by Layla Reyne
“Agent Cruz—”
“SAC Cruz,” she corrected. “And I said leave us.”
Torres had the good sense to listen to her the second time and left the room without further protest. Gary fidgeted in his chair, bouncing his bad arm in its cradle against his chest and swiping the other across his forehead. Mel waited for him to settle then asked, “Why?”
Gary’s bloodshot eyes darted from Mel to Aidan, then back to Mel. “I only want to talk to you.”
Aidan had expected this. Walker had told them about Gary’s demand when they’d debriefed after returning from the Port. Walker had managed to get some additional information out of Gary right after their skirmish, but since being put in custody, the SAC hadn’t said a word to anyone.
Mel, however, was not in the mood to do him any favors. “Aidan’s my number two and lead on this investigation. You’ll talk to both of us.”
He hesitated, eyes locked with Mel’s, then his gaze dropped and he seemed to shrink in on himself, looking utterly defeated. “Addy’s dying,” he said hoarsely.
“Addy?” Aidan asked.
“Addison, his wife.” Mel uncrossed her legs and tilted forward. She didn’t reach for Gary’s hands, but the instinct was there. They’d been friends, and she must have also met and liked Addy. “Since when, Gary?”
He swallowed hard and looked up, tears pooling in his eyes. “She was diagnosed four months ago. Cancer, the aggressive kind. They gave her nine months, a year at most.”
“And Hamilton knew about your wife’s condition?” Aidan asked.
He nodded.
“It can’t have been the hospital bills.” Mel shot down the leverage Aidan’s mind had instantly conjured. “Between the salary and pension here and your share of the profits from your family’s ranch, you make plenty.”
“Not enough for the experimental treatment we found. We’re mortgaged to the hilt and still came up short.”
“Until Hamilton offered you a few million,” Aidan said, and Gary nodded again. “Did you ever have contact with Renaud?”
Mel opened the file folder she’d brought in with them, removed the picture of Renaud, and pushed it in front of Gary. He’d already seen it, when Barnes briefed them, but he picked it up again and examined it at length. “I’ve never seen him. Hamilton was my only point of contact.”
“And the full extent of your orders?” Aidan asked.
“As I told Walker, to keep Jo Ann in line and provide backup on the breaches, to make sure the cruise ships docked and the EMS crews were diverted, and to keep the Port crews silent, though Hamilton took care of most of the Port stuff himself. I just showed up and rattled cages from time to time.”
Mel took the photo back and tucked it in the file. “All those lives almost lost, for one.”
Gary shrugged, resigned and beaten. “She’s my wife. Forty years. I’d do anything to save her.”
Aidan knew that feeling, all too well. If there’d been a way he could have prevented Gabe’s death—his murder—he would have given it serious consideration. Before his mind went down the rabbit hole of what-ifs, two taps sounded on the one-way mirror behind him. He and Mel excused themselves and entered the observation room where Walker waited.
“When’d you get here?” Aidan asked, momentarily panicked that Walker might have overheard his and Mel’s conversation before Gary entered.
“I stepped in after Oscar stepped out. I take it you didn’t know about his wife being sick?”
Mel stared through the two-way glass at her friend and colleague who’d conspired with terrorists and nearly succeeded in killing thousands of people. “Last time I saw Addison was six months ago at a conference. She seemed fine.” Turning, she rested against the window ledge. “When he called to request you, he didn’t mention it.”
“Explains the erratic bank account.” Walker handed them both copies of a bank account ledger, then claimed one of the chairs.
Removing his coat, Aidan took the seat next to him and read over the ledger, seeing the large sums going in and out. “You ask him about this before?”
“I only found this account an hour ago. Don’t forget, Gary was on Dave’s list of top crypto students. He’d hid this slush account pretty deep.”
Something else on the ledger caught Aidan’s attention. “This dates back before Gary’s involvement with Hamilton.”
Walker hesitated, and Aidan looked up to see his blue eyes on their boss.
