Imperial Stout

by Layla Reyne

  “Hold fire!” Aidan hollered from the rafters.

  “You let me walk out of here with the artifacts and no one gets hurt.”

  That was a load of shit. Kristić had said as much to Cam seconds ago. He’d step one foot outside the door and blow this place to smithereens. Hoping his earlier prayers had been answered, Cam pulled the device from Jamie out of his pocket.

  “I have a better idea,” he said, mentally added another Hail Mary, and pressed the button.

  The light in Abby’s necklace clicked off.

  “You’re done, Kristić,” Cam said.

  “So you’ll be a dead fed instead of a dead traitor.” He yanked Jared’s spare gun from his waistband and leveled it at Cam.

  Then two things happened at once.

  Abby slammed her heel into Kristić’s instep, loosening his hold enough to slip away, and a shot rang out from above.

  Kristić hit the ground, just as Abby slammed into Cam. He wrapped an arm around her shaking shoulders and hunched over, covering her in case of more gunfire. When none came, he straightened and looked up, following the trajectory of the shot that’d nailed Kristić.

  The glare of a sniper’s sight reflected light, then, once it was lowered, all Cam could see was the icy hot warmth of Nic’s pale blue eyes.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Nic stepped off the elevator onto the FBI’s floor, loaded down with coffee again. He’d snuck by his office for a quick shower and change of clothes, and when that hadn’t chased away the fatigue, he’d diverted downstairs to the horribly hipster late-night coffee shop. Decades ago, when he was a young SEAL, he could have gone without sleep for days, but at forty-five, sleepless nights, no matter how enjoyable or action-packed, caught up with him. And if anyone tried to steal his coffee this time, they’d be in for a nasty surprise.

  The FBI bullpen was busier than usual for Saturday at midnight—agents taking witness statements, giving their own, and processing paperwork for their suspects in custody. In Aidan’s office at the far end, the SAC and Bowers were shouting, as they had been twenty minutes ago. Nic was no more ready now than he had been then to step into that ring. And what the fuck were they even arguing about at this point? Their suspects, all of them, were in custody.

  He surveyed the bullpen again instead, searching for blue-tipped hair and finding none. He did, however, spy a messy topknot. Before he could take a step in Lauren’s direction, though, a big hand clapped him on the shoulder.

  “I owe you a thank-you,” Jamie drawled.

  Jacket and bowtie gone, sleeves pushed up, he still looked too handsome for his own good. Nic couldn’t blame Aidan for falling head over heels for him.

  “For bringing your husband coffee?” Nic said.

  “Or tea?” Jamie nodded at the tea tag hanging out of one cup.

  Nic jutted the tray at Jamie. “Hold this.” He tucked the tag into the cardboard sleeve, hiding it. “If he takes a cup without asking again, then it’s his own damn fault if he loses at caffeine roulette.”

  “Good.” Jamie smirked, handing the tray back. “I like hearing him curse in Gaelic.”

  Nic chuckled, his first all night, and it finally hit him that this ordeal was over. And everyone he cared about was still standing. Uninjured even, save for Cam’s grazed shoulder. When was the last time that had happened? He looked out over the bullpen again for the ASAC.

  “That’s why I owe you,” Jamie said, quietly at his side. “Thank you, for saving my best friend’s life.”

  Nic coughed, clearing his throat of the unexpected knot. “Thank the Navy for training me as a sniper.”

  “I don’t just mean taking the shot. I mean never doubting him on this assignment. You know what all this has brought up for him?”

  Nic nodded.

  “Then thank you, for being on his side.”

  “Always.”

  Jamie’s smile was a little too knowing for Nic’s liking, so he moved the conversation on before questions could be asked or assumptions made. “You want to do the honors?” he said, turning the cardboard tray, and cup of tea, toward Jamie.

  Jamie smiled wider as he tugged the cup free. “Go find Cam, and remind him we have a date on the court at noon.”

  “Will do,” Nic said, even as he mentally rearranged Cam’s schedule. If the day didn’t involve them in bed for most of it, he was objecting.

