Aidan prompted him to go on with a raised brow.
“I don’t want to tip off Lauren.”
The other one lifted to match.“You don’t trust her?”
Cam burst out laughing.“I trust Hall with my fucking life.But I don’t want to influence her actions around Cole.She could be at risk.”
Aidan returned his laugh and Cam hung his head, admitting to himself how silly that sounded.“Okay, right.She’d kick his ass.”She’d been training with Mel for over a year, and even before that had been one of the best shots in the Bureau.By now, Mighty Mouse could probably take them all down.“Let me dig a little more.If he isn’t guilty, I don’t want to incur her wrath for scaring off a potential boyfriend.”
“Now that’s closer to the truth.We’ll keep an eye out still.”Aidan pushed to his feet, but rather than turning toward the door, he shoved his hands in his pockets.“I meant to ask earlier, how are you doing?”
Cam rose and came around the side of the desk.“Jamie told you to ask that, didn’t he?”
“No, I’m asking as your friend too.”
He blew out a long, slow breath.No one had asked him that over the past twelve hours, and truth be told, he didn’t feel like he had the right to answer it even now.This was Nic’s family, his life, on the brink, but tied as he was to Nic, more and more each day, it was his life now too.
“I’m worried,” he admitted.“Things were going so well for us.We were getting settled.Hell, I even got him to dance a little last night.”
“No shit?He wouldn’t even dance with my niece at the wedding.”
“No shit.”His voice sounded as forlorn as his smile felt.“Vaughn was always hanging over our heads, but we were investigating quietly and orderly.Without threats or loss of life.Now Nic’s father is dead, it’s anything but quiet, and the timeline’s been accelerated.”He scrubbed both hands over his face before letting them fall to his sides, helpless.“I don’t know if we’re ready for this.”
Aidan moved to stand in front of him.“You love him?”
Cam didn’t have to think twice about his answer, and it made him grin, despite the unsettling conversation.“Yes, more than I thought possible.”
Aidan squeezed his arm, returning the smile.“Then you’re ready.”
Bowers was waiting for Nic when he returned to his office—in his chair behind his desk like he owned the place in addition to his shiny corner office on the other side of the floor.He didn’t bother to stand or wipe the scowl off his face when Nic entered.
“Saw the news,” he said.“I’m surprised you’re here.”
Gritting his teeth, Nic shut the door and slid into one of his visitor chairs.Of course I’m herewas on the tip of his tongue, but then the contradiction of Bowers’s statement cut through the red haze of irritation.“If you’re so surprised, then why were you waiting for me in my office?”
How had he known when Nic had left Cam’s office?Were the two moles communicating?Nic was convinced Bowers was Vaughn’s inside man in the US Attorney’s Office.The coincidences stacked up such that they couldn’t be coincidences—a sniper aiming for Nic on one mission, thrown over the hood of a car on another, then a shootout at his brewery after he’d left the office one night.Bowers knew his twenty in all those cases and he’d consistently tried to stonewall their investigation into Vaughn.When that hadn’t worked, he’d wanted to know everything about their actions, their plans, their strategy.No doubt so he could run and tell his puppet master.
But unlike the other government employees Vaughn paid, Bowers had no financial records tying them together.At least none that they’d found yet.
Smart enough to require cash, which made nailing him harder and finding the leverage Vaughn had over him more difficult.
“What are you doing about your father?”Bowers asked, predictably dodging Nic’s question.
“Why does it matter to you?”he bit back.He should be more respectful—Bowers was his boss—but after this morning’s hassles, Nic’s patience was wearing thin.He owed none of the minuscule remainder to Bowers.
Bowers hesitated, face scrunched, as if debating how best to rip into Nic.
A more obvious threat or a litany of admin complaints?He went with the latter—safer and more annoying—ticking items off with his fingers.“Caseload, scheduling, more PTO.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Between San Diego, Boston, and Virginia, you’ve barely been here this year.Seems you’re off all the time.”
Nic held up a single digit.“One week.”
“One week what?”Bowers sneered.
“That’s how much time I’ve taken off this year.”He was also an attorney; he could tick things off with his fingers too.“San Diego, for work.Boston, for work.”Bowers opened his mouth, ready to protest, but Nic silenced him before he got a word out.“Yes, a few days at the end of the Boston trip were PTO for my partner’s sister’s memorial.And a few days to move when I got back, then one day to travel to Virginia for my Navy admiral’s retirement, where, as it happened, I spoke to several other federal prosecutors, so really let’s not count that as PTO either.And all of that was August or later.I wasn’t gone at all the first part of the year.”