“Go ahead and say it,” she replied to his silent question.
“Gary’s been on the take for years, turning a blind eye to illegal activities at the Port. He kept his hush money in this account. It was just shy of a million when Hamilton’s first deposit hit. He transferred out most of it the next day.”
“Expensive treatment.” Mel glanced over her shoulder and Aidan’s gaze followed, seeing Torres lead Gary away by his good arm. “But he loved her more than anything.”
A chill raced up Aidan’s spine. “Can you tie the deposits from Hamilton back to Renaud?” he asked, ignoring the disquieting unease.
Walker rested his elbows on his knees. “Eventually, but it’s going to take time and some not-so-nice conversations with bankers to follow it all back to the source, assuming I keep it on the up-and-up.”
“Priority one when you get back to San Francisco,” Mel ordered. “And don’t tell me how you get the answers. Just get them.”
“So I guess I’m not getting reassigned here?”
Aidan tried and failed to hide his grin.
“I have no plans of letting you go, Agent Walker.”
“Why did Gary request us on this case?”
“He knew about you. Most of the FBI higher-ups do. He had Jo Ann under his thumb, but if he expected her to crack, he needed another door into GNL’s security network.”
Walker hung his head. “And I gave it to him.”
“No.” Mel pushed off the wall and took the seat on the other side of Walker. “You gave it to Torres, who didn’t think twice when his boss asked for the security protocols to make sure you weren’t the inside man.”
Aidan leaned back with a groan, letting his head fall back and staring up at the ceiling. “So Torres suspected Walker, while we suspected him.”
“Gary played everyone, including me, and I’m sorry for involving you two.” After a moment, Mel asked Walker, “How was Terry involved?”
“He was in it for the money. And to get back at his father. Hamilton had convinced him they would pin it on his old man. Of course, there were never any specifics given and Terry didn’t ask. He seemed as surprised as we were about the bomb already on-site. He thought they were going to take one of the toxins out of GNL for a dirty bomb.”
“Hamilton covered his bases. Everyone had a different story, he had leverage on them all, and he took the truth with him to his grave.”
“We’re back to square one, then,” Walker said.
Aidan laid a hand on his arm. “You stopped a bomb from blowing up two ships full of people. I’d say that’s better than square one.”
The smile on his partner’s face did not reach his tired blue eyes.
“We’re done here,” Mel said, and the three of them stood. “Go home, take the rest of the week off, and we’ll reconvene on Monday.”
“Should we book a ticket for you?” Aidan asked.
“No, I’m going to be a few days. I need to finish processing Gary. I don’t trust anyone else here with it. And I’ve got a lift already.”
“Oh, that’s my cue again.” Danny appeared in the doorway with a lascivious smile.
“How come you get to ride on the private jet?” Aidan huffed at her.
She winked as Danny slung an arm over his shoulders. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to, big bro.”
Everyone laughed, including Aidan. While he didn’t want to think about what his brother and Mel would get up to on the plane, he couldn’t help but be thankful for a night off before traveling.
Handshakes between Danny and Walker were exchanged, and his partner mentioned finishing paperwork to process Terry before following Mel out, leaving Aidan and Danny in the observation room alone.
Aidan crossed his arms and leaned against one side of the glass frame. “You want to tell me what’s going on with you and my sister-in-law?”
Danny mirrored his position on the other side. “It’s just a wee bit o’ fun.”
“That didn’t look like ‘just a wee bit o’ fun’ to me.”
“You and I have different definitions of fun, bro. Maybe you should try mine out again, baby,” he added with a smirk.
Of course Danny hadn’t missed that agonized shout from Walker over the phone. Gary, Torres and half of Galveston’s EMS responders had also heard him screaming Walker’s name in terror. He didn’t think anything could have been worse than that gut drop in the car accident yesterday morning, but waiting helplessly on the other end of the line, knowing he might have sent Walker to his death, beat it, hands down. And then his own brush with death... Mel was right to caution him.