  Still probably wasn’t the smartest move, but seeing a pistol aimed at Cam’s head had muted many of the reasons for pushing him away.

  He stopped by the bullpen desk where Lauren was sorting stacks of papers and transferring files between a flash drive and her computer, the light on the jump stick blinking. There were three others just like it on the desk. How she could tell them apart, he had no clue.

  “Those the ones from AD Moore?”

  “Yes and no.” She held her free hand out, and Nic placed a coffee cup in it.

  He lowered his voice. “Are you copying them?”

  “Don’t ask that question.”

  Plausible deniability seemed like a wise plan. “One of those also have what we need for Bowers?” he asked.

  “Of course.” She waved him off with her coffee, adding “Cam’s in Holding Room Two, with Abby.”

  He crossed the bullpen to the holding rooms, knocking the door with his shoe. It opened to a dressed-down Cam, wearing those worn jeans and another gray FBI T-shirt. Between the tight tee and blue-tipped hair, if Abby weren’t sitting right there, if a bullpen of agents weren’t sitting right behind them, Nic would have dropped the tray of drinks and dropped to his knees. Cam cleared his throat, and Nic’s eyes shot up. Cam knew exactly what he was thinking, judging by his handsome smirk.

  “Agent Byrne.” Nic returned the knowing smile as he stepped past Cam into the room. “How you doing?” he asked Abby as he handed her a cup.

  Dwarfed by Cam’s tuxedo jacket, she looked drained, her eyes tired, curls limp, and shoulders hunched. She wrapped both hands around the coffee cup, absorbing the warmth. She was probably in shock too.

  Noticing the direction of his gaze, Cam addressed his concern. “Already been checked out by medical,” he said, as he took the chair next to Nic. He worked the last two mugs free from the tray, setting one in front of Nic and sipping from the other.

  “Not my best day ever,” Abby said with an ironic twist of her lips. “But Becca’s behind bars and sis is safe.”

  Nic reached out a hand, covering hers. “Look at it this way... They can only get better from here.”

  “Holy shit!” Cam said, clutching his shoulder. “Is there an optimistic bone in that body after all?”

  Nic side-eyed him. “Shut it, Boston.”

  Across from them, Abby laughed as she split a glance between them. “I’m guessing there was never a shot with either of you.”

  “How do you mean?” Cam said.

  She waved a finger back and forth, the implication clear, but then her brow furrowed and her smile morphed into a frown. “Though, what you said—”

  “Before, we were—” Cam waved a finger between them.

  Nic had clearly missed a conversation somewhere. “Did Agent Byrne explain what happens now?”

  She took a long swallow of her coffee. “Back to the safe house, then the preliminary hearing on Monday.”

  “We don’t expect any blowback at this point, since all the players are in custody,” Cam said. “The safe house should just be temporary.”

  “And I do expect the judge to take into consideration that you’ve helped us apprehend all the culprits,” Nic added.

  “What’s that mean, exactly?” Abby asked.

  “House arrest and community service is what I’ll recommend.”

  “What about my sister?”

  Cam shrugged one shoulder. “She’s done nothing on our watch. The FBI�
�s not launching an investigation.”

  “And the US Attorneys’ Office won’t be bringing charges at this time either. But she needs to keep her nose clean. You too.”

  “Thank you,” Abby said, grateful but not as happy as Nic expected.

  “Something wrong still?” he asked.

  She stared down at her coffee, picking at the sleeve. “I feel like there’s more I need to do...to atone for what happened to her.”

  She didn’t have to name her for Nic to understand she still felt guilty over what had happened to Anica Kristić. “You couldn’t have known how that was going to go down, that her own husband was willing to kill her for those artifacts. That wasn’t your fault. You tried to prevent it.”

  A corner of her mouth twitched, her eyes darting to Cam. “That’s what he said.”

  “For your community service,” Nic said, “might I suggest a women’s shelter, or RAINN?”

