“Jamie’s got more important things to worry about.”
“I’ll be fine,” Cam said.“I’ll keep an eye on Abby and find out who’s pulling the strings.Make Bowers happy.”He brushed his hand against the back of Nic’s.“I’ll catch them.”
Nic smiled weakly.“And I’ll prosecute them.”
Cam gave his hand a firmer knock, then started toward the conference room.Before Nic could second-guess himself, he grabbed Cam by the arm, turning him back around.“Hold just a second.”He fished his keyring out of his pocket and flipped through the various pieces of metal until he got to the one with the red bumper.Using a nail, he forced the ring apart and began sliding the key off.
Cam’s choked “Dominic” made him look up, and his nail slipped, the key snapping back into place on the ring.Cursing, and ignoring the question in Cam’s one word, Nic tried again and wiggled the key all the way off this time.Grabbing Cam’s wrist, Nic lifted his hand and pressed the key into his palm.“Eddie’s place,” he said.
Cam blinked, once, twice, then the confusion seemed to clear, his eyes sharpening.“The beach house in Half Moon Bay?He’s not home?”
Nic shook his head.“Out with his Guard team at least another week.Use it as a safe house if you need to.”It wasn’t on either of their offices’ records as an official safe house.It wouldn’t be compromised.“Or...”he started again, then paused, contemplating how to say this without second-guessing Cam or doubting his abilities.“Or if you just need a place to pull back.”
Cam curled his fingers around the key.“Thank you.”
“And I’ll catch you if you need me to.”
“I’m counting on it.”Those dark eyes lit, swirling with emotion and with the confidence Nic needed to see to let him walk out the door.
Cam was back in SoMa, at a nightclub in the formerly industrial, recently revitalized tech-arts area.Streets of warehouses had been converted to start-up incubators and art studios, and mixed in with them, plenty of restaurants, bars, and clubs to entertain the future billionaires.Cam had never felt more out of place, and it had nothing to do with his ragtag disguise.There were people around him dressed in suits, people dressed like he was, people barely dressed at all—a head-spinning mash-up.Like Nic said, you could never tell here, and for once, maybe that worked in his favor.
He snagged a stool at the bar, thankful it was as far away from the onstage DJ as possible.Back to the bar, he scanned the cavernous space, locating each of the exits and stairs, including to the mezzanine level.Layout committed to memory, he spun and flagged down the bartender.
“Stout,” he ordered, only to be disappointed when he took his first swallow.The dark beer hit his tongue without the blast of bubbles and flavor he’d come to expect.Nowhere near as good as Gravity’s, but to say he was biased was an understatement.That taste, especially when mixed with Nic’s, would forever be burned on Cam’s tongue.
Like the feeling of the unfamiliar key pressed into his palm earlier today.
For a second, he’d thought it was to Nic’s place or maybe to the brewery, and the prospect of either had stolen his words.As shocking and momentous as those prospects would have been, the key was something even more important.A safe haven.From their enemies and from Cam’s own cover if things got too intense.A place where he could be and find himself again if he got too close to stepping over his line.That escape valve, that tie to the Cameron Byrne of the here and now, would be critical, especially with how closely Brady Campbell mirrored the Cameron Byrne of old.At the end of this assignment, he wanted to climb out of the past and back into the present where he’d advanced to FBI ASAC and kissed the smoking hot AUSA.He didn’t want to lose that.Like the old Cameron Byrne had lost?—
“You Brady?”a familiar voice asked behind him.
A slender arm snaked over the low back of his barstool, heat burning through the thin T-shirt, his coat and hoodie checked at the door.The better to know exactly where Abby stood.Cam hitched an arm back first, sliding a hand over her forearm, preparing to hold her in place, before he twisted his torso to face her.
“That’s me, sweetheart.”He shifted them so Abby’s back was to the club and he was between her and the bartender, cutting off all lines of sight to her shocked expression.Holding her gaze, Cam gave a slight shake of his head, and Abby, catching on, reined in her reaction.
She listening?Cam mouthed.
Abby returned the slight head shake.
“She watching?”he asked low.
“VIP section, mezzanine.”
“Then make like you’re still getting cozy.”He coasted his hand up her forearm, over her elbow and around to her back, bringing them side by side.“What’ll it be?”he asked as he flagged down the bartender.
“Jameson, on the rocks.”
“Woman after my own heart.”Smiling, he pulled her closer, selling the show to a watchful Becca on the second level.
He thanked the bartender, who came right back with Abby’s drink, then watched in admitted admiration as Abby downed half of it in one swallow.Unfortunately, the whiskey did little to relax her.“What the hell are you doing here?”she asked, incredulous.“You’re a fucking fed.”
Cam swiped her drink, draining the rest of it.“Do I look like a fed to you?”
She gave him a slow once-over from boots to blue tips.“Not in the slightest.”
He wasn’t quite sure he liked the interested gleam in her eye.“Becca’s never seen me, so I’m the best shot you got at getting out of this mess.Unless you’re with her now?”The question had to be asked, given the way she’d greeted him.Looking for Brady for Becca.
Abby looked away, toward the other end of the bar, and swallowed hard.“I’m with my baby sister,” she said, voice rough.