He ran a hand over the back of his neck, eyes slipping shut. “When I listened over the line to my partner almost get killed, it felt like losing Gabe all over again. That terror, being helpless to stop it... We were lucky today, Danny. We might not be so lucky in the future, and I can’t go through that again.”
“Fun.” Danny dropped the keys to the Benz in his palm. “Just think about it.”
Aidan couldn’t deny the past eight months had been miserable, and he was no good at being lonely. He had a liquor cabinet full of half-empties and a memory full of fairy tales to prove it. Could he have a bit of fun and avoid the fear of loss that came with attachment?
“Don’t think too hard.” Laughing, Danny kissed the side of his head and headed out.
Grabbing his coat from the chair, Aidan was on his way to do the same when Barnes and Torres crowded the doorway.
Barnes stepped forward, hand extended. “Agent Talley, it was a pleasure working with you.”
Aidan took the offered hand, smiling. Agent Hipster was all right. “Same, Todd.” Barnes’s perpetually worried look gave way to a bright smile. “Sorry I was so hard on you.”
“I was happy for the opportunity to learn from the best.”
From anyone else, Aidan would have written off the brown-nosed comment, but from Barnes, it was genuine. “You find yourself in San Francisco, be sure to stop by and visit us.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“I think Walker wanted to run a few follow-up matters by you,” Aidan said, and Barnes nodded, scurrying out the door after another round of handshakes.
Torres remained, leaned back against the wall.
“Agent Torres,” Aidan said. “I’m sorry we were unwittingly on the other side of this thing the past week. I hope you understand why the ruse was necessary on our end.”
Torres looked contemplative, not angry, as he considered him with assessing, hazel eyes. “I understand, but just so you know, I didn’t buy it for a second.”
“That Walker was somehow involved?”
“That you and Walker were fighting and that he had any real interest in me.”
“Well then, you played your part much better than us.”
“My interest wasn’t a ruse. I genuinely wanted to sleep with your partner. Still do. But it’s obvious he has no interest in me.”
Had it really been obvious? It sure as hell hadn’t felt that way at times, the jealousy sinister and choking on more than one occasion.
“He’s all yours, Agent Talley.” No handshakes, no back pats, only a nod of acknowledgement before he left the room.
And left Aidan’s head spinning.
Chapter Twenty-One
They should have taken the last flight out instead of waiting until morning. Jamie would gladly surrender the past hour he’d spent soaking in the oversized tub or the California king bed calling his name, if it meant escaping the suffocating tension between him and Aidan. It couldn’t be cut, not by the condo walls or the blinding light of the gleaming bathroom. His partner’s dark mood surrounded Jamie, as if the summer sea breeze had carried it through the open balcony doors and into his rooms. Under the heavy weight of it, Jamie sank further into the swirling, lukewarm bathwater.
The past thirty-six hours had been hell, but both times on the phone that morning—once with his life in danger, the other Aidan’s—there’d been something there. Something they hadn’t put words to, but had been said all the same. Jamie had begun to hope. Maybe the warning signs had been wrong. Maybe this thing with Aidan could be something more. And then Aidan had shut down, saying exactly fifteen words to him since they’d left the field office.
“We’ll fly out tomorrow morning,” as he’d merged the convertible, top-down, onto the interstate, the roar of rush hour traffic making further conversation impossible.
“Dinner’s in the fridge,” after they’d returned to the condo.
“Be packed and ready at six,” before he’d disappeared into his room with half a bottle of Maker’s.
Since then, not another word or glimpse of Aidan, just the sound of the shower running several hours ago. Jamie had padded around the condo for a while, popping his pain pills and eating two of the sandwiches the concierge had stocked in the refrigerator. Hoping to draw out his partner, he’d loudly ripped into a package of Oreos, played a few games of “Destiny” on the Xbox, and opened the balcony doors to the living area and his bedroom.
Aidan’s door remained closed.
