore barked, followed by a thump, like someone being shoved against a wall.
“Your golden boy missed his hearing,” Bowers shouted back. “He’s done.”
Cam punched off the Mute button. “Nic missed the grand jury hearing?” he asked, stomach sinking.
“He sent a junior AUSA in his place,” Aidan answered. “To request a continuance, which he’s within his rights to do.”
“I’d throw him in contempt if I could,” Bowers spat, as if he were judge and jury. “He’s made a fool of my office.”
“I think you’ve done that all by yourself,” Cam said, sick and tired of Bowers badmouthing Nic. The US Attorney was an easy target for his frustration. Get angry or get sick with worry. Or worse, with betrayal.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Bowers demanded.
“It means your days are numbered, Lou.”
“Agent Byrne,” Aidan warned.
“Was the case actually compromised?” Jamie asked.
“Delayed, but not compromised,” Moore said. “The grand jury will continue to review the evidence. They work with the prosecutor, not against.”
“Maybe Price needs some checks on him,” Bowers said.
“That’s what we do,” Cam replied. “We make sure the evidence is there.”
“For your boyfriend.”
“You the one who fed that argument to Vaughn’s attorney?” Aidan asked.
“It’s a valid one,” Bowers answered.
Part of Cam wanted to cheer. The asshole had sidestepped Aidan’s question, not denying the truth of it. The other part of Cam wanted to reach through the phone and strangle Bowers because of that truth, because he was in a criminal’s pocket and was destroying Nic’s name on Vaughn’s behalf.
“We were investigating Duncan Vaughn well before Nic’s or Cam’s involvement,” Moore said. “You know that as well as I do. Why would you crater the case now when we’re this close?”
“I’m not bringing a case that has no basis,” Bowers countered.
“Neither are we,” Cam said.
“Price better be back this afternoon or he’s out of a job.” A door slammed, Bowers leaving whatever conference room or office they were in.
“Is he gone?” Cam asked.
“Yes,” Aidan gritted out.
“He better be gone for good by this afternoon.”
“That only happens if you find Nic and get him back here,” Moore said. “Otherwise, he’s going to be the one out of a job.”
Cam fell back against the side of the van. What the fuck was Nic thinking? “We talked about this last night. We were on the same page.”
“Aside from us and Mary, he hasn’t had a family in almost thirty years,” Aidan said. “All of a sudden, he does again. He might not be thinking clearly.”
Cam shook his head, not that Aidan could see him. Everything about Nic not thinking clearly was wrong. “Does that sound like Nic to you?”
“Not at all,” Jamie answered. “But we don’t know this Nic. The one he used to be.”
Except Cam did, or at least he’d seen glimpses of another Nic. The SEAL who’d chafed at being sidelined in the van, who wouldn’t let those he loved get hurt.
Fuck.
“He’s gone after Lette himself.”
Cam had made his point about the ransom—that would never work for getting Lette back—but had he driven Nic to take other action instead?
“Garrett went with him,” Lauren said, entering the fray on the other end of the line. “He was lurking outside the room when I got the location out of Cole.”
“Victoria?”
“Confirmed Garrett never returned to the hotel last night. She said she thought he was with us.”
No, he was with Nic, if Cam had to bet. His stomach took another tumble. The Marine and the SEAL going after their sister. “Where’s Nic’s truck?”
“At Curtis’s house still.”
“Fuck!” Cam cursed loudly, drawing the attention of several agents. He lowered his voice back to normal and added, “We’ll have to track him another way.”
“Hold a second,” Lauren said. “Nic used a credit card thirty minutes ago. A motel in San Simeon.”
“One town up from Cambria,” Jamie said. “Text us the address now.”
Why would Nic do that? He had to know they’d trace it and find him. Was that what he wanted? The address came through along with a map.
“I’m on the way out the door now,” Aidan said. “Jet’s being fueled. It’s an hour flight down. Jamie, get the teams ready to roll as soon as I land there. Cam, you head out now. Go get Nic. We’ll be right behind you.”
But how far behind Nic were they already?
“Why didn’t we just go in there and get her?”
Nic closed the hotel room door behind a fuming Garrett. “Because it’s a fucking fifteen-acre estate, G. We needed to do recon first. Assess entry and exit points and determine the best and safest approach.”
Garrett spun in the middle of the room, looking every bit the keyed-up jarhead in his camo pants and service sweater.
All that was missing was the olive piss hat, which would only make his hazel eyes burn brighter.
“I’m tired of fucking recon.” He ripped off the damp, sandy sweater and hurled it at the chair by the blazing corner fireplace.
For his part, Nic wanted to hurl himself on the bed in his room next door.
Garrett was tired of recon; well, Nic was just fucking tired.
And just plain fucked. He was supposed to have met with the grand jury an hour ago.
He hated to think how many voicemails were on the phone in his pocket.
Save for the early morning call to his colleague about the continuance, he’d kept his phone off since Garrett had shown up at the house last night, five minutes after Cam had left.
Maybe he wouldn’t be in this position if he’d tried harder to talk Garrett out of his plan. Or maybe both his sister and former lover would be hostages by now, given Garrett’s bullheaded determination to go after Lette on his own. Maybe Nic didn’t have much of a fucking choice.
Exhaustion seeping into his bones, Nic dragged himself across the room.
Ignoring the tempting fireplace, he yanked back the gauzy balcony curtains instead and opened the sliding glass door to the chilly sea breeze.
The brisk blast chased off the exhaustion nipping at his heels.
He dropped into one of the patio chairs and removed his shoes, dumping out the sand over the rail.
He hated sand, having had more than enough of it for one lifetime.
So of course Vaughn’s Cambria property was oceanfront.
And of course the best vantage point for recon was the sandy beach cliff.
He and Garrett had climbed up over the edge to lie on their bellies in the tall beach grass, looking into the mansion through the tall floor-to-ceiling windows.
Their sister had been gagged and bound to a living room chair, unconscious but breathing, her chest rising and falling regularly.
Nic closed his eyes, prayed she stayed breathing, then banished the image so he could function.
A shadow fell over him, Garrett stepping out onto the patio.
Leaving off his shoes, Nic slumped back in the Adirondack chair, staring up at Garrett resting against the rail, his biceps straining the sleeves of his drab undershirt.
“You’re a fucking USMC major. I know the Marines didn’t teach you to act without a plan or without backup. ”