  Her brow furrowed again. “Rain?”

  “R-A-I-N-N. Rape, Abuse and Incest National Network. I’ve got some contacts there, and at the local shelters. I can put you in touch.”

  He ignored the slight intake of breath from Cam beside him, hoping he’d leave it alone. Just write off Nic’s knowledge of those organizations as the natural byproduct of his casework, which if anyone looked closely, skewed more heavily toward prosecuting human traffickers, child pornographers, and other serial abusers than most AUSAs.

  “Yeah,” Abby said, after a deep breath. “That might be a good fit.”

  It might be a better fit for her than she realized, given how Becca had controlled and mentally—if not physically—abused her.

  There was a knock on the door behind them, and Tony poked his head in the room. “Safe house is ready, boss.”

  “You’re okay?” Abby said, brightening, as she stood.

  “Yup, despite getting hit with enough tranqs to take down a horse.”

  Nic laughed, as he and Cam rose. “Because you’re as big as a horse.”

  “I’m glad you’re okay,” Abby said, smiling wider, and Tony grinned back.

  “Your chariot awaits, and by chariot, I mean a Ford Explorer.”

  As Abby twirled her hair on the way out, eyes checking out Tony’s backside, Nic wondered how much longer the big man would be single.

  He moved to follow them out and finally tackle the Talley-Bowers cage match. “You ready to face the music,” he tossed over his shoulder, and barely finished his sentence, much less his step.

  Hand around his upper arm, Cam jerked him back into the room, spun him so his back hit the wall, and swallowed his oomph, sealing their mouths in the kiss Nic had fantasized about minutes earlier and had intended to wait to claim until they were in private again.

  Fuck it.

  If Cam wanted to kiss him now—wanted to grind that hard body up against his, thrust a tongue through his lips, and groan his want down Nic’s throat—Nic had no objections. Not after the week they’d had.

  When Cam finally broke for breath, he rested his forehead against Nic’s, nuzzling. “Thank you for saving me today.”

  Nic lifted his hands, framing the other man’s face and leaning slightly back to meet his eyes. “I’m not risking you either.” He drew Cam in for another kiss, taking control this time as he savored Cam safe and sound in his arms. He wove his hands through the dyed hair he liked too much, glided them over the broad shoulders and toned back that was warm through the thin T-shirt, and aimed them lower, on his way to grabbing two handfuls of denim-clad ass when a throat cleared beside them.

  Cam didn’t shoot out of his arms, probably because the person who’d walked through the door they’d stupidly left open was no longer FBI, and because they both knew she could keep a secret.

  “Gentlemen,” Mel said, not bothering to hide her smirk as they untangled themselves.

  Cam found his voice first. “Thank you for the assist today.”

  “Glad I could help. Felt good to be back in the field.”

  “Don’t get enough of that as TE’s Chief of Security?”

  Mel sashayed around the room, smirk still in place. “That job, no. The other...” Neither Cam nor Nic asked, not wanting the answer. Mel’s bounty hunter business was booming, but they didn’t need the details. “Is a solitary gig. Felt good having the team back together.”

  “That it did,” Cam said, and Nic couldn’t disagree.

  She tossed her glittery purse on the table and took a seat, making herself at home. “Price, if you have a moment.”

  Cam looked back and forth between them.

  “Why don’t you go make sure Aidan hasn’t killed my boss yet?” Nic suggested.

  “He and Bowers were still shouting at each other when I passed by,” Mel said. “Can’t say I miss dealing with him.”

  “Which one?”

  She laughed, and Cam did too as he drifted out of the room, the sound music to Nic’s ears. The tune changed quickly though, as the smile dropped from Mel’s face. She nodded at the door, and Nic closed it.

  “I assume this is about the matter we discussed last week?” he asked, taking the seat across from her.

  She opened her purse and pulled out a flash drive, TE branded, swiped from her day job. “Everything I could get on your father and his associates.” She slid it across the table to him. “You need to be careful. These people are dangerous.”

  “How dangerous?”