After packing up their scattered files and notepads, the computers, and his suitcase, Jamie had finally succumbed to the lure of the whirlpool tub. The jetted soak was long overdue—sleepless nights, injuries and long days in the Texas sun having worn his body down—but ten shriveled fingers and toes later, he was no closer to relaxed.
He lifted an arm out of the water to remove the washcloth from his eyes when suddenly the light filtering through it vanished. On alert after a week of surprises, he snatched the cloth off his face and grabbed his gun from the soap holder.
“Easy, Whiskey.”
In the light of the full moon streaming through the skylights, Aidan stood with his shoulder against the doorjamb, dressed in tattered jeans and a thin white undershirt. Judging by the curled ends of his hair and the quarter bottle of Maker’s dangling from his fingertips, he’d been drinking outside on the balcony awhile before wandering down to Jamie’s open door.
Placing his gun back in its resting spot, Jamie slapped the button to turn off the whirlpool jets and resumed his reclined position. Legs outstretched, knees barely breaking the water’s surface, he extended an arm. “I’ll take a shot of that.”
Surprise flashed in Aidan’s eyes. “You don’t drink.”
“I do.”
Aidan raised a brow.
“On special occasions. This is one of them.”
A hint of a smile turned up the corners of Aidan’s mouth as he pushed off the door and ambled forward. Passing off the bottle, he toed over the thick woven bathmat and sat, his back against the tub and his arms spread along the marble’s edge.
Jamie nearly drowned in the overwhelming desire to run his fingers through the curls at Aidan’s neck or over the freckled skin that was a shade darker than the marble. He settled for drowning in bourbon instead, taking a healthy swallow from the bottle. Liquid fire hit his tongue, then mellowed into something sweet and smooth. It warmed his insides, calmed him, but the peace was short lived.
Aidan began bouncing one knee and tapping out a matching rhythm with his thumbs. Jamie leaned forward
and placed a hand over Aidan’s, stilling its motion. Aidan’s gaze shot to his, a strange mix of guilt and anxiety swirling in their night-darkened depths, and tension rushed back in between them. Before Aidan could catapult off the floor, Jamie retreated, giving him space.
“What’s got you so worked up?”
Aidan gave a short, humorless laugh. “You lived the same horrible day I did, right?”
“The special occasion I mentioned earlier.” He took another swig of the bourbon and passed the bottle back.
Aidan turned it over in his hands. “For some reason, the whiskey’s not doing the trick tonight.” Setting the bottle aside, he rotated and folded his arms on the tub’s edge. The look on his tired, drawn face said he was waiting for Jamie to work out the obvious.
Jamie, however, was not in the mood to translate his doublespeak. “Why not?”
Eyes darkening, Aidan tilted toward him. “What would you do,” he said, voice rough and rumbling, “if you’d already lost the love of your life, only to find a second chance at something—maybe love, you’re not sure yet—and before you can even wrap your head around the idea, that second chance is almost snatched away? Not once but twice.”
Jamie drew unsteady breaths, the full meaning of Aidan’s words sinking in. He’d never imagined Aidan’s feelings were so close to his own. Given the past year’s losses, Aidan had to be hanging on by a razor-thin thread after the accident yesterday and today’s near misses.
“I’m sorry this is so hard,” he whispered.
Aidan held his gaze a moment longer, then picked up the bottle, swallowed the rest of the whiskey in one gulp, and shot to his feet. Jamie feared he was going to leave, but he tossed the empty in the trashcan and crossed to the vanity instead. He palmed the gold and emerald cufflinks Jamie had left there, turning them over several times before setting them back on the vanity. Bracing his hands against the counter, he straightened his arms and hung his head between them. “It is what it is.”
Jamie didn’t think twice, about his actions or his state of dripping undress. Needing to comfort him and fully prepared to drown, he stepped out of the tub and laid his wet hands on Aidan’s back, yearning to soothe this tortured man. “Irish,” he said, imparting the nickname with all the need and longing Aidan’s “Whiskey” had carried last night.