He snagged the joint from her, taking another drag to hide his surprise.“This is his place?”Swanky local digs for their regional assistant director who hopped between here and the North Coast.“Nice work getting in here,” he said, assuming Moore had better than decent security.
“Know the building manager,” Becca said with a wink.
“Cheater.”He winked back.Standing, he retrieved the bag he’d dropped on his way in and headed down the hallway, Jared and Russ on his heels.He found the relatively basic safe in the primary and knelt in front of the lock, getting it open in short order.He’d have to talk to Moore about that next time the AD was in the office.
He reached inside, expecting stacks of cash or jewelry, something a high-profile heist crew would be after, and drew out three flash drives instead.He palmed the plastic and returned to the living room, flopping down on the couch.“Flash drives?”he said, handing them to Becca.
“That’s what my client was after.”
Not Kristic, Cam realized.“Don’t put all your eggs in one basket.Smart.”
He reached for the joint again, but Becca held it out of reach.“Also smart because I like to know who’s working for me.”
Cam’s stomach sank, another realization dawning.Becca knew.
“Yes,” came a polished, assertive Serbian voice from down the bedroom hallway.
A voice Cam recognized from last night and a week ago.Whipping around, he confirmed his suspicions, Stefan Kristic standing in the parlor.
“Tell us, Agent Byrne.How far is an FBI agent willing to go?”
There was no time for surprise, no time for panic.Cam had to put his contingency plan into play right this instant.He leaned back into the cushions, playing it cool.“What is it you think you know about me?”
“Cameron Patrick Byrne.Assistant Special Agent in Charge of the San Francisco FBI field office,” Kristic rattled off, and Becca’s eyes grew wide.He must not have told her everything.“One of the Bureau’s best kidnap and rescue agents.”
“Thebest,” he corrected, which was why he’d do everything he could to get Abby out of this alive, including playing the turncoat.
“Recently moved to the Bay Area from Boston for the ASAC job, working with his best friend’s husband,” Kristic carried on.“Big Irish family back in Boston.”
Cam glanced over his shoulder at Becca.“Didn’t lie about that one.”
“Three brothers,” Kristic said.
Cam swung his gaze back around.“And a sister.”Kristic paused, tilting his head.“Didn’t look back far enough, did you?”
“I only just realized it was you who was Brady last night.”
“Well, then, I’m guessing your quick-take research didn’t yield that Brady Campbell’s backstory isn’t made up.It’s mine.”Most of it anyway.
Becca arched one of her dark brows.“And the FBI still let you in?”
“They offered me something I couldn’t get elsewhere.”
“What’s that?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Cam said, gut burning at the memory of his greatest failure, preserved on his sister’s laminated library card in his wallet.The one case that still eluded him and continued to cast a gray cloud over his family.“They couldn’t deliver.”Neither could he.
“And now?”Kristic said, drawing him back to the present.
“And now they offer nothing,” Cam said, throwing his booted feet up on the glass coffee table.“If you haven’t checked my real bank account yet, let me go ahead and tell you the balance.Two hundred fifty-three dollars and twenty-four cents.I’m tired of being a broke-ass government servant, especially living here.”
“So, it’s about the money?”
“Isn’t that what all of you are in it for?”
“I’m in to get what’s rightfully mine,” Kristic said.
“The artifacts?”