  “Yours wouldn’t be the first blood they’ve spilled.”

  “Enough for a case?” Sure, he could take the shot when needed, but what he was really good at was building a case and putting bad people away, for good. That was how he needed to approach Vaughn, understanding it’d be one of—if not the—toughest cases of his career. He hadn’t had a concrete place to start before. Now he did.

  “You’re the prosecutor. You’re the one who determines if the evidence is sufficient.” She stood, picking up her purse. “Good hunting.”

  If there was one thing the SEALs had taught him, it was that.

  * * *

  As he had been on Wednesday, Cam stood in the corner of the conference room, watching Aidan and Bowers square off.

  “He’s not a suspect!” Aidan shouted.

  “He committed two robberies and helped perpetrate a near third one and the attempted murder of two law enforcement offers.”

  “He?” Nic said, as he followed Lauren in and closed the door behind them.

  “That’d be me,” Cam said, folding his arms. If he could burn a hole through Bowers’s head, he would. Did the US Attorney not understand how undercover assignments worked? Or was he just looking for any excuse to tear apart their team? And why now that they’d bagged the case?

  Nic stepped into the path of his imaginary laser beams. “Did any civilian, fed, or other LEOs on scene die today?” Nic asked Bowers.

  “No, because they were wearing vests.”

  Cam stepped to Nic’s side. “Which I knew, because it’s protocol. My boss wouldn’t send our people in without them.”

  “Your boss—” Bowers cut a glare to Aidan and back “—has a habit of breaking protocol.”

  “We handled the situation,” Aidan replied, not deigning to address Bowers’s accusation. “With zero loss of life.”

  “Kristić’s not talking,” Bowers said, changing the topic from a nonwinning argument to another one. The mastermind behind the heist was in the hospital again with another shoulder wound, Nic’s aim perfect. “Neither is anyone else in the crew. How’re we supposed to make a case?”

  “Lauren,” Nic said, with a nod to her.

  She laid three flash drives down on the table. “AD Moore’s.”

  Bowers reached for them; Aidan snatched them first. “FBI property.” Before Bowers could object, Lauren laid down another. “Everything you need for the case against Kristić
.”

  Bowers’s gaze shot to Nic. “You were already building it?”

  “Of course I was.” He gestured around the room and took a step closer to Cam. “We were.”

  Bowers scowled at each of them, then scooped up the flash drive. “This better be enough.”

  “It is,” Cam said.

  Bowers’s glower whipped to him. “And you’re suspended.”

  Cam snapped, lurching forward, into Nic’s outstretched arm. “You don’t have the power to do that,” Nic said.

  “But I can ask DOJ to.”

  “Do you really want to go to war with me?” Aidan said. “Do you know how many of your cases I can tie up? Send agents out on urgent assignment when they’re supposed to be in court? Prioritize our cases over yours?” Bowers fumed, no doubt adding more strikes against them in his head. And Aidan knew it. “Byrne’s my best agent, and my partner. You’re not sidelining him because of a fucking grudge.”

  “Cam did his job, to a tee,” Nic added, lowering his arm. “The artifacts are secure, the AD’s flash drives are returned, and no lives were lost. Everyone’s in custody, our CI is safe, and we have the evidence we need to close this case.”

  “We’ll see if I agree with your assessment, Attorney Price.” Turning on his heel, Bowers stormed out, the little ding on the elevator a fitting end to his defeated departure. The collective whoosh of air in the room, all of them releasing their breaths, was audible.

  “You’re on leave, for a week,” Aidan said to Cam.

  Cam shrugged. “I figured as much.” Standard protocol after undercover assignments. Time to realign and catch up on the email and paperwork. “Thanks for not saying so in front of Bowers.”

  “Recovery, not suspension. Paid, you earned it,” Aidan said. “You too, Hall, unless you need her for the prelim,” he added to Nic.

  “You got a copy of that flash drive for me?” Nic asked.

  Lauren dug around in her jacket pocket, produced another stick, and tossed it to him.